The Amelia Project - Episode 43 - Faith

Episode Date: October 29, 2021

With Sheila Morris, Alan Burgon, Julia Morizawa, Julia C. Thorne, Stéphane Gérard and Tarquin as Sheba the cat Written by Torgny G. Aanderaa and Oystein Brager with script consultancy by Leeanne Stoddart Story editing by Philip Thorne Directed and edited by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager Sound design by Eli Hamada McIlveen Sound recording by Dominic Hargreaves Music by Fredrik Baden Graphic design by Anders Pedersen Production assistance by Maty Parzival For full credits see our website.  The Amelia Project is an audio fiction series. We recommend starting at the beginning. The Amelia Project is part of the Fable & Folly Network.  Website: ameliapodcast.com  Transcripts: ameliapodcast.com/transcripts  Twitter: @amelia_podcast  Instagram: @ameliapodcast Tumblr: @ameliapodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Cold tapes. A gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone. You know, life on the base means, well, it's close to six months without light. That does things to people. the bone you know life on the base means uh what's close to six months without light that does things to people that study that he was doing to watch us and then set off us like mice around this special little experiment how many people are on this space 16 on this one someone amongst them is our killer experiencees, the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation where you get your podcasts. Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble.

Today's episode is dedicated to Rafael Eduardo Vifas Verrastaki, who we will make disappear in a boiling cauldron of cocoa and bring back as a werewolf prowling around Luke Dougal's hell park. As you may have noticed, we're getting into the Halloween spirit over here at Amelia HQ, and this is also somewhat reflected in the theme of today's episode. Thank you all so much for listening, and if we could ask you for a little favour, it would mean an awful lot to us if you could recommend the show to others you think might enjoy it. You can do that on social media, or by leaving us a review on your podcast app or simply by

word of mouth, but recommendations are the best way to reach new listeners. Anyway, hope you enjoy this episode while you're carving your pumpkin or preparing your costume or simply indulging in a nice warm beverage. Enjoy. Congratulations. You have reached the Amelia Project. If you're not serious, please hang up. If you continue, there is no return. Good choice. There is a new life awaiting you. You'll hear back from us. If you don't hear back, please consider this a hoax. Leave your message after the beep. Ugh, how was that? I think that's as close to the old answer phone message as we're going to get.

Thank goodness. That's the eleventh version we've recorded, isn't it? Thirteenth. Let's settle for that one, then. Righty-ho, I'll save it. Have you spread the number around? I have. I have been leaving stickers with our telephone number in public toilets and metro stations across the city. There's a difference?

Sorry? The metro stations here stink of piss. They do. They also have really lovely entrances and are covered in pretty white tiles. Fair. I've scribbled our number onto beer coasters at every brasserie near the Élysée Palace. There are bound to be diplomats and foreign dignitaries passing through there. After what we've just been through in Panaragua, I was hoping we could get away from politics for a bit.

I don't think we can afford to be picky just yet. You're right. I slipped some business cards into the pockets of haute couture suits at the Chanel store in Rue Cambon and hid a few between the pages of self-help books at the American Library. I wanted to head to the Louvre and the jazz bars around Jardin Luxembourg today. You're being thorough as usual. Good work, Alvina. I'm trying. But it's going to take a while before we're back in business... Oh! Ha ha! Oh, it's probably just someone selling something.

How's your French, Alvina? Let's let it go to answer phone. Hello there. I need your assistance right this minute. He's coming for me, but I damn well not gonna let him take my soul. And you're gonna help me stop him. I guess we're back in business. The Amelia Project by Philip Thorne and Osteen Braga with music and sound direction by Frederick Barden.

Episode 43. Faith. Hello. Did you find it? Find what? What I put on your desk. Um, yes. Yes, I did.

The client report. Oh, it was right here on my desk. I'm planning to Yes, I did. The, um, the client report. Oh, it was right here on my desk. I'm planning to read it as soon as I have... Not the client report. The thermos. Hmm?

What thermos? The thermos of cocoa. Oh. It was the first thing I did when we got here. Giving our new location to Les Deux Magons. The first batch

arrived this morning. Oh, yes, I can see it. And how is it? I will try it right away. Oh, it's hot. Wait a minute. Where did you say you found the client report? On my desk.

I didn't leave the report on your desk. I put it where we agreed I would put them. Ah, the bookshelf. No. The windowsill? No. The mantelpiece. It was right there in front of me on the mantelpiece.

There is no mantelpiece in your new office. No, not the mantelpiece, then. I mean, it doesn't matter where I found it, Alvina. I have it right here in front of me. You didn't even look for it, did you? Oh, you know, this cocoa is so hot, I need to blow on it. It's your first client in a new city.

I thought maybe for once you'd read the report. Why do I fool myself? Alvina, Alvina, relax. I did you'd read the report. Why do I fool myself? Alvina, Alvina, relax. I did find the client report. I have it right here in front of me. I'm looking at it right now. Are you? Of course.

Okay. Then read it out to me. Read it out? Yes, of course. I can read it out. I can read it out. Just... of course, I can read it out. Um, I can read it out, just... Where is it? You have no idea where it is.

Okay, fine, I don't know where it is. But that's only because I can't find anything in this new office. I mean, the layout is all wrong, the window is in the wrong place, there are seven steps across, not six. And if I... But I've got a new office. It's in a great location. Now, why can't you just be happy?

Because back in London, I knew where everything was. Uh, no, you didn't. So where did you put the report? In the top drawer. Like I said, I would. The top drawer. It's not in the top drawer. I would know if it was in the top. Ah, there it is. You know what? I'm getting very good at rolling my eyes. Now read it to me. Oh, but I've actually got it this time. But I won't believe it until you've read it out to me.

Client report for client number... What? Alvina, you might not believe this, but the lights just went out. I can't see a thing. Of course you can't. I swear I have the report right here, but... I give up. I have to go anyway.

I'm having dinner with an undertaker. I'm hoping he can supply us with replacement corpses. I doubt he can deliver at the rate Walter did, but... we do need corpses. Hello? Hello? Who's there? Amelia, is that you? Matches, matches, matches.

Oh, I can't see a thing in this darkness. Hello? Is someone there? No, no, no. Must be the wind. Here we go. Who the devil are you? He's coming for me. Who is coming for you? Damn matches.

May I sit down first? The stairs. Oh, of course. There should be a chair somewhere. Mrs... Ow! Oh! God, it wasn't so dark.

Ow, my toe. Is that it? Is that it? Have you got it? Thank you. It's Griffith. Faith Griffith. And it's Miss. Oh. Well, pleasure to meet you, Miss Griffith. I am sorry about the darkness.

No, I'm sorry. That's better. You know, being hooked up to the grid illegally has its advantages, but when something happens, the local electricity board doesn't exactly come running. Come to think of it, they're probably on strike anyway. There's nothing wrong with your power lines. This is all my fault. This has been happening to me for days now.

At home, at the airport. When the power went out on the plane, I nearly died of fright. We had to make an emergency landing. That sounds like a nuisance. But why do you think it's your fault? I know it's my fault. I've brought this on myself. This is his way of warning me, you see.

He's saying my time is up and he's ready to claim what's his. Who is? Why, the devil, of course. I beg your pardon? Did you not listen to the message I left? Um, why don't you take it from the beginning? Why don't you offer a lady a drink first? But of course. Here you go.

This thermos just arrived from lady mago cocoa i was hoping for something a little bit stronger oh but this is powerful stuff go on try some it's gone cold i'm afraid what it can't have are you sure It's gone cold, I'm afraid. What? It can't have. Are you sure? It's ice cold. But it was warm a second ago. Never mind. It's all right.

Oh, no, it's not. What the devil is going on here? Exactly. Please, Miss Griffith. Why don't you tell me your story? Sitting here with nothing but candlelight. I guess a scary story would be fitting. Oh, a ghost story! Oh, not quite. Although it's got all the trimmings.

Death, fear, and the supernatural. Oh, I can't wait. It all started on my 13th birthday. The one thing I wanted most in the whole world was a rabbit. I was going to call him Mr. White. The day arrives. My pa comes in carrying a big old box. Oh, I was so excited. I unwrapped it and opened the lid. Only to find the poor thing had suffocated.

He'd forgotten to punch holes in the wrapping paper. Oh, good Lord, if that had happened to my pet skunk, I mean, I'd be inconsolable. My dad tried to help and say God wanted Mr. White by his side. But I wouldn't have none of it. No, I just learned resuscitation at Girl Scouts. So I grabbed Mr. White

and gave him the proper treatment. And he came back to life. Now, my poor Paul, he wasn't a man of science. What he saw was a genuine miracle. And as a good Christian, he wasn't going to keep that from the world.

Next thing you know, I'm up there in church laying hands and curing ills. I felt bad at first, but if I'm being honest, only for a time. See, people seemed to get what they wanted from me. And me, I was good at it. I could put on a show and have them crying and hollering in the pews. After a while, I had gone past the point of no return. And I just sort of went with it. Today, I still build stadiums.

And empty wallets, no doubt. I'm not going to lie. I get by. And then some. Well, it sounds to me it's not the devil you should worry about, but rather, you know... The IRS? Oh, no, no. I meant, you know... Oh, you meant the big man.

Well, we do have our differences. However, my troubles with Mr. Beelzebub are more... present. The 40 years have passed. Since what? Since I signed this. Oh, is that... This

is a bona fide contract with the devil. Wow! Are you telling me you have actually sold your soul to the devil? If I'm lying, I'm dying.

But how? When? Where? Shouldn't you be asking why? Oh, yes, of course. Why? Well, showmanship and hook'em is all well and good, but when someone you love is about to die, you start wishing you could heal people for real. May I ask who was dying? My stupid pa. Standing in the rain, serving up soup to the homeless, the old man goes and catches pneumonia. Being who he was, he didn't want to see no doctor. He expected me to save him. What was I going to do? Tell him I was a fake?

First, I thought I should turn to God. Ask him to give me the power of healing for real. Just this once. But I knew he'd never do that. Not the way I'd been misusing the good Lord's name for years. So you turned the other way. My great Aunt Talia told me a story when I was still a child. And now, in my desperation,

I did like that story said. On the sixth hour, on the sixth day, of the sixth month. June 6th? What am I doing on June 6th? I turned up at that infamous crossworld in Clarksdale, Mississippi. It's just me. The sunrise. And out of nowhere, a man.

What did he look like? Honestly, he wasn't unlike yourself. Minus the British accent. You don't say. But he had hooves for feet. Well, we can't all be perfect. Please, go on. Well, there isn't that much more to tell. We spoke for a bit, haggled and then shook. Wait. You haggled?

My daddy didn't raise no fool. I didn't want him to just strike me down once I signed my name. In the end, we agreed on him leaving me alone for 40 years. Plus, he let me save my pa, of course. My son went home, laid my hands on Daddy's chest and... Next day, the doctors declared him fit as a fiddle. Got another decade he did. That's quite the tale.

But now, 40 years have passed and you're not so happy about the deal anymore. I'm scared of burning. Not a fan myself. I'll be knocking on the gates of hell before long. Unless. Unless what exactly? Unless you fake my death, of course. Isn't that what you do? Of course it is, yes. We're the best in the business,

but how could that possibly help you? The way I see it, old Nick may be clever and all, but he's got nothing on the likes of you and me if we put our minds to it. Say, if Faith Griffith were to die, spectacularly, of course, but I didn't die for real, there'd be no soul to take. The devil would have to leave empty-handed, and I could live on in my new life. By the way, I want my new name to be Mona Lisa Truman.

Hold on, Miss Griffith. What about when you die for real? Then it'll be Miss Truman who dies. And the devil doesn't owe her soul. But that's you. It's not. It's Mona Lisa Truman. But you are Mona Lisa Truman.

I'm not. I'm Faith Griffith. You might as well be Alicia Cairn. Alicia Cairn? Who on earth is that? Oh, nothing. Just something I used to watch with my niece, Lorraine. What? Never mind. You see, I've had almost this exact argument before. But this time, a brain swap isn't going to cut it.

Brain swap? Miss Griffith, you can call yourself whatever you want. You can be Miss Clutterbuck or Miss Goody Two-Shoes or Miss Hickenbottom. It won't matter. You will still have the same soul. But... By your logic, all you need to do is legally change

your name. I'm certain the devil isn't that easily fooled. But... this has to work. It simply has to. Well, it won't. I'm not having it. This isn't like punching holes in Mr. White's wrapping paper, Miss Griffith. It's more complicated than that.

Well, if you can't help me... Now, now, that's not what I said. So you can help me? That's not what I said either. What I'm saying is, I do love a challenge. And this is about as challenging as it gets. I'll take your case. Oh, my goodness! Oh, don't worry. It was just the door slamming... shut. Well, does it do that a lot? Now that you come to mention it, not a whole lot. Still, I suppose... That's not a draft! He's coming for me!

Let me look at that contract. Are you sure this is a time for reading? Where's the nearest church? The Sacre Coeur isn't open this time of night. Now, let's see. Contract between Faith Griffith and Lucifer Morningstar. The door is locked! We can't get out! Just a moment, I'm reading.

Valid in all universes and dimensions, blah, blah, blah. Now the door's trying to kill me! Oh, now he shall surrender his soul upon her natural death. Help! Interesting. Help me! Reading! Well, hurry up before I die!

Ah, of course. I see what he's doing. Oh, you sneaky devil. He's trying to scare you to death. What are you talking about? The contract states that he gets trying to scare you to death. What are you talking about? The contract states that he gets your soul upon your natural death. He's trying to give you a heart attack. That's why he cut the power on the plane as well.

However, if I were to shoot you... Now, where is that Luger? What are you doing? It must be here somewhere. I should never have let Alvina unpack my things. What are you doing? It must be here somewhere. It's going out! I should never have let Alvina unpack my things. The system doesn't make any sense. Oh, yes, there it is.

In the drawer marked weapons. Good Lord, that's where I keep my Maltesers. Now, Miss Griffith, close your eyes. This might hurt. Now, Miss Griffith, close your eyes. This might hurt. I thought so. What just happened?

Oh, nothing. I just threatened you with an unnatural death, is all. If I'd shot you, the contract wouldn't be valid. From now on, whenever you're about to die... Let's see, where are they? Ah, here. Just take one of these. What are they? Cyanide tablets.

Quick, painful, and effective. Um, I guess... If you can't run with the big dogs, you should stay under the porch. Now, do you mind if I keep this contract? I'm sure at Sotheby's we'd get quite the price for a genuine... Oh, good Lord, what is going on now? Look, the contract. It's changing. It's rewriting itself. Well, roast my rump and call me bacon.

Now it says, Faith Griffith shall surrender her soul immediately upon her death, regardless of the cause of her expiration. Oh, blast! Oh, no. If this thing could change like that... Wait, no. Don't say any more. We shouldn't be talking about it. Or you'll end up even worse off than you are now. I guess that's it then. I guess it is. At least you

gave me a brief respite. I am sorry. Thank you for putting up with me. Bringing the devil to your doorstep. He nearly wrecked your office. Yet,

you haven't said a word about it. You've got the patience of a saint, you do. I've seen worse. Hold on a minute. That's it. What is? Sainthood.

Excuse me? We're going to get you canonized. Why? Why? Why? Because saints can't go to hell. Oh. Yes.

But how? Well, the normal way. Convincing the Vatican that you're holy. But I'm anything but. Oh, they don't need to know that. So, how does one become a saint then? Well, in all honesty, it's quite the paper mill. Oh, but don't worry about that. We'll leave all of that to Alvina.

Of course, sainthood is only awarded posthumously, which means we have to fake your death after all. You also need to have performed at least two documented miracles. Now, I don't think that the Vatican will accept all the fake ones you've done. The Congregation for the Causes of Saints tends to be rather skeptical. But you have performed one real miracle. But that one's no good. Oh? Why not? Well, that would be sainthood courtesy of the devil.

Well, what the Vatican doesn't know, eh? Now, when you cured your father, was it documented? Sure. There were doctor's reports, articles in the local newspaper. Excellent. Now, as for your second miracle, it should happen after your death. Hmm. We'll fake that one, of course, but that should be easy enough. Oh! What if I were to officiate your funeral posing as a priest? A timely heart attack will send me careening into your open grave. But, touching your coffin, I'll immediately bounce back up again, alive and well,

praising both you and the good Lord. Making your coffin lid out of trampoline fabric should do the trick. Oh, there's a relatively new cardinal who owes us a favor. We can make sure he's present. He'll make the perfect eyewitness. Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my indeed. So, that's sainthood sorted then. As for your death, how would you like that to happen? Well, it could happen during running my shows. Oh, that's perfect. Just as you're laying your hands upon some poor asthmatic fellow, you fall over from a heart attack.

Uh, mm-mm. Could it be something a bit more, you know, spectacular? Oh, no, no, I'm not done. You see, all of a sudden, there's a flood of bright lights. And out of nowhere, a powerful choir of angels start singing. The crowd sits there wide-eyed and in awe as your soul is lifted up in a heavenly beam of light straight into the arms of our heavenly father. Or in this case, a helicopter whisking you off to wherever you want to go. Now, what do you think? Amen. That is quite the spectacle,

even by my standards. Oh, no, no. Run of the mill. You know, invisible wires, hidden stage lights, a projector making you look all spectral, and top-of-the-line speakers blasting the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, cleverly drowning out the sound of the helicopter rotors. Mm-hmm. That all sounds well and good. But how will we know if it actually works? Once you find yourself on a tropical island sipping pina colada, I'm sure you'll get the idea. No, not that. The sainthood. Getting out of this contract and into heaven.

Ah, That. Well, I suppose we won't. Not until... I actually die. Yes. Thank goodness! The lights are back.

Oh, well, no more use for this then. Right. So, what do I owe you? Oh, a simple check will suffice. You're a wealthy lady, so... Oh, but I'm not. Sorry?

I'm giving it all away to charity. Right. Well, normally our fees are quite substantial. But I suppose since we can't actually guarantee the desired result this time, how about this? If you were to end up in heaven, put in a good word? Well, that would be my very great pleasure. Excellent. Time for some Vouv Clicquot.

To heaven. To heaven. Better than cold cocoa Thank you. I'll see you next time. your friends. And if you really, really, really enjoy the show, become a patron by visiting ameliapodcast.com, clicking on support the show and choosing how much you want to pledge per new episode. It helps us keep making the show without our patrons. There's no way we would have made it to season four. And it gives you lots of bonus content, such as the Alvina Archives, an exclusive series of minisodes about Alvina's arrival at the company. Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first, the credits. This episode was written by Ostein Breger and Torgny G. Ondero, with script consultancy by Leanne Stoddard.

It was directed by Philip Thorne and Ostein Breger, with sound design by Eli Hamada-McElveen, audio engineering by Dominic Hargreaves, the theme tune and its gospel variation by Frederick Barden, and Sheba's Waltz by Eli Hamada-McElveen. Thanks to Hans-Olaf Barden for piano and organ recordings. It featured Alan Bergen as the interviewer, Sheila Morris as Faith, Julia Morizawa as Amelia and Julia Seathorn as Alvina. Coming up, Stéphane Girard as a waiter and Tarkin as Sheba the cat. Graphic design by Anders Pedersen and production assistance by Marty Parzival. Thank you to our wonderful patrons and

as always a heartfelt shout out to our super patrons, Sophia Anderson, Kate Sugiyasu, Sophie Leviso, Jem Fiddick, Orban Assant, Rushab Shukla, Amelie and Alison, Stephanie Weitenhiller, Chloe Lefferman, Elizabeth Curry, Mince and such,

Rafael Eduardo Vifas Verrastaki, I am Trash, and hello to our new wonderful super patron, JK Robbins. Next episode in two weeks time, or if you're a patron, next week. And now, the epilogue. There's only water left, and I'm going to have to take care of you now. I'll finish my job, you understand?

No problem. Thank you. ready. It's probably good to wash that down with a glass of water. Oh, hello there kitty, kitty, kitty. What do you want? Do you want to lick out the bowl of île flûtante? There you go. Such an adorable cat. Can we get back to what we were talking about? Oh yes, selling the contract

at Sotheby's. Nobody is going to believe that piece of paper is a contract with the devil. What? Why not? Because he doesn't exist. Oh, yes, he does. For all intents and purposes, we're not charging her. Faith's putting in a good word for us with the man upstairs. That's payment enough.

I can't believe this. We're setting up a whole operation from scratch, and you started off by giving away freebies. Surely entrance into heaven is worth more than a few pennies down the road. Amelia, can you please back me up on this? We do need income. I'll let this one slide. No, wait, what? Why? But from now on, you have to charge. Okay? Okay. Unbelievable.

When St. Peter gives you a free pass, Alvina, remember who you've got to thank for that. Don't we already have a free pass at the pearly gates? Oh, yes, we do. H! I'd forgotten. Since when are you so concerned with being chummy with St. Peter, anyway? Let's finish up our desserts and get back to the office.

Oh, we're not in a hurry, are we? I just got this. Getting the business up and running doesn't happen by itself. Coco shouldn't be rushed, Amelia. Coco should always be savored. Very funny. What?

You're aware you're drinking water? Yes, yes, of course. I was just joking. This is water. I know that. We have Coco back at the office, don't we? No, we don't. That's why we decided to come here in the first place.

Oh, of course. Satan ruined my Coco. We should get another delivery from the Dumagor any minute. Ah, that's probably them, actually. Yep, the delivery guy is just around the corner. In that case, why don't you head back first, Alvina? You've finished your temps-à-temps, so... Oh, no, I can wait for you. The delivery guy knows to leave the thermos outside the door, so it's not a problem.

It's nice if someone is there when he arrives, isn't it? Uh... Sure. Thanks, Alvina. to leave the thermos outside the door, so it's not a problem. It's nice if someone is there when he arrives, isn't it? Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks, Alvina. See you soon. See ya. Toodle-oo. What just happened?

With what? The cocoa. I don't know. I think you do. I think we both do. I've been fine, though. All through Russia, I didn't notice a thing. It had to start at some point. It hasn't. It's just a coincidence. Please.

I'm fine. Fog is one of the great hazards of flying. Remember? In thick rain or snow, a pilot is just as blind as if he had a black cloth over his eyes. Be aware of ever flying blind. Yes, I remember. But as much as I cherished your grandmother, I don't think that saying of hers applies now. Not being able to tell Coco from water is flying blind. I also remember her saying, anyone concentrating too hard on the idea of getting

airsick is going to manage that very nicely. I am not going to think that I am sick and thereby make myself sick. Well, at least if you can't taste the difference between water and Coco, we'll save a lot of money on our drinks budget. This is the first time anything has happened.

And we don't know how fast this will go. I mean, let's not panic. I told Alvina I would share more secrets with her. I think it's time. No, no. Why not? We said ten years. It's been nine. No one gets to know before they've been with us for at least ten years.

I really think that by now we can trust her. You, Kozlovsky, and I made that rule together, and Kozlovsky isn't here right now to weigh in. I know. But we don't know when we'll see Kozlovsky again. Right now we're just waiting for him to find us. We have no way of contacting him, not without fear of exposing ourselves to MI5. We have to have patience, Amelia. Yes, that's exactly the problem. The Fable & Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish.

This season on Civilized. Or not. It's improvised, so you don't know. Party, please! No! It has to be done for the good of the children. Captain, is it Beatrix or Beatrice? I'm so confused. I'll tell you who it is. It's your mother! I have summited the mountain, and I declare this land for my own. Marty, get down from the roof!

Every time. I can't believe we made it into space, Beatrice! Yeah, it's been a long time coming, Al. Wait, which version are you? Um, which version are you? Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! So you're saying we've been on Earth the whole time?

Yeah, man, it's like just a simulation. Actually, we've been dead the whole time. Actually, this is lost. Actually, I've been dead the whole time. Actually, this is lost. Actually, I'm lost. We only have five seconds to defuse this bomb. When you started saying that or at the end of saying that? Sound of explosion. So join us on Simulai Season 5 for this stuff that might happen, but probably a lot of it won't.

Regardless, we're back with your favorite characters doing zany things in space, and we couldn't be more pumped. We'll see you soon, listeners. Ba-na-na-na-na-na. That's funny. Civilized Season 5 begins May 31st, 2023. Tune in wherever you get your podcasts

or visit civilizedpod.com. That got weird. Because usually they're pretty normal.