“You stupid, stupid people. I’ve seen what you’ve done. It’s finally happened.” He raises his arms to the sky and screams. “Heaven is empty, and Hell is bursting at the seams!”
Does that sound like Doctor Who or what? I mean, he points to things with his hands in his pockets – how Doctor Who can you get?
Here is his big-big speech, with a little editorial spirit, copied off
this site (many thanks to Jacob!):
“You are becoming Gods. There’s a new master of creation, and it’s you. You’ve unraveled DNA, you’re five years away from building your own people…and at the same time, you’re cultivating bacteria strong enough to kill every living thing. D’you think you’re ready for that much power? You lot? Heh. You lot? You cheeky bastards.”
The TV goes off, and a blond hooligan kid laughs with Pete about Steve swearing on BBC at 2 in the afternoon. They switch it to ITV, which I guess is less afraid of Steven Baxter than the BBC is. That’s hilarious!
He continues: “You’re running around science like kids with guns. Creating a new world while the world you got is…” He says something gutteral I can’t get at, and begs them to put a hand up: “Hands up anyone who thinks you’ve got it right!” One hand goes up, and he laughs (“There’s always one”), and points to the guy. “I can see you,” he says, and reaches out. The way he says it is heartbreaking.
“If you want the position of God, then accept the responsibility.” Close-up on the sad face of Steve. “And I’m like you; I’ve been you. Knowing it’s all gone wrong, and doing nothing about it, keeping me head down, giving a quid to charity, signing a petition. Talking about it down at the pub. Laughing about it and doing nothing.” Pan across the disciples, at the pub. Knowing he’s right. We know he’s right. I get all in a twist about the liberal polemics, but you know he’s right.
“Even now. Right now I wanna do nothing. I wanna go home, shut the door, and pretend this isn’t happening. But I can’t. I can’t, because I was born the Son of God. And the Son of God came once before, and gave you a Testament. And you ignored it.” Actually, we jimmied around with it for 2000 years like a Frankenfood, but I know what you mean. Steve smiles out at them.
“This time there’ll be a Third Testament. A new foundation for the way you live your lives. And the Third Testament will be written by you. You’ve got five days. In five days, the Third Testament will be delivered to me, and we start again. Every country, every religion… starts again.” Chris Eccleston is a fucking awesome actor. I can’t imagine a speech more offensive, and you buy it. (But then, your definition of “offensive” gets to be a little bendy as we go on, doesn’t it?)
Steve turns away, winded, and downloads the epilogue: “And don’t argue.” Dave stares up at the screen, in the pub. “All you Christians out there, don’t go ’round saying you were right…” — Fiona stares — ” …And everybody else was wrong. Forget all that, all those divisions…” Judith and Peter staring up. “All that history, all that bollocks. Forget it, it’s gone. Forgotten. It’s starting again from scratch right now, because you’ve got to. I’ve seen it.” That’s all God ever offered — the opportunity to drop the fight. Zoom in on the TV. “You stupid, stupid people. I’ve seen what you’ve done. It’s finally happened.” He raises his arms to the sky and screams. “Heaven is empty, and Hell is bursting at the seams!”
It’s a good flick. I’d recommend it.
