Three Thousand Years of Longing

Improved by Sailor420

Hope you enjoy the show

My name is Alithea.

My story is true.

You're more likely to believe me, however,

if I tell it as a fairy tale.

So, once upon a time,

when humans hurtled across the sky on metal wings,

when they wore webbed feet

and walked on the bottom of the sea,

when they held in their hands glass tiles

that could coax love songs from the air...

(music playing through headphones)

...there was a woman, adequately happy and alone.

Alone by choice.

Happy because she was independent,

living off the exercise of her scholarly mind.

Her business was story.

She was a narratologist

who sought to find the truths

common to all the stories of humankind.

To this end, once or twice a year,

she ventured to strange lands.

To China, the South Seas,

and the timeless cities of the Levant...

where her kind gathered to tell stories about stories.

This way.

- Alithea : Excuse me. - (man 1) This way, lady.

What are you doing? Can you let go, please?

The mysteries of Istanbul.

- (man 2) Alithea! - (man 1 grunts)

Alithea!

Welcome!

- Welcome at last! Aw. - Gunhan!

- (both laugh) - My dear friend.

- Alithea : Oh, how wonderful! - Gunhan : I'm sorry.

- This is Amina. - Amina.

From the British Council.

That fellow at the airport manhandling my luggage,

did you see him?

What fellow?

He scuttled off when you arrived.

Small, sheepskin jacket, pink collar.

Interesting.

He was hot to touch.

Musky.

Perhaps he was a Djinn.

An illegal taxi driver, more likely.

Wearing too much cologne.

So, Professor,

you saying you believe in Djinn?

I believe there are those who need to believe in them.

Including me?

Djinn, ghosts,

aliens, whatever helps.

The hotel's arranged a lovely surprise for you.

It's the Agatha Christie room.

In this room,

she wrote Murder on the Orient Express.

Gunhan : So, how would you explain

the power of a thunderstorm

if you don't have the means

to measure and model meteorological data?

How can you explain the seasons?

Autumn through winter to spring and summer,

if you don't know that the Earth

orbits the Sun while tilted on an axis?

Everything was mystery.

The seasons, tsunamis, microbial disease...

What else could we do but resort to stories?

As Dr. Binnie has encouraged us to understand,

stories were once the only way

to make our bewildering existence coherent.

That's exactly right.

We gave name to the unknown forces

behind all wonder and catastrophe,

by telling each other...

By telling each other stories.

- Gunhan : let me show you. - (static buzzes)

We told tales of specific, powerful, relatable gods

ever present in all cultures, in all mythologies,

from the Greeks, to the Romans, to the Norse,

and so on, and so on.

The familiar descendant of Zeus, Poseidon, Athena,

Thor, the whole gang,

find expression even today.

These are their vestiges.

The question remains, what is their purpose?

What do we require of them now?

There is mythos, and there is science.

Alithea : (softly) Oh. Sorry.

Mythology is what we knew back then.

Science is what we know so far.

(low electrical humming resumes)

Sooner or later,

our creation stories are replaced

by the narratives of science.

Painstaking science.

And all gods and monsters

outlive their original purpose

and are reduced to metaphor.

Rubbish! (roars)

Gunhan : (muffled) Alithea!

Gunhan : Alithea.

What happened?

Gunhan : I don't know. She just fell.

- She just fell. - (Amina grunts)

Amina : Gosh. (exclaiming)

Gunhan : Are you okay?

Gunhan : Shouldn't you see a doctor?

Alithea : Why? When I feel so well?

Gunhan : Forgive me, Alithea. Are you sure?

Alithea : Apart from the usual aches and pains,

there is nothing untoward.

There's no reason to make a fuss.

Gunhan : So, what happened back there?

Lately, my imagination's been getting the better of me.

Ambushing me.

I think it's a warning.

About what?

Not to be complacent.

To keep on my toes.

It manifests rudely from time to time.

I try not to fight it off.

It takes charge for a moment, and then it steps back.

What steps back?

Oh, Gunhan, it's irrational. Pay it no mind.

Gunhan : You are behaving like a child. Do you know that?

Alithea : You know, I am actually a child.

(people chattering indistinctly)

Alithea : If there is fate, can we escape it?

Who can say?

But I tell you this,

in the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul,

there are 62 streets and 4,000 shops.

And in one of those shops, there are three rooms.

In the smallest of those rooms,

there was a pile of things unsorted,

old and new.

From the bottom of that pile,

I chose a memento.

Do you know what this is?

I'm not sure, but it could be Cesm-i Bulbul,

a "Nightingale's Eye."

Around 1845, there were these glassmakers in Incirkoy.

They were famous for this spiral blue-white pattern.

Oh, please. It's a gift from me.

Choose something less forlorn.

And, uh, if this is Cesm-i Bulbul,

uh, is there a way of authenticating it?

Well, they say that if it is genuine,

sometimes you can see specks of blood

from the lungs of the glassblowers.

But this is more likely a recent imitation.

It's been damaged by fire. Pick something else.

No, thank you, Gunhan.

I like it.

Whatever it is, I'm sure it has an interesting story.

Hello?

Good morning, Dr. Binnie.

- Good morning. - This is room service.

- Yes. - How do you like your eggs?

Er, runny, please.

- And with toast? - Yes, but no crusts.

- Two eggs? - Just one.

- Okay, thank you. - Thank you.

I'm going to close my eyes and count to three,

after which I would be grateful

if you would be gone.

One,

two,

three.

Four,

five,

six,

seven, eight,

nine, ten.

(creature speaking indistinctly)

I don't suppose you speak English?

(creature speaking ancient Greek)

Deutsch?

Espanol?

Ellinika?

You speak the Greek of Homer?

I took some classes...