Creation Page #4

What is Lewis making?

He's making a water tower

like the one they have at Malvern.

The writing's not been going well, so I

thought I might try my own water cure.

You're still angry with me.

I can always tell by your playing.

Not angry. Sad.

Pull.

The face of nature

may be compared to a yielding surface

with 10,000 sharp wedges

packed close together

and then driven inwards

by incessant blows.

Sometimes one wedge being struck

and then another with great force.

The mind cannot possibly grasp

the full meaning of the term

a hundred million years.

It cannot add up and perceive the full

effects of many slight variations.

We forget how largely these songsters

or their eggs or their nestlings

are destroyed

by birds and beasts of prey.

Thus, over tens of thousands

of generations,

tiny variations accumulate.

Organs change their very function.

The female sexual organ

becomes a cement gland.

Limbs become blind feelers

or fall away entirely.

What was once a free-swimming creature

finds itself glued by its head

to a rock, blindly flailing for food.

Papa!

Why is sweating

supposed to be good for you?

Because it gets rid of the poisons

in your blood.

- I thought you didn't believe in sin.

- I don't.

Not in the way Reverend Innes

understands it, anyway.

Then why are you afraid

of going to hell?

- I'm not.

- Yes, you are.

- You think you deserve it.

- No, I don't.

Of course I don't.

What could possibly make you think that?

Because you think

you should never have had me.

Oh, for God's sake, girl.

Oh, I don't have to listen

to this nonsense.

You're cruel. You're just being cruel.

The girl's gone mad.

That's why you won't talk to Mama

any more.

Enough of this. I talk to her.

Of course I talk to her.

Not about the important things.

Not about me!

- Why must everything be about you?

- That's what you won't talk about.

- What?

- How you think you're responsible.

Get out of here.

You get out of here. Get out of here.

You said honesty was

the most important thing in the world.

If you won't be honest, I won't

come again. It'll serve you right!

Get out! Please, get out! Get out!

You have not been well for months now.

I'll be fine. I'm fine.

- Will you talk to John Innes?

- What about?

- Whatever it is that ails you.

- What is he now, exactly? What is he?

- He's a physician, is he?

- Yes. A physician of souls, anyway.

Talk to him as a friend.

You used to be such friends.

I think he can help you.

Mr Darwin? Excuse me.

Little 'un coming through.

Ah, Mr Darwin.

I was just explaining to Mr Goodman

about your interest in breeding.

Oh, good. Excellent.

Mr Goodman is our foremost pigeon

fancier in all of southern England.

I swear, he can give you any beak

or plumage within four generations.

- What's your secret?

- I interbreed them.

Brother and sister, cousin with cousin.

It's the fastest way

to alter the strain.

There's a danger that you'll weaken it,

but a gentleman like yourself,

I'm sure you can afford

to lose a few chicks, eh?

Now, plenty of rest, young lady.

Down you go.

Keep her warm.

- Thank you, Doctor.

- Goodbye, Annie.

Goodbye.

Unfortunately,

if we let them run wild on the beach,

we have to expect the consequences,

do we not, Mrs Darwin?

- So, increase the calomel to twice...

- I will not give her any more of it.

- Why not?

- She's been taking it for weeks.

- Can you not see she's not...

- It is chloride of mercury.

- I've prescribed it often in babies.

- Not to any of mine.

- If she would submit to being bled...

- Please, no.

- I will write to Dr Gully again.

- The hydrotherapist?

I have found his treatments

very effective.

- No matter that they defy logic?

- Logic isn't everything.

Clearly not.

- I'll see myself out. Good day, madam.

- Good day.

I should take her to Malvern

to be treated as I was.

It is better she's here.

She needs her family.

She needs love and rest.

She'll get well.

One more week.

We'll watch her for one more week.

Alright?

Thank you.

Papa!

Post for you, sir.

This one's from the Spice Islands.

Charles.

Charles, my old friend, there you are.

May I join you?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Mrs Darwin has told me

about the book you are writing.

Oh, no, no, not any more.

Thank goodness.

You mean you finished it?

It's been finished for me, actually.

A Mr Alfred Russel Wallace

has arrived independently

at exactly the same opinion.

Expressed in a...

In a mere 20 pages.

Now, there's brevity for you.

I had covered 250 so far

and come to a dead end,

so whilst having wasted 20 years

on the project, I am at least rid of it.

Well.

Well...

...the Lord moves in mysterious ways.

Hmm, yes, He does, doesn't He?

You know, I was remarking

only the other day

how He has endowed us

in all of His blessed generosity

with not one but 900 species

of intestinal worm,

each with its own unique method

of infiltrating the mucosa

and burrowing through

to the bloodstream.

And on the love that he shows

for butterflies

by inventing a wasp that lays its eggs

inside the living flesh of caterpillars.

I have said on many occasions, it is not

for us to speculate at His reason.

No, we can leave that to Mr Wallace.

Shall I advise him to stay abroad,

do you think?

With his opinions,

if he shows his face around here,

he may be required

to kneel on rock salt.

I always valued our friendship.

Until now, I regarded you

as one of those rare mortals

with whom one could disagree

and yet feel no shade of animosity.

Sadly, that feeling is...

no longer reciprocated.

What?

I'm forestalled by Wallace.

What have I done? What?

What possible... What possible reason

could you have to be angry at me?

Annie.

Annie! Annie! Come here! Come back!

Come back here now!

I am your father! You...

You come back here! What?

What did I do?

What did I do to you? What?

Annie! C-Come here! Come back!

What did I do to you?

Please! Annie, please!

Come here! Annie! Annie! Come here!

Get rid of them.

Get rid of all of them.

Come on. Get out!

Get out!

Go! Come on!

Get out! Go!

Go!

Mr Darwin. Mr... Mr Darwin.

Mr Darwin, sir!

Mr Darwin?

I'll have Lewis dismantle it, sir.

Now, Mr Darwin,

I'll send for Dr Holland.

God, no.

God damn it.

Damn it all to hell.

Mr Darwin?

Help me here! Help me here!

So, increase the calomel

to twice a day.

- Yes, of course.

- Keep him warm, plenty of rest...

I think Papa's going to die, too.

Oh. Hello, Hooker. Hello.

Still talking.

That's good. Word had reached London

you'd suffered an apoplectic stroke.

Your enemies are celebrating

at the Athenaeum.

I have no enemies.

- This is the Wallace letter?

- Yes.

Well, he has 20 pages.

You have a whole book,

or at least half of one.

I intend to extract the other

even if it kills us both.

Have you been talking to Huxley again?

No. Had I been, he'd be here himself

with a cat-o'-nine-tails. Up you come.

No, I cannot. I know not what ails me,

but it's more than I can endure.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes