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The characters, dialogue, plotlines, etc. included here are owned by Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, all rights reserved. The following transcript is in no way a substitute for the show "The X-Files" and is merely provided as a service to dedicated fans around the world. This transcript is not authorized or endorsed by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, or Fox Entertainment. This transcript was created by DrWeesh, and made available for your personal enjoyment from my website, InsideTheX.

Finally back again - please let me know if you like the new transcript!


Day. We are inside the darkened and sparsely-furnished living room of a small apartment. A young Muslim, SHIRAZ, is conducting salah, his prayer mat laid out on the carpet.

SHIRAZ: God is the greatest.

SHIRAZ: God hears the one who praises him.

SHIRAZ: God is the greatest.

SHIRAZ: God is the greatest.

SHIRAZ: God is the greatest.

SHIRAZ: God is the greatest.

SHIRAZ: Peace and mercy of Allah be on you.

SHIRAZ: Peace and mercy of Allah be on you.

Having finished his act of worship he carefully folds up his prayer mat. He enters the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, taking out a glass jar of jam. He opens the jar and hastily spreads some jam on some white bread to make a sandwich.

SHIRAZ: By the name of God.

He takes a bite of the sandwich and a drink from a glass of milk. Another bite of the sandwich. He looks determined,



Later. SHIRAZ is driving along a country road, windows down. He pulls up at a stop sign. Two college girls walk across the road. His eyes follow them. He smiles when one of them makes eye contact.

An engine revving. As the girls disappear we see a large pickup truck waiting at the stop sign a lane over from SHIRAZ. Music is blaring from the open driver's window.

RADIO: ... you can crawl back home, say you were wrong...

RADIO: ... stand out in the yard...

The somewhat-intimidating white male driver is staring through the window straight at SHIRAZ. Two giggly girls, shaking an almost-empty can of beer, lean forwards and look into SHIRAZ's car.

WOMAN 1: Oh! Looks like we got a visitor.

WOMAN 2: A little brownie.

The revving continues. SHIRAZ puts his windows up and stares forwards, not making eye contact.

MAN: Are we in the wrong country then?

WOMAN 1: All right, all right.

The engine revving continues until the lights change and the pickup slowly drives off. SHIRAZ sits motionless in his car.

Later. SHIRAZ is slowly driving past a run of motel. He watches his rearview mirror carefully. He pulls into one of the motels. A young male is standing in front of a parking space and SHIRAZ parks up and turns off the engine. He gets out.

SHIRAZ: May peace be upon you.

YOUNG MUSLIM: May peace be upon you also.

They shake hands and embrace. The YOUNG MUSLIM puts an arm around SHIRAZ's shoulder and they walk over to the motel.

Later. They are both in the car, driving through town. They don't talk. They look resigned. Arabic music is playing. They pull up across the street from a modern looking art gallery called Ziggurat. They clasp hands.

TOGETHER: Open my chest, Allah, ease my task, remove impediment from my speech.

They unbuckle their seatbelts and get out of the car. They cross the road and head over to the gallery, the other male again putting his arm around SHIRAZ to reassure him.

People are milling around. A car pulls up outside the gallery and the driver gets out, giving his keys to a valet whilst his wife waits for him. The car drives away and they walk up to the gallery, his arm around her.



A huge explosion from inside the art gallery fills the road with debris, glass, dust and thick black smoke. A handful of survivors from inside the gallery make it out onto the street, fully aflame and screaming. Others who were in the street and were knocked over by the blast try to crawl away.

A scene of total devastation.

Opening Titles Opening Titles Opening Titles Opening Titles Opening Titles



Day. Inside the X-Files office. MULDER is playing footage on his laptop, the video being cloned onto a large flatscreen monitor that SCULLY is standing in front of. The video image of a female staring up at a modern low-rise building from behind is accompanied by noise from a raspy, tuneless, brass instrument.

SCULLY: What am I hearing, Mulder?

MULDER: According to eyewitnesses - or "earwitnesses" as it were - it sounded like trumpets playing.

SCULLY: From nowhere in particular?

MULDER: No apparent source. Music as if from the heavens themselves. As if God himself was making music, blowing his own horn.

SCULLY: Since when do you believe in God, Mulder?

MULDER: What makes you think I do?

SCULLY: God himself?

MULDER: I speak merely as an investigator. Reports from Belarus to Canada, France, Italy, Germany, the Ukraine...

SCULLY: But as an investigator, you seem to give this phenomenon credibility.

MULDER: It's not important what I believe, Scully. It's important what they believe. The earwitnesses.

SCULLY: And what do they believe?

MULDER: "And I saw the seven angels that stood before God, and to them were given seven trumpets." Revelations 8:2. A herald of end times.

SCULLY: You know that prophecies like this have been going on for centuries. Failed prognostications of doom, failed prophecy, even in the Bible.

MULDER: Yeah, God told Adam that if he ate the forbidden fruit he'd die, and he lived 930 years. Top that.

SCULLY: You know that didn't literally happen, right?

MULDER: I'm just sayin'. It's your book.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door.

MAN: MAN: Hello? Anyone down here?

SCULLY: Nobody but the FBI's Most Unwanted. I've been waiting twenty-three years to say that.

MULDER: How'd it feel?

SCULLY: Pretty good.

MULDER: Yeah? (Pause.) It's open. Come on in.

Two young FBI Agents enter the office and stand just inside the doorway. He about the same height and coloration as MULDER, she about the same height and colouration of SCULLY. And probably about twenty-three years younger.

MALE AGENT: Special Agent Fox Mulder?

MULDER: Speaking.

They shake hands.

MULDER: And to whom am I speaking?

MILLER: I'm Special Agent Miller. This is Special Agent Einstein.

MULDER shakes EINSTEIN's hand.

SCULLY: (With raised eyebrows) You're Special Agent Einstein?

EINSTEIN: I claim a distant relation, if that's what you're referring to.

MULDER: For-forgive Agent Scully's impertinence. She wrote her dissertation on Einstein's Twin Paradox.

EINSTEIN: Excuse me, but I was definitely told you were a medical doctor.

SCULLY: I am. But I'm also a scientist.

EINSTEIN: Because I'm a medical doctor.


SCULLY: (to EINSTEIN) And you're a profiler, obsessed with the paranormal?

MILLER: That's why we're here, actually.

EINSTEIN: When we should be at the airport.

MILLER: You both heard about the terrorist bombing of an art gallery in Texas.

MULDER: Yes. Two young Muslim men protesting the depiction of Mohammed.

SCULLY: Wearing suicide bomber vests.

EINSTEIN: Can we get to the business section, please?

MILLER: Nine people killed in the act, but one of the bombers survived.

MILLER hands MULDER a tablet computer showing the heavily scarred, stitched and sedated upper body of one of the bombers, lying comatose on a hospital bed.

EINSTEIN: Technically. Medically, he's in a persistent vegetative state. He's dead except for a heartbeat.

MULDER hands SCULLY the tablet.

MILLER: You must imagine why we're here.

MULDER: There have been so-called practitioners...

SCULLY: I'm sorry. Forgive me, but I can't imagine why you're here.

EINSTEIN: (Leaning in to SCULLY) That would make two of us.

SCULLY makes a face at new soulmate EINSTEIN.

MULDER: Agent Miller, a man with a mind obviously open to possibility would like to communicate with the dead, or the near-dead, as the case may be.

MILLER: I believe he may have intel on a larger sleeper cell with an aim to commit more acts of terror.

EINSTEIN: Which is where our energy would be better spent, trying to stop live terrorists, rather than stopping to try to speak with dead ones.

SCULLY: I have to say I agree.

MULDER: There have been noted divinators, oracles, fakirs, necromancers who have claimed the ability...

MILLER: Madame Blavatsky, founder of Theosophism, brought to America a so-called Ancient Wisdom gained from Tibetan spiritual adepts.

SCULLY: Maybe I've been part of the X-Files too long, but I happen to know that Madame Blavatsky's dead.


MULDER: Which would make it that much harder to glean her far-flung abilities.

EINSTEIN: Yeah. That's what I thought. Miller?

EINSTEIN taps MILLER and starts to head out of the door.

MILLER: You know of no such practitioner working now whom we might consult?

EINSTEIN: None that I'd waste your time on.

EINSTEIN looks at her watch.

EINSTEIN: Miller, come on. There's a 1:30 flight to Texas, and I want to be on it.

MILLER: Thank you for your time.

He hands MULDER his contact card.

MILLER: Uh, please call me when you think of something.

SCULLY smiles over to EINSTEIN, who gives her a quick wave goodbye in return before she and MILLER head off down the corridor.

MULDER: He seemed like a bright young man.

MULDER hands the card to SCULLY to inspect.

SCULLY: She calls him "Miller".

MULDER smiles.

SCULLY hands MILLER's card back to MULDER.



Day. Airport lounge. MILLER and EINSTEIN are standing in front of an overhead screen showing flight details. Another screen is showing the CNB news channel as two talking heads argue about the terrorist attack.

The on-screen graphics read: BREAKING NEWS: TERROR IN TEXAS - SEARCH CONTINUES FOR ISLAMIC TERROR CELL. The DOW is also up 101.24.

MAN: Using artwork to desecrate the prophet of someone else's religion just incites fanatical terrorists.

WOMAN: It's just a painting.

MAN: Yeah. Of Mohammed sitting on a toilet defecating radical Islamists!

WOMAN: Do you know how absurd this all is? It's just absurd!

MAN: It's not absurd to the victims of this action and their families...

MILLER pulls out the tablet and looks at the photo of the bomber.

MILLER: Wearing that vest, those last few steps, knowing you're gonna die, must be so strange.

EINSTEIN: How 'bout the victims? Imagine not knowing. That's even worse.

MILLER: Where does all the hate come from? He's just a kid. A kid needs to be taught this hate. You wonder who got in his head.

EINSTEIN: Well, he's not gonna tell you, Miller. And neither is any necromancer.

MILLER: Well, wasn't it at least worth a try?

She scoffs.

EINSTEIN: You think anyone takes the X-Files seriously? That's why they got them stuck down in that basement office. I pity that poor Agent Scully.

MILLER: That's like my dream assignment.

EINSTEIN: No self-respecting scientist would spend a career toiling away in obscure realms of science fiction.

MILLER: Why else would she do it?

EINSTEIN: She's clearly in love with him.

MILLER: You spent all of five minutes with them. How do you know that?

EINSTEIN: Nothing else would explain it.

EINSTEIN: Maybe he values her open mind.

MILLER: Maybe she challenges his B.S.

MILLER's cell phone starts ringing in his jacket pocket. He sighs. He gets it out and answers.

MILLER: Special Agent Miller speaking.

SCULLY: (on phone) Agent Miller, this is Agent Scully.

He's a little shocked.

MILLER: Um, hey. One second.

He holds the phone to his chest and turns to face EINSTEIN.

MILLER: (to EINSTEIN) I'll meet you on the plane.

MILLER walks away from EINSTEIN so that she is out of earshot. We see SCULLY sitting on a hotel bed in her work gear. MILLER continues the phone call.


SCULLY: You might wonder why I'm calling.

MILLER: No. Uh, well, actually, yeah.

SCULLY: I was thinking about your case, and I have an idea that might help you communicate with your terrorist.

MILLER: That is good news. What is it?

SCULLY: There's something I'd like to try. But I need to meet you in Texas.

MILLER: Okay. Yeah. That sounds great.

EINSTEIN is watching MILLER intently. Suddenly her cell phone starts to ring.

EINSTEIN: Special Agent Einstein speaking.

MULDER: Agent Einstein, it's Agent Mulder. You must wonder why I'm calling.

We see MULDER sitting in the X-Files office, talking on the desk phone.

EINSTEIN: No. I'm completely baffled.

MULDER: I have an idea of how you might communicate with your terrorist.

EINSTEIN: Uh, I think it's Special Agent Miller you're looking for.

MULDER: No, no. I-I-I need to speak with you. I got your number from AD Walter Skinner, who sings your praises, by the way.

EINSTEIN: Yes, I helped him with his migraines, which he claims are due to you.

MULDER is speechless momentarily.

MULDER: In-in-in any case, I was hoping I might impose upon you to delay your trip out to Texas.

EINSTEIN: (impatiently) You can't just tell me now?

MULDER: It requires some explanation.

EINSTEIN: You do realize the clock is ticking on this case, quite literally.

MULDER: I think it could save lives.

EINSTEIN: (resigned) Say no more. I'm on my way.

MILLER heads back over to EINSTEIN as she hangs up, but she starts walking away as soon as he gets to her.

MILLER: Where are you going?

EINSTEIN: I'm catching the crazy train. I'll see you down in Texas, Miller.

MILLER looks somewhat exasperated as she heads off. The overhead TV continues to air the heated discussion.

WOMAN: When did radical Muslims become a protected class in America?

MAN: When the Founding Fathers signed the Constitution-- that's when.

WOMAN: The same document that's supposed to protect my freedom of speech.

As we hear the interview continue, the camera swaps the large screen at the airport for a smaller TV showing the same interview in a dimly-lit room.

MAN: But not your freedom to hate! What is wrong with you?

WOMAN: It is not a freedom to hate!

MAN: Why do you think these guys are acting this way? Why do you think that guy went up and shot five servicemen in Chattanooga? Because they loved him? Because we treated him well? Because we don't plaster their names as terrorists all over the media? No! Because we hate them.

The camera slowly pans across the darkened room. We hear the crackle and see the fumes of soldering. Bomb-making equipment is scattered across work surfaces. We see a Muslim male sitting at a desk carefully soldering circuits and components together. As the camera pans further we see several already-assembled bombs ready for use.

WOMAN: We do not hate them. No, we do not hate them. And I will not allow for that. We are not going to continue to spread lies about a people...


The X-Files office. There is a knock on the door and EINSTEIN walks straight in, up to MULDER's desk where he sits engrossed in a textbook about mushrooms.

MULDER: Ah, come in, Agent Einstein. Have a seat.

EINSTEIN: I came here in good faith, Agent Mulder, but lives are at stake.

MULDER: I'm all about that.

EINSTEIN: If there were another act of terror, and I'm in here listening to some woo-woo treatise on the paranormal, I don't think I could forgive myself.

MULDER: (stammering) I-I-I-I-I d-d-don't do woo-woo.

EINSTEIN: Okay, what's your big idea? How are we going to talk with this terrorist?

MULDER: Well, first, can we talk about the nature of reality, as you perceive it?

EINSTEIN: My reality is new chatter on the Internet about more suicide bombs.

MULDER: But do you believe that thoughts have mass? That ideas such as faith and forgiveness have weight much the same way this desk (he knocks it, it echoes) has weight? Or any material, really.

She laughs wryly.

EINSTEIN: You are too much, Agent Mulder.

MULDER: It's a legitimate question.

EINSTEIN: There's a legitimate answer: no.

MULDER: How can you be so sure?

EINSTEIN: Because when I stand on the scale and think of ice cream, my ass doesn't grow. Need I illustrate further?

MULDER: Yes, but I'm sure you believe that words have weight - the weight to move people, to go kill other people.

EINSTEIN: People kill people. Bombs kill people. Words can incite people to kill people as instruments of hate, but are not lethal in and of themselves.

MULDER: Ever suck on a lemon, Agent Einstein? Do you feel a sensation right now? (he makes a sucking face) A quasi-measurable effect?

She doesn't quite give him the answer he was hoping for.

MILLER: I am getting a taste of what Agent Scully must suffer.

MULDER: Neo-Darwinists believe that every word spoken, every thought, every perception, lest I misperceive, is a step in the evolution of mankind.

EINSTEIN: (chuckling) Yes. A butterfly beats its wings in China, but that butterfly won't be defusing explosives in any suicide vests.

MULDER: Agent Einstein, you have a terrorist lying in a state of existence somewhere between life and death. If he holds valuable intel on other terrorists, maybe in order to reach him, you need to expand your mind on the so-called material world.


Day. Airport. SCULLY wheels her suitcase to the top of a short flight of steps between concourses. MILLER notices her and meets her halfway down the steps, taking her suitcase down the remaining steps. They walk as the reach the bottom of the steps.

SCULLY: I got here as fast as I could.

MILLER: Let me say, I'm blown away you came down here to help me at all.

SCULLY: Well, I sensed your frustration.

MILLER: I just want to believe there's some way of reaching this young man and learning what he might know.

SCULLY: Well, I believe there may be, but not the way you think.

MILLER: What way is that, Agent Scully?

SCULLY: Well, not through an oracle or a psychic or a seer, but through science.

MILLER: I don't know how you mean.

SCULLY: This may sound heavy, but this is a bit of a personal quest for me. My mother was in a coma recently, and I wasn't able to communicate with her, either.

MILLER: I take it she's passed?

SCULLY: I wish I'd had the presence of mind to think of this when she was still alive. It might've solved a mystery that I may never know.


Back in the X-Files office. EINSTEIN is berating MULDER.

EINSTEIN: Please enlighten me, Agent Mulder, how nine years of college, three degrees, and two years at Quantico has left me such a simpleton.

MULDER: Not a simpleton. A mugwump.

EINSTEIN: I resent that characterisation, and I don't even know what it means.

MULDER: It means sit down and shut up.

EINSTEIN: (shocked and speechless) You talk to Agent Scully like that?

MULDER: Only when she's being a mugwump.

MULDER gets up out of his chair and rounds his desk. He grabs a vistors chair and turns it to face the large monitor.

MULDER: Please... have a seat.


EINSTEIN: I'll give you two minutes, Agent Mulder, and then I'm due back on Earth.

MULDER stands beside the monitor, which is displaying an image of a pale, non-descript mushroom.

MULDER: Behold. Psilocybe tampenensis.

EINSTEIN has her hands folded across her chest.

EINSTEIN: I'm afraid where this is going.

MULDER: The so-called Magic Mushroom, the study of which has begun anew by respected medical practitioners from Columbia University to Oxford.

EINSTEIN has an oh-god-not-this-again demeanour.

EINSTEIN: Highly contested studies.

MULDER: Highly uncontested results. Test subjects report experiences that transcended space and time, confrontations with the dead, touching the very face of God.

EINSTEIN: That's nice, Agent Mulder-- you've got about a minute and counting.

MULDER: Test subjects have also reported that once the impediment of the physical body is removed, deep and lasting truths are revealed that the conscious mind won't allow - feelings of ineffability, sacredness, peace, unity, joy - all without altering brain chemistry.

EINSTEIN: Are you proposing, Agent Mulder, that we administer the Magic Mushroom to the terrorist?

MULDER: No. No. I am proposing that you administer it to me, so that I can communicate with the terrorist, learn what he knows, and prevent future acts of terror.

EINSTEIN: To a technically dead man?

MULDER: Death is now viewed by some as merely another plane of existence. I don't think our terrorist has even achieved that plane. I believe he's still reachable on this plane.

EINSTEIN: So you called me back here to ask me to administer this drug, this illicit Schedule 1 substance.

MULDER: As a medical professional.

EINSTEIN: Which Agent Scully is as well.

MULDER: Agent Scully has recently had her own life-altering death experience, and I don't want to bother her with this.

EINSTEIN: Ohhhh. Oh, so you want to just keep it between us?

MULDER: I-I would, if you don't mind.

EINSTEIN: No. No, I wouldn't mind at all. Because there will be absolutely nothing to say, except maybe to Internal Affairs, if I were to go through with this lunatic scheme of yours.

She makes for the door, but spins around as MULDER continues.

MULDER: What is lunatic about it, exactly?

EINSTEIN: Oh, let me think about that. Everything? And rest assured, Agent Mulder, when I walk out of here, I will never again darken your basement door.

She leaves. MULDER stares after her, almost transfixed. Seconds pass.

MULDER: So that's a maybe?


Hospital. We see the surviving bomb victim lying comatose in a hospital bed. SCULLY and MILLER stand either side of the bed. A heart monitor is beeping slowly and steadily.

MILLER: It's hard to imagine there's someone in there, when you really see him.

SCULLY: Research bears out a surprising incidence of electro-activity even in the most severely brain-damaged. What I want to try is a rather... novel but not untested protocol.

MILLER: I'm open to whatever.

SCULLY: I'm certain that you are, Agent Miller.

MILLER: I believe so many answers lie beyond the pale of the known world in realms of extreme possibility.

SCULLY: I believe that you believe.

MILLER: So what are you proposing?

SCULLY: Doctors recently achieved the ability to communicate with a man known as Patient 23 through magnetic imaging - MRI - by prompting his otherwise inert and unresponsive brain with questions that triggered electro-activity.

MILLER: What kind of questions?

SCULLY: Mundane questions about... housekeeping and tennis. But they unexpectedly lit up certain regions of his brain that translated to yes-and-no responses.

MILLER: That is incredible.

SCULLY: Well, more incredibly, it can be achieved rather simply through the use of an ordinary electro-encephalogram.

MILLER: Why didn't someone think of that?

SCULLY: But, let me caution you. Even if we do reach this young man, it may be difficult to get the intel that you're hoping for.

Suddenly, two male agents enter the ward accompanied by a nurse who tends to the bomber.

MALE AGENT 1: Who's Special Agent Miller?

MILLER: I'm Special Agent Miller.

MALE AGENT 2: Gonna ask you to leave. FBI has no more jurisdiction here.

SCULLY: Who has jurisdiction?

MALE AGENT 2: Department of Homeland Security.

MILLER: I was assigned this case. Agent Scully is a medical doctor. We think we can communicate...

MALE AGENT 1: Communicate? To say what? "You shouldn't have done it, son"?

MILLER: There's a chance to question him about who was behind the bombing.

MALE AGENT 1: And you think he's gonna tell you? By any moral definition, this body here isn't a human. By my definition, this terrorist is dead.

SCULLY: I'm sorry, but what's your business here?

MALE AGENT 2: I suggest that you both take a little breather and call your superiors in Washington, if you have any questions.

SCULLY: (steadfast) We're not leaving this room.

The two agents started speaking quietly in Arabic to each other. The nurse turns her head upon hearing them. SCULLY looks concerned.

MILLER: I'm gonna ask you to leave.

MALE AGENT 2: I'll give the orders, Agent Miller.

MILLER: Wrong. I'm giving the orders now. They've come here for retribution.

MALE AGENT 2: Whoever you're calling, this goes way beyond...

MILLER: I'm not calling anyone.

Rather than make a call, MILLER holds his phone out and takes a series of photos of the two agents' faces, who turn away to try and prevent him.

Later. EINSTEIN enters the hospital ward. We see the intensive care isolation ward holding the bomber is guarded. She gives her name to the two FBI agents at the door.

EINSTEIN: Special Agent Einstein.

FBI AGENT 1: I'm sorry, but I can't let you in there without authorization.

MILLER: I've been assigned this case with my partner, Special Agent Miller.

As she shows them her FBI badge the sliding door to the isolation ward opens and the two agents that confronted MILLER and SCULLY make a hasty exit. As the door slides closed again, EINSTEIN grabs a glimpse of MILLER and SCULLY inside the room.

FBI AGENT 2: Let me see that. If you're his partner, then who is Special Agent Dana Scully?

EINSTEIN walks around the corridor and peers through a side door to the isolation ward. She gets another good look at who is working with her partner.

She's pissed. She reaches into her jacket and gets out her phone. She dials and it rings audibly.

EINSTEIN: Agent Mulder, it's Agent Einstein. How soon can you be in Texas?


Night. Airport. MULDER has landed in Texas and is making his way out of the airport to the taxi pickup/drop-off. He's looking for someone. EINSTEIN approaches from the car park as he exits the building.

EINSTEIN: Agent Mulder.

MULDER: Agent Einstein.

MULDER: For a second there, I thought you were gonna punk me.

EINSTEIN: I had a little trouble, uh, procuring... the illicit substance.

She reaches into her jacket pocket and retrieves two coated capsules.


He holds them up in the palm of his hand, impressed.

MULDER: Where'd you get these?

EINSTEIN: Apparently, Texas is something of a promised land - as it turns out. One of the early research pioneers is from here.

MULDER: So this is the real deal, huh?

EINSTEIN: I can't speak to the dosage, and I certainly wouldn't take both. Not till you've experienced the one.

MULDER: May I ask, Agent Einstein, what changed your mind on this whole deal here?

EINSTEIN: I got here to find that Agent Scully was here in Texas working with Agent Miller.

MULDER: I sense some professional animus.

EINSTEIN: Nothing professional about it.

MULDER: But you think this misguided.

EINSTEIN: My loss is your gain, Agent Mulder.

EINSTEIN: I'll deal with Agent Miller about this later. In the meantime, we must conduct this business with a certain delicacy, where the consumption of any potentially dangerous and psychotropic hallucinogen must be undertaken outside of a laboratory.

MULDER: You mean hide it like a couple of drug addicts.

EINSTEIN: While this may seem foolhardy, I am anticipating results, that you will actually be communicating with the terrorist, somehow. Now, what he may say to you, or you to him, I have no clue.

A middle-aged Texan in a Cowboy hat and shirt crosses the road in front them and MULDER exchanges eye contact and a nod of the head with him. He gets an idea.

MULDER: How do you say "Howdy, pardner" in Arabic?

He smiles at EINSTEIN.


Hospital. MILLER and SCULLY stand back as the sliding ward door opens. A nurse wheels in a medical device. She is followed by a middle-aged suited man.

SCULLY: (to nurse) Thank you.

BREM: You Agent Einstein?

SCULLY: No, I'm Agent Dana Scully.

BREM: Agent Miller?

MILLER: Yes. Is there a problem?

BREM: I'm Special Agent Brem, here to inform you that this hospital is under terror threat. I've got a cordon of agents near the building as a precaution against an attack, but I need to clear this wing until we can bring in the bomb squad.

MILLER: You know where the threat came from?

BREM: Mm-mm. An anonymous caller, but... a very clear guess - there's a large and unassimilated Muslim community in the area, with one shared wish.

SCULLY: One shared wish that what?

BREM: To wipe you and America off the map. To honour their hero, Osama bin Laden, whose picture we find all too frequently on their refrigerators.

SCULLY: Not all Muslims are extremists, certainly.

BREM: Feel free to stay here and take your chances, if you don't believe me.

MILLER: There are other people who want to see this young man dead.

BREM: I'm not one of them, Agent Miller. Last thing I want is for this... killer to die and go to paradise or to his 72 virgins...

SCULLY scoffs.

BREM: the sky.

SCULLY: (turning away) Sounds like torture to me.

MILLER: This boy can hear everything you're saying, and we're trying to win his trust and talk to him.

BREM: Keep the killer alive.

MILLER: You do your job. We'll do ours.

BREM pauses to look at MILLER and then SCULLY, before turning away to give the order.

BREM: Time to evacuate. Everybody out!

BREM leaves the ward. SCULLY follows shortly after. MILLER is torn about staying, but follows SCULLY out of the ward, leaving the nurse alone in the room with the bomber.

As the ward clears, the nurse approaches the door and quietly slides it shut. She wallks back over to the bed and pauses, looking down at the comatose bomber. She reaches over to the ventilator and opens the cover protecting its power switch. She turns it off. Suddenly alarms start firing. The bomber's heartrate speeds up before flatlining. The alarms continue. The nurse watches the bomber's body jolt and shake. He watches her with one open eye.

MULDER and EINSTEIN appear the ward and head for the bomber's isolation room. They slide open the door, prompting the nurse to surrepticiously turn the ventilator back on before they notice. His vitals start to recover.

NURSE: There's, uh... there's been a bomb threat. They're asking us to leave.

EINSTEIN: Uh, we have special authorization.

NURSE: That's what everyone says.

EINSTEIN: We'll just need the room for a few minutes... to do research.

NURSE: Yeah, that's what everyone says. You know, I've never seen a patient receive so much attention... especially one who's so unworthy of it.

MULDER watches the NURSE's expression carefully.

EINSTEIN: Well, this is a special case.

NURSE: Just like all those immigrant groups coming over here, taking all our jobs, clogging up the health care system and our schools, and they don't even speak English.

MULDER pops one of the mushroom capsules without EINSTEIN or the NURSE noticing.

EINSTEIN: We're not gonna fix that right now, so...

NURSE: A church group brought two hundred Arab refugees to our town, and now they're saying that they want to bring some more.

MULDER pops the other mushroom capsule in his mouth.

EINSTEIN: Maybe we need to come back...

EINSTEIN looks at MULDER, who carefully extends his tongue to show her the capsule ready to be swallowed.

EINSTEIN: Or maybe... we can talk outside.

NURSE: (being led out of the room) It's all part of a government program paid for by my tax dollars, which means that I come to work every day, and I pay for these people...

EINSTEIN slides the door closed behind her. MULDER grabs a visitor chair and pulls it over to the bed. He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt. He sits down in the chair, puts his head back, closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths.

Meanwhile, the NURSE is continuing to regale EINSTEIN with her Msulim conspiracy theories in the hallway outside. EINSTEIN plays for time by stringing her along.

NURSE: So I did some research, and I found out that this is all part of a plot by the United Nations to get these people into the US, so that they can form terrorist cells.

EINSTEIN: That sounds very suspicious.

NURSE: Yeah. You turn your back on these people, you're taking your chance.

EINSTEIN: (playing along) No. No, we don't want to turn our backs.

NURSE: One more thing - you say you're here doing research?

EINSTEIN: Yes. We'll just be a few more minutes in the room, and then we'll be evacuating as well.

NURSE: Yeah. Well, your partner already left.

EINSTEIN, shocked, turns and looks into the isolation room that now just contains the comatose bomber. MULDER is enjoying himself elsewhere.


"Somethin' Bad" by Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood starts playing. Loudly.

Stand on the bar, stomp your feet, start clapping

Got a real good feeling something bad about to happen

MULDER is tripping balls. He's blissfully floating down the hospital corridor, randomly high-fiving hospital staff, shushing them with his finger to his mouth. He draws looks from everyone.

Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Pulled up to the church, but I got so nervous

Had to back it on up, couldn't make it to the service

Grabbed all the cash underneath my mattress

Got a real good feelin' something bad about to happen

Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

MULDER is now walking down the middle of a dark highway at night, oblivious to any danger. Cars horns honk at him as they drive past, narrowly missing him. Bright headlights startle, disorienting him.

Stand on the bar, stomp your feet, start clapping

Got a real good feeling something bad about to happen

MULDER is now making his way through a busy Texan nightclub. Freshly-pressed white open neck shirt. The redneck and girls from the pickup truck earlier follow him. The music changes to Billy Ray Cyrus's "Achy Breaky Heart". He walks towards the dancefloor, grabbing a black Cowboy hat from a seated patron before joining in with the line dance on the floor. He's having the time of his life.

You can tell the world you never was my girl

You can burn my clothes up when I'm gone

Or you can tell my lips to tell my fingertips

They won't be reaching out for you no more

The encouraging crowd watching him as he takes centre stage on the dancefloor are cheering and clapping to the rhythm.

But don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart

I just don't think he'd understand

And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart

He might blow up and kill this man


MULDER starts busting out moves. He takes off his borrowed hat and launches it into the crowd. Some Michael Jackson, some Pulp Fiction, a back flip landed perfectly. MULDER takes the crowd's applause and they join him on the stage and group hug him.

But don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart

I just don't think he'd understand

And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart

He might blow up and kill this man

MULDER is now seated at the centre of an illuminiated side table. He is joined at his right by SKINNER, and to his left by first FROHIKE and then LANGLY. They are all drinking tall beers, smoking fat cigars, and wearing full cowboy apparel. MULDER holds up diamond-encrusted knuckle-dusters that read "MUSH" on his right fist and "ROOM" on his left.

The music has now changed again, to Trace Adkins' Honky Tonk Badonkadonk. MULDER and his boys are now leering at the cowgirls in cut-off and tight shirts on the dancefloor, dancing sugestively.

Left, left, left, right, left

Hustlers shootin' eight ball, throwin' darts at the wall

Feelin' damn near ten feet tall

Here she comes, Lord help us all

Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him out of his chair

Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault

It's so hard not to stare

At that honky tonk badonkadonk

Keepin' perfect rhythm

Make you wanna swing along

There ought to be a law

Get the sheriff on the phone

Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on?

That honky tonk badonkadonk

Two of the cowgirls are now gyrating right beside MULDER at the table. Suddenly, his presence has left the room. His face becomes serious, his gaze locked forward. He tils his head up and back. The rest of the room fades away.

Aw, that's what I'm talking about right there...

Cut to MULDER lying supine, naked and restrained, on an eerily-illuminated black surface. An intricate grid-like pattern of straight lines and circles lit from below with bright red light surround him. Think S#&M alien spaceship. He looks scared. The glare from a piercing white light from the side is interruped by a figure approaching MULDER. It's EINSTEIN, in full leather dominatrix gear.

MULDER tries to sit up, but realises he is tied down. EINSTEIN approaches him and leans towards his face

EINSTEIN: Is this what you wanted, Agent Mulder? Your woo-woo paranormal?

She whips his chest.

EINSTEIN: (aggresively) Come on, say it.

MULDER: (weakly) Woo woo.


MULDER: (louder) Woo woo.


She whips his chest with real aggression. MULDER tries to sit up as he shouts out in pain.


Cut to MULDER, as he sits up bare-chested on a wooden longboat. We hear chanting. He is facing the bow. Stormy skies overhead cast little light. MULDER's chest is adorned with EINSTEIN's fresh whip marks. Figures shrouded in black hooded cloaks sit in columns either side of him, facing astern and rowing methodically. A grey-haired, black-suited figure standing at the back of the boat cracks his long whip which lands squarely on MULDER's back. We see that it is CANCERMAN.

Tom Waits' "Misery is the River of the World" is playing.

The higher that the monkey can climb

The more he shows his tail

CANCERMAN: You want the truth, Agent Mulder? You've come to the right place.

CANCERMAN cracks his whip again. MULDER winces in pain as it strikes his back. Thunder crashes and lightning flashes around him.

MULDER looks forward. We see a female figure dressed in a flowing white dress, maternally holding a motionless male body across her lap.

Call no man happy till he dies

There's no milk at the bottom of the pail

Misery's the river of the world

Misery's the river of the world

MULDER slow rises from his seat and moves forwards towards them. We see that the motionless male figure is SHIRAZ, the battered and scarred comatose bomber, the back of his skull grossly deformed from the explosion and surgery.

Everybody rows this

Everybody row

Misery's the river of the world

Misery's the river of the world

Misery's the river of the world

Everybody row, everybody row

Everybody row...

As MULDER approaches, we see SHIRAZ whispering, but his words are indistinct. MULDER leans in with his ear towards SHIRAZ to better hear him. Making out nothing, he leans in even further.

Everybody row

Misery's the river of the world

Everybody row

Everybody row, everybody row...

Fade to black.


A dimly lit room. A heavily-bearded Muslim stands before an assembled group of believers. A bomb belt is around his waist. A trigger held out in his right hand.

TERRORIST: Together you push the button. Bringing you eternal life. Bringing death to infides. And bringing glory to Allah.

He presses the handheld trigger with his thumb. We hear it click. As the camera repositions behind him, we see eight terrorists, all wearing similar bomb belts and holding triggers, intently focussed on him.

Their mission set, they chant in turn, pumping their clenched fists.

TERRORIST: Allahu akbar!

BELIEVERS: Allahu akbar!

TERRORIST: Allahu akbar!

BELIEVERS: Allahu akbar!

TERRORIST: Allahu akbar!

BELIEVERS: Allahu akbar!

TERRORIST: Allahu akbar!

BELIEVERS: Allahu akbar!

TERRORIST: Allahu akbar!

BELIEVERS: Allahu akbar!

Fade to black.


Hospital. We are inside the isolation ward. SCULLY and MILLER stand beside SHIRAZ's bed. His head is bandages and covered in EEG electrodes. A tube runs into SHIRAZ's mouth, held in place with dressings on his chin.

SCULLY: Can you hear my voice?

SCULLY looks at the electroencephalogram monitor beside the bed. There are no obvious changes.

SCULLY: Oh, we don't even know his name.

SCULLY seems somewhat dejected. Suddenly MILLER starts talking in Arabic.

MILLER: (in Arabic) Can you hear me, young man?

SCULLY seems surprised. MILLER turns to her.

MILLER: I was with the Bureau in Iraq.

SCULLY turns back to the EEG monitor. She notices immediate, but subtle, changes in the traces.

SCULLY: (hopefully) Keep talking, Agent Miller.

MILLER: (in Arabic) Can you hear my voice?

The traces show even more activity. SHIRAZ's face remains motionless.

MILLER: The needles are moving.

SCULLY: It could be a false positive - aberrant neurological activity, not a response in and of itself.

MILLER: How do we know the difference?

SCULLY: Well, we need to set up a baseline, set up questions that serve as yes/no answers. It will be painstaking and difficult.

MILLER: I'm just certain he hears us.

The screen blurs. We hear a familiar voice.


As the image clears, we see the familiar bespectacled (and bearded) face of SKINNER peering down at us.

SKINNER: Agent Mulder? Agent Mulder?

We see MULDER lying in a hospital bed, gowned up. SKINNER stands to the side, holding the bed controls. MULDER sighs a little as SKINNER raises the head-end of the bed slightly. MULDER's still coming down from his experience, his words are noticeably slow and slurred.

MULDER: Where's your hat?

SKINNER: Ah, rodeo's over, cowboy. We're hanging up your spurs for good.

MULDER: What are you talking about?

SKINNER: What am I talking about?

MULDER: Dude, I was on fire!

SKINNER: Dude, you were an embarrassment. To me, and to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

EINSTEIN enters the ward and appears from behind the privacy curtain for MULDER's bed. MULDER looks to her for support. Silly boy.

MULDER: A-Agent Einstein? Agent Einstein, tell him.

EINSTEIN: Tell him what, Agent Mulder?

MULDER: What were were doing was under your medical supervision, all on the up and up.

EINSTEIN: It was until it wasn't.

MULDER: Well, it's not like it was volitional.

SKINNER: What was it, Agent Mulder?

MULDER: It was the Magic Mushrooms. Maybe I took too much.

EINSTEIN: Maybe you didn't take enough.

EINSTEIN: What's that supposed to mean?

SKINNER: Agent Einstein informed me that you requested that she administer an illicit substance to you in your rather reckless attempt to talk to an alleged mass murderer.

MULDER: Yeah - and administer them she did.

EINSTEIN: These are what I gave you, Agent Mulder.

EINSTEIN holds out her right hand, palm upwards. We see two cream-coloured capsules.

MULDER: Yeah, that stuff. That's potent.

EINSTEIN: This stuff is purchasable at any corner drugstore.

MULDER: Maybe in Texas it is.

EINSTEIN: These are niacin capsules, Agent Mulder. What I gave you is a placebo.

MULDER: (disbelieving) No way. No way. That's impossible. I... I was under the influence of something... powerful.

EINSTEIN: (clearly enjoying herself) Yes. The power of suggestion.

MULDER turns to SKINNER and gently pokes him in the midriff with an outstretched finger.

MULDER: No, you were there.

No response from SKINNER, who shows a mixture of concern and resignation.

MULDER: And The Lone Gunman. The Badonkadonk.

SKINNER: Yeah, I was in Washington, Agent Mulder.

MULDER: This is what I'm saying!

SKINNER: I think he's still tripping.

EINSTEIN: Well, the placebo effect has been known to have lasting psychological outcome.

MULDER: I talked to the terrorist.

EINSTEIN: You talked to the terrorist?

MULDER: Yes. He whispered in my ear.

EINSTEIN: Well, what did he say, Agent Mulder?

MULDER's eyes look up to the ceiling.

MULDER: I can't tell you what he said.

EINSTEIN has a "what a shock that is" look on her face.

MULDER: It was in Arabic.

SKINNER smiles to himself, before leaning down to MULDER and patting him gently on his shoulder.

SKINNER: Well, I'm gonna get you a wheelchair so we can get you home, partner.

SKINNER heads off to find a wheelchair, leaving EINSTEIN and MULDER alone. He reaches out his hand, poking her gently to get her attention.

MULDER: Well, you were there, too.

EINSTEIN looks down at him, expressionless, but clearly wanting to know more.

MULDER: And you were 50 shades of bad.

EINSTEIN narrows her eyes as she looks down at MULDER, taking in his latest admission.


Later. EINSTEIN is pushing MULDER out of the hospital ward in a wheelchair. They enter a long corridor.

MULDER: You know this is ridiculous.

EINSTEIN: We don't want you dancing away.

MULDER: So I did... I-I-I... I did dance?

EINSTEIN: According to a whole bunch of very frightened, middle-aged Texans.

MULDER: You're just covering your ass.

EINSTEIN: Well, either way. I'll be looking at disciplinary action over my own dismal failure of authority. Thanks to you, I'll probably be banished to my own basement office, consigned to a life of ridicule and ignominy...

MULDER: Stop! Stop.

We hear a distant voice calling out. MULDER calls to EINSTEIN to stop the wheelchair and gets out of it unaided. He walks to the hospital exit, which is flanked outside by a line of FBI agents. In front of the guard is a lone woman, wearing a headscarf and long white smock. She is patted down by a female FBI agent as MULDER approaches.

WOMAN: (pleading) Please. I'm begging you!

MULDER: I... I know this woman. It's okay.

It's the woman from the River Styx scene during MULDER's trip earlier. MULDER puts an arm around her and leads her back inside the hospital, passing EINSTEIN as they make their way to the isolation ward.

MULDER: (to EINSTEIN) Maybe you haven't failed.


Later. SCULLY and MILLER are in the isolation ward watching over SHIRAZ. The door opens and EINSTEIN enters.

EINSTEIN: Agent Scully. Miller.

The door opens further and MULDER slowly enters, accompanied by the WOMAN who looks quite overwhelmed.

MULDER: This is Noora. She's come here today to talk to her son, Shiraz.

SCULLY: Mulder, where did you find her?

EINSTEIN: (sideways glance) Please don't ask him that.

MULDER leads NOORA towards the bed. She gasps in horror and collapses as soon as she sees her son, her fall arrested by MULDER and MILLER who grab her in time.

They lead her slowly to the bedside, supporting her under her arms as she nears the bed.

MULDER: It's okay.

NOORA's left give way again, but MULDER reassures her.

MULDER: Got you.

SCULLY and EINSTEIN look on compassionately as she nears the bed. She starts speaking in Arabic. SCULLY notices an increase in brain activity on the EEG monitor.

SCULLY: We believe that he can hear you.

NOORA: Then my prayers are answered.

NOORA's demeanour improves. She caresses her son's bruised face. She starts speaking to him in English. His brain activity continues to increase.

NOORA: Oh. My beautiful baby boy, Shiraz. You could not ever kill anyone. This is not how I raised you - to worship Allah through death. To be a man by following men. Your heart is too big for them. You see the faces of the innocent, and you lose your nerves. You cannot go through with the bomb.

MULDER: Noora, how do you know that?

NOORA: (sniffling) Because my Shiraz tells me so... in my dreams and in my prayers.

MILLER: Who filled his head, Noora?

NOORA shakese her head. MILLER starts speaking to her in Arabic.

MILLER: (in Arabic) Help us stop these men

NOORA replies in English.

NOORA: (sniffling) I do not know how to help you because I do not know their names.

Suddenly SHIRAZ's body tenses. His legs start to shake. His body fights for air. Alarms start beeping. The ECG monitor shows his pulse quicken and then suddenly stop. A flatline tone sounds.

SCULLY: He's going into cardiac arrest.

SCULLY: Blood pressure's dropping.

EINSTEIN leaves hastily.

EINSTEIN: I'm gonna go get help.

MILLER looks at the EEG. Activity is increasing.

MILLER: No, no. I think he's trying to tell us.

SCULLY: Now we're losing him!

SHIRAZ's body shaking starts to subside. He gasps.

NOORA: (pleading) Shiraz, please, please.

The flatline continues. The EEG monitor shows a complete cessation of brain activity. SHIRAZ's body becomes still.

SCULLY: I'm so sorry.

NOORA cries out in desperation and sorrow.

NOORA: No, Shiraz!

SCULLY: (tearfully) I'm sorry.

EINSTEIN and MULDER are watching from a respectful distance. NOORA continues to held her son and call to him.

NOORA: Oh, my Shiraz.

EINSTEIN: Let's give her some space.

MULDER: He talked to us. He talked to me.

NOORA leans forward to lay her head on her son's motionless chest. MULDER approaches the bed.

MULDER: This is exactly how I saw it.

EINSTEIN pleads with him to let it go.

EINSTEIN: Agent Mulder, please...

MULDER: He spoke to me.

NOORA places an arm behind SHIRAZ's neck to cradle him.

NOORA: Shiraz.

MULDER: (with conviction) He spoke to me.

MULDER turns and heads out of the ward, followed by MILLER and SCULLY.

SCULLY: What do you mean he spoke to you?

MILLER: Spoke to you when, Agent Mulder?

MULDER: With the help of Agent Einstein.

EINSTEIN: (sighing) Ugh, Agent Mulder, please stop.

They stop outside the ward, whilst MULDER attempts to explain the unexplainable.

SCULLY: Mulder, when could he possibly have spoken to you?

MULDER: I can explain. Or I can't explain. He spoke to me. In Arabic.

SCULLY: In Arabic?

MULDER: In words I didn't understand, yeah.

MILLER: What words, Agent Mulder?

MULDER tries to recollect. We cut back to the longboat scene, SHIRAZ lying in his mother's arms, speaking with difficulty.

MULDER: Babble? Babeel? Bob-Babel?

MULDER closes his eyes, trying his hardest to recollect and verbalise the words spoken by SHIRAZ.

MULDER: Babel? Babbel al?

Resigned, he can't quite get there, but it's a start.

MULDER: Something.

MILLER: "Babil" is "Babylon," the city.

SCULLY raises her eyebrows.

SCULLY: Like in ancient Babylon?

EINSTEIN meanwhile wants to try and save her FBI future, but MILLER wants none of it.

EINSTEIN: I feel like I need to explain.

MILLER: Just let him finish, please.

MULDER is still anguished, trying to close in on the important words spoken to him.

MULDER: Babil al... Babil...

SCULLY: Mulder, are you okay?

He winces at her comment and continues to grasp with the unknown words. Finally he gets something.

MULDER: Funduq. Babil al Funduq.

SCULLY looks hopefully at MILLER, who is now shaking his head.

MILLER: Babylon the hotel?


Day. Later. Tyres screech as a fleet of black FBI SUVs and saloons pull up in the car park of the motel from earlier. Armed agents get out and draw their weapons. A large "Babylon" sign rotates on a tall pole over the motel roof.

Inside the motel we see the terrorists being led in prayer by the bomb maker.

TERRORIST: Allahu Akbar.

A small group of armed agents in full combat gear approach the motel building, the leading agents holding raised shields. The terrorists are still in prayer.

Suddenly the agents storm the room the terrorists are occupying, smashing through the plate-glass sliding doors with sub-machine guns drawn. The terrorists, taken by surprise, offer no resistance and are quickly overun and forced to the ground. Threat neutralised.


Night. Airport. MILLER is pacing inside a media room full of other travellers, watching news video of the FBI raid on the motel whilst listening to music - Ron Sexsmith's "Secret Heart" - through ear-buds. A pair of TVs proclaim "MUSLIM TERRORIST CELL BUSTED IN TEXAS" and "FBI FOILS BIGGEST TERROR ATTACK SINCE 9/11", the former showing footage of the terrorists being led out of the motel by armed agents, the latter the burning twin towers of the World Trade Center. He looks relieved and exhausted. He sits, head down and rubs his brow. Someone stops in front of him. He looks up. It's EINSTEIN. She parks her suitcase and grabs the chair next to him.

Secret heart

What are you made of?

What are you

So afraid of?

Could it be

Three simple words

Or the fear of being overheard?

What's wrong?

Let her in on your secret heart

Secret heart

Why so mysterious?

Why so sacred?

Why so serious?

Maybe you're...

MILLER pulls out his ear-buds.

EINSTEIN: Not staying for the attaboys?

MILLER: I didn't really do anything.

EINSTEIN: Ah. Nothing but take down a terror cell ready to kill untold numbers.

MILLER: That was all Agent Mulder.

EINSTEIN: That's not how I understand it. I'm told you kept that boy alive, that you kept him safe from harm.

MILLER: I translated a few words. It was all you and Agent Mulder.

EINSTEIN: (scoffing) Remarkably, I did nothing. And, remarkably, it worked. Although I'm at a loss in explaining it.

MILLER: Maybe some things are unexplainable, Agent Einstein.


EINSTEIN: The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious, the source of all true art and science.

MILLER: That's... beautiful, Einstein.

EINSTEIN: Yes. Einstein. That's who said it, Miller. The real mystery here is your behaviour, bringing Agent Scully down here without bothering to consult me.

MILLER: Remarkably, I did nothing. It was you who abandoned me, Agent Einstein, for the crazy train.

EINSTEIN: (scoffing again) Never again, Agent Miller. Although something is clearer to me now, as a result of the experience.

MILLER: The value of an open mind?

EINSTEIN: The nature of reality. I'm now convinced that words and ideas do have weight, the weight to move people to do the most psychotic things.

MILLER: Giving someone magic mushrooms?

EINSTEIN: I was talking about Agent Mulder.

MILLER: Right.

Oops. MILLER puts his ear-buds back, leans his head back and closes his eyes.


Day. MULDER's house. The song continues. He's in the bathroom, examining the red "whip marks" over his left clavicle. He presses one. It smarts. He grimmaces.

He heads outside onto the verandah and sits on a tubular steel patio chair, staring out into the wilderness and listening to music on his phone. A dark grey SUV drives up the track and pulls onto the grass in front of the verandah. He recognises the driver, waving. SCULLY gets outs (demonstrating once again that her feet still reach the pedals).

The soundtrack closes with The Lumineers' "Ho Hey".





(Ho!) I've been trying to do it right

(Hey!) I've been living a lonely life

(Ho!) I've been sleeping here instead

(Hey!) I've been sleeping in my bed,

(Ho!) Sleeping in my bed



(Ho!) So show me family

(Hey!) All the blood that I would bleed

(Ho!) I don't know where I belong

(Hey!) I don't know where I went wrong

(Ho!) But I can write a song


I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart

SCULLY makes her way up the verandah steps and leans against the wooden railing.

SCULLY: Talk to me, Mulder.

MULDER smiles.

MULDER: Oh... where to begin?

SCULLY: Why didn't you tell me about your little scheme?

MULDER: Y-You were on your own mission. And you would've never bought that.

SCULLY: Absolutely right. I have to applaud her, though, on her clever trick with the placebo.

MULDER: Yeah. Yeah. How did that work?

She smiles broadly at him.

SCULLY: Wonders never cease with you.

MULDER: I saw things, though, Scully. Powerful things. I saw deep and unconditional love.

SCULLY: I saw things too. I witnessed unqualified hate, that appears to have no end.

MULDER: But how to reconcile the two? The extremes of our nature.

SCULLY: That's the question. Maybe the question of our times.

MULDER smiles at her from his chair. He slowly gets up, and reaches for her hand. She gives him both, smiling.

Hand in hand, they slowly walk down the verandah steps onto the grass.

MULDER: Walk with me, Scully. This whole thing has got me thinking. Thinking about God.

SCULLY: You, Mulder? Thinking about God?

MULDER: The angry God of the Bible. The Tower of Babel and Babylon, scattering people violently, so there's never to speak a common language.

SCULLY: Punishing man for his hubris.

MULDER: Well, that lesson didn't stick. But the anger sure remains.

SCULLY: That's the same angry God as in the Koran. Ordering death to the infidels.

MULDER: What exactly is this God saying? Worship me and my great anger?

SCULLY: Well, that's a good question, Mulder. One for the ages.

MULDER: Well, think about the immense power in those prophecies, the power in those words to convince young men to put on suicide vests today and murder for their angry God.

SCULLY: What are you getting at?

MULDER: Those boys, they just swallow the pill. It's the power of suggestion.

They stop on the track facing each other. SCULLY looks up at MULDER with affection.

SCULLY: Is this received wisdom from your magical mystery tour?

MULDER: Yes. Courtesy of... the shrooms, something else, something to... trump all hatred. Mother Love.

SCULLY: (total stoner voice) Whoa.

MULDER: I refuse to believe that mothers are having babies just to be martyrs. I want to believe that mothers have a greater purpose for all of us.

SCULLY: I agree. A child is not a tool to spread hatred.

MULDER: But where does the hatred end, though?

SCULLY: Maybe it ends where it began, by finding a common language again. Maybe that's God's will.

MULDER: How can we really know? He's absent from the stage.

She smiles at him. He smiles back.

SCULLY: Well... maybe it's beyond words. Maybe we should do like the prophets and open our hearts and truly listen.

He closes his eyes and breathes in the fresh air. Suddenly we hear an eerie trumpet-like sound far off in the distance. MULDER immediately notices it. SCULLY is unaware. He looks around.


The trumpeting sound continues. MULDER continues to look for its source.


MULDER: Did you hear that?

The overhead camera viewpoint starts to rise up. Slowly at first, speeding up as it gets higher. First we see MULDER and SCULLY, holding hands, getting smaller, then MULDER's property and then the surrouding countryside. As the camera ascends further we pass through the cloud layer, see lush green counties and states from higher and higher above, then the eastern seaboard of the USA. As the camera climbs higher still we see the whole of the continental USA, central America and the northern countries of South America, until finally we are met with the beautiful image of earth hovering in the darkness of space. As the earth slowly drifts away into the distance, we end.

'Cause, oh, we're bleeding out

I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart

I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweet




(The last one)


Finally back again - please let me know if you like the new transcript!

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