in 1983, when special forces told general putkin that they weren't interested in his ideas. that was a lie.
and when they told him they didn't have access to animals. that was also a lie. we focus on the window - a shaky zoom taking us towards an abandoned looking hospital building half hidden by trees.
the hundred goats in the disused hospital building had been secretly flown in from central america so as to avoid customs. special forces weren't worried about the general hearing the goats because they'd been de- bleated. the goats stare at us, their mouths silently opening and closing.
this is the story of those goats. we close on the unblinking eyes of one goat, then.
my name is bob wilton. imagine me back in michigan, where i was born and raised. i studied journalism at western in kalamazoo and then i got a job at the ann arbor daily telegram. i wrote a lot of stories about competitive food eating contests. he looks at the photograph of his wife debora on his desk and up to where she stands, photocopying in dave the editor's office. dave is chatting to her. he has a prosthetic arm. bob watches his wife, smiling.
this is ron. ron suddenly pitches violently forward, thudding face- first into his desk.
he's the man who died.
my wife, debora, told me later that ron's death had been like a wake-up call for her - what people used to call a memento mori. bob sits down, feeling a little ghoulish, at the dead man's desk. he notices a large indentation on the leather in front of him - the mark left by ron's forehead. he touches it, fascinated.
that massive coronary had reminded her that life was too short to waste any chance of true happiness. bob rests his own forehead, experimentally, onto the indentation, and sits there, face down on the desk. his eyes wander over to where dave and debora are talking in dave's office. bob's p.o.v - debora's hand brushes against dave's, lingers just a fraction too long. bob frowns.
a week after the funeral she left me for my editor.
it seemed like such a tragedy at the time. we couldn't see beyond our little lives to the great events of history unfolding out there in the world. jump cut to dave holding bob in a head-lock with his one good arm. debora is sitting, head in hands.
i was like a child. or a hobbit, safe in the shire. jump cut to bob alone in the trashed room, exhausted and drunk, watching bush's state of the union speech on tv.
or a blonde farm boy on a distant, desert planet, unaware that he was already taking the first steps on the path that will lead him inexorably towards the heart of a conflict between the forces of good and evil.
had i known where that path would lead, had a soft wind from my future brought me the name of bill django, i might never have gone. but as it was, i did what so many men have done throughout history when a woman has broken their heart.  i went to war. we hear the opening of a period song as we.
yeah, no it's been. well, i won't lie to you debora - it's been pretty damn hairy.
yeah, it's not, uh.  i've seen things that you shouldn't, you know.  he shakes his head sadly.
pretty damn hairy.
oh, that's, that's.  he beats his head off the wall for a moment.
okay. gotta go. we're moving out - heading up north to cover the fighting there.
yeah. they laugh.
yeah, i think they didn't want me going over because i'm not embedded.
so what's a useful phrase?
what's that mean?
dewitt resources. arkansas.
you over here for the conference? looking for a contract right?
what's your pitch? the man considers this. he looks up and we see his face for the first time - handsome, older than bob, tanned, a moustache, a slightly haunted expression. this is lyn
bob wilton.
could i bum a smoke, skip? lyn shoves the packet across the table. bob sits down across from him, pats himself down for a lighter, glances over to where the two embedded journalists are joking with some marines. bob watches them jealously.
i sat there watching those reporters and realized i didn't want to be me anymore. i wanted to be them. i wanted to face peril and stand witness to the fall and rise of nations. suddenly the terrace light above them flickers and goes out. lyn and bob sit in the dark.
everyone gets everything he wants. like the man said. i wanted a mission.
oh crap, can't find my.  a lighter ignites in lyn's hand, eerily lighting the lower half of his face, his eyes hidden by the brim of the cap. bob leans forward to light his cigarette and finds himself staring at the conference i.d lyn has pinned to his shirt. the name on the badge reads lyn s.
and for my sins, fate brought me one. he stares at the name as he puffs on the cigarette, vaguely troubled by a memory.
right here?
wandering?
so what have you seen lately?
okay. wow. e.c.u of bob's notebook - on which he has written you are crazy.
so. when did this all start for you gus?
right. i don't know who that is. gus gives a dreamy smile.
so what did you do in the army?
wow. i don't know what to say.
well, i've never owned a hamster gus, so i don't know what.
maybe some of the readers have hamsters so.
yeah, i guess any hamster-owning readers will know what's aberrant behavior and, uh, what's. oh, shit, he's down! on tv one of the hamsters has fallen over.
oh my god! you've dropped both hamsters!
well. it didn't die. i thought you said you killed it?
who's the skipper?
do you. do you know a gus lacey? beat. lyn gets up and walks away.
lyn? skip? lyn?
whoa!
hooper? no. i work for the ann arbor daily telegram.
i interviewed him a few years ago. he'd been appearing on this radio talk show. lyn relaxes his martial arts stance, shakes his head ruefully.
he said he joined bill django's unit in the army and was trained to, to, uh remote view?
and he said the loch ness monster was the ghost of a dinosaur. who's bill django?
yes.
are you? do you mean you corroborate his, uh? because, see, i thought he was just an idiot?
but you're saying there was a secret unit? lyn stops, turns and stares at him.
um. brown?
a super soldier?
you're a jedi warrior?
what does that? i don't think
hold on, let me. let me just.  he takes out his notebook, fumbling, trying to get into journalist mode.
okay, so, so you're saying you were a psychic spy, like lacey?
how does that work?
what about you? lyn thinks about it.
yeah? like who?
invisibility?
actual invisibility?
like camouflage?
i don't. can i be honest, lyn? i don't know what to make of this. i don't know what to say. this is amazing stuff. how would you. i wanna. could i write a story about this? lyn stops panting, takes a swig of whiskey, stares at the bottle, suddenly taciturn.
no, but see, i've been looking for a story lyn. i was going to write about the re-build contracts but this. this is even better and
all i'm saying is we could talk some more tomorrow and.
you're going home?
oh. they sit in silence for a moment. lyn passes bob the whiskey. he takes a swig, his mind whirring.
i could come with you, maybe, and.
no, listen, we could change names, stuff could stay off record and.
well you know, you don't.  i look after myself. okay? i look after. and i've been in some pretty hairy situations before. i'm not, you know. i'm a journalist, lyn. you understand? he slaps his notebook for emphasis.
a journalist. i go where the story is.
i was an american. i was resolute. i wanted adversity to reveal my character to the world. and to my wife. and to that one-armed cunt dave. lyn is staring at bob's notebook. he takes it from bob and examines bob's drawings of eyes.
what? nothing. i was just doodling. lyn examines bob - something different in his attitude.
what's the matter?
the jedi warrior will follow in the footsteps of the great imagineers of the past - jesus christ, lao tse tung, walt disney.
what's the sparkly eyes technique? lyn raises his shades and twinkles his eyes at bob for a moment.
okay.
i think so. lyn?
who is this bill django? lyn draws on his cigarette thoughtfully.
every single one of bill's men fired high. they instinctively hadn't wanted to shoot another person. later bill would come across a study by general s.l.a marshall, which revealed that only 15-20 percent of fresh soldiers shot to kill. the rest aimed high, didn't fire at all, or pretended to be busy doing something else. bullets still flying above her head, the woman stops running, crouches down and returns fire. bill is shot, stumbles backwards and falls into the mud, his finger still stuck in his m-16. he lies there, staring up at the sky, his expression one of puzzlement, as a huge blood stain spreads over his chest. bill's p.o.v - the edges of our vision darken down as the sound fades out. the darkness flows inwards, as if an iris is closing down - until only a pin-point of white light remains in the centre of the sky. we begin to move towards the light, slowly at first and then faster and faster. just as we are about to reach it, a vision of the face of the vc woman appears, filling the white disc.
recovering in hospital, bill wrote to general t.l cornplow, vice chief of staff for the army, explaining that he wanted to go on a fact-finding mission to explore alternative combat tactics. the pentagon agreed to pay his salary and expenses for the duration of the journey. we hear the opening of a period song as we.
what bill hadn't told the pentagon was that he was really looking for the answer to the riddle of his vision. how could his men's gentleness, their general lack of interest in killing people, how could this be turned into a strength? how could love and peace help win wars? bill knew where to go to find out.
bill disappeared into the new age movement for six years. bill feels thompson staring at him. he smiles nervously.
like all shamen before him, he had traversed the wilderness. now he was returning to his people, a changed man. the sentries at the gate check bill's pass suspiciously.
he brought with him his confidential report - the new earth army manual. the gates swing open and bill passes through.
the cone. does it direct your psychic powers or something?
what does it do? lyn takes some burgers out of a cooler box and puts them into the cone.
yes. but.  he stops.
nothing.
well it's just. it's hard to believe the pentagon paid for this. i mean, it's very interesting, but there's nothing in here that's actually about. fighting?
non-lethals? lyn flicks away his cigarette.
oh! oh fuck! oh. fuck!
owwwwww!
stop it! stop hurting me! lyn stares at the blob fondly.
no!!!!!
i think it's officially night now. lyn kicks at the stove.
amongst bill's audience that night was brigadier general dean hopgood, from the defense intelligence agency. for some time the general had been concerned about information he had been receiving about soviet research into psychic powers.
according to some stories the soviets were psychically spying on american bases and had designed "psychotronic generators" - machines capable of bombarding the president with negative energy.
they were also conducting sadistic experiments to see whether animals had psychic powers.
could they, for instance, telepathically detect that their babies were distressed?
two weeks later the army adopted the slogan be all you can be and appointed bill commander of the first new earth army battalion.
oh god. oh god. he stops, staring at the immense empty landscape ahead of him.
lyyyyn!
i didn't. i thought. what are you doing?
what are you doing?
really? which one?
that one?
isn't that one too far away? lyn looks at bob like he's crazy.
jesus lyn. you had like the whole desert to drive in.  lyn rubs his face ruefully.
right. he tosses again.
what's your record at this?
(scrambling to his
can you help us? we drove into a rock. could you take us to a town or someplace? smiling, the iraqi gestures to the back of the pick-up.
hi! hello there. thanks so much for this. the two young men smile in a friendly fashion.
oh, you speak english? great. deep purple. right. you guys like deep purple? you like rock or, or.  he suddenly notices the young iraqi is holding a handgun. the driver leans out the window and shouts something over the roar of the engine. the young man next to lyn takes off his scarf and starts to blindfold lyn with it.
lyn? is this. is this?
we're going to die! i'm going to be killed by al qaeda!
oh what the hell do you know? you don't know! you don't know anything! and this is all your fault!
how are we gonna stop them? there's three of them! and they've got guns!
what do you mean?
we haven't got a pen.
oh. i don't want to lyn.
i don't think i. there's sharp edges around here.
what's with the quotation fingers? that's like implying i'm you know. only capable of ironic attacking or.
sharp. edges.
yes.
i don't know. i was pretty terrified anyway but the fear i felt on the run-up to the choking did seem, you know, unusual.
uhuh. you really don't work for dewitts?
oh. okay. and you're really on a mission out here?
yes.
do you really think so?
yes. yes i have.
have you always had powers?
why?
after years of feeling like an oddball lyn had finally found a home. at last he was amongst men who prided themselves on being different.
these were golden days for lyn. there was something so noble and pure in bill's vision that the jedis felt themselves inspired to be more than soldiers. in a world torn apart by greed and hate they would be a force for good, for peace. a butterfly lands on lyn's outstretched hand. he watches it with a gentle smile.
for the first time in his life lyn felt truly happy. the butterfly flits away and lands on an apple in the tree overhead.
then into the garden a serpent did come.
larry hooper was a failed sci-fi writer from colorado, recruited to the jedis after brigadier general hopgood met him at a spoon-bending party. other guests laugh and applaud.
right from the start he had made himself unpopular with the other jedis. scotty and his wife are walking off the dance floor. larry stops him to shake his hand.
larry made it quite clear that he despised most of the other jedis. feeling sorry for him lyn sits beside larry. larry flushes red.
but lyn - lyn was different. he really hated lyn.
after a year's training, lyn was given his first tasking. a senior nato general had been kidnapped by red brigade members in italy. bill was unofficially asked if his unit would be able to help find him before it was too late.
it's true that the unit never found out whether any of their remote viewings were accurate or not. nevertheless from that moment on lyn's reputation soared.
the word soon got out in the intelligence community that there was a sergeant at fort bragg who could find whatever you needed found. it was as if lyn could fly anywhere in the world without leaving his room. we track into lyn's eye - until we are inside his mind. lyn's mind p.o.v - we move towards the wall.
as bill django said - the force truly was strong with this one. as the song breaks into the chorus we burst through the wall, into freedom.
lyn?
are you going to use the blob?
shit. shit.
now at the time i thought lyn was having some kind of fit here. later i discovered what he was actually doing was performing the echmeyer technique.
ben echmeyer was a vietnam vet with sixty-three confirmed kills. he remains the only non-korean to achieve the rank of master in kwa ra do. he was one of the jedi teachers at fort bragg.
it was said he could have a tug of war with a dozen men and not move an inch. we pan down the back of ben and find he is naked from the waist down. a sand bag is somehow hanging between his legs.
he was also able to lift bags of sand on hooks hung through his scrotum. a recruit raises a hand.
another demonstration involved letting a recruit drive a jeep over him. this, in the end, was to be his undoing. next second a jeep roars straight over ben, going at sixty miles an hour. we freeze frame on the jeep.
before his untimely death ben caused quite a stir by advocating his controversial "shock and awe" knife attack method.
the approach was hailed by some knife aficionados as revolutionary but criticized by others who believed that the leaping and spinning might lead you to accidentally stab yourself. tracking along ben's trainee jedis - as they watch his display.
lyn cassady, however, became a firm convert to the style. we reach lyn who turns to camera.
of course, lyn didn't actually have a knife with him at this particular time. so i still think what he did was kinda. reckless. the insurgent, understandably startled, flinches backwards, trips over the water bottle and falls on his ass. lyn scoops up the gallon bottle of water and begins to pound the fallen man with it. the young iraqi moves to intervene but lyn smacks him in the face with the bottle. the blindfolded iraqi in the truck manages to open the door and stumbles out, claws his blindfold off and races away over the sand. the second insurgent is distracted for a moment by his victim's flight. when he turns back lyn has scooped up the insurgent's gun and is aiming it at him. beat. nobody moves.
they're not coming! we're okay! oh god, we're gonna be okay! the truck crests a hill and we see the iraqi man running desperately down the road ahead of us, his hands tied.
what happened?
oh shit! oh shit, they're coming! they scuttle faster back towards the truck, the iraqi man dangling between them. next second, two gleaming white suvs crest the hill and roar towards them. seeing the road blocked by the truck, the suvs screech to a halt and several men in flak jackets and sunglasses tumble out in formation, aiming their m-16's at lyn and bob. armed men's p.o.v - lyn and bob stare at them before dropping the bound iraqi on the ground. bob waves nervously.
sounds good muhammad.
muhammad led us to his home which it turned out had been robbed in his absence. we track past a row of bullet holes in the wall, a section of smoke damaged wall paper.
and also accidentally set on fire by a us tank. neighbors told him his wife had left, they weren't sure where she had gone. we reach bob, lyn and mahmud eating at a low table. the windows behind them have been partially boarded up. mahmud is sunk into a profound depression. lyn looks tired, pale. they eat in awkward silence.
i understood he was going through a lot, but considering we had saved him from kidnappers i still thought his welcome could have been a little warmer. lyn clears his throat.
lyn?
what are you thinking?
lyn was thinking of larry hooper and the part he had played in the destruction of the new earth army. but, in fairness, the jedis' own eccentricities hadn't exactly won them many allies in the army. a jedi - tim kootz - lies on the couch in a trance, bill sitting beside him with pen and paper.
for example, there was tim kootz who, on being asked to ascertain the whereabouts of general manuel noriega, had replied.  tim jerks awake from his trance.
or there was the time major general gilling was visiting the base and saw jedi trainee clifford hickox.  russell's p.o.v - we are driving past the training course. a bare-chested, long-haired hickox is dancing around a wooden pole to which he is attached by two long wires and metal hooks which are stuck in his bleeding nipples.
practising the ancient sun dance of the sioux nation.
the jedis survived such minor scandals, protected, it was rumored, by a president who was a fan of both the star wars films and the paranormal himself. but then, one summer, a young, likeable lieutenant called norman pendleton was recruited to the new earth army.  larry hooper examines the new recruit with interest.
larry hooper wasted no time befriending the newcomer. desperate to compete with lyn, larry had been doing research into the infamous cia mk-ultra experiments which he believed could enhance his own psychic powers.
all he needed was a lab rat to try them out on, check if they were safe. larry, making sure norm can't see, is pouring a massive dose of lsd into a drink. he gives the glass a quick stir and turns, smiling, to norm with it.
it turned out they weren't.
norm's father, who it turned out was pretty high up in the pentagon, wanted blood.
although the jedis were pretty sure larry was responsible, nothing could be proved and when he was called to the disciplinary hearing larry made sure to smear bill with everything he could.
brigadier general hopgood resigned and died some years later. bill received a dishonorable discharge.
after bill left, major holtz of special forces took command of the jedis. lyn stares at his reflection as his long hair falls to the floor.
and nothing was ever the same again.
well?
oh for the love of. here.  he gives lyn his watch. lyn looks at the watch and turns to stare at bob.
what?
so? that's.
well how the hell am i supposed to know?
you're the navigation expert here. you told me you could find the way.
turns out you haven't even got a watch! now what the hell are we.
just. instant?
oh, it's that way?
right. now you know.
oh jesus.
i can't believe this. great fucking intuition lyn. i can't. put me down. i can walk. put me down. lyn puts bob down. bob keels sideways onto the sand and lies there, wheezing.
oh, jeez. oh, jeez.
where are we going? we should stay with the car so the army can find us.
well, i disagree. i totally disagree. the federal what?
what are you doing?
are they my glasses? lyn doesn't answer, keeps on walking, struggling a little under the weight. beat.
jesus, it's hot. i'm so hot. aren't you hot?
i can't breathe properly. i can't. oh boy.  he staggers, manages not to fall.
i think i'm bleeding to death.
if we'd stayed at the road we would be safe now! now we've got no water, no food or, or.  will you forget about the fucking tantric currents?
stop saying that! i just got blown up! i'm in the middle of a desert!
is that. is that supposed to calm me down?! you know what color the seats were in the frigging hotel but you can't. you wanna observe something lyn? observe the fucking bomb in the middle of the road!
wait a minute. that's west. al qaim's in that direction. we're going the wrong way.
where?
is that. is that. is that a joke? we've come six hundred miles and you don't know where we're going?
who gave you the mission lyn? lyn?
what?
oh jesus. oh jesus lyn. there's no mission? we're in the middle of the desert because you heard voices? there's no one here! there's no-one fucking here. lyn starts to walk off but staggers and falls.
lyn! bob rushes to him, kneels beside him. lyn clutches his stomach, grimaces.
is it the crohns?
what's the matter with you?
what curse?
who destroyed it? lyn stares at the stars above, remembering, grief stricken.
when the dust of the pendleton affair had settled it revealed a surprising victor.
major holtz regarded larry hooper as a patriotic whistle-blower and the one sound fruit in an otherwise dubious barrel of apples.
goat lab was originally created as a clandestine laboratory to provide in-the-field surgical training for special forces soldiers. we boom down to reveal that many of the goats have their legs in plaster.
the goats would get shot in the leg with a bolt gun and then a trainee would have to dress the wound successfully. goat lab actually used to be called dog lab.
but it turned out most soldiers didn't feel good shooting dogs in the leg.  a soldier stares doubtfully down at the dog, bolt-gun in hand.
whereas the army had long felt fine about doing stuff to goats - even testing atomic weapons on them. we hear the drone of an aeroplane high, high above. the goat looks up.
huh?
so, it's not that the goat fought back?
but. that was it?
lyn said he had no intention of killing the goat.
collateral damage?
the silence of the goats. lyn flicks a suspicious glance at bob, but is reassured by his solemn expression.
but before he could leave larry arranged one last parting gift. lyn tuns back to the gates and finds larry hooper standing in front of him, looking wired.
the dim mak?
what does the death touch do?
jesus.
then and there?
lyn?
lyn! lyn reaches the sliding doors of the building and drags them open and stands staring into the gloomy interior. bob catches him up.
i don't think we should.  he stops following lyn's gaze.
psy for psychic?
if this is psyops what are you doing here?
"sick?"
there's a subliminal message in this?
what are you going to do? lyn stares at the wall.
lyn? what are you going to do?
oh, you're not dying! i don't believe you can kill someone with a mail order dim sum. you can't.
whatever. i don't believe you can just.
just tap someone and . it.  what?
i think you should go and see lyn, sir. he needs you. bill doesn't answer.
the man crossed a desert to see you again. bill takes a long drink, stares at the sky. bob watches him with mounting frustration.
you know, he told me all these stories about bill django, and i was pretty excited to meet you, but i've gotta tell you. you're one big disappointment. bill doesn't react. bob starts to walk away then turns back, and throws the feather down at bill's feet.
he told me to give you that back. i don't know why. its supposed to be a mark of honour isn't it? i don't see how you deserve that. beat. bill turns to look at bob for the first time. he takes a long drink.
what isn't?
bill? bill are you okay? bill opens his eyes suddenly.
don't eat the jello. lyn tries to puzzle this out but is distracted by larry outside who seems to have noticed something in the sand at his feet - a small insect of some kind. he begins to watch it with strange fascination. after a moment he sinks to his knees in order to get a better look at it. one of the soldiers notices and starts to laugh softly. his neighbor looks at him as if he's crazy then begins to laugh himself. lyn looks around him, sensing the strange atmosphere creeping through the room.
we put lsd in the jello. lyn turns to stare at him.
bill showed me where larry had bottles of lsd. so we put it in the jello mix last night.
what?
but. we've drunk the water.
at the time i was hurt that lyn hadn't taken me with him. but now i know it was because he and bill had already seen what was to come.
nobody knows exactly what happened. the official story is that their helicopter must have crashed, either because they were hit by an rpg or because. well, that's what happens when you fly a helicopter while you're tripping on acid. all i know is they've never been seen since. like all shaman they returned to the sky. the helicopter disappears altogether.
when i got back home i wrote the story up. everything.
i sent it to the newspapers, the radio stations, the tv stations, because that was what lyn wanted me to do. the people needed to know.
i was ready for whatever they would do to me. i was ready to disappear. i was ready to go to prison. i was a jedi and i was fighting for the new earth army.
but they didn't put me in prison. they did something much worse.
that was it. that was the only bit of my story that ran anywhere. and it was a joke. and if i ever needed proof of how the dark side have taken the beautiful dream of what a nation could be and had twisted it, destroyed it, that was it.
but i won't stop. i won't give up. bob quickens his pace.
because when i look at what is happening in the world, i know that now, more than ever, we need to become all that we can be. bob is running.
now, more than ever, we need the supermen. bob rushes towards the wall. just as he is about to hit it we freeze frame. we hear the opening of a period song.
	209:
boone?
which section of the military is always straining to reach the peak of their physical and mental capabilities?
look at me. so young. "the past is a different country. they. do things there." we pan to the next desk and bob's over-weight colleague ron, who sits eating a hot-dog.
well, i think it's important people get an accurate picture of what's.
what's, uh, happening, so. is that dave?
i've been stuck here. they've only just given me the green-light. so i'll probably head over there soon. i'm just working on this story about american contractors coming over for the re-build. the journalists look bored.
hey.
right. we make trash cans.
skip.
lyn cassady?
you mean, what. with your?
huh. what kind of animals?
yeah well.  mother said no. she said you might be a bleeding-heart liberal. she said "don't show him the hamster dying. show him the tape where the hamster acts bizarre instead." bob looks to gus' mother who manages to look nervous and defiant at the same time. gus stares at the blank tv, sips his coffee.
he is an idiot. or he was. he's dead now. he was a paranormal whore. always trying to get into the spotlight, yak, yak yaking. we took an oath. we don't divulge.
uh?
what's a jedi warrior?
i'm sergeant first class lyn cassady, special forces, retired. in the eighties i was trained at fort bragg in a secret initiative code-named project jedi. the objective of the project was to create super soldiers.
you've got super powers?
what other powers did you practise?
i could come.
what?
nothing. he considers for a moment, struggling with himself, then seems to reluctantly come to a decision. he reaches into the bag on his bed and pulls out a dog-eared book. he hands it to bob. bob examines the book - on the cover is a picture of da vinci's vitruvian man and the title pentagon report 92245. the new earth army manual. bob stares at the book. he opens the first page and reads.
the u.s army doesn't really have any serious alternative than to be wonderful! bob looks at the disclaimer at the bottom of the page.
this does not represent the official position of the united states army at this time. bob looks up at lyn who nods gravely.
the new earth army is a banner under which the forces of good can gather. the courage and nobility of the warrior, blended with the spirituality of the monk.
the role of the new earth army is to resolve conflict world-wide. jedis will parachute into war zones, utilizing sparkly eyes technique, carrying symbolic flowers and animals, playing indigenous music and words of peace.  insert: an illustration of a soldier carrying a lamb and some lilies - with what appears to be some kind of loudspeaker strapped to his shoulder.
vc in black pyjamas! one hundred meters! it's a woman! the woman is jogging across the tree-line ahead, weapon in hand.
their gentleness is their strength. we begin to sink back down again, faster and faster until the circle of white light has disappeared all together and we are in darkness.
does it direct your powers?
the predator? that's a plastic blob, lyn. that's a.  before he can finish lyn has slipped bob's finger into a hole in the middle of the blob and twisted it.
piece'a shit.
what attempt?
lyn?
that one. bob tries to work out which cloud he means.
right. he tosses again.
right. that's pretty.  he stops, listening. we hear the sound of an approaching engine. the two men turn to see a white pick-up truck approaching.
thank you! thanks so much! he grabs his case and climbs up onto the back of the truck. lyn stares at the driver, then, with a sigh picks up his bag and follows bob.
don't know if we would have lasted much longer. phew! one of the young men nods, smiling. he reaches casually forward and takes lyn's bag from him. lyn just sits there, resigned as the young man roots through the contents.
yeah, it gets pretty hot out here, huh? the young man takes out a rock compilation cd from lyn's bag and inspects it.
yeah.
you're an idiot. you want to know why i'm with you? because i got drunk. i got drunk and i just wanted to get into iraq so i could prove to my wife i wasn't. just once that i. and now i'm going to die. she's right. i'm such a.  he dissolves into misery. lyn watches with sympathy.
what do you mean?
you're missing the point. here let me show you something. stand up. bob stands up reluctantly.
well, if i choose to choke you, what are you going to do?
you know why? it wasn't you. it was me. i was inside your head. fighting with the mind. suddenly the door opens and one of the young iraqis comes in, smiling.
i'm sorry i freaked out, lyn.
huh.
gus lacey said you ran a dance studio. that was just cover too, right?
were you just kidding me back there - about me having some jedi in me?
yes sir. beat. a slow grin steals over the general's face.
far fucking out.  lyn blinks. this wasn't the reaction he'd expected.
yeah, i'm only kidding with that shit. okay, what shall we do now? he stares around the men, expectantly.
not much of a dancer sir. bill examines lyn's face through narrowed eyes.
okay, you're doing very well. now feel the next bend.
think cold! think real cold!
oh, no, wait. see, i thought you said k, not a! bill ignores him, smiles at lyn.
we're north of verona. it's a little town. there's a lake nearby. i can see a cinema. across from the cinema is a shop or, or. it's a cafe. he's in the apartment above. the town is called. it's something sweet. dolce. it's called dolce. bill looks proudly over to where an important looking official watches from the next room. the official looks impressed.
it's okay, bob. we're not getting into that truck. the first young iraqi gestures more angrily at the truck.
stay where you are bob. bob stops.
la termi, ana sahafi!
i think i just ran him over.
mahmud daash.
mahmud. what business are you in sir?
yeah, okay. watch the wheel phil. year zero boys. bob nods politely.
really? is that norse?
okay. we're in indian country. check six. the suv's are approaching a town and other cars have appeared on the road. the security men on either side instantly lean out of their windows with their m-16's - aiming them at the cars which swerve out of their way in fear.
contact! we've got contact! he opens fire - immediate chaos: people scream, duck down, some cars reverse desperately and collide with the cars behind. the other security men join in the shooting.
where? where's the shooter?
and i apologize for that security detachment. please don't think all americans are like that. mahmud nods. beat.
akhir il ahzan. mahmud looks at him, startled perhaps by the unexpected arabic phrase.
ask angela lansbury.
what's that tim?
norm? give me the gun, norm. norm starts to cry. then he puts the gun into his mouth.
jesus christ. we could'a bought a map if you'd said.
well. use your watch.
what?
yes. it's this way.
what. what happened? lyn is staggering over the sand with bob on his back. he is holding his backpack. bob has a gash on his forehead which is bleeding. under the blood his face is white. in the distance, behind them, we can see the column of black smoke rising.
what?
you're going to be okay.
i don't know.
oh. oh jesus.
i bet he wasn't. he takes the report and begins to look through it. pause. he looks up slowly at larry.
holy shit. beat. the goat gets back up, shakes itself and walks off. lyn slumps.
goat didn't have a chance.
the goat is dead. the three men stare at him.
goat number four?
no. number five.
lyn? where are you going?
hello bill. bill smiles hesitantly.
psy for psychological, although the irony isn't wasted on me. radio broadcasts, leaflets, that sort of thing. bob picks up a leaflet.
"american soldier - your wives are back home having sex with bart simpson and bert reynolds."
what? what is it?
it isn't real.
that isn't true. that isn't true. he looks around for inspiration - notices a lone cloud floating in the sky. bob places his fingers on his temples and stares at the cloud, focuses, desperate, hopeful.  bill notices and watches, curious. slowly, the cloud fades and disappears.
just tired.
scotty mercer told you, didn't he?
don't make a decision now. tell me in the morning. he pats lyn's leg, walks out.
timothy leary's dead.
good evening sir.
getting some ice-cream. they walk on and reach the doors to the kitchens. the two men hesitate, look at each other.  then bob walks in.
don't eat the jello. lyn turns to bob puzzled.
what?
and in the water. bob turns to stare at him.
yeah. he pours himself another coffee.
it's okay. you missed them.
don't you think it might have been more sensible if we hadn't drunk the fucking water?
give me the gun larry. larry starts to raise the gun to his mouth. pauses. scratches his head.
that's it. keep going. ma'assalama. the iraqis start to hurry away over the sand. beyond them we can the stryker, driving in circles in the desert, a naked soldier stands whooping on top.
wait! wait for me! where are you going. what about the mission?
and finally, us forces in iraq are using what some are calling a cruel and unusual tool to break the resistance of iraqi pows, and many parents would agree! some prisoners are being forced to listen to barney the purple dinosaur sing the i love you song. i think after an hour of that they'll spill the beans! don't you? let's go outside to al for the weather.