What Goes Up

CAMPBELL:
In my line of work

there are two cardinal rules.

Tell the truth,

and never, ever become

emotionally involved with

your subject.

The trouble is, you see, all

truths are in fact half true,

like when you

read the newspaper.

It's never just the facts.

There's always judgment.

It goes all the way

back to when Jesus died.

No one really knew

what to think of him,

not until someone put

it on paper and said,

"Here,

here's the gospel truth."

Legends aren't born,

they're written.

And really, that's what we

all do one way or another,

when someone we love dies,

(LUCY CRYING)

and not just anyone,

when it's someone extraordinary,

your own personal Jesus.

Why not? A hero.

When they up and die,

we're left with nothing.

Nothing but the task.

Make them immortal.

(CAT SCREECHING)

Only a magnificent epitaph

will grant eternal life,

and it's up to us,

the ones left behind,

to write it

however we see fit.

# Rockets away, my boys

Rockets away

# Into the air we soar

and in a blaze of glory ever #

CAMPBELL:
This is 1986,

a few days before

the whole Challenger

Space Shuttle mishap.

...for soon-to-be teacher

in space, Christa McAuliffe.

This is her hometown.

Proud, overjoyed.

For a few more days,

at any rate.

(WHISTLE BLOWING)

(BAND PLAYING)

And in the same town, this very

same week, another teacher died.

Their teacher.

They were the unteachable,

the outcasts, the freaks,

the future fuckups

of America,

but their teacher loved them

and they loved him back.

Well, most of them did.

Before their story

collided with mine,

there was another hero

who left this world,

my world, New York City,

three weeks earlier.

I was a newspaper reporter,

and like most, I was a cynic,

but I secretly yearned

to be proved wrong.

MAN:

Hey, Babbitt, nice article.

Thank you.

To believe in something,

someone.

And once you're a believer,

well, what's to say?

It's very potent stuff.

(CAMERA CLICKING)

Perfect.

She was witness to a murder, so

I couldn't use her real name.

I called her Angela,

because Angela saw the face

of the boy who killed her son.

She saw his shock and pain.

"The fullness of his action

coming down on his adolescent face,

"still just a child himself."

I painted her as a hero,

and she was.

I just don't know what she

thought about me saying so.

My baby.

I never got

the chance to ask.

(GAS HISSING)

(DOOR OPENS)

(ANGELA COUGHING)

CAMPBELL:
No, no, no!

(GLASS SHATTERING)

(TYPING)

CAMPBELL:
I didn't really lie.

All right, f*** it. I lied.

I kept her alive doing the things

I thought she should have done.

I went a bit overboard, perhaps,

but this is what we do.

You want them to live on,

turn the life into a legend.

Your latest,

it's a little baroque.

I'm going to tone it down.

Don't f***ing touch it.

It's gotta stop,

and that's that.

You're obsessing,

and frankly, you smell.

But in the workplace, personal

crusades tend to make others...

DONNA:
Stop that.

...uncomfortable.

I'm sending you

to New Hampshire.

Local hero, your favorite.

Teacher in space, hometown

hoopla, blah, blah, blah.

You're going to break that.

(BURSTING)

DONNA:
I hope you

f***ing die up there.

(BAND PLAYING

STARS AND STRIPES FOREVER)

Sh*t. Sh*t!

(HORN BLARING)

# Hurrah for the flag

of the free!

# May it wave

as our standard forever

# The gem of the land

and the sea

# And the banner of the right

# Let despots remember the day

# When our fathers

with mighty endeavor

(TESS RETCHING)

# Proclaimed as they marched

to the fray

# That by their might

and by their right

# It waves forever. Hey! #

Don't get on this bus.

(BAND PLAYING)

(FOOTSTEPS)

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

ANSWERING MACHINE: Hi, it's Sam.

Leave a message.

(ANSWERING MACHINE BEEPING)

CAMPBELL:

Hello, Sam Callalucci.

If you recognize

my voice,

you're a greater friend to me

than I ever was to you.

It's Campbell Babbitt.

It must be 15 years

at least since we...

Well, since you graduated.

(LAUGHING)

I heard you were

going to become a priest.

That's... I mean, no, I'm

sure you had your reasons.

The reason I'm calling...

Well, I think I'm standing outside

your apartment building.

I was wondering if

you could do me a favor.

I need to borrow a car.

I don't seem to be

able to find a rental,

and it would be

really helpful if you could

find some way of furnishing

me with a set of wheels.

It'll be good to see you and

catch up, find out what went wrong.

So call me. Okay.

(PENELOPE SOBBING)

CAMPBELL:
Hold that bus.

Jerk.

And after being chosen

from over 11,000 teachers,

Christa McAuliffe and her

students here were deeply honored.

She will teach her

lesson from spaces...

Space, using two of

the actual mice

sent up in the last

Challenger mission.

And finally...

F*** this.

DICK:
A sad bit of local news.

Last night, one of our

teachers, Sam Callalucci,

died under what can only be described

as unfortunate circumstances.

(BELL RINGING)

Yes, it's the Red Gremlin.

Yeah.

Well, how bad is it?

Could I make it to New York?

Well, right, what, 50-50?

40-70?

That doesn't add up.

Okay. It doesn't matter.

Right, 40-70.

I'll come and pick it up.

I'll catch the bus. Bye.

(CRASHING)

F***.

F***.

F***!

F***! F***!

Hey!

LUCY:
Hey, Lute,

I want to talk to you.

You found him?

What were you doing there?

Was he alive?

Hey.

Did he say anything

about me?

What do you want from me?

I didn't kill him.

LUCY:
I'm sorry.

I know. I'm so sorry.

(LUCY SNIFFLING)

I'll get the next one.

LUCY:
Oh! F***!

What are you doing?

Oh, hello.

I'm a reporter.

What building is this?

It's the Shed.

It's our classroom.

Right. Is that like

a special ed or something?

Who's Special Ed?

So, you know him?

Who?

Mr. C.

No, I was just...

Mr. Callalucci.

Sam Callalucci? Yes.

We went to

university together.

I knew it.

You could be his brother.

You sound like

James Bond.

I'm British, so...

I was thinking

of popping in.

To the funeral.

It's called a wake.

A funeral is

when you bury him.

Are we going to bury him?

No, we're just going to go sit

next to his body for a while.

Wait, wait.

It's called a wake,

because he was Catholic.

He was almost a priest.

Almost.

- Almost.

(CLANGING)

(EXCLAIMS IN FRUSTRATION)

I just loved him.

Some of us wanted to say a

few words about Mr. Callalucci.

Before he was our teacher,

Mr. C was almost a priest.

Almost.

- Almost.

That's how come he knew all

about what it is to have faith.

Now it's up to us to

have a little faith in him.

It's so hard to believe

that he's no longer here.

He is, you know.

This sort of thing

happens all the time.

People feel that dead person

all around them.

But everybody's like,

"No, you gotta f***ing accept it.

"Gotta learn to

move on without him."

And if you listen to them,

well, then, pretty soon

that person really is dead.

He did things.

Good things, mostly.

And actions cause reactions.

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