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Oh... sorry...
Pardon
- Bonjour. - Bonjour
- Maggie? - Bernard?
Je m'excuse...
Are you... all right?
Yes. Just give me a second.
Is it my fault?
I'm sorry?
I missed you...
The other entrance.
The other entrance? Oh, of course.
No, no, totally my fault.
Did you get spun around?
I... no, not spun... I found the place all right.
It was just... a bit of a...
a bit of a communication problem...
...internally, I mean.
Well, so you're English.
- And so are you! - And so I am.
They sent me especially.
Might have had something to do with my schoolboy French,
when I called.
So will it just be the two of us?
We do have a team. I'm a bit junior.
- Just the guy they send out for a first look. - Right.
So, here we are.
Listen, are you sure it's all right to take the whole afternoon for this?
Absolutely. It's really the only way to see it all.
And we're fine to walk, rather than drive?
I am if you are.
Absolutely.
Brilliant. You can just leave the car here.
Now, I must warn you, it's pretty run down.
Well, I guess that makes it all the more... cinematic.
Sorry.
That might be a problem.
- Sounds like there's an airport nearby? - Oh. Just a small one, In Rouen.
I'll check the schedules.
Right. So any rivers, streams, flowing water on the property?
No. But there's a lake, and two small ponds.
And which way is west?
- Over there. - Oh.
- So, sunset over there? - Yup, almost every day.
Yes.
Great. Best during autumn, so good timing there.
Well, I can definitely see why Monet painted the cathedral a million times.
Never the same light twice!
That could make things tricky actually.
I'd love to take a few photos if...
Please, go ahead.
For some reason my phone doesn't send pictures over here, so...
Oh, it's just something with the settings. I had it happen to me. I can...
Right, it works.
- Now please delete that immediately. - Oh, I don't know!
I think I'll just stick with this.
Whatever works.
Maybe you could give me the lowdown?
OK, the basics. Roughly twenty acres altogether.
Large forest to the south of us, farmland to the north.
the main building was put up on the original foundation of a feudal castle,
which had been destroyed during the Wars of Religion, probably around 1592.
Lots of modifications and additions since then.
The heritage is the thing, really.
Best known for one famous literary guest,
Fontenelle, who wrote his landmark
"Conversations on the Plurality of Worlds",
while staying here at the end of the 17th Century.
Of course Fontenelle isn't a household name now,
but he's very influential.
He helped popularize the Copernican model of the universe.
That in fact the sun doesn't orbit the Earth...
It's the other way round. Yes.
He was probably thinking:
Come on, people... this paradigm isn't going to shift itself!
Presumably the book was based on actual events:
A young philosopher... basically meaning a scientist,
stays at a country château,
hosted by a bright young aristocratic woman.
Every evening for five nights,
the two of them go for a walk in gardens just like these
and have very descriptive and often quite flirty
conversations on how the cosmos works.
Fascinating.
No, really it is.
Well, it was a radical idea, and it took a while
to catch on. Because the pre-Copernican model,
with all these stars miraculously
flying round the Earth in only a day's time, and a bunch of
planets that didn't quite move quite like the rest of them,
and the odd comet coming inexplicably out of nowhere...
well, it a bit of a mess. Or, anyway,
the explanation got so self-contradictory
because people kept adding unnecessary complications
just to try and rationalize it.
Sounds like a bad relationship.
Tell me about it.
You don't actually have to tell me about it. I was just saying...
agreeing with you.
Right.
I'm sorry if I go on too much about this stuff.
It's just so funny:
I don't think I'd ever even heard
of Fontenelle before taking this job,
and getting to know this property.
But his stuff clicked with things
I suppose I'd always been interested in.
Makes you wonder.
Right.
I mean, what if this very important book
that was written here was really boring,
of no interest whatsoever?
What if! We'd probably still think
we were the centre of the universe.
Last occupied quite a few years ago by descendants
of the owners from its halcyon days, who couldn't afford to keep the place up anymore.
Official policy is that I'm not supposed to admit this, but it's quite a sad story.
Anyway, the plan was to convert it all into a spa and golf course.
But that would've meant doing away with some important historical features.
What with property law here being about as fusty and arcane as the
outdated model of the universe, well, permission for that was denied.
- Red tape... - Oh, yes.
So it's been on the market again,
but really in a sort of limbo.
Maintenance obviously neglected, apart
from emergency work to stop some of the buildings collapsing.
Water's running, but the heating's bust.
A cleaner and a gardener come every couple of weeks.
Given the planning issues, how do you think
the locals would react to a film production happening here?
Just... gut feeling?
It's an unusual situation.
Temporary occupancy. Hard to tell.
I see.
Not entirely encouraging.
Maybe not entirely, but...
Well, what can you tell me about your film?
Not much, I'm afraid.
The director is a bit of an eccentric.
Brilliant. But cryptic.
He said if I find the right place, he'll fit the story to it.
Calls it "living off the land".
He's a romantic, I suppose.
One thing I can tell you is that in this case we only need one location.
Or, one that serves as many.
So that's an advantage,
or maybe a disadvantage.
I was instructed to take my time and
hold out for a cosmic epiphany, whatever that means.
Wow.
I swear I'm not being coy. I really don't know.
- It's actually a bit nerve-wracking. - I can imagine.
Before we go in, can I ask you something else?
Yeah.
Is it just me or does this feel really familiar?
Bonjour. Maggie?
Hi.
- It's my fault. - I'm sorry?
I must have told you to go to the other entrance.
Ah.
I hope you didn't get too spun around.
It's all right.
Well, you're English.
- And so are you! - And so I am.
What are the odds?
So. Here we are.
Will it just be the two of us?
- I hope that's all right. - Yes. I... only hate to take up your whole afternoon.
It's really the only way to see it all.
And we're fine to walk, rather than drive?
I am if you are.
Absolutely.
Great. Well, why don't I just leave the car here, and, uh, we'll go.
Now, I must warn you, it's pretty run down.
Excellent. Nothing but potential.
- Er, Excuse me a sec. - Of course.
Everything all right?
Ah, I see. Would you say it's more of an ennui or a malaise?
It's sort of a je ne sais quoi.
Ah. But not quite a joie de vivre, in any case.
Non. Not quite. Not yet.
Sounds like there's an airport nearby?
In Rouen.
Great. That could be really convenient.
- And mobile phone coverage is strong, I see. - Not everywhere. There are definitely some dead zones.
We can certainly help with that. In any case we'd need to dig up quite a bit to lay our cables.
And we'd need to do a lot in terms of security.
Maybe more than you'd expect.
Oh.
Our CEO is really paranoid. He's had several threats made against his life.
These two facts may be related.
Would you mind if I take a few photos?
By all means.
Great. You can give me the lowdown as we go.
What's fascinating to me is that Fontenelle is obviously wrong on some pretty basic stuff,
and yet exactly right, and way ahead of his time, on many others.
Life on the moon? Uh, sorry.
Although even he said:
don't give more than half your mind to ideas like this,
and leave the other half open so that contrary ideas can still fit in.
Now everybody knows that the idea of life on the moon is silly, don't they?
Yet not everybody knows why, when we look at the moon, we always see the same side of it.
Because it takes as long to go round its axis as it does around the Earth.
Guess who was already onto that in 1686?
It's entirely appropriate they named a crater after him.
Obviously the bigger deal was the bit about the Earth going round the sun.
That was radical, and took a while to catch on.
Because the previous understanding was so self-contradictory
that people kept adding unnecessary complications to try and rationalize it.
- Sounds like a bad relationship. - Tell me about it.
You don't have to actually tell me about it. I was just saying...
Right.
René Descartes figured that all heavenly bodies swirled around in the ether,
making little whirlpools that held everything together.
That was his system, which Fontenelle adopted.
Well, then Isaac Newton amended Descartes, not long after Conversations was published.
Fontenelle revised it, but it didn't line up with the new system.
Not that it's about that.
It's about the possibility, the value, of reasonable, non-pedantic conversation.
OK, well, then Einstein amended Newton, and so on.
The idea of the ether hasn't entirely gone away.
Spacetime, dark matter,
we still need there to be "stuff", some medium which it all swirls around in.
And we still need someone to remind us, as Fontenelle put it,
that our common folly is to believe that everything in creation is destined for our service.
Anyway, last occupied quite a few years ago,
but the owners couldn't afford to keep the place up any more. And so eventually our firm acquired it.
Official policy is not to admit as much, but it's quite a sad story.
Or at least I think it is.
Is it just me or does this feel really familiar?
I don't know. What's your yardstick?
What's yours?
I'm not sure there is one.
For me, or you, or anyone.
That seems acceptable.
Shall we?
This is a bit unpleasant, but wasn't
- there something about a... suicide? - What?
Someone in the bankrupt family, after losing the property?
Oh, I don't... You know, I'm just a bit junior myself.
Just the girl they send out to show the place.
Thought I read a mention in somebody's notes.
Well, that would be terrible. But not beyond the realm of possibility, I suppose.
This place has definitely had its fair share of casualties.
- Maybe more than its fair share. - Maybe.
So, Pluralities of Worlds, eh?
Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.
Conversations on the Plurality of Worlds It's very important.
Or at least, that's its English name.
Quite right. Everything important starts with a conversation.
So this is, or was, the library.
Yes, it's a hugely important book. And not his only contribution.
In fact, in my early eager-beaver days I lobbied for having the whole place turned into a Fontenelle museum.
That idea didn't really catch on.
But maybe there's a buyer out there who'll recognize the cultural significance of the place.
- And be able to afford it. - Yeah, that too.
- What do you think the odds are? - Mm, maybe slightly lower than the odds of
intelligent extra-terrestrials elsewhere in the universe.
Right. Pity.
Maybe some aliens will come along and buy it.
Surely they'd know what they've got here.
They might not even need central heating.
That's the spirit.
Well, I seem to like the place after all.
I'll take it!
Wish I could buy it. Maybe.
I think I'm beginning to feel a little protective over it.
Isn't that funny?
Having managed the place for quite a while now, I feel pretty attached to it myself.
Could you help me with...?
Yeah!
So do you know any stars?
I can usually find Orion's belt.
I meant stars as in famous people.
No, I...
...not really. Unless you count That Guy from That Thing,
- and What's Her Name Again. - Oh, you know them?! I love them!
Know is too strong a word. But we worked together once or twice.
And what are they like in person?
Just like everybody else.
About four ninety-five. How exact do you need it?
That'll do. Thanks. This way...
Did you ever want to be in films yourself? Or make them?
No, no. I wouldn't know how. Don't have the mind for it.
I'm not sure what I do have the mind for.
Started law school,
but that felt wrong pretty quickly.
Somehow fell into this film location racket thinking it would be a good way to travel.
Ah, brilliant.
It is and it isn't. You can never just be in a place; you always have to pay attention.
Although maybe that's precisely what my mind is good for:
- the refusal to relax. - Oh, I don't know.
I think maybe you've got something in your idea of alien property developers.
Would you believe one of the deal-breakers with my ex was an argument
about the Fermi paradox? Do you know what that is?
I've worked on a couple of sci-fi shows.
- That's something to do with aliens too, right? - Yeah!
That's all I've got. You'll have to remind me.
Basically, that yes, indeed, the likelihood of there being civilized life somewhere else out there
is so high, it's seriously weird not to have had contact with any by now.
Maybe they're all too busy scrolling on their space phones
to engage in meaningful personal communication.
You know, that is one theory, more or less.
Yeah, we should send them a big group text, distract them
from what they're doing and make them feel pressured to reply...
Or, you know, maybe they're just really bad at reading social cues.
Our whole civilization is like that now.
Do you think that's a consequence of technological evolution?
Just as you master spaceflight, you also become vaguely sociopathic. I like it.
I mean, it's sad and tragic, but that's precisely its charm.
You see! How hard is it to stretch your brain once in a while and just, you know, give a toss.
- Oh, I didn't mean to... - Oh, not you. One.
Well, one in particular.
You know he didn't even really care about the question of whether we're alone in the universe or not!
How can you not care about that? Just a little?
And I always felt like I was the only one who cared about the state of our flat.
I was the one opening curtains, and buying flowers and turning music on. Otherwise it just wouldn't happen.
So, yeah... that. And the Fermi paradox.
It's funny how you think you know what you need from someone,
and then some little thing gives you a whole new perspective on that.
Or I guess it's not a little thing. It's a huge thing.
That's the point.
Maybe your director could make a movie about that.
- Your love life? - Oh God, no. Boring!
The Plurality. Fontenelle.
Fontenelle. Sounds like a pudding.
Something with lots of pastry and cream.
And chocolate! There'd have to be chocolate.
It should be if it isn't already.
Fontenelle made it more possible for women to be scientists.
And for science-fiction, like that show you worked on, even to be a genre in the first place.
So, yeah, I am pro-Fontenelle. Quel mec!
So, it's basically all dialogue, with only two people, right?
Yeah, pretty much.
- Hm, I don't know. - And not even really a drama, it's more of an essay.
- Not exactly high-stakes conflict. - No. Although I suppose that is relative.
They talk about things that were very dangerous ideas back then.
Actually, do you know what it's really like? It's like one of those super nerdy late-night student chats.
- God, do you remember those? - I do, yeah. Barely.
- It feels like it's been forever. - Doesn't it? I miss that.
Yeah, it's like that. With an element of romance, though.
They definitely flirt. Each of them has a kind of naivety, each has a kind of wisdom.
They need each other. I swear there's something going on between them.
OK, so obviously not something my ex would buy a ticket for.
Although maybe he'd watch it on Netflix for a nostalgic night of feeling bored and annoyed at me.
- I'll be sure to tell the boss. - Please do.
- You must promise not to be hurt if he goes in a different direction. - Offence will not be taken.
So, shall we go and have a look at the petit château... the little house?
I thought this was the petit one. Now I am in a spin.
- I'm just joking. - Oh.
I'm sure it does feel little when you're standing in the living room of that one
looking through the window back at this one.
Yes, let's go look at the little house.
The relatively little house.
Should you get that?
Why don't I just turn it off?
Are you sure?
...last occupied quite a few years ago,
but the owners couldn't afford to keep the place up any more. And so eventually our firm acquired it.
Official policy is not to admit as much, but it's quite a sad story.
Or at least I think it is.
The plan was to convert it all into a spa and golf course.
But, property law here being about as arcane and fusty as the outdated model of the universe,
well, permission for that was denied.
- Good old red tape. - Oh, yes.
That's fine. Wouldn't want it any other way.
And so you're... what are you?
My email signature says Director of Special Projects.
And at the moment, my special project is finding just the right spot for a satellite campus.
Hence our afternoon together.
It feels nice to be a part of something special.
I'm flattered by your interest. On behalf of my employer, of course.
I'm flattered by your being flattered, on behalf of mine.
So can I ask, why here? Why not something in a city?
Well, we've developed plenty of somethings in plenty of cities but we've been routinely accused of gentrification,
or worse.
So we had a brainstorm, and decided to establish something somewhere with a pre-existing aristocratic infrastructure,
- whatever that means. - I see.
Well, the local départment will still find a way to make things hard for you.
- You mustn't underestimate that. - Of course. We've budgeted for it.
As I said, we wouldn't have it any other way.
It can't just be about infrastructure, though, right? Don't you just get a gut feeling sometimes?
Sometimes.
But you probably have an algorithm to determine the sentimental value of things.
We have plenty of algorithms.
But sometimes their logic can be a bit fuzzy.
- About the last family that lived here... - Yeah?
Oh, nothing.
And here's the library.
It's really a shame to see it in this condition.
Have you ever had a fear of re-reading books that once meant the world to you?
What would that be called? Retro-biblio-philia-phobia?
I'm sure a poet somewhere has come up with a name for it.
I get that fear sometimes.
Like how you can fall in love with someone and be dazzled by all the beautiful things about them,
and then one day suddenly realize you've considered them ugly for a long time.
- I don't read many books these days. - No?
Not for a while. Not since my abortive attempt at law school.
- In my case it was when someone said: the universe
doesn't care about me, so why should I care about it?
- Me as in you? - No, him. I'm quoting him.
As in, the universe didn't care about him, so why should he care about it?
But it's a good guess that his logic applied to me too.
It is a fairly perceptive question.
I know. I loved him a lot.
It's funny how you think you know what you need.
You want someone to make you feel like you're not alone.
So maybe it's worse when you do find someone and you end up feeling more alone.
I ended up marrying someone blonde and sunny, which is strange,
because I'd always thought I had a thing for pensive, unconventional brunettes.
She even agreed with me.
So what do we know about this woman?
Sorry?
The marquise. This scientist came to her château, presumably with several other high society guests,
and what... the two of them just slipped out and went for country walks in the garden every night?
That's just the book.
Yeah, but he was based on the author, and she was based on a real person, right?
She was the daughter of a very distinguished salon hostess.
When he wrote it she was a widow in her 20s, with a little boy.
I don't know how her husband died.
- You've really got into this, haven't you? - For some reason I just couldn't help myself.
There is something about this place. Isn't there?
We shall consult the algorithm.
Come on, what is it, you like to just come up here every now and then and... hang out?
You make it sound unseemly. It's not like I'm squatting or anything.
Well wouldn't you, if you had access to a place like this?
It does feel miles away from everything.
Mm. It does. Nice, isn't it?
I don't know.
I suppose I can understand how some people might resist the idea of a tech company taking over.
Even an empty country retreat is still a country retreat.
Maybe it's the emptiness itself that's most appealing.
What is it that makes someone cross that threshold?
One minute you're texting right in front of your friends to see if there's something
better going on somewhere else without you,
and the next you're swearing off the Internet, maybe even off the grid entirely, hiding in your bunker.
We have teams working on that very question.
Teams!
Oh, and yet, lest we forget, this is pretty much the same basic stuff that got Galileo banned and arrested.
It's one of the ideas that got Giordano Bruno burned at the stake.
- Is that so? - It is.
How do you think our man Fontenelle got away with it?
Probably helped not to be in Italy. And to be friends with the local chief of police.
But also: his book isn't polemical.
It's very charming. And that always goes such a long way.
- Oh, god. I'm just going on and on, aren't I? - No, no, please continue.
OK, good!
It's good to have a real audience.
You know, I started a Facebook group, but nobody joined.
- Ah. - Yeah.
- Well, there are loads of other ways you could try... - Actually, no. It's weird to hear myself talk about it.
I'm almost afraid to share it now.
Plurality of worlds. I think the most recent, very educated guess
is that there's something like 40 billion Earth-like planets, of the right temperature, in the Milky Way alone.
Universe. Multiverse. At a certain point it stops mattering.
- I suppose that's the definition of infinity. - That's a bit cynical.
You could say that. Or just practical.
Some people find the concept of infinity soothing. Others find it terrifying.
Why not just compromise and say: it is what it is. It's a big old twisted loop.
Definitely cynical. But I don't blame you.
It's the age we live in. They thought the atom bomb would burn off the whole atmosphere.
They thought the Large Hadron Collider would tear open a black hole which would swallow us all.
No, it won't be so quick and easy.
It'll be overpopulation, climate change,
some marauding investment bank that becomes sentient, all gradually wearing us down.
From the plurality to the singularity! Before we even know it.
OK, but what if all civilizations have decided it's too dangerous to make contact...
they've all sort of made it a policy not to.
Some people just stare at their phones all the time because they're too shy and awkward, it's easier.
You know, I think this place is bigger than I'd...
What about these buildings, out here, do people live in those?
They've been empty for several years.
- I see. But it's possible. - Sure. You might be able to convert them.
Then I do see potential here.
Tell me this, Mr. Special Projects, if this does become your satellite campus, would you be working here yourself?
In a way I already am.
- This one. The little one. - Relatively little.
Can we take a look?
After you.
- Shouldn't it be ladies first? - Not in this situation.
This is uncharted territory. I'm not even sure if it's safe.
How about this? If it isn't safe, we can turn around.
- And around... - And around...
- There must be a way to the main rooms from here.
Shouldn't I be asking you that question?
- Shit. - Quite.
Let's see if I can...
Well, that's a bit... personal. But OK.
Congratulations.
Oh, unless she's not your wife.
- She is. - Good.
You don't seem the type to go around having affairs and unhappy accidents.
Oh, what is it? Have I wounded your pride?
Affairs maybe, accidents definitely not?
Hm. I'm afraid that doesn't seem quite right either.
Maybe it's that you are a good boy, and you know you are, but you sort of hoped you'd come across otherwise?
OK, no, that's too much.
What type are you, then? I don't think I've figured it out.
Sorry.
- Let's just see if we can get the door open again. - Excellent idea.
Isn't it a bit weird to just send that?
Instead of calling?
Of course, I don't know. I don't know how you two communicate.
I've seen people post those things on line.
For starters, she just pissed on that, it's gross.
And isn't it way too early to be making announcements?
Posting an ultrasound I can almost understand, but even then it's way too much information.
Invading the kid's privacy before it's even a kid.
- Now you just sound like a threatened... - I don't care.
I just hope that when the time comes, you'll remember this conversation
and think twice before uploading.
You and your lady.
Diana.
Now there's someone with considerate parents.
Goddess of the moon.
Mistress of the hunt.
- Princess of the Wales. - That too.
- Can I ask you something? - Anything.
Are we stuck in here?
Do you not think the charms of a fine night may even exceed those of the day?
Yes. The day's beauty is blonde and brilliant,
but the beauty of the night is brunette, which is more touching.
You are very generous to give favour to the brunette, being so fair yourself.
It is certainly true,
that an unclouded sun is one of the most beautiful things in nature,
and the most beautiful things in the imagination,
the heroines of our romances, always seem to be blonde too.
Even if I did believe you, I shouldn't be satisfied,
since the blonde brightness of day has still so little effect on your heart.
Why do lovers, the best judges of what stirs our emotions,
address all their poetic effusions only to the night?
Everything is softer in starlight.
We feel freer to be alone with our pensive pleasures.
Besides, the day sky shows us only the sun,
where the night gives its great scattering of innumerable stars.
I love the stars, I'm almost angry with the sun for hiding them.
I cannot forgive him for making me lose sight of so many worlds.
Worlds? What do you mean?
Pardon me.
You've struck a chord with my imagination.
I forget myself in a romantic idea.
And what romantic idea is this?
I'm half-ashamed to admit it.
I have a notion that every star may well be a world.
I will not swear to it, but I think it so. Because it pleases me to think so,
and I believe that pleasure is an accessory to truth.
Well, if there's such a pleasure in it, I'll believe the stars are anything you say.
Oh, madam, no, it is not an enjoyment as you'd find in seeing one of Molière's comedies:
it is a pleasure of reason. It delights only the mind.
Do you think me incapable of pleasures which depend only on reason?
I'll show you your mistake. Teach me about your stars.
No. Let it never be said that on an
enchanted evening walk with the most interesting and beautiful
woman I know, that all I did was talk about philosophy.
Well,
what's wrong with philosophy?
Here we are.
Well, I guess there is a plus side to having parked over here.
Assuming our rescuer ever arrives.
While we're waiting,
I'm very interested to hear more of your literary analysis.
Well, I'm not at all sure you're being sincere, but I'm going to press on anyway because this is important:
the question of whether it's feminist or not... the idea of this
philosopher mansplaining the whole universe to the marquise.
Of course what we understand as feminist is from a modern point of view,
and in fact he was writing in an era
when men felt super-threatened by women who wanted to educate themselves.
Aren't we still in that era?
Oh, look at you, scoring points.
The thing is, the marquise chooses to spend time with him, and to learn about astronomy.
There's a lot of other much less engaging things she would have been expected to be doing instead.
And there are definitely moments when she doesn't put up with his bullshit, his supposed "gallantries".
I think there's something to that.
Fontenelle's entire literary reputation depended on him coming up through salons, which were created and run by women.
I don't think he was being condescending.
Or at least he was trying not to be.
He lived almost to 100, and there's this story
about how he met a young woman not long before he died,
and said, "Ah, madame. If only I were eighty again!"
Fine, I do get the humour and that it's supposed to be charming,
but on the other hand, it's a bit of a creepy move.
Oh come on, give the guy a break.
I only point this out to show that I hold my monsieur to a high standard
Anyway, apparently he never married.
Oh my God. Was he just covering for being gay?
And all this was last-minute reputation insurance?
I'm sure there's some postgraduate student somewhere investigating.
It always gets political and complicated,
everybody's flawed.
Calvados.
The good stuff.
What would that look like?
I mean, would we rent these places out?
No, no. I couldn't be a landlord.
Maybe start a commune?
Those places never last.
People always fall out.
I know. We could open a B&B.
Probably not a lost cause in terms of planning permission.
And it's not a bad compromise: sort of renters,
sort of commune. There's a turnover built in,
before we get sick of people.
You could host your salons. Invite some philosophers.
Nice to get at least a little bit off the grid.
Not have to be chasing a mobile phone signal all the time.
Isn't it something how much we think about ourselves, but
barely know who we are?
To paraphrase a certain French writer friend of mine from the old days:
God must have been drunk when he created us,
and laughed his ass off when he sobered up.
Just curious, though,
how far away is this locksmith you called?
Oh, hush.
In truth, it's actually a lot smaller than I remember.
Well, you've grown.
What are you doing here, Bernard?
The family that your bank got rid of...
And the one, perpetually unmentioned, casualty of that deal...
Your Dad...
So that makes you the enemy.
But how can you be?
You were just a kid when it happened.
And whilst I was getting myself all torn up about
whether I was French or English, posh or not,
a poor orphan or just some spoiled brat...
Well, whatever you were doing,
probably wasn't with any malice towards me or my family.
That's absolutely true.
In my mind I went through a few versions of how this could go.
Nothing violent or anything, don't worry.
What am I doing here?
I don't even know.
But whatever it is, I couldn't just call up your company and demand a whole afternoon of your time for it.
No, I needed a story.
So, I was a film location finder.
A tech start-up big-shot.
A philosopher-scientist of the 17th century!
It's not easy to find your place in this world, Maggie.
Let alone the whole cosmic scheme.
I actually did work at a couple of TV shows.
Rock bottom assistant, thanks to an uncle who knew someone.
And flirted with the idea of making something out of it.
Even did time in Los Angeles,
which was fucking awful.
Worse than law school, which, yes, I did start
with the intention of suing the shit out of your employer.
But which I promptly dropped out of.
Of course.
And yes, I did work at one of those vaguely sinister tech companies for a while,
also without distinction...
until I got the sack.
And no, she doesn't know.
They'd probably turn this place into some high-tech secret headquarters.
Your company been approached by anyone like that?
- Not that I'm aware of. - Good! That's good.
I fucking hate those...
I don't even know where they come from.
I am definitely not one of these little shits who think they can walk out of any job
and get snapped right up by some other company.
The bratty egomaniacs who just retire at our age.
Guess I'm not a go-getter.
I don't know what I am, but I am definitely not a petty go-getter.
Hey, I know what you are.
What?
You're nine months away from being someone's father.
Fuck!
Just thought I'd point that out.
Thank you so much.
It's interesting.
Can I see that message again?
D'you know what that is?
I have a pretty good idea.
No, I mean the image itself: the circle with a cross in it.
That's the ancient symbol of the Sun. The solar cross.
But at some point they changed it. Like if you look on the NASA website,
you'll see that now it's the symbol of the Earth.
At some point the sun symbol became a circle with a dot in it,
and that symbol was adopted as the official symbol of the Earth.
Who knew?
That actually is very interesting.
- What do you think good ol' Fontenelle would make of that? - Exactly!
Or maybe just think it was a really cool coincidence.
"I've failed as a father," that's what he'd say, over and over and over again,
mostly with something like this in his hand.
He could get so sodden with self-pity.
But he wasn't wrong.
I don't know who to be angry with,
but I'm sure as hell not ready to be a parent.
Who is?
- Well isn't that just such a fucking cliché. - Yeah, for a reason, though.
Well it pisses me off.
I say I'm not ready, and unfailingly, that's the answer.
As if I somehow no longer even have any say in it all.
Well I do have a say. I demand a say.
And I know it's selfish, and selfishness is precisely the thing you need to learn to do without
in order to be ready.
Yeah, learn to.
And that takes a while.
We humans have a reasonably long gestation period, so that buys you some time.
No one even wants to believe there's a possibility I'd make a crap father.
And so they'd just pretend otherwise, and then, what?
when I have a messed-up kid,
they'll just, what?... suddenly all be shocked.
"They fuck you up..."
"...your Mum and Dad."
"They may not mean to..."
"...but they do."
Imagine if they built a huge spaceship
where the idea was to travel for generations to reach another solar system,
and they all got cooped up and sick of each other,
and someone had brought that poem,
and it was, you know, like subversive literature,
and they all had a revolution of deliberately refusing to reproduce,
and so that by the time that ship actually reached another world,
all those aliens would only find dead bodies.
Is this something you've been working on? Are you trying this out on me?
No, just came up with it now.
But I like it! Maybe I should give this film business a go, eh?
Definitely. Yeah, yeah, you should.
You're a very tolerant person, Bernard.
I appreciate that.
- Am I? - Yeah.
Good dad material, I'm telling you.
Christ.
You should call her back.
It's not like you to torture her this way.
- How could you possibly know that? - I don't know.
I hope.
We're just not at ease any more.
Not together.
We tried having a baby and it wasn't working,
so I wanted to use that as a weapon, to say...
there you have it. The universe is telling us we don't belong together.
I didn't say it.
I don't believe it.
Not because I think we belong together, but because I think there's no such thing as belonging.
The universe tells us nothing.
It's not conscious.
And if it is, it's clearly indifferent to the likes of us.
We have an awful habit of shutting each other down.
We've become...
ungenerous.
Wonder how long that guy's going to take.
Could be in here for the night.
Pity; the sunsets are nice here this time of year.
I'm a loser too, you know.
- I don't think I used that word exactly. - This job...
if I'm being honest about it... is undeniably the safe choice.
I'm into pasty-faced poets and sci-fi and astronomy,
but look how I spend my days.
If I'd known, when I was little, about the Plurality of Worlds,
I don't mean the actual plurality of worlds; I think I probably did know about that.
Which by the way is a testament to something:
if a girl like me can take that knowledge for granted,
when back then even an aristocratic woman wasn't expected
to know or even quite fathom it,
well, then, that is saying something about...
I don't know... grace, I suppose.
Anyway, if I'd known about this,
I just know it would have inspired me to be
a scientist,
or a writer,
or at the very least someone who dresses up as something
interesting and goes to Comic-Con once in a while.
But I really think it's too late.
You're not even 30.
That's presumptuous,
but also the most optimistic thing I think I've heard you say.
Yeah.
What has come over me?
Maybe there's a parallel universe where it worked out better for both of us.
And probably at least one where it worked out worse.
Well I don't if that's pessimistic or optimistic, but yeah,
probably.
Too many possibilities.
I hope you don't just think I'm some fantasy girl,
an escape from it all.
Now that's presumptuous.
Don't look at me.
You're the one driving this thing.
- Is it my fault? - I'm sorry?
- I probably should have gone to the other... - Oh, not at all.
Oh, I'm so sorry.
- Did you get spun around? - That's all right.
Are you sure?
Absolutely.
Well, you are indeed English.
- And so are you! - Partially, anyway.
Right.
I realize it may have been a bit presumptuous of me to think you'd enjoy a look around.
What? No!
I mean, no, not presumptuous. Not at all.
- Of course I wanted to look around. - OK, good.
How dickish would it have been to accept a stranger's
very specific invitation, come all this way, and then just tell her to eff off?
Right, but what if it had been 10 or 15 years ago?
That might be exactly what I'd have done, yeah.
Well, good timing then.
Shall we?
Now, I must warn you, it's getting pretty run down.
Yeah, I've braced myself as best I can.
How long has it been?
Many years.
I don't know. I've lost count.
There was a highly regrettable druggy dropout period just after law school,
when I occasionally would drive past the place to see...
I don't know... to see if it was even real.
That quickly felt pathetic.
It wasn't even conclusive:
right now, for instance, it seems less real than ever.
To me too, actually.
It's a shame we're late for all the wild strawberries.
Fontenelle swore that strawberries made him live longer.
He made it to almost 100, didn't he?
That's right.
Good ol' Fontenelle.
It is bizarre to see it like this.
Obviously better than a fucking golf course. But still.
Well, as you know, French property law being what it is...
I know. Protects the history and all that.
But to see it empty, it's tragic.
I agree.
So you're telling me you haven't had offers from any insufferable
filthy rich tech brats looking to turn it into, I dunno,
the company's Thursday afternoon massage parlor-slash-super-soldier cloning lab?
No serious offers.
Do you know anyone who's in the market?
No one who'd admit it.
So,
here we are. At last.
In my mind I ran through a few versions of how this could go.
Oh?
You probably worked out I stalked you a little bit online.
And I imagined all sorts of reasons you might have to come here so that I could meet you.
Definitely presumptuous.
And I got a little bit carried away.
Anyway, talk about making something more complicated than it needs to be.
So finally I just worked up the nerve to get in touch.
- I hope it wasn't too weird. - No, not too weird.
I mean, it's completely weird.
But not you. The place. The circumstances.
Right.
And I hope you'll forgive me if I've become familiar too quickly.
I don't know.
What's too quickly by your standards?
To be honest, I don't really have a standard.
Me neither.
You don't have a pregnant wife who's waiting to hear from you, do you?
What?
No! I hope not...
No. I'm not married
Divorced.
OK. So this is a gravitational question.
Would you say, if you had to choose either/or,
you're someone who leaves, generally, or someone who gets left?
Or, someone who attracts, or someone who becomes attracted?
I don't even know anymore.
Gravity's still such a mystery, isn't it?
And, not to pry,
but OK yes, to pry a little...
the offspring situation?
I was all for them, actually, but things didn't work out.
We were young.
Probably for the best, to tell the truth.
I pushed way too hard.
Perhaps overcompensating
- for everything. - Of course.
I mean, not of course but...
- I'm sorry. - It's all right.
It was a long time ago now.
Well, the place does feel a little bit haunted.
But seriously Maggie, I think that's because nothing's been done to it since we left!
What's the plan?
- What are you going to do to turn it around? - I know.
Oh, I'm just joking.
Sorry,
I don't know why I'm teasing you. We've just met.
I suppose it always felt a little bit haunted.
In good ways, too.
The place has definitely been through a lot.
Still here.
Christ.
That's just unbearably sad.
I know.
Have you got a pencil?
I've got a pen.
That's good. That's better.
- I think that's actually even more sad now. - It really is, isn't it?
- What have we done? - I know.
It wasn't enough to repossess our sprawling manse and let it rot?
- But now you have to go and scribble all over the walls? - Stop it.
God, I'm being... horrible.
That was a bit much.
It was. Forgive me, Maggie!
How did you even get this?
Just don't tell my boss.
Or sue him.
Please.
I loved this book when I was younger.
I didn't understand it. Almost did.
I wanted to.
I wanted to be a "philosopher" when I grew up.
Then we lost the house. And Dad...
Perfect training for a philosopher, now I think about it.
This is pretty much my favourite book.
So thanks for letting me borrow it,
however unwittingly.
You're very welcome.
It's mind-blowing to think there are places like this all over France.
All over Normandy, even.
But this is one of a kind, though, isn't it?
Honestly, what do you think will become of it?
Don't laugh.
I tried to get it turned into a Fontenelle museum.
Seriously?
Tried to? Past tense?
Didn't work.
We should try again.
There's just one other thing I'd like to look for.
Wait here, I'll be right back.
Et voilà!
Perhaps past its best, but I'm willing to give it a go.
Have a drink with me, Maggie.
What is that stuff?
Maggie! You disappoint me.
What is this, you ask?
Apple brandy?
The best apple brandy! The only.
The pride of Normandy.
You know who else had a thing for apples?
Isaac Newton.
That great English shifter of French paradigms.
If we're going to drink to all the people who got us here, we should drink to him too.
And to gravity being a little bit less of a mystery than it used to be.
In my mind I was playing a little game.
If I only I could keep you here till sunset...
What would happen?
No idea.
Sometimes I lack imagination in really odd ways.
Do you know any stars?
Not anymore. Not by name.
You know there's this app where you can hold your phone up towards the sky
and it tells you the constellations you're looking at.
- That's amazing. - I thought so.
But it needs a mobile signal,
so maybe we don't want to go off the grid after all.
And if there really are infinite stars,
does that mean that any constellation you could possibly imagine,
any little connect-the-dots you could make,
must exist somewhere?
Like all you need is the proper vantage point to see it from?
And the propensity to look for it.
No shortage of that here.
Well, think about the face in the moon...
it's a great big reminder of how it's in our nature to see what we want to see.
- Ourselves. - Quite.
Well! Sounds like we've got it all sorted, doesn't it?
What?
The universe.
Oh shit, I don't know.
No?
Well, the sun-earth situation,
yeah, most people seem pretty clear on that.
But stuff like quantum entanglement,
the multiverse, what there was before the Big Bang?
Fuck!
So there won't be another moment where someone says,
Oh, actually, it's this.
Yeah, that's much simpler, that makes sense. It's this, everyone.
Theory of everything.
Don't know. Could be.
Teams are working on it, for sure.
Teams!
If someone does crack it,
they won't be burned at the stake, will they?
I would hope not.
But you never know.
All alone in the meantime.
Alone together.
There's this great part where the Marquise talks about how it's overwhelming
to realise our insignificance in the universe.
And the Philosopher says: yes,
but it doesn't lessen the charms of a beautiful face, a fine pair of eyes...
as he puts it: they retain their power in spite of all the worlds that can be created.
Not bad. What does she say to that?
She says:
Love is a strange thing;
it escapes every corrective,
and no system of understanding can reduce it.