Journey to the Center of the Earth

---

Congratulations.

Thank you.

It's a wonderful article

in the paper about you.

Good morning,

Sir Oliver.

Long article about you

on page two.

Is there?

They made a mistake

about your age.

Paper!

Paper!

Paper!

Paper!

It's such an honor

for Edinburgh.

I cannot take

your money.

Thank you.

Paper! Paper!

Congratulations,

Professor.

- Ha ha!

- Ha ha!

I'm sorry.

Since you've been

created a knight,

I've given your

students a holiday...

a day for a knight,

so to speak.

First, there's to

be a presentation.

Will the lad

of Glen Darrick step forward?

In gratitude

for the knowledge

you have

imparted to us...

That's enough

obituary prose.

An inkwell, I presume.

A very handsome thing.

Hellish to dust.

I thank you all from

the bottom of my heart,

and now, off to the playing

fields, all of you!

- Yay!

- Yay!

Ah.

It cost 4.17.

I was on the committee

that made the collection.

I thank you,

McEwen.

5 was subscribed.

That left

three shillings.

You won't give me

the change?

I expended it on this,

a little extra token

I thought you might fancy.

I saw it in

a curiosity shop in Glasgow.

It whispered, " Buy me

for Professor Lindenbrook."

What did you reply?

I said, "Only if you can

be bought for three shillings."

I argued with the owner.

It's lava,

of course.

But exceptionally

heavy.

It could serve

as a paperweight.

Do you like it,

Professor?

It's a scholar's choice.

Where are you

eating tonight?

Oh, this being Tuesday,

I'm not eating.

Oh?

It's healthy to eat

every other night.

Be at my house at 8:00.

I'm entertaining

some faculty.

I don't think I could.

What's the matter,

McEwen?

You used to visit

my house regularly.

Do those frayed cuffs

worry you?

My other shirt

is at the wash.

We're scientists.

That's one society where

frayed cuffs don't matter.

We've all had them.

Yes, Sir Oliver.

Lava?

I swear there's

something inside.

There's Uncle now,

Kirsty.

And high time,

too!

Ohh!

I thought it was

Uncle Oliver.

Nothing I'm wearing

belongs to me.

Good evening,

Miss Jenny.

Good evening,

Alec McEwen.

I'm early.

I didn't know

you were coming.

Your uncle

ordered me to come.

Where is he?

He's never been late

like this.

To return to the subject

of my clothes,

they belong to the lad

of Glen Darrick.

"Don't go to dinner

dressed like that," he said.

I went

to take my bath.

When I returned,

my clothes were gone

and these substituted.

I have no claim to

the Glen Darrick tartan.

You've explained

your magnificence.

Kirsty, there will be

one more guest.

Ill seat you between

the dean and the rector.

Couldn't I sit

next to you?

Certainly not.

I notice

a certain harshness

in your attitude

toward me.

What do you expect when it takes

a command to bring you here?

Miss Jenny, why should

I torture myself?

Two years more I have to study

for my master's degree,

then four more as

a laboratory assistant.

Then there's the money

I must repay my relatives.

You are very logical,

Mr. McEwen.

It's the logic

of an empty purse.

How like a Scotsman!

I am a Scotsman.

I know one who didn't even

have a purse.

His name was

Robert Burns.

Do you know

what he said?

Miss Jenny, the time

of poetry is over.

If this is true,

Alec McEwen,

what are you doing with

your hand on my knee?

Miss Jenny...

Just wait in there.

Kirsty, I'll set

the extra place.

Is there something

you want?

A key is stuck.

But that's impossible.

It was just tuned

last month.

Which one?

This one.

Can't you see?

No, I can't.

You can see

I'm unhappy.

You know

how I've felt

ever since that first day

I saw you.

You looked

like spring.

Miss Jenny, set the table.

Mr. McEwen is fixing

a stuck key.

Shh.

Miss Jenny,

you're crying.

I bent over the goose...

the fumes.

Good evening,

Miss Jenny.

Good evening, gentlemen.

We were just worrying about

Professor Lindenbrook.

We were.

Isn't he with you?

Isn't he here?

No.

Careful it doesn't

go too high, Paisley.

It's just about

the limit now.

I gave no permission

for visitors!

Oh, it's you, McEwen.

Uncle Oliver,

your guests are waiting.

If you don't come,

the goose will spoil...

Oh, goose,

goose, goose.

Tell him, Alec.

This lava

is 1 in 10 million.

I've been at it

all day.

No pause

for lunch or tea.

You've had three semesters

of petrology.

From which volcano could

this lava have emerged?

Fujiyama?

No.

Mt. Etna?

Very close.

The Mediterranean.

The Lipari Islands

near Italy.

But their lava

is light.

That's what

stumped me

because inside

must be something

the weight of the heaviest rock

in existence.

That would be

Icelandic peridotite.

Precisely.

There's a piece

chipped off.

By me.

What's

the rock inside?

Icelandic peridotite,

naturally.

When I saw this,

I stopped chipping.

There's some marks

on the surface.

It looks like a letter

or notches.

Three notches made

by the hand of man.

But how could

a rock from Iceland

possibly pop out of

a volcano across the world?

What's your conclusion?

Science does not

jump to conclusions.

Science is not

a guessing game.

We'll melt off

the crust of lava.

Mr. Paisley.

Add 10 cc of aqua regia.

Not too fast now.

I shall write to Professor

Goetaborg of Stockholm on this.

He's the world's leading

authority on volcanoes.

How long

will this take?

A typically

female question.

Melting lava takes

maybe two hours,

maybe four hours.

Two hours?

Four hours?

Maybe

the whole night.

Who cares?

Jenny.

Are you all right?

That was entirely

my fault.

I don't know how it

could have happened.

Mr. Paisley, by your slip

you've rendered

an inestimable service

to science.

Alec!

See this?

What would

you call it?

As you said,

it's a manmade object.

It looks like a top,

a surveyor's instrument,

a plumb bob.

It is

a plumb bob.

There are letters

on it.

It's an inscription,

a message, perhaps.

Can you make out

what it says, Professor?

It's in some

Nordic tongue.

The hand that

wrote this trembled.

Perhaps it was

a dying hand.

Was it written

in paint? Ink?

Perhaps blood.

Possibly.

Look at this side, sir!

A signature!

Arne Saknussemm.

Arne Saknussemm!

Will you take me

home now, Uncle Oliver,

or do I have to

go alone?

Alone.

Alone!

It's unthinkable,

but it must be true.

A man took tools

and went where no human being

has ever set foot...

alone into the interior

of the earth. Alone.

Who? What is he

talking about?

Arne Saknussemm,

the Icelandic scientist.

The greatest

of his day.

He was laughed at

when he claimed

there was a world

down below.

The laughter stopped

when he disappeared,

never to be

heard from...

until tonight.

Get out of here,

woman!

I don't want any tea!

I only want my post.

Don't shout at me!

I can shout

just as loud as you!

For two weeks,

you haven't eaten or slept.

Out, woman!

Here's your post,

Uncle Oliver.

Another day,

and still nothing!

Can you believe that?

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