Lem Dobbs

How you doin' then? All right, are you? Now look, squire, you're the guv'nor here, I can see that. I'm in your manor now. So there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. Whatever this bollocks is that's going down between you and that slag Valentine, it's got nothing to do with me. I couldn't care less. Alright, mate? Let me explain. When I was in prison - second time - uh, no, telling a lie, third stretch, yeah, third, third - there was this screw what really had it in for me, and that geezer was top of my list. Two years after I got sprung, I sees him in Holland Park. He's sittin' on a bench feedin' bloody pigeons. There was no-one about, I could've gone up behind him and snapped his fuckin' neck, *wallop!* But I left it. I could've knobbled him, but I didn't. 'Cause what I thought I wanted wasn't what I wanted. What I thought I was thinkin' about was something else. I didn't give a toss. It didn't matter, see? This berk on the bench wasn't worth my time. It meant sod-all in the end, 'cause you gotta make a choice: when to do something, and when to let it go. When it matters, and when it don't. Bide your time. That's what prison teaches you, if nothing else. Bide your time, and everything becomes clear, and you can act accordingly.

I'm looking for a different kind of satisfaction.

Bide your time and everything becomes clear, and you can act accordingly.

I call them the Strangers. They abducted us and brought us here. This city, everyone in it... is their experiment. They mix and match our memories as they see fit, trying to divine what makes us unique. One day, a man might be an inspector. The next, someone entirely different. When they want to study a murderer, for instance, they simply imprint one of their citizens with a new personality. Arrange a family for him, friends, an entire history... even a lost wallet. Then they observe the results. Will a man, given the history of a killer, continue in that vein? Or are we, in fact, more than the sum of our memories?

You are probably wondering why I keep appearing in your memories, John. It is because I have inserted myself into them.

First there was darkness. Then came the strangers. They were a race as old as time itself. They had mastered the ultimate technology. The ability to alter physical reality by will alone. They called this ability "Tuning". But they were dying. Their civilization was in decline, and so they abandoned their world seeking a cure for their own mortality. Their endless journey brought them to a small, blue world in the farthest corner of the galaxy. Our world. Here they thought they had finally found what they had been searching for. Correction: The word used in the film is "qeuning" not "tuning."

These do bring back memories. This one is still warm. What is it? The recollections of a great lover? A catalog of conquests? We will soon find out. You wouldn't appreciate that, would you, Mr. Whatever-your-name is? Not the sort of conquest you would ever understand. Let's see, a touch of unhappy childhood, a dash of teenage rebellion, and last but not least, a tragic death in the family.

When they first brought us here, they extracted what was in us and stored the information, remixed it like so much paint, and gave us back new memories of their choosing. But they still needed an artist to help them. I understood the human mind better than they ever could, so they allowed me to keep my skills as a scientist... because they needed them. They made me delete everything else. Can you imagine what it's like to erase your own past?

Remember John, never talk to strangers!

There is no ocean, John. There is nothing beyond the city. The only place home exists... is in your head.

It appears that John has suffered a psychotic break. Complete memory loss. He may be delusional. Even violent. Emma, if he were to contact you, and I suspect he will, you must call me immediately. Do you understand? It is imperative that I be the first one to reach him. Wherever you husband is, he is searching... for himself.

Listen to me, John. You have their power. You can make things happen by will alone. They call it "Tuning." That is how they make the buildings change. Just now you acted out of self-defense, a reflex. But I can teach you to control your power consciously. Let me help you, John. Together We can stop them, we can take the city back.

You still don't understand, John. You were never a boy. Not in this place.