People still need to kill. They want the killing to happen. Cleanly. They just don’t want to get their hands dirty. So they build machines, and machines to control machines. The machines do the aiming, and the flying. They even find the targets. Can you believe that? Machines will do it all.
DEATH
EXCEPT THE DYING. WHEN IT COMES TO SOME THINGS, MACHINES WILL NEVER REPLACE PEOPLE.
Death is looking at the room like visiting royalty.
DEATH
AND . . . WHAT EXACTLY ARE THOSE?
POLLUTION
Relays. I’m introducing viruses into each system. The global internet is responding to even the simplest request as a denial of service attack.
DEATH
HOW . . . INTERESTING.
War and Famine are at consoles . . . talking to each other, privately, so Death doesn’t hear them.
WAR
Nearly there. I can feel it happening. Another five minutes, and the whole world will be at war.
FAMINE
And as the war begins, the famine comes, and the pollution.
WAR
You know . . . even if there was no more war. No famine. No pollution. He’s always going to be here, isn’t he?
This said inclining her head towards Death, on the other side of the room.
FAMINE
Always.
Death looks up.
DEATH
HE IS COMING.
Pollution opens their hands. Something that looks like a squiggly blue light is in them. They blow gently, and the thing goes into the computers, and the screens all start showing different versions of LOCKED, and DEFENCE SEQUENCE INITIATED, and RETALIATION PROTOCOL STARTED.
POLLUTION
We’re in business.
573ANIMATION OF A GLOBE
The world as a filigree ball of light . . .
GOD (V.O.)
They are taking charge of the electricity. All of it. And, under their rule, it is coming to life. They’re fusing relays, they’re closing switches, they’re turning off the lights. They are in control.
We see a little blue twinkle, and then the filigree starts to grow dark . . .
The Four Horsemen look less human, more like ideas incarnate . . . We look at them: Famine, Pollution, War and, monstrous and skeletal, Death itself. Then War says:
WAR
Let’s get this show on the road.
She spits on her hands, then slams them against a wall of screens. She arches her back, breathes out ecstatically . . .
574EXT. NEBRASKA – DAY
A military silo in Nebraska, seen from the air . . .
575INT. SILO CONTROL ROOM – DAY
The two-man crew are lounging at their consoles — the world is at (more or less) peace. The COMMANDER is doing a crossword. The CREWMAN is listening to music through headphones and rocking out.
The commander taps him on the shoulder, and the crewman reluctantly takes out an earbud.
COMMANDER
Seven Letters. A rhythmic insectile grouping. Fourth letter is a T.
CREWMAN
Obvious.
COMMANDER
Don’t tell me! Just give me a clue. How is it obvious?
CREWMAN
The Beatles. Rhythm is a beat . . .
COMMANDER
I said don’t tell me!
He hears a click, and looks up. Across his console, switches are closing; lights are turning from green to red.
Two handles, one by the crewman, one by the commander, both clunk around by themselves, going into ARMED position.
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
What the heck?
576INT. SILO – DAY
Inside the silo, vapour begins to wreathe a missile.
577INT. SILO CONTROL ROOM – DAY
The commander taps a control panel. A few more lights turn red.
CREWMAN
Did you really just say ‘What the heck’?
COMMANDER
Get me Stratcom cyber command. Something’s happening.
MONTAGE, possibly stock footage: missiles being deployed, silo tops moving aside, missiles rising; nothing being fired yet, but they are ominously waiting.
578EXT. TADFIELD STREETS – DAY
R. P. Tyler is walking his poodle. There is a PUT-PUT-PUT noise and he turns.
Madame Tracy and Shadwell, on the motor scooter. Shadwell is holding the Thundergun, and has his eyes closed.
MADAME TRACY
Hello, dear. I think we’re a bit lost.
TYLER
Where are you going?
MADAME TRACY
We’re actually looking for someone.
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
His name is Adam Young.
We can see Aziraphale’s face reflected in the moped’s rear view mirror, in Madame Tracy’s pink crash helmet.
TYLER
That boy. Aye. He and the other little monsters are going to the airbase.
MADAME TRACY
Boy? You never mentioned that he was a boy. How old is he?
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
He’s eleven.
MADAME TRACY
Eleven?
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
Airbase. It’s that way?
TYLER
Yes, then second right, only it’s not exactly right, it’s on the left but you’ll find it bends round towards the right eventually . . .
But Madame Tracy has already accelerated. Shadwell looks back at Tyler with disdain.
SHADWELL
Drivelling whey-faced southern pillock.
579EXT. RUSSIAN SUBMARINE – DAY
Deep water. There’s a sonar pinging as a Russian submarine goes past.
580INT. RUSSIAN SUBMARINE – DAY
A RUSSIAN COMMANDER enters the command centre. Worried-looking CREW MEMBERS are at consoles with slightly archaic equipment. But then, all the equipment should feel a little archaic.
The Russians speak in Russian, with subtitles.
RUSSIAN COMMANDER
(in Russian)
What exactly is happening?
RUSSIAN CREWMAN
(in Russian)
Coded message from the Kremlin. I think we’re at war.
RUSSIAN COMMANDER
(in Russian)
Who with?
RUSSIAN CREWMAN
(in Russian)
Who do you think?
RUSSIAN COMMANDER
(in Russian)
Ukraine?
RUSSIAN CREWMAN
(in Russian)
Keep going . . .
RUSSIAN COMMANDER
(in Russian)
Uzbekistan?
RUSSIAN CREWMAN
(in Russian)
Everybody.
581INT. COMMUNICATIONS CENTRE – DAY
In this dark room, lit by computer lights, War, Pollution and Famine no longer look quite as human. Pollution’s skin is glistening; Famine and War have become inhuman personifications: War is scarred, while Famine seems thinner and fanged . . . (Practical effects here, not CGI.)
WAR
It’s begun. Nuclear codes delivered. Everything is set into motion for the final countdown. The sword is raised, and ready to strike.
POLLUTION
It’s not just nuclear destruction . . . it’s chemical too . . . And my favourite standbys are all chemical. Say what you like, plutonium may give you grief for thousands of years, but arsenic is for ever.
FAMINE
The war. The pollution. And then the winter. I like winter. So clean. So hungry.
582EXT. TADFIELD VILLAGE GREEN – DAY
Mr Tyler and Shutzi walking. Tyler sniffs the air. Something is burning . . . yes . . . and there’s smoke . . . and he turns.
A huge gust of smoke as Crowley winds down the window on the Bentley.
CROWLEY
Hey. Excuse me. Sorry to bother you.
Tyler turns. He sees a burning car, and Crowley, a scorched wreck with yell
ow snake-eyes, leaning out.
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
I’ve managed to get slightly lost. Tadfield Airbase?
583FREEZE ON TYLER’S FACE
GOD (V.O.)
There are some things it is very difficult to say. What R. P. Tyler truly wants to say is . . .
TYLER
Your car is on fire!
GOD (V.O.)
. . . But he can’t. I mean, the man must know, mustn’t he? Perhaps it’s some kind of practical joke. So he says . . .
TYLER
You might have taken a wrong turn. Signpost blew down. Easy mistake to make. So, second right . . .
He FREEZES.
GOD (V.O.)
. . . when what he wants to say is . . .
TYLER
Young man, your car is on fire and you’re still sitting in it and frankly it’s in no fit condition to drive!
CROWLEY
Right. Got it. Terrific.
Tyler has to say something and—
TYLER
Young man!
CROWLEY
Yes?
Tyler looks at us and tries to say it, but can only say . . .
TYLER
Very unusual weather, for the time of year.
CROWLEY
I’m afraid I hadn’t noticed.
And as he reverses off, Tyler says, in an explosion of anger . . .
TYLER
That’s probably because your stupid car is on fire!
584EXT. TADFIELD LANE – DAY
TITLE CARD: 17 MINUTES TO THE END OF THE WORLD
A peaceful scene: hedgerows and birds. Perhaps some rabbits hopping on the verge. Then Crowley’s Bentley, on fire, comes around the corner, heading straight for us.
Inside the smoke-filled car is Crowley, his face tormented: his snake-eyes are glaring. He’s holding the car together with his mind.
585EXT. AIRBASE GATE – DAY
The GUARD ON THE GATE’s POV. Shadwell has taken off his helmet and he is pointing a finger at us.
SHADWELL
D’you see this finger, laddie? This finger could send you to your maker!
And the guard looks desperately at Madame Tracy, who is delivering the kind of one-woman two-person performance that gets you Emmys and BAFTAs.
The Thundergun is propped up against the scooter.
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
It really is vitally important that we speak to whoever is in charge here—
MADAME TRACY
He’s telling the truth, I’d know if he weren’t—
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
Will you please stop interrupting, I am trying to—
MADAME TRACY
I was just trying to put in a good word—
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
I understand, but I really must—
GUARD
Will you please be quiet? Both of you. I mean, ma’am . . . I must respectfully ask you to . . .
And at this moment, a burnt-out Bentley pulls up, still sputtering with flame, trailing smoke.
A sudden CRASH DOWN – but the blackened hulk of a car is still holding together, just.
Crowley stumbles out into the world, along with a cloud of smoky blackness.
Falls down. Gets up again.
CROWLEY
You wouldn’t get that sort of performance out of a modern car.
Snake-eyes, in a wrecked suit, messed up hair, and smuts and smudges all over his face.
He is still holding The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, although now it’s a blackened charcoal wreck of a book.
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
Crowley?
CROWLEY
Hey. Aziraphale. I see you found a ride. Nice dress. Suits you.
MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE
This young man won’t let us in.
CROWLEY
Leave it to me, army human. My friend and I have come a long way, and . . .
There is a click. The barrier goes up.
GUARD
Which one of you did that?
. . . as four kids on bikes zoom through. (Dog is in Adam’s basket.)
GUARD (CONT’D)
Okay. Those kids are in trouble. And so are you people. Don’t move.
He presses a red alert button. An alarm sounds. Then he raises his gun, for the first time, and points it at them.
586INT. COMMUNICATIONS CENTRE – DAY
WAR
All the chickens are coming home to roost.
FAMINE
No more chickens.
(looks around)
Shouldn’t he be here by now?
POLLUTION
Our Lord, our master. Our friend. He’s all we’ve been waiting for. When he joins us, we will be complete.
WAR
And then the world will finally be ours.
DEATH
THE WORLD IS ALWAYS OURS. BUT HE IS CLOSE . . .
587EXT. COMMUNICATIONS CENTRE – DAY
GOD (V.O.)
Adam didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he did know what he had to do.
The four Them get off their bikes.
WENSLEYDALE
So what are these people like?
ADAM
Dunno.
PEPPER
Are they grown-ups?
Adam nods. Dog jumps up, to attract their attention . . .
BRIAN
Seems to me, when we go up against grown-ups they always win.
SOLDIER (O.S.)
What the hell are you kids doing here?
There are SEVERAL SOLDIERS, and guns pointed at the kids. And now a red alarm light has started flashing and a whooping noise has started.
ADAM
It’s all right.
SOLDIER
Listen, kid. You’re on military property—
ADAM
I think you all need to go to sleep now. All you soldiers. So you don’t get hurt.
The soldier looks incredulous, and then as one, they slump to the ground.
PEPPER
How did you do that?
Adam brushes away the question. He faces the building with the Four Horsemen in it, and says,
ADAM
I’m here.
588INT. COMMUNICATIONS CENTRE – DAY
We hear Adam’s ‘I’m here’ echoing. Each of the Four Horsemen has heard it, and stops doing what they were doing.
CLOSE UP on Death, as he raises his head and looks at us, revealing his death’s head skull, and says:
DEATH
HE’S HERE. EVERYTHING ENDS NOW. TIME IS OVER.
FADE TO BLACK.
And over the credits, the pounding, crazy-ass, heavy metal Hell-chords transmute into a world-ending metal version of ‘Everyday’.
Episode Six
The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives
601INT. HELL’S COURT
A dark room, with a few spotlights. We are in Hell, in the Place of Trials. Very, very formal and ritualistic: two demons, Hastur and Dagon, enter and walk on each side up to a dais, as if they are prosecutor and defender. They are standing.
Then Beelzebub enters and goes to the only seat, between Hastur and Dagon.
The front of the hall contains the dais for Hastur and Dagon, and Beelzebub’s high seat.
The rear of the hall contains only, rather oddly, a claw-footed bathtub, and behind that, although currently in darkness, a lift (elevator) door.
The USHER of Hell, a small and loathsome creature, bangs its staff on the ground and announces:
USHER
The trial of the demon Crowley, beginning with evidence and ending with utter obliviation, is in session. Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, presiding. All rise.
Hastur and Dagon step forward.
BEELZEBUB
Bring in the traitor.
A gate opens. As Crowley is walked in by DEMON GUARDS, the walls and ceiling of
the room we are in become transparent: we realise that we are in a cube, and that all the walls and the roof are covered with spectators, all demons, naked and clothed, all nightmarish: their faces press against the glass, hungrily . . .