Monolith (2022) Movie Script
1
I wanna tell you a story.
Ever since
I was young,
there was something
different about my family.
A secret.
Mom reckoned she'd been
followed her whole life.
Well, this one time,
we're at the beach,
and Mom sees this guy
pointing a camera at us.
She starts going
off at him,
but he's just
frozen watching us.
He says, "I'm sorry,
this is just the way it has to
be."
And then he runs.
Until slam!
He jumps straight
in front of a car.
Like it was
deliberate.
Dead on impact.
After the ambulance
takes him away,
I pick up the
camera he dropped.
It's a model
I've never seen,
and there are thousands
of photos on it,
and every
single photo
is of Mom and
our family.
At the swimming pool,
outside our house,
at the movies,
the supermarket...
A photo of my brother
smoking a bong.
Mom wasn't crazy.
She had been followed
her whole life. But it was
impossible--
Do you
think you can send me
these photos,
Jarad?
See, we gave
the camera to the cops,
but months later,
they tell us,
they have no record
of this stalker.
Like, he
never existed.
And the camera
just disappeared.
So you
don't have any evidence
of any of this
happening?
Oh, don't you get it?
This stalker was a
secret agent from the
future,
and our family play
a really important part
in something that
happens in a future
timeline.
That's--
That's a pretty big
leap, Jarad.
You
don't believe me.
I know you, lady.
You think
I'm a joke?
You're the joke.
I watched
you online.
I know the kind
of person you are.
You're a fraud! After
the shit you pulled on your last
gig,
you should be working
at a fuckin' donut shop...
Jarad. -...not making
the news.
I'm gonna
hang up now, okay?
I'm
the chosen one, bitch!
I'm freakin'
Harry Pot--
I wanna tell you a story.
All you have to do
is listen.
I would like
to publicly apologize
for my recent
mistakes
when I was reporting on
the history of David
Langley.
I failed to
corroborate evidence
and thoroughly
investigate my key source's
background.
And I would like
to clarify that
Mr. Langley was cleared
of any criminal offenses
related to the
claims in my article.
The Evening Journal's
objective is to provide open
access
to high-quality,
independent journalism.
My actions do not reflect
The Evening Journal's
operations or integrity.
Thank you for your time.
Chew and chew and chew.
Peter Piper picked a peck
of pickled peppers.
- A peck of pickled...
- shit. -
Welcome to Beyond
Believable,
the podcast
that investigates
the unbelievable
firsthand accounts of...
Beyond Believable,
the show that unmasks
the mysteries--
This is a
clickbait podcast
made for bored,
lonely ballbags
with IQ levels below
a lobotomized monkey. Enjoy.
I want to expose
the truth.
Hey, it's me.
I just wanted to
officially welcome you to the
team.
We're so excited that
you're gonna jump on board.
I know it's
a little...
beneath what
you're used to,
a little mystery
podcast, but...
I figure with
everything going on, it could
be
a great opportunity
for you.
So, call me
when you can.
We can plan
your first story--
Oh, hey, just checking
in to see how you're going.
I'm just, you know,
I know you're probably
looking for the
right story,
something that
really sings to you.
But to be honest,
we just need to get--
Now, seriously.
I've been nice
up to this point,
but I stuck my
neck out for you
when nobody else
would touch you.
I'm getting
a lot of heat here,
and I need you to
deliver and deliver today--
Hello?
Hi. Is this, uh,
Floramae King?
Yes.
Who is this, please?
I'm a journalist from a
podcast called Beyond
Believable.
It's about
mysteries that--
Sorry, I can't
hear you well, hon.
Hang on a tick, I'll
go into the other room.
Mom. -No worries.
Put that
back before you break it!
Sorry. Yes?
I received a, uh...
well, I guess you'd call
it an anonymous tip-off
about a brick.
Is this
about Paula's boy?
I told him to stop
lobbing bricks
into that empty house
on Hunter's Road.
Uh, no.
Look. It's
probably nothing,
but I received an email
about some sort of
specific brick, and you.
Hello, Ms. King,
are you there?
The email wasn't
very clear,
but they gave me
your phone number.
Who gave you
my phone number?
As I said,
they were anonymous.
My daughter is
over for lunch
and I don't think that
we should be talking about
this.
It won't take a moment.
I just want to ask you
a couple of quick questions.
What's this
for, again?
It's for a podcast.
I thought you said
you were a journalist.
I am.
All I want is a little
background information,
and then I will be
on my way.
Is there anything
you could tell me about it?
The brick was such a
long time ago.
When you say brick,
I'm not sure I understand
what you mean.
Like, a house brick,
or something...?
No. It...
it was like nothing
I'd ever seen.
-It-- It changed my
life. -How?
These aren't good
memories. I shouldn't talk about
this.
It's a very long time
ago, and I don't think I can
help you.
Ms. King.
Can I call you Floramae?
I guess.
I'm thinking that if I got
this anonymous email,
I wouldn't be surprised
if other journalists have too.
-Really?
-Mm.
I don't want other people
to twist your words, Floramae.
No.
So let me tell
your story properly.
It'll only take five
minutes, promise.
Okay. Five minutes.
I just wanna let you know
I'm recording this.
Is that okay?
Mm-hm.
You said this happened
a long time ago.
How long ago
are we talking?
It's gotta be close on
20 years, maybe more.
Can you tell me what your
life was like back then?
I worked for
a family.
Housework, cleaning,
looking after their kid.
Nice people,
but a bit well-to-do.
-You know the sort.
-Sure.
But good employers.
They were even
paying to put my girl
on a scholarship
to a good school.
They treated her like
she was their own daughter.
We were so grateful for
everything they gave us.
But something went wrong?
One day, something
happened in the house that
I still can't
explain.
What do you mean?
I don't know
if I can say it.
I'm not here to judge you,
Floramae.
I just wanna listen.
Well, one day,
I came in to find
all this terrible
damage to their furniture.
Big, awful scratches
across everything.
The dining table
was the worst.
It was like
somebody was so angry,
they grabbed the
sharpest knife they could
find
and stabbed and
stabbed at the table,
making these big,
deep scratches.
Sounds really frightening.
It was, but...
but it got worse.
The family thought that
my girl Paula had done it.
She was only a kid
and she swore black
and blue she didn't,
but they didn't
believe her.
Did you think she did it?
It makes
me ashamed.
Paula never
admitted it.
There
was a lot of pressure,
and I didn't feel that
I could stand up to them.
I didn't
believe her.
Over the years,
I've always wondered...
If she didn't destroy
the furniture, who did?
Exactly.
It caused big
trouble in the house,
and the family
turned on us,
turned on Paula.
And I couldn't
do anything to stop it.
I couldn't help
my little girl, and...
I was such
a terrible mother, and...
And that's when I
received the strangest
thing.
This black brick.
What do you mean,
received it?
How?
I--I don't
remember.
You don't remember?
It was a long
time ago.
It's okay.
Can you tell me
what the brick was like?
It was darker than
anything I've ever seen
and heavy.
It was special.
As soon as I held
it, I felt like
something
was changing.
But then...
What happened?
The couple I
was working for,
their kid took
it from me.
And when the
husband saw it,
he thought he could
make some money.
He told me
it was art.
I'll never forgive
him for selling it.
He sold it
without your permission?
After they decided my
Paula ruined their
furniture,
we had to pay
for the damage.
So they took the brick
as part of the payment.
It makes me wild.
Who'd he sell it to?
Some art collector.
Do you remember a name?
Something German.
Lang, maybe?
That must've made you feel
really awful.
-I tried to stop
it. -Mm.
I told the couple
that that brick was mine.
You know,
people can't go around
selling what's not
theirs, can they?
But as soon as the
family found out
I wanted to go
to the authorities,
they removed me.
They fired you.
Easy as you please.
Years of
service gone.
I never heard
from them again.
I never saw the
brick again.
What do you think
this brick was, Floramae?
I'm not sure.
Maybe nothing.
Somebody thought it was
interesting enough
to email me about.
And you say
the brick was special, right?
What'd it make you feel?
Sometimes, I think
I can still feel it.
That power,
like something
unfinished.
I can't explain it.
I don't know.
This was 20 years
ago, it's silly.
I thought that there
was some kind of power over
me.
Yeah, it was probably
all in my head.
Sorry if this
is a dead-end.
It's okay.
Maybe there's something
that will jog your memory. We
can--
Mom, come on,
lunch is just sitting.
- I know, it's getting cold.
- - Who is that?
I'll pop it
in the microwave, hon.
-Give it to me.
-Hang on a tick.
Hang on, Paula.
Hello, who is this?
Sorry, I was speaking
with Floramae--
Whatever you're
selling, leave Mom alone.
-Paula! You don't--
-People need to stop
calling.
She doesn't need any
more crap in her house.
- No, of course. -
Sorry, it's just...
- You understand,
right? - Hang
on. Paula!
Godmorgen,
mit barn.
Just calling to let you
know we've made it to...
Beautiful Copenhagen!
We're alive and
well in our very lovely
hotel.
Why do the
Danes have to pickle
everything?
And your mother's
already complaining about all
the fish.
Darling, we can
get you a new jacket, if you
like.
She doesn't
want a jacket.
Don't be stupid,
of course she does.
There's some
leftovers in the freezer.
And
don't forget,
Ian's tank needs
to be cleaned
twice a week.
We heard about the new
podcast. Sounds interesting.
Good little diversion
after everything that's
happened.
Obviously, those
bastards at The Evening
Journal
had no right to
scapegoat you like that.
You know you did the
right thing with Langley
and you've got
nothing to apologize--
Lang Contemporary.
Frau Schmidt. Guten tag.
Hallo,
kann ich bitte
mit Klaus Lang sprechen?
-Sorry.
-Of course.
May I ask
why you are calling?
I never thought
I would get a call
about these funny
little objects of mine.
Hi, Mr. Lang.
I, uh, work for a podcast
called Beyond Believable.
It's about unsolved
mysteries, hoaxes, that kind of
thing.
I, uh, came across a story
about a black brick
that you bought from an
Australian man many years ago,
and I just wanna
corroborate a few details with
you.
Most curious. A hoax?
I'm not so sure.
Before we go any further,
I'm letting you know
I'm recording our conversation
for the podcast.
Do you mind?
You're already
recording?
I've found it's always
better to ask for forgiveness
than permission.
I agree entirely.
Go ahead.
So you're telling me
this object really exists?
Yes, yes, in fact,
I have several.
What do you mean, several?
See, I am also
very interested
in this phenomenon.
When I was a
very young man,
I also received
a brick.
You're kidding me.
Not at all,
not at all.
And I've been
fascinated with them ever
since.
So you're saying
there's more than one
of these objects
out there.
I know of at least a
dozen around the world,
of which I
have a few,
each exactly
the same.
Most peculiar.
Very collectible.
And how did you receive
your brick, Mr. Lang?
It was, uh, just,
uh, in my house.
Can you, uh,
can you describe these bricks?
They are black.
About the size
of a gold bar,
but darker than any
other object I have seen.
Very heavy, not
manmade, but not natural
either.
It's either one
or the other, no?
I thought
like this.
So several
years ago,
I took these artifacts
to a friend of mine,
and she made scans
with the new technology.
They call it
volumetric scanning.
You can make
a three-dimensional image
of the interior
without opening it up.
-Very cool, huh?
-And?
I have never seen
anything like it.
Uh, the interior
of each brick
is filled
with hundreds of symbols
folded into
each other.
Can you send
me these scans?
It was years ago.
I'll see if I
can dig them up.
Perhaps you can make
something of them.
And these symbols...
what alphabet is it?
Latin, Arabic, Cyrillic,
hieroglyphic?
Each brick has its own
unique set of symbols.
But in mine, I see a
symbol that reminds me of a
scar
that I have had
since I was a small boy.
It makes me think this
brick is speaking directly to
me.
What do you mean?
Well, you see,
uh...
You probably
think I'm crazy.
No. G-go on, please.
For a while, I thought
I was completely verruckt,
crazy as a cuckoo.
Many...many
years ago,
just before
I received my brick,
I-I had a very strange,
uh, what do you call it,
like a-- like a dream
when you are awake.
Uh, daydream?
Yeah, but it
felt real.
A vision.
This awful creature
appeared in my bathroom.
Sorry, did you--
a creature?
It was a man,
but grotesque,
awful.
A face like
wet bread.
And it was most
extraordinary, but somehow,
I knew this creature
was my brother.
An awful, ugly
version of him,
this thing
would never say a word.
But I knew it was my
brother all the same.
How?
A feeling.
It was connected
to me and I to it.
My brother was a
teenager when he died.
He had a bad heart.
Time was always
against us.
That creature in my
bathtub watching me,
telling me
what I have always known.
Which is?
A part of me
wanted him to die.
He was so clever
and strong and loved.
I could never
compete.
But then, he died.
I felt...
happy.
Relieved.
And after
this terrible vision,
that's when
I received the brick.
But this vision was
just your imagination, right?
It wasn't actually real.
The logical thinking
part of my brain knew it wasn't
real,
but in my heart,
it felt differently.
It was like
a hallucination.
Even after I locked the
brick away all those years
ago,
it still haunts me.
A little less,
but it's there.
What makes you think
you're not crazy, Mr. Lang?
You're right, yeah.
A madman never
thinks he's mad.
But I am normally
a very straight-ahead
kind of guy.
No drink, no drugs.
I like reality
very much.
And you think this vision
is connected to the brick?
I'm certain of it.
You don't
believe me.
-No.
-Okay. Very good.
You are an investigator
of the facts,
not some silly
conspiracy cuckoo.
But know this:
I am a good man.
I do believe in the
truth, in facts,
and when I held
this brick,
it felt like
something or someone
was trying to
talk to me.
A message
from far away.
Are you saying you think
this brick is alien?
If you don't believe
me, I am happy to send you a
brick.
-Really?
-Ja. For a small fee.
You're
selling them.
Of course!
Of course.
I'm a businessman,
after all.
I am willing to
offer a good deal
to a smart
girl like you.
Well, thank you, but, uh,
I think I have
everything I need.
Very well.
I hope you find
what you're looking for.
Mr. Lang, just...
-Just one more thing.
-Ja.
That brick from Australia,
the man you bought it from
sold it without
permission.
It was his housekeeper's,
originally.
Did you know that?
Throw a rock and you
will hit a gallery
filled with
stolen artwork.
It was once
a German pastime.
I'm sure it's challenging
to remain ethical
in your industry.
I really am
quite busy,
so if you have
nothing else you need...
Yes, thank you, um...
thank you for your time,
Mr. Lang.
Guten tag.
So you're
telling me this object really
exists?
It was like
nothing I'd ever seen.
It changed my life.
I never thought
I would get a call
about these funny
little objects of mine.
That's when
I received the strangest
thing,
this black brick.
About the
size of a gold bar,
darker than any other
object I have seen.
How did
you receive your brick?
You
probably think I'm crazy.
The brick
was such a long time ago.
It felt like
something or someone
was trying to
talk to me.
I thought that there
was some kind of power over
me.
A message
from far away.
Yeah, it was
probably all in my head.
Come on,
it can't be that bad.
Honestly,
it's bad, Scott.
Anonymous emails and
visions and weird scratchings.
Oh, and let's not forget
the brick.
I mean, come on,
it's ridiculous.
A brick.
Even the woman
says it herself,
it was probably
"all in my head."
Oh
yeah. I know.
I can't release this.
Tyler is going to fire me.
Maybe that's
not so bad.
Maybe you need
a rest. A reset.
Seriously? Seriously, you
think I should let Tyler fire
me?
No... no.
But after everything
that's happened
and the whole
Langley thing,
did you ever wonder
if maybe--
My career is
completely destroyed?
Maybe you
need a break.
Why does everyone
keep saying this?
I don't need a break.
I need a story.
I can't hide away like
I did something wrong, Scott.
No, but...
these things take a toll.
I miss you.
I know this isn't fair,
but the article and then--
That Langley article
was important.
-It was the truth.
-Okay, okay.
You know, Langley's cheer
squad is camped outside my flat
now.
What? Jesus.
Yeah. Some hero
must have doxed me.
I've gone back
to Mom and Dad's for a bit.
I thought coming back here
would help.
Some time alone,
find a story, but...
I am stuck.
It's okay to admit
that you're exhausted.
I'm not exhausted.
I am humiliated.
I tried to do the right
thing, and look where it got me.
I know. But...
This kind of work
isn't for everyone.
I've just got to make a
story that will make people
listen.
That is it.
Sometimes, I
think I can still feel it,
that power,
like something
unfinished.
I can't explain it.
I don't know.
This was 20 years
ago, it's silly.
I thought that there
was some kind of power over
me.
Yeah, it was probably
all in my head.
Yeah, it was probably
all in my head.
I can't explain it.
I don't know,
this was 20 years a--
Something
unfinished.
Some kind of
power over me.
Something
unfinished.
Some kind of
power over me.
As I
listen to Floramae and Klaus
describe their
experiences
with these powerful,
dark objects,
I feel a kind of
terror creep over me.
Who sent this
anonymous email
and what do they
want me to find?
Floramae's
words haunt me.
An object filled
with unknowable power.
What do these
bricks want from us?
To solve
this mystery,
I need your
help, listeners.
I wanna know,
is there anyone out
there that knows anything,
anything at all,
about these bricks?
And can we uncover
the dark forces behind them
before it's too late?
Okay.
What do you reckon, Ian?
Good idea? Bad idea?
Undecided, huh?
Happy birthday.
Are you saying you also
have one of these objects?
Yes, ma'am.
I received it two years ago.
And you don't know
Floramae or Klaus Lang?
Never heard of 'em.
But when I listened
to your podcast,
I thought, "Laura
Sully, that's that damned
rock."
It feels like
I've been waiting years
to talk to
somebody like you.
Okay, then, um...
how did it all start?
A bit over two years
ago, I got ill.
Stopped eating.
Felt like hell.
Did you see a doctor?
Every doctor
in town,
but no amount
of scans
or tests
found a thing,
but...
I can't shake it,
this weight
hanging on me.
It's the visions
that really get me.
You also get visions?
Yes, ma'am.
I call it
hijacking.
It feels violent.
Invasive.
And what do you see?
Well, it's hard to know
exactly when the vision
starts
and reality ends.
It's always
when I'm coming to work.
I'm a financial
consultant.
Work in one of the
tallest buildings in Ohio.
I know I'm having this
vision because there's a
smell.
It's really weird, but
I can really smell it.
What kind of smell?
Um... best way I can
describe it is rotting meat,
like, old, rancid meat
left out in the sun.
As I walk
through my floor,
I realize the whole
office is empty.
I'm spooked.
It's just silent.
It's deathly silent.
Except for this wind
whistling straight through the
building.
So I keep walking
straight into my beautiful
office.
View of the city,
all those streets below.
There's a window,
closed tight but still this
wind,
and I know-- don't ask
me how, but I just--
I know the only
thing that could stop
this awful, empty
feeling would be to keep
walking
straight out
that window.
So that's
what I do.
And just before
I hit the ground,
I wake up
and I'm at work.
And people tell me
that I have been
walking through the
building the whole time,
talking to folks like
there is nothing wrong,
as though none of
it ever happened.
Like I just dreamt
all of it up.
And that's when
I stopped eating.
That's when I received
the black rock.
Tell me about it.
This rock ain't like
anything I've ever seen or
felt.
It's more than
just an object.
It wants
something from me.
Do you still have it?
It's sitting
right in front of me.
Could you, uh, could you
send me a photograph of it?
I don't see
why not.
Have you ever tried
to get rid of it?
Destroy it?
Yeah, of course,
I've thought about it,
smashing the thing.
Yeah. Anything
to make it stop.
But then, this...
this feeling
hits me, and...
It's trying
to tell me something
and I gotta listen.
What's it telling you?
Something awful is
coming, truly...
Oh, I'm
sorry, sorry.
I'm sorry, I, uh,
I hope this is helpful.
How did you
find it, Laura?
What do you mean?
Well, you say
you received it,
but how?
Did it just
turn up one day?
Was it in a package
or something?
Uh, look, I--
I can't tell you that,
it was just--
it was there, that's all.
I need you to tell me
everything, Laura, I--
I need to be able
to verify your story.
Uh, you think
I'm making this up?
No, of course not.
But it is important that
I have all the information.
Look, maybe you
can't understand,
but there are some
things that I just can't talk
about.
Simple as that.
You can't or you
won't, Laura?
Look, I-- I have
told you what I can.
Uh, my kids are coming
back from school
and I just gotta go,
so I'm-- I'm sorry...
-No, please, Laura.
-Please!
Please! Please
just help me.
I can't keep living
like this, please!
Laura!
This is
Floramae King.
My daughter Paula just
played me your podcast.
You changed my words
around, and I...
I don't want that
family to hear me say those
things.
- They were so angry last time.
- - My friend refuses
to tell me where it
came from, like he is
scared.
The last we
heard was she's in a secure
facility.
Aliens are
comin', and they want to
destroy...
Eight months
after, we received this black
rock.
The operations manager
in Dubai received one...
My father
believed the stone
was an omen sent
from the dead.
He won't tell me
how he got it.
We are all
scared that we will get one
next.
But why? What is this
rock? What does it want?
Every
civilization has an end, and
this is ours!
Are you listening to me?
You have to
stop this podcast!
When did
your grandfather receive the
brick?
You're making it worse.
The brick is spreading.
We shouldn't be
talking about this.
Just a
couple more minutes.
Did your grandfather
ever tell you how he received
it
or if someone
gave it to him?
He refused.
He said we wouldn't
believe it. That he was
ashamed.
Other people talk
about getting visions.
Has your grandfather
ever experienced anything like
that?
I told him
I wouldn't tell anyone.
I only called
to warn you!
I'm trying to understand
what these bricks are,
but you have to tell me
what has happened.
Let me help you.
We can speak
off the record.
You won't
record us?
I won't record us.
Okay... okay.
We can talk,
but not for long.
My grandfather has been
having these visions, yes?
Many years ago,
my grandfather
had an affair
and fathered a son
with another woman.
We never knew.
Years later,
he sees this woman
at a shopping mall.
She has her son,
his son, with her.
But the boy looks at
him like a stranger.
He never saw
them again.
One night a
few months ago,
I found my grandfather
in the dining room alone.
I have never seen him
look so frightened.
He was whispering to
an empty chair, saying,
"I am sorry, I am
sorry," over and over again.
He told me that for
weeks, every night,
a young boy had sat
eating dinner with us.
Only my grandfather
could see him.
He believed it was
his son haunting him.
A few weeks ago,
the boy stopped coming.
The brick is gone.
But my grandfather
has changed.
Like he has been
replaced with something
else.
Hello?
Are you
there? Hello?
Um...yes, sorry.
You said your
grandfather's brick has
disappeared.
I told you,
it's gone.
And ever since,
he's different.
Different how?
There's nothing
behind his eyes.
-No soul.
-Right.
And now, my father
has been getting sick.
The same sick
as my grandfather.
He won't eat.
Can't work.
I'm so scared
he's going to receive
this object
as well.
Is he also
getting visions?
Yes. He is
terrified.
He knows what
is coming.
I could be next.
Any of us
could be next.
It is spreading
like a disease
or an invasion.
This is why it is
dangerous to keep doing the
podcast.
Don't you
understand?
Nobody
listens to me.
I go to the police,
to the doctors,
to the government,
but they all tell
me I'm crazy.
Do you think
I am crazy?
No, I don't.
I think you're frightened
and confused,
and something is happening
that you don't understand,
and you and your family
deserve the truth.
Thank you.
But I'm
warning you.
You have to stop
what you're doing.
You are in danger.
What if the brick
comes after you?
I really don't think--
Please, end
this now.
That is all
I am asking.
Mm-mm! Who's a
lucky boy, Ian?
Yeah, go on, go on!
Eat it, Ian.
Hi. You've reached
Scott Evans, Linguistics, at
MIT.
Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.
Cheers.
Hey.
Remember my crazy
little brick story?
Well, it's blowing
up, and, uh,
I've got some scans I
would like you to take a look
at.
It's, uh...it's pretty
wild, so, open mind, okay?
Let me know. Speak soon.
Okay. What the
hell am I looking at?
Where did you
get these from?
An
art collector.
What do you think?
It's not a
language I recognize.
And?
Linguistically
speaking, they're quite...
unique.
- But?
- Listen.
Are you quite sure your
man the art collector--
Klaus. -
Right.
Klaus the art
collector.
Are you quite sure
he's not having you on?
What do you mean?
Oh,
come on.
It wouldn't be the
first time somebody made
something up
for a bit of
notoriety, would it?
Have you even seen
one of these bricks?
Not personally,
but I've got photographs.
Right.
These people...
I believe they've all had
an experience of some kind
- related to this artifact.
- Mm-hm.
Whether it's an object
from Earth or somewhere else--
You're not
serious! Listen--
I also found an article
about a phenomenon
that matches these bricks.
I think the UK government
was investigating this
as far back as
the '80s, Scott.
One article is hardly a
government conspiracy.
This is a good story.
Could you just tell me
about the language
on the scans, please?
It could be
some sort of complex
semantographic
alphabet,
but it feels untethered
from any language I know of.
What, like a completely
unknown language?
Not quite.
You say each scan
is different.
Yeah. Well, I mean,
clearly the same type of
symbols,
but each brick's symbols
are unique.
On the surface,
it seems really random,
but one theory is that
the symbols are related
to the person
who received it.
Like a personal data set.
Klaus seemed to think so.
He...
He recognized symbols that
meant something to him
personally.
At the time,
I thought he was nuts,
-but now, I might
actually-- -Hang on.
Even if this is
what you think it is,
some kind of alien
language or data set or
whatever,
no university
would touch it
without some sort
of authenticity test.
Can you imagine the
amount of conlangs we see every
year?
I don't want you to
make an idiot of yourself.
What they did to you at
The Journal was rubbish,
but--
This has got nothing
to do with that.
No?
This is nothing like
David Langley.
Isn't it?
You believed
he was guilty.
He was guilty.
He's a criminal.
But you didn't
background-check your source
properly
because you wanted
to believe it,
didn't you?
You're right, Langley
probably was guilty.
But you didn't have
the evidence to prove it.
The public needed to know
the truth.
And you needed to be
the one who told them.
You know how much
I respect you.
But all I'm
saying...
Do you really
believe this,
or do you just want
to believe it?
Knock-knock.
Hello?
Hello?
Jesus Christ.
Sweetie,
come over here.
That's it.
Come on, everybody.
Cake time.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
to you
Blow out the
candles. That's it.
You're a big
nine-year-old now.
Mm-hm. Nine's my favorite
number.
It's gonna be
the best year ever.
I've wanted to be
nine for so long.
What did you get for your
birthday?
Um, a
remote-controlled car.
- Yeah?
- And a bike.
And some other stuff
like books and things that I
have to have
'cause they're good for
you and make you smart.
Yeah, well,
you're a very lucky girl, aren't
you?
And a black brick!
What do you
mean, darling?
I got a black brick.
It's really pretty.
A really
pretty brick? Wow.
The birthday fairy was
really generous, wasn't she?
- What do you say?
- -Thank you!
Thank you, thank you!
Thank you, thank you!
Thank you, thank--
Hi, I'm
unavailable right now.
Just leave a message
and I'll get back to ya.
Dad, uh--
Someone just left a
package at the door, and, um,
and there was a--
there was a video.
I'm just really confused.
Can you just call me
when you get this, please?
To
you Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
to you
Blow out the
candles. That's it.
You're a big
nine-year-old now.
Mm-hm. Nine's
my favorite number.
Gonna be the
best year ever.
I've wanted to be
nine for so long.
Oh,
the podcaster.
Why are you
ringing me, please?
I'm ringing
because I need to know
if you're fucking with me.
I'm sorry?
What's happening?
You seem very upset.
Yes, I'm very upset.
I want to know why
I just received a symbol
from your volumetric scan
in a fucking package
accompanying a video of me
as a nine-year-old
where I say I received
a black brick,
which makes me think
you're fuckin' around,
trying to spook me
for some reason.
I don't know what
you're talking about.
A symbol? You
have a brick?
You can't do this to me.
I will call the cops.
-I will ruin your gallery.
-I'm doing nothing.
I'm at the playground
with my grandchildren.
Please listen. I really
don't know what you're talking
about.
I'm telling
you the truth.
I have no reason
to lie to you.
You're starting to
think this Klaus character
not so crazy, huh?
Be straight with me.
Are these bricks real?
Yes.
How do you know
if you're having these visions?
The bricks have really
got under your skin,
haven't they?
You ask
what is the difference
between these
visions and reality.
I really
don't know.
Depending on which
way you look at it,
perhaps nothing.
Klaus, I want you
to show me the brick.
Prove to me they're real.
Okay. Tomorrow.
I can go to my--
No. Not tomorrow, now.
I told you,
I'm at a playground.
My granddaughter
just--
I'm sure the authorities
would be interested
in checking
the provenance certificates
of the artwork you sell.
I can make the call
and see just how
interested they might be.
Are you
threatening me?
Yes, I am.
You just have to help me,
Klaus, please.
Give me 30 minutes.
Hello?
If anyone's out there,
I'm not scared.
Eat.
Eat. Come on, Ian.
What is wrong with
you, stupid turtle?
Klaus, what the fuck
took you so long?
I'm here
in my vault.
-Just wait.
-I haven't
seen the brick
for so long,
but it looks
how I remember.
Hold on, I need
to record this.
After all these years,
it feels the same.
That awful feeling.
You said you had
a few bricks.
You've got--
you've got dozens.
I spent my life
collecting, trying to
understand,
but none of it
matters now.
My brother is here.
What?
You can see him?
I can sense him.
He's here.
And this sound, all I
can hear is this sound.
Klaus, I can't see.
You need to show me
what is happening.
Please, stop,
stop, stop!
What are you doing?
It has to end.
Yes, it must.
Klaus, can--
can you hear me?
Pick up the phone.
Klaus.
There's nothing...
Oh my god.
Fuck.
The
number you have dialed
is currently
unavailable.
Please leave a
message and try again.
The number you have
dialed is currently
unavailable.
Please leave a
message and try again.
I can sense
him. He's here.
And this sound, all I
can hear is this sound.
Welcome to Beyond
Believable.
I believe my life
is in danger.
But why? What
is this rock? What does it
want?
Trying to
understand, but none of that
matters now.
Are you
listening to me?
What happened...
in Klaus Lang's
art vault?
Every
civilization has...
Thank you,
thank you!
And was I the last
person to speak to him
alive?
For
fuck's sake.
But it feels
untethered from any language I
know of.
I only called
to warn you.
Unlike anything
I've ever seen before.
I have to continue
this podcast.
I have to find the truth.
All I can
hear is this sound.
But my
grandfather has changed.
Something terrible
is coming.
Something...
But it was me it chose.
...unbelievable.
Dad?
Ah,
sorry, no.
Is it too early?
Who is this?
Shiloh Lowden.
You wanted to chat
about my article from yonks
ago.
Yeah, um...
Yeah, thank you, uh,
for calling me back.
Um...
Sorry, I've just had
a pretty weird couple of days.
I can imagine.
I listened
to your last episode.
You listen to my podcast?
I did my research.
Yeah, um...
Right.
Then you would know
that I think
what you wrote
back in 1988
and what I'm investigating
are the same thing.
Uh, I'm trying to find
patterns to understand what's
happening,
and I need to know
what you know.
Right.
And I thought as a more
experienced journalist,
you would be prepared
to share with me.
I'm not certain I know
much that will help you,
but I'm happy
to share.
Great. Uh, please tell me
about the article.
Well, back when I was
working at the Chronicle,
I had a mate who worked
in a hush-hush research
department
at Oxford,
government-funded,
something about
international threats,
terrorism.
I mean, this is back in
the days of Russia, Reagan,
the decline
of the West.
My paper would kill
for any Cold War scoop.
So we're out drinking
and I get him to tell me
about a study
his team is doing
into this
neurological illness
that had been detected
around the world,
accompanied by these
unexplained objects.
What did they suspect
the objects were at the time?
The department
had convinced themselves
it was the
Russians,
absolutely besotted
with the idea.
But you didn't think so?
My mate fed me
a departmental memo
on the sly,
and when I read it,
I mean, it seemed
completely bonkers.
Why?
Well, the study
claimed that 70%
of the affected people
only developed symptoms
after hearing
about this object,
whatever it was,
from someone else.
You're talking
about a disease spreading
through people
talking about it?
It was the main line
of investigation
the government
was pursuing at the time,
a kind of viral disease
that traveled through sound.
Now I know the Russians
had a lot of tools
at their disposal, but
I don't think even they
were capable
of that.
Do you still
have this memo?
Sadly, long lost.
What about your friend,
the department source?
Posted to some
faraway place.
But...
I did hear
he got sick.
The same sort of sickness.
We lost touch.
Did you ever
form an opinion
about this illness
and these objects?
To be honest, I didn't
think much of it back then.
Government jumping
at shadows.
But now I've listened
to your podcast,
it's clearly
compelling stuff.
But if my article
and your story
are the same thing,
you need to
be careful.
What do you mean?
We have a duty
to protect the public.
Not everything
needs to be published.
Of course.
Thank you so much
for your time.
I think I've got
everything I need.
Good luck.
Holy shit,
one hell of an episode.
These numbers are nuts.
Seriously exciting.
Can't wait for the next
ep. Oh, well, listen!
And the
publicity guys,
they want to know
your schedule...
Hey, I just
wanted to check in.
Is everything
all right?
Yeah. Why?
I listened to
the new episode,
and you sounded...
kind of messed up.
Yeah,
that was just, um,
dramatic license
with podcasts.
Honestly, I am fine.
-Uh-huh.
-Never been better.
-Right.
-Mm.
I'm not gonna stop, Scott.
This is finally
a real story I've got.
I've got good numbers and
people are really listening.
Yeah, look, I
get that, but--
There is something
going on.
I feel like this story
could be career-defining.
It's not that.
I'm just, uh--
What? You just think
this story's bullshit, huh?
Well--
You know, right
from the start,
you hated this podcast.
Why--why do you always
do this? Hmm?
That's unfair. I'm
just worried about you.
Well, I don't need
your fucking sympathy,
-I need your support.
-I am trying to.
But you're making it
really bloody hard.
Look, all
these symbols
and videos in the
middle of the night,
have you ever thought
it might be someone
with a grudge trying
to mess with you, hmm?
I don't see how.
"Murder cannot
be hid long.
A man's son may, but
in the end,
the truth will out."
"Property of FK."
What do you
mean, darling?
I got a black brick.
It's really pretty.
A really
pretty brick? Wow.
The birthday--
- Hello?
- Is this fun for you?
-Who is this?
-Fucking with me like this.
No! Uh, is this the
lady who rang about the
brick?
Did you know you worked
for my family when we spoke?
-What?
-Did you know?
I don't want to talk to
you. I heard your podcast.
I didn't say those
things like that.
You changed what
I meant to say.
What is this, some sort
of fucking revenge plot?
Payback for my family
taking the brick?
It was you.
You're the daughter?
Yes, I'm the
daughter. Jesus.
You sent me the email.
"The truth will out."
You're FK, Floramae King.
You wanted me to find you.
I don't know what
you're talking about--
-You sent me the video.
-What video?
The video
of my fucking birthday.
What other video
am I talking about?
Stop
harassing my mother.
Is this some kind
of sick joke?
Your family
is the one harassing me
over something
that happened 20 years ago.
-Over a fucking brick!
-Why are you calling us?
-You can't get away with
this. -Get away with what,
exactly?
Emails. Videos.
Terrorizing me.
What are you
talking about?
You've made me
look like an idiot.
It's pathetic.
And if you don't stop
harassing me,
- I'm gonna call the cops.
- Be my guest.
You're the people
who stole our property.
Oh, you want an apology?
Is that what you want?
No.
Well, then tell me what I
can do to make you feel better
and get you
out of my life.
You want some money?
That's how you solve
everything, isn't it?
For God's sake,
stop being so dramatic.
I've got money, you don't.
People like you always
want something from people like
me.
I don't like it,
you don't like it,
but that is the way
the world works.
You're right.
It's the way
the world works.
And I was just a kid. I
didn't have anything to do with
selling that brick.
You told
your parents a lie.
All those
years ago.
It changed my life.
What are you
talking about?
Even Mom thought
I'd done it.
She just stood back and
let your family take
everything.
It was her. She did it.
Paula, I really don't know
what you're talking about.
-You sabotaged my
life. -What?
As soon as your parents
paid for that scholarship,
you hated me.
You were
jealous. Scared.
I was better than you,
and your parents liked me.
You couldn't stand
fighting for their
attention.
You wanted to
be special.
I don't know
what you're talking about.
You do.
You need to stop.
Please stop.
Stop what?
Nothing I've done
gives you the right
to play this game with me.
You're sick.
Oh, fucking hell,
something terrible
could happen.
Something terrible
has happened.
I don't remember.
I really don't know
what to tell you.
People like you
feed off the world.
But one day
you won't.
One day,
you'll be gone.
This is your chance
to put things right.
To tell the truth.
Don't call
here again.
Hey, sweetie,
I got your message.
What on earth are you
talking about? A video?
I spoke to Floramae.
Who?
I know you
stole the brick.
What brick?
The black brick.
When I was a kid.
We don't need
to talk about this.
Tell me the truth.
Darling, look,
it was a long time ago.
It doesn't matter.
That brick was
some art thing.
The woman didn't know
what she had in her hands.
-So you stole it? -We
didn't steal anything.
She was our
employee.
She found it
on our property.
And then on
your birthday,
you picked it up
and thought it was yours.
A present.
And you
weren't wrong.
It was ours.
You fired her, Dad.
Why are you so upset?
Her crazy kid knifed our
furniture.
If that's not
a fireable offense,
I don't know
what is.
Why would she do that?
Who knows?
Jealousy?
Attention?
How do you know
it was her?
Well, you told
us, sweetie.
You were probably
too young to remember.
What...? -I mean...
it was very brave
of you to speak up
with a girl
so violent.
You were so scared.
Um, no, that--that, uh,
that can't be right.
I did what anyone would
do, and I protected us.
Tell me what happened.
Why?
I want to understand,
Dad, it's...
it's really important.
Floramae's kid
was a nightmare.
As soon as we saw what
she'd done to the furniture,
we called
the police.
Police?
She was just a kid.
It was thousands of
dollars of damage.
Thousands.
What did the cops do?
-But this was years
ago. -Dad.
Tell me what the cops did.
They charged her
with property damage.
But because she
was so young,
it was a slap on
the wrist, really.
She and her mother
had to pay us back
for the damage done
to the furniture.
And they didn't have
any money, of course.
So, when the brick
came along...
You took it.
It was the only object
of value they had.
And with violent
outbursts like that, we didn't
feel
we could continue
supporting a music
scholarship.
I mean, what if she--
what if she hurt another
student?
All of this
over some furniture?
You don't understand
how scary it was.
You were terrified
that she might hurt you.
And the dining table is
my great-grandfather's.
It has
emotional value.
We could never really
fix the damage.
After everything
we gave that kid...
We were glad to be
rid of both of them.
Darling, look,
I don't know why
you're bringing up
such an unhappy memory.
Let's just--
let's just move on.
I think...
I think you...
I think you got it wrong.
What?
About the furniture.
It wasn't Paula.
Sweetie, I don't want
to hear about it.
I'm serious, Dad.
I said let's not
talk about it, okay?
No more talk about the
past and this ridiculous
brick.
-Leave it alone.
-Yeah, but I wanna talk
about it.
This brick
just isn't some "art thing."
It's more than that.
It means something.
My podcast is helping--
Are you
recording this?!
Turn that bloody
thing off now.
-Why, Dad?
-You need to stop
this rubbish, okay?
You need to heal,
not drag up the past.
What's the plan?
Expose your family on
some ridiculous podcast?
Christ.
I don't know.
All families
have secrets.
And they should
stay that way.
Understood?
Kid was a
nightmare.
As soon as we saw what
she'd done to the furniture,
we called
the police.
About the
furniture. It wasn't Paula.
Sweetie, I don't
want to hear about it.
Hello.
What are you?
Can you understand me?
I wanna know
why
you're here,
and what you want from me.
From us.
Shit.
Please.
The same.
Yes, we're the--
we're the same.
-Are you gonna hurt me?
-Are you gonna hurt me?
-Shit.
-Shit.
I wanna tell you a story.
You might not
believe it,
but that doesn't
mean it isn't true.
I need to tell
it anyway.
I have a secret.
I'm the only one
who can share it.
The only one
who is willing.
And when I tell
this story,
I will change
everything.
All you have to do
is listen.
I wanna tell you a story.
Ever since
I was young,
there was something
different about my family.
A secret.
Mom reckoned she'd been
followed her whole life.
Well, this one time,
we're at the beach,
and Mom sees this guy
pointing a camera at us.
She starts going
off at him,
but he's just
frozen watching us.
He says, "I'm sorry,
this is just the way it has to
be."
And then he runs.
Until slam!
He jumps straight
in front of a car.
Like it was
deliberate.
Dead on impact.
After the ambulance
takes him away,
I pick up the
camera he dropped.
It's a model
I've never seen,
and there are thousands
of photos on it,
and every
single photo
is of Mom and
our family.
At the swimming pool,
outside our house,
at the movies,
the supermarket...
A photo of my brother
smoking a bong.
Mom wasn't crazy.
She had been followed
her whole life. But it was
impossible--
Do you
think you can send me
these photos,
Jarad?
See, we gave
the camera to the cops,
but months later,
they tell us,
they have no record
of this stalker.
Like, he
never existed.
And the camera
just disappeared.
So you
don't have any evidence
of any of this
happening?
Oh, don't you get it?
This stalker was a
secret agent from the
future,
and our family play
a really important part
in something that
happens in a future
timeline.
That's--
That's a pretty big
leap, Jarad.
You
don't believe me.
I know you, lady.
You think
I'm a joke?
You're the joke.
I watched
you online.
I know the kind
of person you are.
You're a fraud! After
the shit you pulled on your last
gig,
you should be working
at a fuckin' donut shop...
Jarad. -...not making
the news.
I'm gonna
hang up now, okay?
I'm
the chosen one, bitch!
I'm freakin'
Harry Pot--
I wanna tell you a story.
All you have to do
is listen.
I would like
to publicly apologize
for my recent
mistakes
when I was reporting on
the history of David
Langley.
I failed to
corroborate evidence
and thoroughly
investigate my key source's
background.
And I would like
to clarify that
Mr. Langley was cleared
of any criminal offenses
related to the
claims in my article.
The Evening Journal's
objective is to provide open
access
to high-quality,
independent journalism.
My actions do not reflect
The Evening Journal's
operations or integrity.
Thank you for your time.
Chew and chew and chew.
Peter Piper picked a peck
of pickled peppers.
- A peck of pickled...
- shit. -
Welcome to Beyond
Believable,
the podcast
that investigates
the unbelievable
firsthand accounts of...
Beyond Believable,
the show that unmasks
the mysteries--
This is a
clickbait podcast
made for bored,
lonely ballbags
with IQ levels below
a lobotomized monkey. Enjoy.
I want to expose
the truth.
Hey, it's me.
I just wanted to
officially welcome you to the
team.
We're so excited that
you're gonna jump on board.
I know it's
a little...
beneath what
you're used to,
a little mystery
podcast, but...
I figure with
everything going on, it could
be
a great opportunity
for you.
So, call me
when you can.
We can plan
your first story--
Oh, hey, just checking
in to see how you're going.
I'm just, you know,
I know you're probably
looking for the
right story,
something that
really sings to you.
But to be honest,
we just need to get--
Now, seriously.
I've been nice
up to this point,
but I stuck my
neck out for you
when nobody else
would touch you.
I'm getting
a lot of heat here,
and I need you to
deliver and deliver today--
Hello?
Hi. Is this, uh,
Floramae King?
Yes.
Who is this, please?
I'm a journalist from a
podcast called Beyond
Believable.
It's about
mysteries that--
Sorry, I can't
hear you well, hon.
Hang on a tick, I'll
go into the other room.
Mom. -No worries.
Put that
back before you break it!
Sorry. Yes?
I received a, uh...
well, I guess you'd call
it an anonymous tip-off
about a brick.
Is this
about Paula's boy?
I told him to stop
lobbing bricks
into that empty house
on Hunter's Road.
Uh, no.
Look. It's
probably nothing,
but I received an email
about some sort of
specific brick, and you.
Hello, Ms. King,
are you there?
The email wasn't
very clear,
but they gave me
your phone number.
Who gave you
my phone number?
As I said,
they were anonymous.
My daughter is
over for lunch
and I don't think that
we should be talking about
this.
It won't take a moment.
I just want to ask you
a couple of quick questions.
What's this
for, again?
It's for a podcast.
I thought you said
you were a journalist.
I am.
All I want is a little
background information,
and then I will be
on my way.
Is there anything
you could tell me about it?
The brick was such a
long time ago.
When you say brick,
I'm not sure I understand
what you mean.
Like, a house brick,
or something...?
No. It...
it was like nothing
I'd ever seen.
-It-- It changed my
life. -How?
These aren't good
memories. I shouldn't talk about
this.
It's a very long time
ago, and I don't think I can
help you.
Ms. King.
Can I call you Floramae?
I guess.
I'm thinking that if I got
this anonymous email,
I wouldn't be surprised
if other journalists have too.
-Really?
-Mm.
I don't want other people
to twist your words, Floramae.
No.
So let me tell
your story properly.
It'll only take five
minutes, promise.
Okay. Five minutes.
I just wanna let you know
I'm recording this.
Is that okay?
Mm-hm.
You said this happened
a long time ago.
How long ago
are we talking?
It's gotta be close on
20 years, maybe more.
Can you tell me what your
life was like back then?
I worked for
a family.
Housework, cleaning,
looking after their kid.
Nice people,
but a bit well-to-do.
-You know the sort.
-Sure.
But good employers.
They were even
paying to put my girl
on a scholarship
to a good school.
They treated her like
she was their own daughter.
We were so grateful for
everything they gave us.
But something went wrong?
One day, something
happened in the house that
I still can't
explain.
What do you mean?
I don't know
if I can say it.
I'm not here to judge you,
Floramae.
I just wanna listen.
Well, one day,
I came in to find
all this terrible
damage to their furniture.
Big, awful scratches
across everything.
The dining table
was the worst.
It was like
somebody was so angry,
they grabbed the
sharpest knife they could
find
and stabbed and
stabbed at the table,
making these big,
deep scratches.
Sounds really frightening.
It was, but...
but it got worse.
The family thought that
my girl Paula had done it.
She was only a kid
and she swore black
and blue she didn't,
but they didn't
believe her.
Did you think she did it?
It makes
me ashamed.
Paula never
admitted it.
There
was a lot of pressure,
and I didn't feel that
I could stand up to them.
I didn't
believe her.
Over the years,
I've always wondered...
If she didn't destroy
the furniture, who did?
Exactly.
It caused big
trouble in the house,
and the family
turned on us,
turned on Paula.
And I couldn't
do anything to stop it.
I couldn't help
my little girl, and...
I was such
a terrible mother, and...
And that's when I
received the strangest
thing.
This black brick.
What do you mean,
received it?
How?
I--I don't
remember.
You don't remember?
It was a long
time ago.
It's okay.
Can you tell me
what the brick was like?
It was darker than
anything I've ever seen
and heavy.
It was special.
As soon as I held
it, I felt like
something
was changing.
But then...
What happened?
The couple I
was working for,
their kid took
it from me.
And when the
husband saw it,
he thought he could
make some money.
He told me
it was art.
I'll never forgive
him for selling it.
He sold it
without your permission?
After they decided my
Paula ruined their
furniture,
we had to pay
for the damage.
So they took the brick
as part of the payment.
It makes me wild.
Who'd he sell it to?
Some art collector.
Do you remember a name?
Something German.
Lang, maybe?
That must've made you feel
really awful.
-I tried to stop
it. -Mm.
I told the couple
that that brick was mine.
You know,
people can't go around
selling what's not
theirs, can they?
But as soon as the
family found out
I wanted to go
to the authorities,
they removed me.
They fired you.
Easy as you please.
Years of
service gone.
I never heard
from them again.
I never saw the
brick again.
What do you think
this brick was, Floramae?
I'm not sure.
Maybe nothing.
Somebody thought it was
interesting enough
to email me about.
And you say
the brick was special, right?
What'd it make you feel?
Sometimes, I think
I can still feel it.
That power,
like something
unfinished.
I can't explain it.
I don't know.
This was 20 years
ago, it's silly.
I thought that there
was some kind of power over
me.
Yeah, it was probably
all in my head.
Sorry if this
is a dead-end.
It's okay.
Maybe there's something
that will jog your memory. We
can--
Mom, come on,
lunch is just sitting.
- I know, it's getting cold.
- - Who is that?
I'll pop it
in the microwave, hon.
-Give it to me.
-Hang on a tick.
Hang on, Paula.
Hello, who is this?
Sorry, I was speaking
with Floramae--
Whatever you're
selling, leave Mom alone.
-Paula! You don't--
-People need to stop
calling.
She doesn't need any
more crap in her house.
- No, of course. -
Sorry, it's just...
- You understand,
right? - Hang
on. Paula!
Godmorgen,
mit barn.
Just calling to let you
know we've made it to...
Beautiful Copenhagen!
We're alive and
well in our very lovely
hotel.
Why do the
Danes have to pickle
everything?
And your mother's
already complaining about all
the fish.
Darling, we can
get you a new jacket, if you
like.
She doesn't
want a jacket.
Don't be stupid,
of course she does.
There's some
leftovers in the freezer.
And
don't forget,
Ian's tank needs
to be cleaned
twice a week.
We heard about the new
podcast. Sounds interesting.
Good little diversion
after everything that's
happened.
Obviously, those
bastards at The Evening
Journal
had no right to
scapegoat you like that.
You know you did the
right thing with Langley
and you've got
nothing to apologize--
Lang Contemporary.
Frau Schmidt. Guten tag.
Hallo,
kann ich bitte
mit Klaus Lang sprechen?
-Sorry.
-Of course.
May I ask
why you are calling?
I never thought
I would get a call
about these funny
little objects of mine.
Hi, Mr. Lang.
I, uh, work for a podcast
called Beyond Believable.
It's about unsolved
mysteries, hoaxes, that kind of
thing.
I, uh, came across a story
about a black brick
that you bought from an
Australian man many years ago,
and I just wanna
corroborate a few details with
you.
Most curious. A hoax?
I'm not so sure.
Before we go any further,
I'm letting you know
I'm recording our conversation
for the podcast.
Do you mind?
You're already
recording?
I've found it's always
better to ask for forgiveness
than permission.
I agree entirely.
Go ahead.
So you're telling me
this object really exists?
Yes, yes, in fact,
I have several.
What do you mean, several?
See, I am also
very interested
in this phenomenon.
When I was a
very young man,
I also received
a brick.
You're kidding me.
Not at all,
not at all.
And I've been
fascinated with them ever
since.
So you're saying
there's more than one
of these objects
out there.
I know of at least a
dozen around the world,
of which I
have a few,
each exactly
the same.
Most peculiar.
Very collectible.
And how did you receive
your brick, Mr. Lang?
It was, uh, just,
uh, in my house.
Can you, uh,
can you describe these bricks?
They are black.
About the size
of a gold bar,
but darker than any
other object I have seen.
Very heavy, not
manmade, but not natural
either.
It's either one
or the other, no?
I thought
like this.
So several
years ago,
I took these artifacts
to a friend of mine,
and she made scans
with the new technology.
They call it
volumetric scanning.
You can make
a three-dimensional image
of the interior
without opening it up.
-Very cool, huh?
-And?
I have never seen
anything like it.
Uh, the interior
of each brick
is filled
with hundreds of symbols
folded into
each other.
Can you send
me these scans?
It was years ago.
I'll see if I
can dig them up.
Perhaps you can make
something of them.
And these symbols...
what alphabet is it?
Latin, Arabic, Cyrillic,
hieroglyphic?
Each brick has its own
unique set of symbols.
But in mine, I see a
symbol that reminds me of a
scar
that I have had
since I was a small boy.
It makes me think this
brick is speaking directly to
me.
What do you mean?
Well, you see,
uh...
You probably
think I'm crazy.
No. G-go on, please.
For a while, I thought
I was completely verruckt,
crazy as a cuckoo.
Many...many
years ago,
just before
I received my brick,
I-I had a very strange,
uh, what do you call it,
like a-- like a dream
when you are awake.
Uh, daydream?
Yeah, but it
felt real.
A vision.
This awful creature
appeared in my bathroom.
Sorry, did you--
a creature?
It was a man,
but grotesque,
awful.
A face like
wet bread.
And it was most
extraordinary, but somehow,
I knew this creature
was my brother.
An awful, ugly
version of him,
this thing
would never say a word.
But I knew it was my
brother all the same.
How?
A feeling.
It was connected
to me and I to it.
My brother was a
teenager when he died.
He had a bad heart.
Time was always
against us.
That creature in my
bathtub watching me,
telling me
what I have always known.
Which is?
A part of me
wanted him to die.
He was so clever
and strong and loved.
I could never
compete.
But then, he died.
I felt...
happy.
Relieved.
And after
this terrible vision,
that's when
I received the brick.
But this vision was
just your imagination, right?
It wasn't actually real.
The logical thinking
part of my brain knew it wasn't
real,
but in my heart,
it felt differently.
It was like
a hallucination.
Even after I locked the
brick away all those years
ago,
it still haunts me.
A little less,
but it's there.
What makes you think
you're not crazy, Mr. Lang?
You're right, yeah.
A madman never
thinks he's mad.
But I am normally
a very straight-ahead
kind of guy.
No drink, no drugs.
I like reality
very much.
And you think this vision
is connected to the brick?
I'm certain of it.
You don't
believe me.
-No.
-Okay. Very good.
You are an investigator
of the facts,
not some silly
conspiracy cuckoo.
But know this:
I am a good man.
I do believe in the
truth, in facts,
and when I held
this brick,
it felt like
something or someone
was trying to
talk to me.
A message
from far away.
Are you saying you think
this brick is alien?
If you don't believe
me, I am happy to send you a
brick.
-Really?
-Ja. For a small fee.
You're
selling them.
Of course!
Of course.
I'm a businessman,
after all.
I am willing to
offer a good deal
to a smart
girl like you.
Well, thank you, but, uh,
I think I have
everything I need.
Very well.
I hope you find
what you're looking for.
Mr. Lang, just...
-Just one more thing.
-Ja.
That brick from Australia,
the man you bought it from
sold it without
permission.
It was his housekeeper's,
originally.
Did you know that?
Throw a rock and you
will hit a gallery
filled with
stolen artwork.
It was once
a German pastime.
I'm sure it's challenging
to remain ethical
in your industry.
I really am
quite busy,
so if you have
nothing else you need...
Yes, thank you, um...
thank you for your time,
Mr. Lang.
Guten tag.
So you're
telling me this object really
exists?
It was like
nothing I'd ever seen.
It changed my life.
I never thought
I would get a call
about these funny
little objects of mine.
That's when
I received the strangest
thing,
this black brick.
About the
size of a gold bar,
darker than any other
object I have seen.
How did
you receive your brick?
You
probably think I'm crazy.
The brick
was such a long time ago.
It felt like
something or someone
was trying to
talk to me.
I thought that there
was some kind of power over
me.
A message
from far away.
Yeah, it was
probably all in my head.
Come on,
it can't be that bad.
Honestly,
it's bad, Scott.
Anonymous emails and
visions and weird scratchings.
Oh, and let's not forget
the brick.
I mean, come on,
it's ridiculous.
A brick.
Even the woman
says it herself,
it was probably
"all in my head."
Oh
yeah. I know.
I can't release this.
Tyler is going to fire me.
Maybe that's
not so bad.
Maybe you need
a rest. A reset.
Seriously? Seriously, you
think I should let Tyler fire
me?
No... no.
But after everything
that's happened
and the whole
Langley thing,
did you ever wonder
if maybe--
My career is
completely destroyed?
Maybe you
need a break.
Why does everyone
keep saying this?
I don't need a break.
I need a story.
I can't hide away like
I did something wrong, Scott.
No, but...
these things take a toll.
I miss you.
I know this isn't fair,
but the article and then--
That Langley article
was important.
-It was the truth.
-Okay, okay.
You know, Langley's cheer
squad is camped outside my flat
now.
What? Jesus.
Yeah. Some hero
must have doxed me.
I've gone back
to Mom and Dad's for a bit.
I thought coming back here
would help.
Some time alone,
find a story, but...
I am stuck.
It's okay to admit
that you're exhausted.
I'm not exhausted.
I am humiliated.
I tried to do the right
thing, and look where it got me.
I know. But...
This kind of work
isn't for everyone.
I've just got to make a
story that will make people
listen.
That is it.
Sometimes, I
think I can still feel it,
that power,
like something
unfinished.
I can't explain it.
I don't know.
This was 20 years
ago, it's silly.
I thought that there
was some kind of power over
me.
Yeah, it was probably
all in my head.
Yeah, it was probably
all in my head.
I can't explain it.
I don't know,
this was 20 years a--
Something
unfinished.
Some kind of
power over me.
Something
unfinished.
Some kind of
power over me.
As I
listen to Floramae and Klaus
describe their
experiences
with these powerful,
dark objects,
I feel a kind of
terror creep over me.
Who sent this
anonymous email
and what do they
want me to find?
Floramae's
words haunt me.
An object filled
with unknowable power.
What do these
bricks want from us?
To solve
this mystery,
I need your
help, listeners.
I wanna know,
is there anyone out
there that knows anything,
anything at all,
about these bricks?
And can we uncover
the dark forces behind them
before it's too late?
Okay.
What do you reckon, Ian?
Good idea? Bad idea?
Undecided, huh?
Happy birthday.
Are you saying you also
have one of these objects?
Yes, ma'am.
I received it two years ago.
And you don't know
Floramae or Klaus Lang?
Never heard of 'em.
But when I listened
to your podcast,
I thought, "Laura
Sully, that's that damned
rock."
It feels like
I've been waiting years
to talk to
somebody like you.
Okay, then, um...
how did it all start?
A bit over two years
ago, I got ill.
Stopped eating.
Felt like hell.
Did you see a doctor?
Every doctor
in town,
but no amount
of scans
or tests
found a thing,
but...
I can't shake it,
this weight
hanging on me.
It's the visions
that really get me.
You also get visions?
Yes, ma'am.
I call it
hijacking.
It feels violent.
Invasive.
And what do you see?
Well, it's hard to know
exactly when the vision
starts
and reality ends.
It's always
when I'm coming to work.
I'm a financial
consultant.
Work in one of the
tallest buildings in Ohio.
I know I'm having this
vision because there's a
smell.
It's really weird, but
I can really smell it.
What kind of smell?
Um... best way I can
describe it is rotting meat,
like, old, rancid meat
left out in the sun.
As I walk
through my floor,
I realize the whole
office is empty.
I'm spooked.
It's just silent.
It's deathly silent.
Except for this wind
whistling straight through the
building.
So I keep walking
straight into my beautiful
office.
View of the city,
all those streets below.
There's a window,
closed tight but still this
wind,
and I know-- don't ask
me how, but I just--
I know the only
thing that could stop
this awful, empty
feeling would be to keep
walking
straight out
that window.
So that's
what I do.
And just before
I hit the ground,
I wake up
and I'm at work.
And people tell me
that I have been
walking through the
building the whole time,
talking to folks like
there is nothing wrong,
as though none of
it ever happened.
Like I just dreamt
all of it up.
And that's when
I stopped eating.
That's when I received
the black rock.
Tell me about it.
This rock ain't like
anything I've ever seen or
felt.
It's more than
just an object.
It wants
something from me.
Do you still have it?
It's sitting
right in front of me.
Could you, uh, could you
send me a photograph of it?
I don't see
why not.
Have you ever tried
to get rid of it?
Destroy it?
Yeah, of course,
I've thought about it,
smashing the thing.
Yeah. Anything
to make it stop.
But then, this...
this feeling
hits me, and...
It's trying
to tell me something
and I gotta listen.
What's it telling you?
Something awful is
coming, truly...
Oh, I'm
sorry, sorry.
I'm sorry, I, uh,
I hope this is helpful.
How did you
find it, Laura?
What do you mean?
Well, you say
you received it,
but how?
Did it just
turn up one day?
Was it in a package
or something?
Uh, look, I--
I can't tell you that,
it was just--
it was there, that's all.
I need you to tell me
everything, Laura, I--
I need to be able
to verify your story.
Uh, you think
I'm making this up?
No, of course not.
But it is important that
I have all the information.
Look, maybe you
can't understand,
but there are some
things that I just can't talk
about.
Simple as that.
You can't or you
won't, Laura?
Look, I-- I have
told you what I can.
Uh, my kids are coming
back from school
and I just gotta go,
so I'm-- I'm sorry...
-No, please, Laura.
-Please!
Please! Please
just help me.
I can't keep living
like this, please!
Laura!
This is
Floramae King.
My daughter Paula just
played me your podcast.
You changed my words
around, and I...
I don't want that
family to hear me say those
things.
- They were so angry last time.
- - My friend refuses
to tell me where it
came from, like he is
scared.
The last we
heard was she's in a secure
facility.
Aliens are
comin', and they want to
destroy...
Eight months
after, we received this black
rock.
The operations manager
in Dubai received one...
My father
believed the stone
was an omen sent
from the dead.
He won't tell me
how he got it.
We are all
scared that we will get one
next.
But why? What is this
rock? What does it want?
Every
civilization has an end, and
this is ours!
Are you listening to me?
You have to
stop this podcast!
When did
your grandfather receive the
brick?
You're making it worse.
The brick is spreading.
We shouldn't be
talking about this.
Just a
couple more minutes.
Did your grandfather
ever tell you how he received
it
or if someone
gave it to him?
He refused.
He said we wouldn't
believe it. That he was
ashamed.
Other people talk
about getting visions.
Has your grandfather
ever experienced anything like
that?
I told him
I wouldn't tell anyone.
I only called
to warn you!
I'm trying to understand
what these bricks are,
but you have to tell me
what has happened.
Let me help you.
We can speak
off the record.
You won't
record us?
I won't record us.
Okay... okay.
We can talk,
but not for long.
My grandfather has been
having these visions, yes?
Many years ago,
my grandfather
had an affair
and fathered a son
with another woman.
We never knew.
Years later,
he sees this woman
at a shopping mall.
She has her son,
his son, with her.
But the boy looks at
him like a stranger.
He never saw
them again.
One night a
few months ago,
I found my grandfather
in the dining room alone.
I have never seen him
look so frightened.
He was whispering to
an empty chair, saying,
"I am sorry, I am
sorry," over and over again.
He told me that for
weeks, every night,
a young boy had sat
eating dinner with us.
Only my grandfather
could see him.
He believed it was
his son haunting him.
A few weeks ago,
the boy stopped coming.
The brick is gone.
But my grandfather
has changed.
Like he has been
replaced with something
else.
Hello?
Are you
there? Hello?
Um...yes, sorry.
You said your
grandfather's brick has
disappeared.
I told you,
it's gone.
And ever since,
he's different.
Different how?
There's nothing
behind his eyes.
-No soul.
-Right.
And now, my father
has been getting sick.
The same sick
as my grandfather.
He won't eat.
Can't work.
I'm so scared
he's going to receive
this object
as well.
Is he also
getting visions?
Yes. He is
terrified.
He knows what
is coming.
I could be next.
Any of us
could be next.
It is spreading
like a disease
or an invasion.
This is why it is
dangerous to keep doing the
podcast.
Don't you
understand?
Nobody
listens to me.
I go to the police,
to the doctors,
to the government,
but they all tell
me I'm crazy.
Do you think
I am crazy?
No, I don't.
I think you're frightened
and confused,
and something is happening
that you don't understand,
and you and your family
deserve the truth.
Thank you.
But I'm
warning you.
You have to stop
what you're doing.
You are in danger.
What if the brick
comes after you?
I really don't think--
Please, end
this now.
That is all
I am asking.
Mm-mm! Who's a
lucky boy, Ian?
Yeah, go on, go on!
Eat it, Ian.
Hi. You've reached
Scott Evans, Linguistics, at
MIT.
Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.
Cheers.
Hey.
Remember my crazy
little brick story?
Well, it's blowing
up, and, uh,
I've got some scans I
would like you to take a look
at.
It's, uh...it's pretty
wild, so, open mind, okay?
Let me know. Speak soon.
Okay. What the
hell am I looking at?
Where did you
get these from?
An
art collector.
What do you think?
It's not a
language I recognize.
And?
Linguistically
speaking, they're quite...
unique.
- But?
- Listen.
Are you quite sure your
man the art collector--
Klaus. -
Right.
Klaus the art
collector.
Are you quite sure
he's not having you on?
What do you mean?
Oh,
come on.
It wouldn't be the
first time somebody made
something up
for a bit of
notoriety, would it?
Have you even seen
one of these bricks?
Not personally,
but I've got photographs.
Right.
These people...
I believe they've all had
an experience of some kind
- related to this artifact.
- Mm-hm.
Whether it's an object
from Earth or somewhere else--
You're not
serious! Listen--
I also found an article
about a phenomenon
that matches these bricks.
I think the UK government
was investigating this
as far back as
the '80s, Scott.
One article is hardly a
government conspiracy.
This is a good story.
Could you just tell me
about the language
on the scans, please?
It could be
some sort of complex
semantographic
alphabet,
but it feels untethered
from any language I know of.
What, like a completely
unknown language?
Not quite.
You say each scan
is different.
Yeah. Well, I mean,
clearly the same type of
symbols,
but each brick's symbols
are unique.
On the surface,
it seems really random,
but one theory is that
the symbols are related
to the person
who received it.
Like a personal data set.
Klaus seemed to think so.
He...
He recognized symbols that
meant something to him
personally.
At the time,
I thought he was nuts,
-but now, I might
actually-- -Hang on.
Even if this is
what you think it is,
some kind of alien
language or data set or
whatever,
no university
would touch it
without some sort
of authenticity test.
Can you imagine the
amount of conlangs we see every
year?
I don't want you to
make an idiot of yourself.
What they did to you at
The Journal was rubbish,
but--
This has got nothing
to do with that.
No?
This is nothing like
David Langley.
Isn't it?
You believed
he was guilty.
He was guilty.
He's a criminal.
But you didn't
background-check your source
properly
because you wanted
to believe it,
didn't you?
You're right, Langley
probably was guilty.
But you didn't have
the evidence to prove it.
The public needed to know
the truth.
And you needed to be
the one who told them.
You know how much
I respect you.
But all I'm
saying...
Do you really
believe this,
or do you just want
to believe it?
Knock-knock.
Hello?
Hello?
Jesus Christ.
Sweetie,
come over here.
That's it.
Come on, everybody.
Cake time.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
to you
Blow out the
candles. That's it.
You're a big
nine-year-old now.
Mm-hm. Nine's my favorite
number.
It's gonna be
the best year ever.
I've wanted to be
nine for so long.
What did you get for your
birthday?
Um, a
remote-controlled car.
- Yeah?
- And a bike.
And some other stuff
like books and things that I
have to have
'cause they're good for
you and make you smart.
Yeah, well,
you're a very lucky girl, aren't
you?
And a black brick!
What do you
mean, darling?
I got a black brick.
It's really pretty.
A really
pretty brick? Wow.
The birthday fairy was
really generous, wasn't she?
- What do you say?
- -Thank you!
Thank you, thank you!
Thank you, thank you!
Thank you, thank--
Hi, I'm
unavailable right now.
Just leave a message
and I'll get back to ya.
Dad, uh--
Someone just left a
package at the door, and, um,
and there was a--
there was a video.
I'm just really confused.
Can you just call me
when you get this, please?
To
you Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
to you
Blow out the
candles. That's it.
You're a big
nine-year-old now.
Mm-hm. Nine's
my favorite number.
Gonna be the
best year ever.
I've wanted to be
nine for so long.
Oh,
the podcaster.
Why are you
ringing me, please?
I'm ringing
because I need to know
if you're fucking with me.
I'm sorry?
What's happening?
You seem very upset.
Yes, I'm very upset.
I want to know why
I just received a symbol
from your volumetric scan
in a fucking package
accompanying a video of me
as a nine-year-old
where I say I received
a black brick,
which makes me think
you're fuckin' around,
trying to spook me
for some reason.
I don't know what
you're talking about.
A symbol? You
have a brick?
You can't do this to me.
I will call the cops.
-I will ruin your gallery.
-I'm doing nothing.
I'm at the playground
with my grandchildren.
Please listen. I really
don't know what you're talking
about.
I'm telling
you the truth.
I have no reason
to lie to you.
You're starting to
think this Klaus character
not so crazy, huh?
Be straight with me.
Are these bricks real?
Yes.
How do you know
if you're having these visions?
The bricks have really
got under your skin,
haven't they?
You ask
what is the difference
between these
visions and reality.
I really
don't know.
Depending on which
way you look at it,
perhaps nothing.
Klaus, I want you
to show me the brick.
Prove to me they're real.
Okay. Tomorrow.
I can go to my--
No. Not tomorrow, now.
I told you,
I'm at a playground.
My granddaughter
just--
I'm sure the authorities
would be interested
in checking
the provenance certificates
of the artwork you sell.
I can make the call
and see just how
interested they might be.
Are you
threatening me?
Yes, I am.
You just have to help me,
Klaus, please.
Give me 30 minutes.
Hello?
If anyone's out there,
I'm not scared.
Eat.
Eat. Come on, Ian.
What is wrong with
you, stupid turtle?
Klaus, what the fuck
took you so long?
I'm here
in my vault.
-Just wait.
-I haven't
seen the brick
for so long,
but it looks
how I remember.
Hold on, I need
to record this.
After all these years,
it feels the same.
That awful feeling.
You said you had
a few bricks.
You've got--
you've got dozens.
I spent my life
collecting, trying to
understand,
but none of it
matters now.
My brother is here.
What?
You can see him?
I can sense him.
He's here.
And this sound, all I
can hear is this sound.
Klaus, I can't see.
You need to show me
what is happening.
Please, stop,
stop, stop!
What are you doing?
It has to end.
Yes, it must.
Klaus, can--
can you hear me?
Pick up the phone.
Klaus.
There's nothing...
Oh my god.
Fuck.
The
number you have dialed
is currently
unavailable.
Please leave a
message and try again.
The number you have
dialed is currently
unavailable.
Please leave a
message and try again.
I can sense
him. He's here.
And this sound, all I
can hear is this sound.
Welcome to Beyond
Believable.
I believe my life
is in danger.
But why? What
is this rock? What does it
want?
Trying to
understand, but none of that
matters now.
Are you
listening to me?
What happened...
in Klaus Lang's
art vault?
Every
civilization has...
Thank you,
thank you!
And was I the last
person to speak to him
alive?
For
fuck's sake.
But it feels
untethered from any language I
know of.
I only called
to warn you.
Unlike anything
I've ever seen before.
I have to continue
this podcast.
I have to find the truth.
All I can
hear is this sound.
But my
grandfather has changed.
Something terrible
is coming.
Something...
But it was me it chose.
...unbelievable.
Dad?
Ah,
sorry, no.
Is it too early?
Who is this?
Shiloh Lowden.
You wanted to chat
about my article from yonks
ago.
Yeah, um...
Yeah, thank you, uh,
for calling me back.
Um...
Sorry, I've just had
a pretty weird couple of days.
I can imagine.
I listened
to your last episode.
You listen to my podcast?
I did my research.
Yeah, um...
Right.
Then you would know
that I think
what you wrote
back in 1988
and what I'm investigating
are the same thing.
Uh, I'm trying to find
patterns to understand what's
happening,
and I need to know
what you know.
Right.
And I thought as a more
experienced journalist,
you would be prepared
to share with me.
I'm not certain I know
much that will help you,
but I'm happy
to share.
Great. Uh, please tell me
about the article.
Well, back when I was
working at the Chronicle,
I had a mate who worked
in a hush-hush research
department
at Oxford,
government-funded,
something about
international threats,
terrorism.
I mean, this is back in
the days of Russia, Reagan,
the decline
of the West.
My paper would kill
for any Cold War scoop.
So we're out drinking
and I get him to tell me
about a study
his team is doing
into this
neurological illness
that had been detected
around the world,
accompanied by these
unexplained objects.
What did they suspect
the objects were at the time?
The department
had convinced themselves
it was the
Russians,
absolutely besotted
with the idea.
But you didn't think so?
My mate fed me
a departmental memo
on the sly,
and when I read it,
I mean, it seemed
completely bonkers.
Why?
Well, the study
claimed that 70%
of the affected people
only developed symptoms
after hearing
about this object,
whatever it was,
from someone else.
You're talking
about a disease spreading
through people
talking about it?
It was the main line
of investigation
the government
was pursuing at the time,
a kind of viral disease
that traveled through sound.
Now I know the Russians
had a lot of tools
at their disposal, but
I don't think even they
were capable
of that.
Do you still
have this memo?
Sadly, long lost.
What about your friend,
the department source?
Posted to some
faraway place.
But...
I did hear
he got sick.
The same sort of sickness.
We lost touch.
Did you ever
form an opinion
about this illness
and these objects?
To be honest, I didn't
think much of it back then.
Government jumping
at shadows.
But now I've listened
to your podcast,
it's clearly
compelling stuff.
But if my article
and your story
are the same thing,
you need to
be careful.
What do you mean?
We have a duty
to protect the public.
Not everything
needs to be published.
Of course.
Thank you so much
for your time.
I think I've got
everything I need.
Good luck.
Holy shit,
one hell of an episode.
These numbers are nuts.
Seriously exciting.
Can't wait for the next
ep. Oh, well, listen!
And the
publicity guys,
they want to know
your schedule...
Hey, I just
wanted to check in.
Is everything
all right?
Yeah. Why?
I listened to
the new episode,
and you sounded...
kind of messed up.
Yeah,
that was just, um,
dramatic license
with podcasts.
Honestly, I am fine.
-Uh-huh.
-Never been better.
-Right.
-Mm.
I'm not gonna stop, Scott.
This is finally
a real story I've got.
I've got good numbers and
people are really listening.
Yeah, look, I
get that, but--
There is something
going on.
I feel like this story
could be career-defining.
It's not that.
I'm just, uh--
What? You just think
this story's bullshit, huh?
Well--
You know, right
from the start,
you hated this podcast.
Why--why do you always
do this? Hmm?
That's unfair. I'm
just worried about you.
Well, I don't need
your fucking sympathy,
-I need your support.
-I am trying to.
But you're making it
really bloody hard.
Look, all
these symbols
and videos in the
middle of the night,
have you ever thought
it might be someone
with a grudge trying
to mess with you, hmm?
I don't see how.
"Murder cannot
be hid long.
A man's son may, but
in the end,
the truth will out."
"Property of FK."
What do you
mean, darling?
I got a black brick.
It's really pretty.
A really
pretty brick? Wow.
The birthday--
- Hello?
- Is this fun for you?
-Who is this?
-Fucking with me like this.
No! Uh, is this the
lady who rang about the
brick?
Did you know you worked
for my family when we spoke?
-What?
-Did you know?
I don't want to talk to
you. I heard your podcast.
I didn't say those
things like that.
You changed what
I meant to say.
What is this, some sort
of fucking revenge plot?
Payback for my family
taking the brick?
It was you.
You're the daughter?
Yes, I'm the
daughter. Jesus.
You sent me the email.
"The truth will out."
You're FK, Floramae King.
You wanted me to find you.
I don't know what
you're talking about--
-You sent me the video.
-What video?
The video
of my fucking birthday.
What other video
am I talking about?
Stop
harassing my mother.
Is this some kind
of sick joke?
Your family
is the one harassing me
over something
that happened 20 years ago.
-Over a fucking brick!
-Why are you calling us?
-You can't get away with
this. -Get away with what,
exactly?
Emails. Videos.
Terrorizing me.
What are you
talking about?
You've made me
look like an idiot.
It's pathetic.
And if you don't stop
harassing me,
- I'm gonna call the cops.
- Be my guest.
You're the people
who stole our property.
Oh, you want an apology?
Is that what you want?
No.
Well, then tell me what I
can do to make you feel better
and get you
out of my life.
You want some money?
That's how you solve
everything, isn't it?
For God's sake,
stop being so dramatic.
I've got money, you don't.
People like you always
want something from people like
me.
I don't like it,
you don't like it,
but that is the way
the world works.
You're right.
It's the way
the world works.
And I was just a kid. I
didn't have anything to do with
selling that brick.
You told
your parents a lie.
All those
years ago.
It changed my life.
What are you
talking about?
Even Mom thought
I'd done it.
She just stood back and
let your family take
everything.
It was her. She did it.
Paula, I really don't know
what you're talking about.
-You sabotaged my
life. -What?
As soon as your parents
paid for that scholarship,
you hated me.
You were
jealous. Scared.
I was better than you,
and your parents liked me.
You couldn't stand
fighting for their
attention.
You wanted to
be special.
I don't know
what you're talking about.
You do.
You need to stop.
Please stop.
Stop what?
Nothing I've done
gives you the right
to play this game with me.
You're sick.
Oh, fucking hell,
something terrible
could happen.
Something terrible
has happened.
I don't remember.
I really don't know
what to tell you.
People like you
feed off the world.
But one day
you won't.
One day,
you'll be gone.
This is your chance
to put things right.
To tell the truth.
Don't call
here again.
Hey, sweetie,
I got your message.
What on earth are you
talking about? A video?
I spoke to Floramae.
Who?
I know you
stole the brick.
What brick?
The black brick.
When I was a kid.
We don't need
to talk about this.
Tell me the truth.
Darling, look,
it was a long time ago.
It doesn't matter.
That brick was
some art thing.
The woman didn't know
what she had in her hands.
-So you stole it? -We
didn't steal anything.
She was our
employee.
She found it
on our property.
And then on
your birthday,
you picked it up
and thought it was yours.
A present.
And you
weren't wrong.
It was ours.
You fired her, Dad.
Why are you so upset?
Her crazy kid knifed our
furniture.
If that's not
a fireable offense,
I don't know
what is.
Why would she do that?
Who knows?
Jealousy?
Attention?
How do you know
it was her?
Well, you told
us, sweetie.
You were probably
too young to remember.
What...? -I mean...
it was very brave
of you to speak up
with a girl
so violent.
You were so scared.
Um, no, that--that, uh,
that can't be right.
I did what anyone would
do, and I protected us.
Tell me what happened.
Why?
I want to understand,
Dad, it's...
it's really important.
Floramae's kid
was a nightmare.
As soon as we saw what
she'd done to the furniture,
we called
the police.
Police?
She was just a kid.
It was thousands of
dollars of damage.
Thousands.
What did the cops do?
-But this was years
ago. -Dad.
Tell me what the cops did.
They charged her
with property damage.
But because she
was so young,
it was a slap on
the wrist, really.
She and her mother
had to pay us back
for the damage done
to the furniture.
And they didn't have
any money, of course.
So, when the brick
came along...
You took it.
It was the only object
of value they had.
And with violent
outbursts like that, we didn't
feel
we could continue
supporting a music
scholarship.
I mean, what if she--
what if she hurt another
student?
All of this
over some furniture?
You don't understand
how scary it was.
You were terrified
that she might hurt you.
And the dining table is
my great-grandfather's.
It has
emotional value.
We could never really
fix the damage.
After everything
we gave that kid...
We were glad to be
rid of both of them.
Darling, look,
I don't know why
you're bringing up
such an unhappy memory.
Let's just--
let's just move on.
I think...
I think you...
I think you got it wrong.
What?
About the furniture.
It wasn't Paula.
Sweetie, I don't want
to hear about it.
I'm serious, Dad.
I said let's not
talk about it, okay?
No more talk about the
past and this ridiculous
brick.
-Leave it alone.
-Yeah, but I wanna talk
about it.
This brick
just isn't some "art thing."
It's more than that.
It means something.
My podcast is helping--
Are you
recording this?!
Turn that bloody
thing off now.
-Why, Dad?
-You need to stop
this rubbish, okay?
You need to heal,
not drag up the past.
What's the plan?
Expose your family on
some ridiculous podcast?
Christ.
I don't know.
All families
have secrets.
And they should
stay that way.
Understood?
Kid was a
nightmare.
As soon as we saw what
she'd done to the furniture,
we called
the police.
About the
furniture. It wasn't Paula.
Sweetie, I don't
want to hear about it.
Hello.
What are you?
Can you understand me?
I wanna know
why
you're here,
and what you want from me.
From us.
Shit.
Please.
The same.
Yes, we're the--
we're the same.
-Are you gonna hurt me?
-Are you gonna hurt me?
-Shit.
-Shit.
I wanna tell you a story.
You might not
believe it,
but that doesn't
mean it isn't true.
I need to tell
it anyway.
I have a secret.
I'm the only one
who can share it.
The only one
who is willing.
And when I tell
this story,
I will change
everything.
All you have to do
is listen.