The Amelia Project - Episode 56 - Curtain - Season 4 Finale

Episode Date: May 20, 2022

“We're coming, Sheba!” Episode 56, Season 4 Finale.  With Alan Burgon and Julia C. Thorne Written and edited by Philip Thorne Directed by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager Music and sound design by Fredrik Baden Graphic design by Anders Pedersen Production assistance by Maty Parzival Cameo by Stéphane Gerard Thanks to our patron Cliff Huizenga for the line "Well crack my skull and call me an omelette!" For full credits see our website.  The Amelia Project is an audio fiction series. We recommend starting at the beginning. Website: ameliapodcast.com  Patreon: patreon.com/ameliapodcast Transcripts: ameliapodcast.com/transcripts  Twitter: @amelia_podcast  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Because the Skip app saves you so much time by delivering stuff like your favorite cool treats, groceries, and bevies, you get more time to have the best summer ever. Like riding roller coasters. Learning to water ski. Applying sunscreen to your dad's back. Yep, definitely the best summer ever. Squeeze more summer out of summer with skip did somebody say skip cold tapes a gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone you know life on the base means uh well it's close to six months without light that does things to people that study that Welcome Experience Cold Tapes, the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation where you get your podcasts.

Welcome to the season four finale. This episode is dedicated to Isabella Silva. Enjoy the show. Your champagne. Wonderful. And your money. Thank you very much. Ah, merveilleux.

Et votre monnaie. Merci beaucoup. Levons un verre à notre premier mois à Paris. Oh, bravo, Alvina. I must say, your French is really coming along nicely. Isn't it? Ah. Mmm. Mmm.

Ah. I haven't had a glass of Vve cliquot since our first evening here At the opera with Amelia Watching you prancing around in that silly suit I was marvellous Feels like more than a month ago, doesn't it? I couldn't possibly say What do you mean?

Oh, there are two days in my calendar, this day and that day. Who's that? Oh, no, let me guess. Kierkegaard. Kierkegaard? Oh, not even close. No, that was Martin Luther. Oh. Yes, that puffed up twerp. I didn't know you had strong views on the Reformation. Not the Reformation. His death. How so? Well, you see, after the Edict of Worms permitted anyone to kill Luther without consequence, Frederick III had him seemingly murdered by masked horsemen pretending to be highway robbers. Not the cleverest of fake deaths, maybe, but...

Hey, excuse me! It was the early 1500s and resources were tight. Whoa, back off, why are you taking this so personally? Well, how would you feel if Zale Indigo Ravenheart came out of hiding in North Macedonia and returned to the pulpit? Or if Nessie left the Caribbean and started prancing down the streets of Inverness, for God's sake? They wouldn't. You see, their contracts make it very clear that this is a one-way system. No return. And yet, a year after his death, Martin Luther was back in Wittenberg giving sermons, writing pamphlets and stirring up the peasants. Ah, well, that's just rude. I mean, it makes a mockery of our profession. I know, right? I mean, he could have led a perfectly happy life as a sourdough baker in Apfelstedt or a flag maker in Bostel-Wiebeck.

Yeah, but if he'd had a proper contract, then maybe... Oh, blah, blah, blah, blah. It's just paper, Alvina. Is it, though? What do you mean? I've worked here for nine years, and in that time has a single one of our clients staged a rogue reappearance. Yes, all right, you've got a point. Ha! I'm going to mark this day in my calendar. Yes, all right. You've got a point.

Ha! I'm going to mark this day in my calendar. Yes, yes, yes. You know, I've always wondered what you actually say to them when they hand in their passport, collect the new one and sign the papers. I mean, I send them to your office with a belly full of cocoa and a smile on their face. Twenty minutes later, they return trembling and pale as a ghost. We're each good at

what we do. Best to leave it at that. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. I'm curious. Well, so am I. About what? A lot of things. Oh, such as? I think you know. Huh?

Oh, come on. I'm not a mind reader, Alvina. Oh, speaking of mind readers, did I ever tell you about that time I faked the death of... Oh, stop! You're not going to distract again. I am not... Oh, look! It's Sheba! That's incredible! No, no, she always finds me no matter where I am.

Come here, Sheba. Yes, yes, all right, then what do you want to know? Well, let's start with your behavior over the past month. My behavior? Have I treated you badly? Because if I have, I... I'm worried. Oh, there's nothing to worry about.

Starting in a new city is always a challenge, I know that. But we're finding our feet. I mean, just look at the clients we've had already. A cursed goth, the complete cast of Hamlet. Not to mention Satan himself paying us a visit. It's not business I'm worried about. No? It's you.

Come on, Alphina, I'm fine. Don't lie to me. I'm not. Okay, then. Then how about we take a stroll till you do, Magor? Have a nice cup of cocoa, hmm? No. I said cocoa.

And I said no. You're not fine. Oh, very well. Well, I haven't been feeling quite myself lately there. I haven't been feeling quite myself lately there. There was nobody in your office yesterday. What? What do you mean? Yesterday.

Hamlet. Hamlet? It was all in your head. Is that true? Well, crack my skull and call me an omelette. What's up with this cat? I think she's telling us something. Right. She's going to the door.

Should we follow? I could do with some fresh air. Let's go for a stroll. We're coming, Sheba. It's a lovely evening. And look, street musicians. Do you mind if we listen for a bit? Sure.

Episode 56 episode 56 curtain season four finale i'm going to give him a coin um here you go. Thank you. You still want to follow the cat? Yes, I'd like to know where she wants to take us, if that's okay with you. Well, if we're going to follow a cat around town, at least she's choosing a really beautiful street. Ah, yes. Rue Lepic. Rue Lepic. Rue Lepic.

Dans le marché qui se veille de le premier soleil se les frises, les fleurs viennent danser le couleur. Rue Lepic. Yes, you know that. I've been listening to you. So, Yes, yes. So. Yesterday.

All in my head, you say? Yes. My, my. You see why I'm worried? Don't be. Come on. Do you know how many stories I've collected over my lifetime, Alvina? Are you changing the topic again?

No, no. All I'm saying is I collect multiple stories a day, dozens a week, hundreds a month, thousands a year. Yeah, but what are you saying? That I may be losing the ability to distinguish between different kinds of stories. Between what's real and fictional. Between what clients have told me and things I have read, for example. I see.

You see, yesterday morning I was perusing the complete works over breakfast and... Damn, I could have sworn the RSC came into the office in the afternoon. You're sure it was... Have you been reading Martin Luther too by any chance? What makes you say that? Back at the brasserie, you seem to be implying that it was you who faked his death. Yes, that puffed up twerp. Did you know that after the Edict of Worms permitted anyone to kill him without consequence, Frederick III had him seemingly murdered by masked horsemen

pretending to be... You just told me that exact same story. Oh. Oh, um... Sorry. What about this? This? This? This delightful evening stroll? Yes. Is it real? You're joking.

You're not. Well, we have just established that my consciousness isn't exactly reliable right now, so... So you think you might be imagining this? I'm finding it increasingly difficult to tell. I'm real. You seem real. Happy to hear it. Yes, but then so did Polonius yesterday. Jump over the moon.

Excuse me? Just do it. You want me to... Yes. You're right. Happy? I suppose, yes. Hey, I'm real.

And I care for you. Deeply. I know something is up And I want to help But in order to do so I need to understand you better I still sometimes feel I hardly know you Well

We haven't known each other very long I've been working with you for nine years Exactly Well, that's a long time. Isn't it? Hardly. It's a bird of my life. Really?

I turn 30 next November, so that makes it... Oh, yes. I see how that would be a long time. Sorry. You're so weird. Thank you. No, I meant... It doesn't matter.

Slow down, Sheba. We can hardly keep up. Alvina, did you mean that? What? That thing about... caring for me. Of course, you idiot. Thank you.

Don't thank me. Tell me what I can do to help. You can't. Don't thank me. Tell me what I can do to help. You can't. Don't underestimate me. Alvina, this isn't like smuggling Kierkegaard's handwritten notes for fear and trembling out of the Museum of Copenhagen. Or removing all the orange Smarties from the tube. Thanks for that again, by the way. I keep telling you, the colours don't make a difference. Smarties all taste the same.

But they don't. They don't. Or at least they didn't. What's this thing about not tasting chocolate anymore? Oh, it seems to be some sort of unfortunate side effect. A side effect of what? Oh, look. Sheba wants us to turn left. Oh. Um.

Are we really going to follow her into the cemetery? Mm-hmm. I haven't been to Monmartre Cemetery for a very long time. Oh, I... I don't really like cemeteries. Really? Why not? Um.

I think it's pretty normal not to like cemeteries, no? Oh, but they're so peaceful. And full of death. You're not scared of death, are you? Of course I am. What? Why does that surprise you? Death is your job.

No. Our job is rebirth. Oh, so you don't believe in life after death? Oh, this just got very deep all of a sudden. Well, we can talk about Smarties again if you prefer. Oh, look at that. Sheba seems to have taken us to see her friends. So Sheba is a cemetery cat.

I had no idea. You know, this cemetery is famous for its cats. No one is quite sure where they came from. But they live among the mausoleums, sunning themselves on marble tombstones and keeping watch over their inhabitants. Oh, look. That's the grave of Heinrich Heine. What does it say? I don't read German. Let me see. Where shall I, the wander-wearied, find my haven and my shrine? Under palms will I be buried? Under linden on the Rhine? Under palms will I be buried, under linden on the Rhine?

Shall I lie in desert reaches, buried by a stranger's hand? Or upon the well-loved beaches, covered by the friendly sand? Immerhin, mich wird umgeben Gottes Himmel, dort wie hier. I will be surrounded by the heavens, there as here, and as dead lamps the stars will hover over me at night. Who else would you like to visit? Well, this is the final resting place of the most colourful characters in Monmouth. Poets, composers, philosophers, can-can dancers. You know, if I had to choose a cemetery where I could interview all the ghosts, this one would be very high on my list.

I'll start the research. Look, that's the grave of Alexandre Dumas from The Three Musketeers. And over there we have Adolphe Sax, inventor of the saxophone. And look, that's Berlioz, composer of the Symphonie Fantastique,

created entirely under the influence of opium. Or here, Picabia, the master of making artworks out of glued-down macaroni. What? Yes. Stories.

Stories. So many stories. Hey. Stories. Stories. Maybe you should be taking a break from stories. Ha! And do what exactly? I'm serious, Alvina. Without stories, life isn't worth living.

And I wanted to collect them all. All the stories ever told? I know. What can I say? We were young and ambitious. We? Kozlowski. You really miss him, don't you? I need him, Alvina. I... I understand.

I mean... I'm not sure how far back you two go exactly, but... I get the feeling that... Without him, I will die. Excuse me? I am disintegrating, Alvina. Every day I feel weaker and the sensations become stranger. At first it was that I simply couldn't taste the cocoa, but now...

It tastes of ashes. I am slipping away. A few more days, weeks perhaps, I don't know. But whatever time is left, let's fill it with life and laughter and stories. Alvina. Alvina, say something. Hm? Alvina, I mean, say something. What do you need from Kozlovsky? Patience. Patience?

The two most powerful warriors are patience and time. That's Tolstoy. I had become used to a limitless supply of both. You mean... Kozlovsky has been keeping you alive? How? He is a man of many mysteries. Look. Sheba has stopped.

Do you mind if we sit down? This is... a lot to take in. Yes, of course. Let's sit on that bench over there. Come here, Shiba. Are you content at last? It's weird.

It's like she wanted to take us to this exact place. Yes. Yes, I think you did, didn't you? Hey, what is it? Um... Hey, what is it? What are you staring at? Hello? Cat's got your tongue? Okay, well now you're scaring me. The gravestone.

Yes, what about it? Read it. I, what about it? Read it. I can hardly decipher it. Mane Moepert Arthur, son of Athromeon. That's quite the name, isn't it? You know this man? Yes. Okay, well, who is he?

Come on! It's me, name, don't you think? Mane? Moepert Arthur, son of Athramale? Yes. Okay. Listen to me. It's a warm evening. We don't have any clients tomorrow. I've got a tupperware of freshly baked scones in my bag.

What exactly are you saying? I'm not leaving this bench until I've heard your story from beginning to end. Why from beginning to end? Why, isn't that how stories are usually told? Oh yes, but it's so boring. Very well. Tell it from the end to the beginning, if you prefer. I think I would. But I want to know everything.

No cheating. No distracting. The whole story at last. You mean stories. Right. It may take a while. Like I said, we've got scones. And cats for company.

Do you want to hear my story, Sheba? Look at that. She's fallen asleep. Do you remember Venereo? The Venetian mask maker? Yes. Do you remember his skill? He could predict death. Or so he claimed. Yes. I asked him to predict my death. You did? In Venice. After I helped him escape the plummeting cherub in the basilica. What did he say?

He said that my death would take place on the Hill of Martyrs. And Bastet would be my guide to the underworld. Who is Bastet? An Egyptian goddess most commonly depicted as a cat. Oh. Hmm. Care to join me? Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, So, time for a story? Time for a story. Terima kasih. This episode was written and edited by Philip Thorne, with story editing by Einstein Allsperg Braga and music and sound design by Frederick Barden.

It featured Julia C. Thorne as Alvina, Alan Bergen as the interviewer, and a cameo by Stéphane Girard as the waiter. Graphic design by Anders Pedersen and production assistance by Marty Parzival. Thank you to Ruben Stranger for musical inspiration. This was the last episode of season four. Thank you all so, so much for listening. We would love to make another season if you would like to help us make another season of the show do consider going to ameliapodcast.com and supporting the show either by becoming a patron or by making a one-off donation we certainly

couldn't have made this season without our generous supporters, so to everyone who has supported this season, thank you so, so much. And a shout-out to... You can follow us on social media for updates. We're on Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. We hope to be back. And in the meantime, keep drinking cocoa. And if you need to disappear, leave your message after the beep. The Fable and Falling Network, where fiction producers flourish. Where am I?

Welcome to Desert Skies, traveler. Your journey through the physical plane has come to an end. I am the attendant. My colleague here is the mechanic. Yo. This is your last stop on your way to the great beyond. It's our job to make sure you're prepared for the ride. Now, before hitting the road, we have an impressive selection of over 34 varieties of microwavable burritos.

Um, what's going on? There's gotta be a better afterlife than this. I mean, come on! Uh, that's offensive. Something seems to be wrong with me. You left something major undone. I have a life outside of this gas station, you know. You quite literally do not.

Any hobbies? Nope. Ever hobbies? Nope. Ever travel? Nope. Love interests? Are you kidding? Oh my god. You're like the human version of a plain bagel.

Cash register. How can I help you, attendant? Play some music? You got it. It's kind of funny, though. What I needed wasn't back there. It was here, waiting for me. I wonder what it feels like, Mac,

to miss the physical plane, the people you left behind. You know, I had a wife who died three years ago. Wish I could go back. No, you don't need to go back. You just need to be here. And a new traveler approaches. Ready, team? Ready. Good.

Let's do this. Find Desert Skies wherever you listen to podcasts.