02x06 - Backstory!

[bunniefuu]

[car horns honking]

[door closes]

[phone rings]

[elevator bell dings]

[sighs]

[clears throat]

- Name?
- Carl Longbottom,

reporting for duty,

and prepared to glimpse
through the veil of time.

That--
That is the slogan of your magazine?

[clears throat] I am one
of the new junior copy editors.

I was, uh, selected
because of a short story I submitted.

Perhaps you read it?
"Tears of the Anaren."

Weirdly enough, I didn't.
Wait over there.

[gasps] Look at this.

Heinlein signed this copy
of Have Space Suit - Will Travel.

Whoa. What I wouldn't give.

Although if I could pick any Heinlein
to be autographed, I'd go with--

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress?

Yeah. How'd you know?

It was either that
or Tunnel in the Sky.

- Oh, Tunnel in the Sky.
-Tunnel in the Sky.

- "Watch out for stobor." [chuckles]
- "...stobor!"

- Peter Cromwell.
- Oh.

A.E. Goldsmith.

- Oh. Carl Longbottom. Are you also--
- Junior copy editors. First day.

Dream come true, isn't it?

It is a dream. I've only been
in Los Angeles a few days.

I'm from Clear Lake, Iowa. No one reads
Amazing Tales in Clear Lake,

much less quotes Heinlein.

- I feel like, uh--
- You found your tribe?

- Mmm.
- Tri...pod.

There are three of us working
together, like the three legs of--

The iconic Wellsian nightmare.
[door opens]

Coffee.

[no audible dialogue]

Is that Ursula K. Le Guin?

Ray Bradbury.

Isaac Asimov.

You three. Let's go. Come on.

So, here's a question I like to ask all
my little pishers on their first day.

Why did I hire you?

Well, we submitted short stories
that clearly showed promise.

Incorrect! You submitted short stories
that were spelled right.

Verb tenses agreed.

Commas went where commas
are actually supposed to go.

This makes you worth
your weight in gold.

It's a figure of speech. You're worth
$ an hour. I start you at a buck .

But I know you didn't take this job
to fix other people's grammar

or fetch me tuna sandwiches and Tab.

You took this job because
you have a vision for yourselves.

What is that vision?

- Well, for me--
- Shut up. I'll tell you.

You wanna be published in my magazine.

You wanna be the next big thing.

Well, guess what. You might be.

Go back to those stories.
Fix them up. Rewrite.

And then maybe, just maybe,
I'll publish you.

That said, I've never published
one of you copy edit schmucks before.

I doubt I ever will. If you can handle
those odds, welcome aboard.

Now,

proofread those, retype them

and get me a tuna sandwich and a Tab.

Now! Come on. Let's go.

[laughing]

Okay, how about this?
The most prolific writer in the world--

- [men] Asimov.
- Is Isaac Asimov.

What was the highest amount of

published words he wrote
in a single day?

- Oh, no idea.
- , ?

- , .
- Whoa.

My God, he's a machine.

- He's a robot.
- I, Asimov.

- Aha! Very good. [chuckles]
- [Peter] Hey.

[Peter exhales]
Mmm.

[sucks]
[chuckles]

Mmm.
I'll take yours too, if you don't mind.

I'll just save the seeds.

- Madam, you are drunk.
- Probably.

And therefore, it has improbably
occurred to me, I love lemons,

why should I keep paying for them
when I can simply grow my own?

[chuckles] No, no. Not with those.
Those are dormant.

Apologies. Iowa.

You need a seed that can be germinated.

The right seed, the right conditions.
Only then will it blossom.

Well, then...

- To the seeds that blossom.
- [men] Mmm.

[A.E. exhales]

- Hmm.
- What?

- Oh. Nothing. It's silly.
- Go on. Tell us.

All right. Well...

This morning we saw three legends.

Pillars of their craft.

Two great men, one great woman.

What if one day that is we?

[exhales]

[smacks seat]
We help each other.

Let's go home tonight,
read each other's stories,

come back tomorrow with feedback,
and help make each other better.

Oh, I can't. I'm pretty sure you two
are on a way higher level than me.

- [A.E.] Oh--
- Codswallop.

- Codswallop?
- Codswallop.

Codswallop.

If there is an area
where you need to grow, Peter,

we will help you grow.

[clicks tongue]

I did xerox a couple copies of my story

- when Sol wasn't looking.
- I made ten.

Twenty-four.

[chuckles]

"'Transistor Moon' by A.E. Goldsmith."

"'The Horror of Westerley Mansion'
by Peter Cromwell."

"'Tears of the Anaren'
by Carl Longbottom."

Tears, like rips.

"Tears of the Anaren."

Uh, yes, and Anaren.

"Tears of the Anaren."

"Anaren." It's a trilled rhotic
as in Tolkien's Quenya.

Got it.

Huh, that's interesting.

So tonight, we read.
Tomorrow we share.

[' s pop plays]

- [typing]
- [typewriter bells dinging]

[indistinct]

You're-- 'Cause you're a moron.

God.
[typing stops]

- [Sol] I'm going to lunch, Rose.
- [Rose] Nobody gives a sh*t, Sol.

Okay. Whose story goes first?

Not me, please. I'll go last.

- Okay.
- Peter it is.

[sighs]

It was violent. It was nauseating.

You had a tentacle creature
eat a baby.

I know. I'm sorry.

I loved it. It's cosmic horror.

You have to take chances,
you have to shock.

- I only have one suggestion.
- Yes. Please. Anything.

Don't have the family choose
to go to the mansion on their own.

Have them get a mysterious invitation.

And then the k*lling starts.

That's brilliant, A.E. Thank you.
[A.E. chuckles]

I wish I could return the favor, but

"Transistor Moon" is nearly perfect.

Start throwing punches
or I'm gonna lose respect for you.

Well, I had one small thought.

So you've got the blind girl
and the alien.

And it seems to me that she's the only one
who could understand his isolation.

So don't change the story,

but let me experience it
through the lens of that relationship.

Oh, my God.

That's gonna elevate everything.

Peter, you're amazing.
[chuckles]

[Carl clears throat]

Well, I guess that leaves
"Tears of the Anaren."

Yeah.

It's, uh...

It's really--

It's...

- A.E.?
- Me?

No, it's...

I mean, you definitely
have your eye on the future.

- Mmm. Thank you.
- Sure.

But your actual vision of it is...

Okay. You predict a world where we--

Sorry, the Anaren,

have evolved to have a flesh pouch
on their back.

Yes, to carry things.

Right. But we have backpacks now.

What evolutionary challenge
are you answering?

Well, it is science fiction,
Peter. Hmm?

Sure.
But it has to be connected to reality.

Same with your thing
about robot horses. Why would we--

The Anaren.

Sorry, the Anaren, build robot horses

when we already have cars
which are far simpler and way faster?

Because they're robot horses.

Right.

Carl, it's not enough to propose a future
where things are just different.

They have to be unexpected
and inevitable at the same time.

Hmm.

[sniffs] Hmm.

I must admit, I didn't expect this.

But I will take your advice

and turn "Tears of the Anaren" into s--

And about that,
why is it tears and not tears?

'Cause they are crying at one point.

You have notes on the title too?

You know what? Doesn't matter.

Just make your vision compelling.

Really see the world
that's yet to come.

Hmm.

Yes.

[typing]

[Carl] Yes, that's it.

[muttering] That's it.

Oh, yes, that's very good!

Yes. The muse has struck.
I see her clearly now.

Yes, it's coming. It's all coming now.
I see it so clearly, finally.

At last! Yes. Yes.

Hmm.

So-- [sighs]

You said you've been rewriting this
for a week?

What do you mean?

It doesn't seem like a ton has changed.

There's something different
on every page.

To be fair,
they're mostly surface changes.

For instance, before,

you had the Anaren raising
enormous bears as pets,

and now you've made them
very tiny bears.

- Correct.
- So... dogs.

And their home world went
from a swamp planet to a desert planet.

Yes. I thought that was an elegant solve
for the story problems.

By making them drier?

[sighs] There are significant changes
in this draft.

What about the technology I postulate?

The liquid plasma cauldron
they dip their food in.

That is... fondue.

Hey, Carl. I know how it feels.

Writing is brutal for me.

I'm revising my story right now.
I am struggling.

But I'm not struggling.

And it's not fondue.

The Anaren can't even digest cheese.
I made a point of saying that.

Does that sound visionary to you, Carl?

I'm being honest,

because Sol and everyone else out there
is gonna be ten times meaner.

[sighs]
I'm sorry if it's coming out harsh.

I--

I swear I'm just trying to help you.

Should that be "coming out harsh...ly"?

[A.E.] Uh...

No. "Coming"
in this instance is a linking verb,

so it takes an adjective modifier.
[inhales deeply]

Be patient with yourself.
You will see it.

[' s ballad plays]

I know you will.

[music continues]

[typewriter bell dings]

[typing]

[knocking on glass]
[music stops]

[sighs]

[door closes]

Is this about the xeroxing?
Are we all getting axed?

If Sol fires A.E.,
he'll have to fire me too.

A tripod cannot stand on two legs.

All three of us abused the photocopier.

We won't let you
take the fall for this.

Fifty dollars?

He's publishing my story.

What?

Next month,
he's publishing "Transistor Moon."

Oh, my God. Congratulations!

You've already resubmitted.
How efficient.

Here's the best part.
I have credibility with him now,

so whenever you're ready to resubmit,
I can get him to read it right away.

Guys, this is so good for us.

For us, yeah. Yes. I can see that.

- We have to celebrate.
- Yes, please. Tonight.

- We're drinking this.
- Yes.

[sighs] Alcohol sounds good.

[chuckles softly]

The work. The work comes first.

[rock music plays]

[baby crying]
[people chattering]

[bell dings, typing]

[bell dings]
[music continues]

[whispers indistinctly]

[breathes deeply]

[music continues]

[line rings]

[Peter chuckles]
[music stops]

- [Peter] Hello. Hello?
- [A.E.] Peter, who is it?

[Peter] I don't know.
No one's saying anything.

[A.E.] Hello?
[receiver clangs]

[thuds]
[music resumes]

[typing continues]

[sighs]

Ah. I see you two arrived
at the same time.

Oh. Guess so.

We missed you last night.

Oh, last night.
[briefcase clatters]

Slipped my mind.

Well, A.E. is just giving my revision
a once-over before showing it to Sol.

Wonderful.

If you don't have time to skim
through this, I'm all right with that.

You can just submit it as is.

Is that-- -Tears of the Anaren? Mmm.

It's a novel now. Mmm.

Novella, really.

You did all that last night?

Mm-hmm. Yes.

And you?

Well, great.
I'll just take both of them in.

[door opens]

[door closes]

[dings]

You are never going to guess
who is in the conference room again.

- Hmm?
- Isaac Asimov.

- Oh, yes. I know.
- You know?

In fact, I shared an elevator with him.

You shared an elevator
with Isaac Asimov?

Mmm.

[elevator bell dings]

[sighs]

[elevator bell dings]

Did you say anything?

He actually introduced himself to me.

He asked me my name and what I did.

I told him I was a writer too.
[chuckles]

I'm a writer too.

And what did he say?

He said that was nice to hear,
and I said, "Thank you, Mr. Asimov."

And he said,
"Please, Carl, call me Isaac."

And, uh--

And I did. [chuckles]

That's nice.

[chuckles]

[elevator bell dings]
[doors open]

[sighs]

- First-name basis?
- Yes. [chuckles]

[A.E. sighs]

Okay. Uh, Peter...

- It wasn't good enough.
- It's not good enough.

But if you're willing to do more work--

Of course.

He suggests filling out
the mythology behind Westerleys

and their connection
to the Ancient Terrors.

Something that could lead
to more than one story.

A series. Yeah.
I-- I-- I got it. I can do that.

And my novella?

[A.E. clicks tongue]

Pretty much the same.
Uh, really excited by the tears.

And the Anaren. And, um... Mm-hmm.

"Mm-hmm," what exactly?

Well, just generally speaking,
uh, Sol says keep refining.

He was specific about Peter's work.

Odd he should have so many thoughts
on a -pager,

while my novella garners
nothing more than the most generic of--

I didn't give it to him. Okay? [sighs]

There.

Look, Carl. [sighs]

Your novella has
the same issues as your short story.

There's just more of it.

[A.E. sighs]

I'm really sorry I lied.

[sighs]

But if I show this to Sol...

I'm trying to save you
the embarrassment.

Embarrassment?

I am not embarrassed by my work.

And frankly, I'm beginning
to think you don't know

what you're talking about.

- Hey. Hold on a second.
- No.

She has been lording herself over me
and you from the very start.

And why?
Because you have one story published?

That doesn't make you Le Guin.

It just means Sol Green sees
something in you he doesn't see in us.

Gee. I wonder what that might be.

[Peter] Hey!

- Take that back.
- Why should I?

You question my vision?
Well, I question your taste.

[breathing heavily]

I'd like to speak with Sol. Where is he?

Podiatrist.

[exhales]

[sighs]

[exhales]

[clears throat]

Mr. Asimov?

[marker squeaking]

So sorry to interrupt. [stammers]

As I mentioned earlier,
I'm a writer like you. It--

Well, not like you. [chuckles]
Of course.

But, uh-- But I think I could be.

And I would be deeply in your debt if--
if you would deign to read my novella?

Um, my address and--
and phone number are there,

should you wish to discuss it
after reading.

"Tears of the Anaren."

N--

Yes. Mm-hmm, that's right.

[exhales]

[knocking]

Carl Longbottom?

Speedy Courier delivery.
Have a nice one.

Thank you. [sniffs]

[sniffs]

"Dear Carl,
Thank you for sharing Tears of--

Tears of the Anaren with me.

As I read it, I found myself inspired to
type up a few suggestions for you.

I used red ink
so they'd be easy to find.

Feel free to use or ignore them
as you wish.

After all, it's your book,
exclamation point.

Yours, Isaac Asimov.

PS: I enjoyed your use of backstory."

[chuckles, breathing heavily]

["There's Only One" playing]

[rain pouring]

[song continues]

[thunder rumbles]

[song continues]

[thunder rumbling]

[song continues]

[exclaims]

[murmurs]

Yes. That's it.

- Okay.
- That's you. This one's you.

- A.E. A.E.!
- The hell is this?

Ah. Good, you're all here. [sniffs]

I know. I am late,
I am drunk, both inexcusable.

But I have seen something.

It's so simple.
Just a dot and a line and another dot.

- That's it. That's all.
- Carl.

For now.

But the inevitable march of technology
will not be stemmed.

Two dots become four,
become eight, become a million.

A billion.

Enough iridescent geometry
to create an entire world.

No, no, no.

Worlds.

As countless as stars in the sky.

Mountains, rivers, volcanoes.
Child's play.

We will give birth to creatures
the likes of which have never been seen.

And with the merest of motions,
we will control them.

No. We will become them.

Naturally, none of these wonders
will mean anything on their own.

They will need
to be infused with story.

Conflict, romance, sex, v*olence.

Everything that makes
the great religions great.

But these stories
can't simply be... this!

These paltry, linear narratives.

No!

They will have to live
and breathe with the world itself.

I have imagined
a new form of storytelling.

Not a line,

but a bolt of lightning,

coruscating and fractalizing
into a thousand paths.

Choices upon choices.

A seamless melding of the author's will
and the reader's desire.

I will create
this new kind of storytelling.

I will gift it to you here.

I have seen it.

I have glimpsed
through the veil of time!

[breathing heavily]

[chair squeaks]

What the f*ck are you talking about?

- What?
- I didn't understand a g*dd*mn--

Did you understand any of that?
Either of you?

Carl, your passion is admirable,

but worlds coming to life on television?

None of the good stuff is on TV.
TV is...

TV is sh*t. It's for morons.

[rain pattering]

Hmm.

["Long Is the Night" playing]
[rain pattering]

[baby crying in distance]

[water drips]
[gasps]

[water dripping]

[song continues]

[sighs]

[song fades]

[up-tempo jazz music plays]

[music continues]
[baby crying]

[crying continues]

[music stops]
[baby cries]

[applause]
[orchestra playing jazz]

Thank you.

Now...

the award for best debut novel of .

And the Nebula goes to
C.W. Longbottom...

- Oh, my God.
- ...Tears of the Anaren!

[audience cheers]

Yes!

[people cheering]

[man] Whoo!

[man] Well deserved.
Thoroughly enjoyed it.

Thank you. I'm humbled. I'm humbled.

- [man] Congratulations.
- Truly.

- [woman] Maybe we'll see you next year.
- [C.W.] It's an honor.

[C.W. laughs]

- [man ] Great job. Loved it.
- Ah.

Congratulations.

Hello, Carl.

Sorry. C.W.

A.E.

- [chuckles] It's actually just Anne now.
- Oh.

Carl, congratulations. I read it
three times. You're an inspiration.

Oh, you're too kind.

Hardly. Can I get you another drink?

Oh, thank you.
That would be lovely. Uh...

- Uh, bourbon, neat.
- Coming up for the big winner.

["Jealous Guy" playing]

- Oh. You two, uh...
- Mm-hmm.

Good. Good. That's good. Happy for you.
Mmm. [smacks lips]

You know, I didn't expect
to see either of you here.

Well, my first book
is due to be published,

so my editor got me tickets
so I could network.

Ah. Hmm.
[chuckles]

Peter's still writing too.

He's not quite there yet, but...

It'll be his turn before long. Mm-hmm.

- By any chance, did you, uh--
- I read it.

Well, listen, I-- I'm sure it comes off
like a poor man's Asimov,

but my idea was to get, uh,
something published. Anything really.

This way I'll have more opportunities

to publish work that's,
uh, a bit more me.

You see what I mean?

Obviously it, uh, worked out
a bit better than I expected, but--

Carl.

Tears of the Anaren didn't read
like a poor man's Asimov.

It read exactly like Asimov.

[song continues]

What a lovely compliment.

Thank you. So kind of you to say.

[kisses]

[song continues]

- [man ] Well deserved.
- Hmm?

- [man ] I could not put it down.
- Oh, yes. Thanks. Cheers.

[man ] Congratulations.

[song continues]

[lute and fife playing]

Chickens, chickens.
Plucked from the king's own forest.

Taste of their succulent breasts.

A mere . , you can dine
on their fine, rotating flesh.

Chickens, chickens.

[Ian] Excuse me.
Are you C.W. Longbottom?

- Do I know you?
- No, but I'm a huge fan of yours.

I have read every one of your books.

My name's Ian Grimm, and this is--

Hey, dickhead. Pay attention.

This is the guy?

Yep. This is the guy.

So, what--

What do you want?

[Ian] Have you ever thought
about writing for a video game?