I wanna tell you a story.
Ever since I was young,
there was something different about my family.
A secret.
Mom reckoned she'd been followed her whole life.
Well, this one time, we're at the beach,
and Mom sees this guy pointing a camera at us.
She starts going off at him,
but he's just frozen watching us.
He says, "I'm sorry, this is just the way it has to be."
And then he runs.
Until slam!
He jumps straight in front of a car.
Like it was deliberate.
Dead on impact.
After the ambulance takes him away,
I pick up the camera he dropped.
It's a model I've never seen,
and there are thousands of photos on it,
and every single photo
is of Mom and our family.
At the swimming pool, outside our house,
at the movies, the supermarket...
A photo of my brother smoking a bong.
Mom wasn't crazy.
She had been followed her whole life. But it was impossible--
Do you think you can send me
these photos, Jarad?
See, we gave the camera to the cops,
but months later, they tell us,
they have no record of this stalker.
Like, he never existed.
And the camera just disappeared.
So you don't have any evidence
of any of this happening?
Oh, don't you get it?
This stalker was a secret agent from the future,
and our family play a really important part
in something that happens in a future timeline.
That's--
That's a pretty big leap, Jarad.
You don't believe me.
I know you, lady.
You think I'm a joke?
You're the joke.
I watched you online.
I know the kind of person you are.
You're a fraud! After the shit you pulled on your last gig,
you should be working at a fuckin' donut shop...
Jarad. -...not making the news.
I'm gonna hang up now, okay?
I'm the chosen one, bitch!
I'm freakin' Harry Pot--
I wanna tell you a story.
All you have to do
is listen.
I would like to publicly apologize
for my recent mistakes
when I was reporting on the history of David Langley.
I failed to corroborate evidence
and thoroughly investigate my key source's background.
And I would like to clarify that
Mr. Langley was cleared of any criminal offenses
related to the claims in my article.
The Evening Journal's objective is to provide open access
to high-quality, independent journalism.
My actions do not reflect The Evening Journal's
operations or integrity.
Thank you for your time.
Chew and chew and chew.
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.
A peck of pickled... shit. -
Welcome to Beyond Believable,
the podcast that investigates
the unbelievable firsthand accounts of...
Beyond Believable,
the show that unmasks the mysteries--
This is a clickbait podcast
made for bored, lonely ballbags
with IQ levels below a lobotomized monkey. Enjoy.
I want to expose the truth.
Hey, it's me.
I just wanted to officially welcome you to the team.
We're so excited that you're gonna jump on board.
I know it's a little...
beneath what you're used to,
a little mystery podcast, but...
I figure with everything going on, it could be
a great opportunity for you.
So, call me when you can.
We can plan your first story--
Oh, hey, just checking in to see how you're going.
I'm just, you know, I know you're probably
looking for the right story,
something that really sings to you.
But to be honest, we just need to get--
Now, seriously.
I've been nice up to this point,
but I stuck my neck out for you
when nobody else would touch you.
I'm getting a lot of heat here,
and I need you to deliver and deliver today--
Hello?
Hi. Is this, uh, Floramae King?
Yes. Who is this, please?
I'm a journalist from a podcast called Beyond Believable.
It's about mysteries that--
Sorry, I can't hear you well, hon.
Hang on a tick, I'll go into the other room.
Mom.-No worries.
Put that back before you break it!
Sorry. Yes?
I received a, uh...
well, I guess you'd call it an anonymous tip-off
about a brick.
Is this about Paula's boy?
I told him to stop lobbing bricks
into that empty house on Hunter's Road.
Uh, no.
Look. It's probably nothing,
but I received an email about some sort of
specific brick, and you.
Hello, Ms. King, are you there?
The email wasn't very clear,
but they gave me your phone number.
Who gave you my phone number?
As I said, they were anonymous.
My daughter is over for lunch
and I don't think that we should be talking about this.
It won't take a moment.
I just want to ask you a couple of quick questions.
What's this for, again?
It's for a podcast.
I thought you said you were a journalist.
I am.
All I want is a little background information,
and then I will be on my way.
Is there anything you could tell me about it?
The brick was such a long time ago.
When you say brick,
I'm not sure I understand what you mean.
Like, a house brick, or something...?
No. It...
it was like nothing I'd ever seen.
It-- It changed my life.-How?
These aren't good memories. I shouldn't talk about this.
It's a very long time ago, and I don't think I can help you.
Ms. King.
Can I call you Floramae?
I guess.
I'm thinking that if I got this anonymous email,
I wouldn't be surprised if other journalists have too.
- Really? - Mm.
I don't want other people to twist your words, Floramae.
No.
So let me tell your story properly.
It'll only take five minutes, promise.
Okay. Five minutes.
I just wanna let you know I'm recording this.
Is that okay?
Mm-hm.
You said this happened a long time ago.
How long ago are we talking?
It's gotta be close on 20 years, maybe more.
Can you tell me what your life was like back then?
I worked for a family.
Housework, cleaning, looking after their kid.
Nice people, but a bit well-to-do.
- You know the sort. - Sure.
But good employers.
They were even paying to put my girl
on a scholarship to a good school.
They treated her like she was their own daughter.
We were so grateful for everything they gave us.
But something went wrong?
One day, something happened in the house that
I still can't explain.
What do you mean?
I don't know if I can say it.
I'm not here to judge you, Floramae.
I just wanna listen.
Well, one day, I came in to find
all this terrible damage to their furniture.
Big, awful scratches across everything.
The dining table was the worst.
It was like somebody was so angry,
they grabbed the sharpest knife they could find
and stabbed and stabbed at the table,
making these big, deep scratches.
Sounds really frightening.
It was, but... but it got worse.
The family thought that my girl Paula had done it.
She was only a kid
and she swore black and blue she didn't,
but they didn't believe her.
Did you think she did it?
It makes me ashamed.
Paula never admitted it.
There was a lot of pressure,
and I didn't feel that I could stand up to them.
I didn't believe her.
Over the years, I've always wondered...
If she didn't destroy the furniture, who did?
Exactly.
It caused big trouble in the house,
and the family turned on us,
turned on Paula.
And I couldn't do anything to stop it.
I couldn't help my little girl, and...
I was such a terrible mother, and...
And that's when I received the strangest thing.
This black brick.
What do you mean, received it?
How?
I--I don't remember.
You don't remember?
It was a long time ago.
It's okay.
Can you tell me what the brick was like?
It was darker than anything I've ever seen
and heavy.
It was special.
As soon as I held it, I felt like
something was changing.
But then...
What happened?
The couple I was working for,
their kid took it from me.
And when the husband saw it,
he thought he could make some money.
He told me it was art.
I'll never forgive him for selling it.
He sold it without your permission?
After they decided my Paula ruined their furniture,
we had to pay for the damage.
So they took the brick as part of the payment.
It makes me wild.
Who'd he sell it to?
Some art collector.
Do you remember a name?
Something German. Lang, maybe?
That must've made you feel really awful.
I tried to stop it.-Mm.
I told the couple that that brick was mine.
You know, people can't go around
selling what's not theirs, can they?
But as soon as the family found out
I wanted to go to the authorities,
they removed me.
They fired you.
Easy as you please.
Years of service gone.
I never heard from them again.
I never saw the brick again.
What do you think this brick was, Floramae?
I'm not sure.
Maybe nothing.
Somebody thought it was interesting enough
to email me about.
And you say the brick was special, right?
What'd it make you feel?
Sometimes, I think I can still feel it.
That power,
like something unfinished.
I can't explain it.
I don't know.
This was 20 years ago, it's silly.
I thought that there was some kind of power over me.
Yeah, it was probably all in my head.
Sorry if this is a dead-end.
It's okay.
Maybe there's something that will jog your memory. We can--
Mom, come on, lunch is just sitting.
I know, it's getting cold.-[Paula] Who is that?
I'll pop it in the microwave, hon.
- Give it to me. - Hang on a tick.
Hang on, Paula.
Hello, who is this?
Sorry, I was speaking with Floramae--
Whatever you're selling, leave Mom alone.
- Paula! You don't-- - People need to stop calling.
She doesn't need any more crap in her house.
No, of course. - Sorry, it's just...
You understand, right?-[Floramae] Hang on. Paula!
Godmorgen, mit barn.
Just calling to let you know we've made it to...
Beautiful Copenhagen!
We're alive and well in our very lovely hotel.
Why do the Danes have to pickle everything?
And your mother's already complaining about all the fish.
Darling, we can get you a new jacket, if you like.
She doesn't want a jacket.
Don't be stupid, of course she does.
There's some leftovers in the freezer.
And don't forget,
Ian's tank needs to be cleaned
- twice a week.
We heard about the new podcast. Sounds interesting.
Good little diversion after everything that's happened.
Obviously, those bastards at The Evening Journal
had no right to scapegoat you like that.
You know you did the right thing with Langley
and you've got nothing to apologize--
Lang Contemporary. Frau Schmidt. Guten tag.
Hallo,
kann ich bitte mit Klaus Lang sprechen?
- Sorry. - Of course.
May I ask why you are calling?
I never thought I would get a call
about these funny little objects of mine.
Hi, Mr. Lang.
I, uh, work for a podcast called Beyond Believable.
It's about unsolved mysteries, hoaxes, that kind of thing.
I, uh, came across a story about a black brick
that you bought from an Australian man many years ago,
and I just wanna corroborate a few details with you.
Most curious. A hoax? I'm not so sure.
Before we go any further,
I'm letting you know I'm recording our conversation
for the podcast.
Do you mind?
You're already recording?
I've found it's always better to ask for forgiveness
than permission.
I agree entirely. Go ahead.
So you're telling me this object really exists?
Yes, yes, in fact, I have several.
What do you mean, several?
See, I am also very interested
in this phenomenon.
When I was a very young man,
I also received a brick.
You're kidding me.
Not at all, not at all.
And I've been fascinated with them ever since.
So you're saying there's more than one
of these objects out there.
I know of at least a dozen around the world,
of which I have a few,
each exactly the same.
Most peculiar. Very collectible.
And how did you receive your brick, Mr. Lang?
It was, uh, just, uh, in my house.
Can you, uh, can you describe these bricks?
They are black.
About the size of a gold bar,
but darker than any other object I have seen.
Very heavy, not manmade, but not natural either.
It's either one or the other, no?
I thought like this.
So several years ago,
I took these artifacts to a friend of mine,
and she made scans with the new technology.
They call it volumetric scanning.
You can make a three-dimensional image
of the interior without opening it up.
- Very cool, huh? - And?
I have never seen anything like it.
Uh, the interior of each brick
is filled with hundreds of symbols
folded into each other.
Can you send me these scans?
It was years ago.
I'll see if I can dig them up.
Perhaps you can make something of them.
And these symbols... what alphabet is it?
Latin, Arabic, Cyrillic, hieroglyphic?
Each brick has its own unique set of symbols.
But in mine, I see a symbol that reminds me of a scar
that I have had since I was a small boy.
It makes me think this brick is speaking directly to me.
What do you mean?
Well, you see, uh...[laughs]
You probably think I'm crazy.
No. G-go on, please.
For a while, I thought I was completely verruckt,
crazy as a cuckoo.
Many... many years ago,
just before I received my brick,
I-I had a very strange, uh, what do you call it,
like a-- like a dream when you are awake.
Uh, daydream?
Yeah, but it felt real.
A vision.
This awful creature appeared in my bathroom.
Sorry, did you-- a creature?
It was a man,
but grotesque, awful.
A face like wet bread.
And it was most extraordinary, but somehow,
I knew this creature was my brother.
An awful, ugly version of him,
this thing would never say a word.
But I knew it was my brother all the same.
How?
A feeling.
It was connected to me and I to it.
My brother was a teenager when he died.
He had a bad heart.
Time was always against us.
That creature in my bathtub watching me,
telling me what I have always known.
Which is?
A part of me wanted him to die.
He was so clever and strong and loved.
I could never compete.
But then, he died.
I felt...
happy.
Relieved.
And after this terrible vision,
that's when I received the brick.
But this vision was just your imagination, right?
It wasn't actually real.
The logical thinking part of my brain knew it wasn't real,
but in my heart, it felt differently.
It was like a hallucination.
Even after I locked the brick away all those years ago,
it still haunts me.
A little less, but it's there.
What makes you think you're not crazy, Mr. Lang?
You're right, yeah.
A madman never thinks he's mad.
But I am normally
a very straight-ahead kind of guy.
No drink, no drugs.
I like reality very much.
And you think this vision is connected to the brick?
I'm certain of it.
You don't believe me.
- No. - Okay. Very good.
You are an investigator of the facts,
not some silly conspiracy cuckoo.
But know this:
I am a good man.
I do believe in the truth, in facts,
and when I held this brick,
it felt like something or someone
was trying to talk to me.
A message from far away.
Are you saying you think this brick is alien?
If you don't believe me, I am happy to send you a brick.
- Really? - Ja. For a small fee.
You're selling them.
Of course! Of course.
I'm a businessman, after all.
I am willing to offer a good deal
to a smart girl like you.
Well, thank you, but, uh,
I think I have everything I need.
Very well.
I hope you find what you're looking for.
Mr. Lang, just...
- Just one more thing. - Ja.
That brick from Australia, the man you bought it from
sold it without permission.
It was his housekeeper's, originally.
Did you know that?
Throw a rock and you will hit a gallery
filled with stolen artwork.
It was once a German pastime.
I'm sure it's challenging to remain ethical
in your industry.
I really am quite busy,
so if you have nothing else you need...
Yes, thank you, um...
thank you for your time, Mr. Lang.
Guten tag.
So you're telling me this object really exists?
It was like nothing I'd ever seen.
It changed my life.
I never thought I would get a call
about these funny little objects of mine.
That's when I received the strangest thing,
this black brick.
About the size of a gold bar,
darker than any other object I have seen.
How did you receive your brick?
You probably think I'm crazy.
The brick was such a long time ago.
It felt like something or someone
was trying to talk to me.
I thought that there was some kind of power over me.
A message from far away.
Yeah, it was probably all in my head.
Come on, it can't be that bad.
Honestly, it's bad, Scott.
Anonymous emails and visions and weird scratchings.
Oh, and let's not forget the brick.
I mean, come on, it's ridiculous.
- A brick.
Even the woman says it herself,
it was probably "all in my head."
Oh yeah. I know.
I can't release this.
Tyler is going to fire me.
Maybe that's not so bad.
Maybe you need a rest. A reset.
Seriously? Seriously, you think I should let Tyler fire me?
No... no.
But after everything that's happened
and the whole Langley thing,
did you ever wonder if maybe--
My career is completely destroyed?
Maybe you need a break.
Why does everyone keep saying this?
I don't need a break.
I need a story.
I can't hide away like I did something wrong, Scott.
No, but... these things take a toll.
I miss you.
I know this isn't fair, but the article and then--
That Langley article was important.
- It was the truth. - Okay, okay.
You know, Langley's cheer squad is camped outside my flat now.
What? Jesus.
Yeah. Some hero must have doxed me.
I've gone back to Mom and Dad's for a bit.
I thought coming back here would help.
Some time alone, find a story, but...
I am stuck.
It's okay to admit that you're exhausted.
I'm not exhausted. I am humiliated.
I tried to do the right thing, and look where it got me.
I know. But...
This kind of work isn't for everyone.
I've just got to make a story that will make people listen.
That is it.
Sometimes, I think I can still feel it,
that power,
like something unfinished.
I can't explain it. I don't know.
This was 20 years ago, it's silly.
I thought that there was some kind of power over me.
Yeah, it was probably all in my head.
I can't explain it.
I don't know, this was 20 years a--
Something unfinished.
Some kind of power over me.
Something unfinished.
Some kind of power over me.
As I listen to Floramae and Klaus
describe their experiences
with these powerful, dark objects,
I feel a kind of terror creep over me.
Who sent this anonymous email
and what do they want me to find?
Floramae's words haunt me.
An object filled with unknowable power.
What do these bricks want from us?
To solve this mystery,
I need your help, listeners.
I wanna know,
is there anyone out there that knows anything,
anything at all, about these bricks?
And can we uncover the dark forces behind them
before it's too late?
Okay.
What do you reckon, Ian?
Good idea? Bad idea?
Undecided, huh?
Happy birthday.
Are you saying you also have one of these objects?
Yes, ma'am. I received it two years ago.
And you don't know Floramae or Klaus Lang?
Never heard of 'em.
But when I listened to your podcast,
I thought, "Laura Sully, that's that damned rock."
It feels like I've been waiting years
to talk to somebody like you.
Okay, then, um... how did it all start?
A bit over two years ago, I got ill.
Stopped eating. Felt like hell.
Did you see a doctor?
Every doctor in town,
but no amount of scans
or tests found a thing,
but...
I can't shake it,
this weight hanging on me.
It's the visions that really get me.
You also get visions?
Yes, ma'am.
I call it hijacking.
It feels violent. Invasive.
And what do you see?
Well, it's hard to know exactly when the vision starts
and reality ends.
It's always when I'm coming to work.
I'm a financial consultant.
Work in one of the tallest buildings in Ohio.
I know I'm having this vision because there's a smell.
It's really weird, but I can really smell it.
What kind of smell?
Um... best way I can describe it is rotting meat,
like, old, rancid meat left out in the sun.
As I walk through my floor,
I realize the whole office is empty.
I'm spooked.
It's just silent. It's deathly silent.
Except for this wind whistling straight through the building.
So I keep walking straight into my beautiful office.
View of the city, all those streets below.
There's a window, closed tight but still this wind,
and I know-- don't ask me how, but I just--
I know the only thing that could stop
this awful, empty feeling would be to keep walking
straight out that window.
So that's what I do.
And just before I hit the ground,
I wake up and I'm at work.
And people tell me that I have been
walking through the building the whole time,
talking to folks like there is nothing wrong,
as though none of it ever happened.
Like I just dreamt all of it up.
And that's when I stopped eating.
That's when I received the black rock.
Tell me about it.
This rock ain't like anything I've ever seen or felt.
It's more than just an object.
It wants something from me.
Do you still have it?
It's sitting right in front of me.
Could you, uh, could you send me a photograph of it?
I don't see why not.
Have you ever tried to get rid of it?
Destroy it?
Yeah, of course, I've thought about it,
smashing the thing.
Yeah. Anything to make it stop.
But then, this...
this feeling hits me, and...
It's trying to tell me something
and I gotta listen.
What's it telling you?
Something awful is coming, truly...
Oh, I'm sorry, sorry.
I'm sorry, I, uh, I hope this is helpful.
How did you find it, Laura?
What do you mean?
Well, you say you received it,
but how?
Did it just turn up one day?
Was it in a package or something?
Uh, look, I-- I can't tell you that,
it was just-- it was there, that's all.
I need you to tell me everything, Laura, I--
I need to be able to verify your story.
Uh, you think I'm making this up?
No, of course not.
But it is important that I have all the information.
Look, maybe you can't understand,
but there are some things that I just can't talk about.
Simple as that.
You can't or you won't, Laura?
Look, I-- I have told you what I can.
Uh, my kids are coming back from school
and I just gotta go, so I'm-- I'm sorry...
- No, please, Laura. - Please!
Please! Please just help me.
I can't keep living like this, please!
Laura!
This is Floramae King.
My daughter Paula just played me your podcast.
You changed my words around, and I...
I don't want that family to hear me say those things.
They were so angry last time.-[man 1] My friend refuses
to tell me where it came from, like he is scared.
The last we heard was she's in a secure facility.
Aliens are comin', and they want to destroy...
Eight months after, we received this black rock.
The operations manager in Dubai received one...
My father believed the stone
was an omen sent from the dead.
He won't tell me how he got it.
We are all scared that we will get one next.
But why? What is this rock? What does it want?
Every civilization has an end, and this is ours!
Are you listening to me?
You have to stop this podcast!
When did your grandfather receive the brick?
You're making it worse. The brick is spreading.
We shouldn't be talking about this.
Just a couple more minutes.
Did your grandfather ever tell you how he received it
or if someone gave it to him?
He refused.
He said we wouldn't believe it. That he was ashamed.
Other people talk about getting visions.
Has your grandfather ever experienced anything like that?
I told him I wouldn't tell anyone.
I only called to warn you!
I'm trying to understand what these bricks are,
but you have to tell me what has happened.
Let me help you.
We can speak off the record.
You won't record us?
I won't record us.
Okay... okay.
We can talk, but not for long.
My grandfather has been having these visions, yes?
Many years ago,
my grandfather had an affair
and fathered a son with another woman.
We never knew.
Years later,
he sees this woman at a shopping mall.
She has her son, his son, with her.
But the boy looks at him like a stranger.
He never saw them again.
One night a few months ago,
I found my grandfather in the dining room alone.
I have never seen him look so frightened.
He was whispering to an empty chair, saying,
"I am sorry, I am sorry," over and over again.
He told me that for weeks, every night,
a young boy had sat eating dinner with us.
Only my grandfather could see him.
He believed it was his son haunting him.
A few weeks ago, the boy stopped coming.
The brick is gone.
But my grandfather has changed.
Like he has been replaced with something else.
Hello?
Are you there? Hello?
Um... yes, sorry.
You said your grandfather's brick has disappeared.
I told you, it's gone.
And ever since, he's different.
- Different how?
There's nothing behind his eyes.
- No soul. - Right.
And now, my father has been getting sick.
The same sick as my grandfather.
He won't eat. Can't work.
I'm so scared he's going to receive
this object as well.
Is he also getting visions?
Yes. He is terrified.
He knows what is coming.
I could be next.
Any of us could be next.
It is spreading like a disease
or an invasion.
This is why it is dangerous to keep doing the podcast.
Don't you understand?
Nobody listens to me.
I go to the police, to the doctors,
to the government,
but they all tell me I'm crazy.
Do you think I am crazy?
No, I don't.
I think you're frightened and confused,
and something is happening that you don't understand,
and you and your family deserve the truth.
Thank you.
But I'm warning you.
You have to stop what you're doing.
You are in danger.
What if the brick comes after you?
I really don't think--
Please, end this now.
That is all I am asking.
Mm-mm! Who's a lucky boy, Ian?
Yeah, go on, go on!
Eat it, Ian.
Hi. You've reached Scott Evans, Linguistics, at MIT.
Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Cheers.
Hey.
Remember my crazy little brick story?
Well, it's blowing up, and, uh,
I've got some scans I would like you to take a look at.
It's, uh... it's pretty wild, so, open mind, okay?
Let me know. Speak soon.
Okay. What the hell am I looking at?
Where did you get these from?
An art collector.
What do you think?
It's not a language I recognize.
And?
Linguistically speaking, they're quite...
unique.
- But? - Listen.
Are you quite sure your man the art collector--
Klaus.- Right.
Klaus the art collector.
Are you quite sure he's not having you on?
What do you mean?
Oh, come on.
It wouldn't be the first time somebody made something up
for a bit of notoriety, would it?
Have you even seen one of these bricks?
Not personally, but I've got photographs.
Right.
These people...
I believe they've all had an experience of some kind
- related to this artifact. - Mm-hm.
Whether it's an object from Earth or somewhere else--
You're not serious! Listen--
I also found an article about a phenomenon
that matches these bricks.
I think the UK government was investigating this
as far back as the '80s, Scott.
One article is hardly a government conspiracy.
This is a good story.
Could you just tell me about the language
- on the scans, please?
It could be some sort of complex
semantographic alphabet,
but it feels untethered from any language I know of.
What, like a completely unknown language?
Not quite.
You say each scan is different.
Yeah. Well, I mean, clearly the same type of symbols,
but each brick's symbols are unique.
On the surface, it seems really random,
but one theory is that the symbols are related
to the person who received it.
Like a personal data set.
Klaus seemed to think so. He...
He recognized symbols that meant something to him
personally.
At the time, I thought he was nuts,
but now, I might actually-- -Hang on.
Even if this is what you think it is,
some kind of alien language or data set or whatever,
no university would touch it
without some sort of authenticity test.
Can you imagine the amount of conlangs we see every year?
I don't want you to make an idiot of yourself.
What they did to you at The Journal was rubbish, but--
This has got nothing to do with that.
No?
This is nothing like David Langley.
Isn't it?
You believed he was guilty.
He was guilty. He's a criminal.
But you didn't background-check your source properly
because you wanted to believe it,
didn't you?
You're right, Langley probably was guilty.
But you didn't have the evidence to prove it.
The public needed to know the truth.
And you needed to be the one who told them.
You know how much I respect you.
But all I'm saying...
Do you really believe this,
or do you just want to believe it?
Knock-knock.
Hello?
Jesus Christ.
Sweetie, come over here.
That's it. Come on, everybody.
Cake time.
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy birthday Happy birthday ♪
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
Blow out the candles. That's it.
You're a big nine-year-old now.
Mm-hm. Nine's my favorite number.
It's gonna be the best year ever.
I've wanted to be nine for so long.
What did you get for your birthday?
Um, a remote-controlled car.
- Yeah? - And a bike.
And some other stuff like books and things that I have to have
'cause they're good for you and make you smart.
Yeah, well, you're a very lucky girl, aren't you?
And a black brick!
What do you mean, darling?
I got a black brick. It's really pretty.
A really pretty brick? Wow.
The birthday fairy was really generous, wasn't she?
- What do you say? - Thank you!
Thank you, thank you! Thank you, thank you!
Thank you, thank--
Hi, I'm unavailable right now.
Just leave a message and I'll get back to ya.
- Dad, uh--
Someone just left a package at the door, and, um,
and there was a-- there was a video.
I'm just really confused.
Can you just call me when you get this, please?
♪ To you Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy birthday Happy birthday ♪
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
Blow out the candles. That's it.
You're a big nine-year-old now.
Mm-hm. Nine's my favorite number.
Gonna be the best year ever.
I've wanted to be nine for so long.
Oh, the podcaster.
Why are you ringing me, please?
I'm ringing because I need to know
if you're fucking with me.
I'm sorry?
What's happening? You seem very upset.
Yes, I'm very upset.
I want to know why I just received a symbol
from your volumetric scan in a fucking package
accompanying a video of me as a nine-year-old
where I say I received a black brick,
which makes me think you're fuckin' around,
trying to spook me for some reason.
I don't know what you're talking about.
A symbol? You have a brick?
You can't do this to me.
I will call the cops.
- I will ruin your gallery. - I'm doing nothing.
I'm at the playground with my grandchildren.
Please listen. I really don't know what you're talking about.
I'm telling you the truth.
I have no reason to lie to you.
You're starting to think this Klaus character
not so crazy, huh?
Be straight with me. Are these bricks real?
Yes.
How do you know if you're having these visions?
The bricks have really got under your skin,
haven't they?
You ask what is the difference
between these visions and reality.
I really don't know.
Depending on which way you look at it,
perhaps nothing.
Klaus, I want you to show me the brick.
Prove to me they're real.
Okay. Tomorrow. I can go to my--
No. Not tomorrow, now.
I told you, I'm at a playground.
My granddaughter just--
I'm sure the authorities would be interested
in checking the provenance certificates
of the artwork you sell.
I can make the call
and see just how interested they might be.
Are you threatening me?
Yes, I am.
You just have to help me, Klaus, please.
Give me 30 minutes.
Hello?
If anyone's out there, I'm not scared.
Eat.
Eat. Come on, Ian.
What is wrong with you, stupid turtle?
Klaus, what the fuck took you so long?
I'm here in my vault.
- Just wait. - I haven't
seen the brick for so long,
but it looks how I remember.
Hold on, I need to record this.
After all these years, it feels the same.
That awful feeling.
You said you had a few bricks.
You've got-- you've got dozens.
I spent my life collecting, trying to understand,
but none of it matters now.
My brother is here.
What?
You can see him?
I can sense him.
He's here.
And this sound, all I can hear is this sound.
Klaus, I can't see.
You need to show me what is happening.
Please, stop, stop, stop!
What are you doing?
It has to end. Yes, it must.
Klaus, can-- can you hear me?
Pick up the phone.
Klaus.
There's nothing...
Oh my god.
Fuck.
The number you have dialed
is currently unavailable.
Please leave a message and try again.
The number you have dialed is currently unavailable.
Please leave a message and try again.
I can sense him. He's here.
And this sound, all I can hear is this sound.
Welcome to Beyond Believable.
I believe my life is in danger.
But why? What is this rock? What does it want?
Trying to understand, but none of that matters now.
Are you listening to me?
What happened...
in Klaus Lang's art vault?
Every civilization has...
Thank you, thank you!
And was I the last person to speak to him alive?
For fuck's sake.
But it feels untethered from any language I know of.
I only called to warn you.
Unlike anything I've ever seen before.
I have to continue this podcast.
I have to find the truth.
All I can hear is this sound.
But my grandfather has changed.
Something terrible is coming.
Something...
But it was me it chose.
...unbelievable.
Dad?
Ah, sorry, no.
Is it too early?
Who is this?
Shiloh Lowden.
You wanted to chat about my article from yonks ago.
Yeah, um...
Yeah, thank you, uh, for calling me back.
Um...
Sorry, I've just had a pretty weird couple of days.
I can imagine.
I listened to your last episode.
You listen to my podcast?
I did my research.
Yeah, um...
Right.
Then you would know that I think
what you wrote back in 1988
and what I'm investigating are the same thing.
Uh, I'm trying to find patterns to understand what's happening,
and I need to know what you know.
Right.
And I thought as a more experienced journalist,
you would be prepared to share with me.
I'm not certain I know much that will help you,
but I'm happy to share.
Great. Uh, please tell me about the article.
Well, back when I was working at the Chronicle,
I had a mate who worked in a hush-hush research department
at Oxford, government-funded,
something about international threats, terrorism.
I mean, this is back in the days of Russia, Reagan,
the decline of the West.
My paper would kill for any Cold War scoop.
So we're out drinking and I get him to tell me
about a study his team is doing
into this neurological illness
that had been detected around the world,
accompanied by these unexplained objects.
What did they suspect the objects were at the time?
The department had convinced themselves
it was the Russians,
absolutely besotted with the idea.
But you didn't think so?
My mate fed me a departmental memo
on the sly, and when I read it,
I mean, it seemed completely bonkers.
Why?
Well, the study claimed that 70%
of the affected people only developed symptoms
after hearing about this object,
whatever it was, from someone else.
You're talking about a disease spreading
through people talking about it?
It was the main line of investigation
the government was pursuing at the time,
a kind of viral disease that traveled through sound.
Now I know the Russians had a lot of tools
at their disposal, but I don't think even they
were capable of that.
Do you still have this memo?
Sadly, long lost.
What about your friend, the department source?
Posted to some faraway place.
But...
I did hear he got sick.
The same sort of sickness.
We lost touch.
Did you ever form an opinion
about this illness and these objects?
To be honest, I didn't think much of it back then.
Government jumping at shadows.
But now I've listened to your podcast,
it's clearly compelling stuff.
But if my article and your story
are the same thing,
you need to be careful.
What do you mean?
We have a duty to protect the public.
Not everything needs to be published.
Of course.
Thank you so much for your time.
I think I've got everything I need.
Good luck.
Holy shit, one hell of an episode.
These numbers are nuts. Seriously exciting.
Can't wait for the next ep. Oh, well, listen!
And the publicity guys,
they want to know your schedule...
Hey, I just wanted to check in.
Is everything all right?
Yeah. Why?
I listened to the new episode,
and you sounded... kind of messed up.
Yeah, that was just, um,
dramatic license with podcasts.
Honestly, I am fine.
- Uh-huh. - Never been better.
- Right. - Mm.
I'm not gonna stop, Scott.
This is finally a real story I've got.
I've got good numbers and people are really listening.
Yeah, look, I get that, but--
There is something going on.
I feel like this story could be career-defining.
It's not that. I'm just, uh--
What? You just think this story's bullshit, huh?
Well--
You know, right from the start,
you hated this podcast.
Why--why do you always do this? Hmm?
That's unfair. I'm just worried about you.
Well, I don't need your fucking sympathy,
- I need your support. - I am trying to.
But you're making it really bloody hard.
Look, all these symbols
and videos in the middle of the night,
have you ever thought it might be someone
with a grudge trying to mess with you, hmm?
I don't see how.
"Murder cannot be hid long.
A man's son may, but
in the end, the truth will out."
"Property of FK."
What do you mean, darling?
I got a black brick. It's really pretty.
A really pretty brick? Wow.
The birthday--
- Hello? - Is this fun for you?
- Who is this? - Fucking with me like this.
No! Uh, is this the lady who rang about the brick?
Did you know you worked for my family when we spoke?
- What? - Did you know?
I don't want to talk to you. I heard your podcast.
I didn't say those things like that.
You changed what I meant to say.
What is this, some sort of fucking revenge plot?
Payback for my family taking the brick?
It was you. You're the daughter?
Yes, I'm the daughter. Jesus.
You sent me the email. "The truth will out."
You're FK, Floramae King. You wanted me to find you.
I don't know what you're talking about--
- You sent me the video. - What video?
The video of my fucking birthday.
What other video am I talking about?
Stop harassing my mother.
Is this some kind of sick joke?
Your family is the one harassing me
over something that happened 20 years ago.
- Over a fucking brick! - Why are you calling us?
You can't get away with this. -Get away with what, exactly?
Emails. Videos. Terrorizing me.
What are you talking about?
You've made me look like an idiot.
It's pathetic.
And if you don't stop harassing me,
- I'm gonna call the cops. - Be my guest.
You're the people who stole our property.
Oh, you want an apology? Is that what you want?
No.
Well, then tell me what I can do to make you feel better
and get you out of my life.
You want some money?
That's how you solve everything, isn't it?
For God's sake, stop being so dramatic.
I've got money, you don't.
People like you always want something from people like me.
I don't like it, you don't like it,
but that is the way the world works.
You're right.
It's the way the world works.
And I was just a kid. I didn't have anything to do with
selling that brick.
You told your parents a lie.
All those years ago.
It changed my life.
What are you talking about?
Even Mom thought I'd done it.
She just stood back and let your family take everything.
It was her. She did it.
Paula, I really don't know what you're talking about.
You sabotaged my life.-What?
As soon as your parents paid for that scholarship,
you hated me.
You were jealous. Scared.
I was better than you, and your parents liked me.
You couldn't stand fighting for their attention.
You wanted to be special.
I don't know what you're talking about.
You do.
You need to stop.
Please stop.
Stop what?
Nothing I've done gives you the right
to play this game with me.
You're sick.
Oh, fucking hell,
something terrible could happen.
Something terrible has happened.
I don't remember.
I really don't know what to tell you.
People like you feed off the world.
But one day you won't.
One day, you'll be gone.
This is your chance to put things right.
To tell the truth.
Don't call here again.
Hey, sweetie, I got your message.
What on earth are you talking about? A video?
I spoke to Floramae.
Who?
I know you stole the brick.
What brick?
The black brick.
When I was a kid.
We don't need to talk about this.
Tell me the truth.
Darling, look, it was a long time ago.
It doesn't matter.
That brick was some art thing.
The woman didn't know what she had in her hands.
So you stole it? -We didn't steal anything.
She was our employee.
She found it on our property.
And then on your birthday,
you picked it up and thought it was yours.
A present.
And you weren't wrong.
It was ours.
You fired her, Dad.
Why are you so upset? Her crazy kid knifed our furniture.
If that's not a fireable offense,
I don't know what is.
Why would she do that?
Who knows?
Jealousy? Attention?
How do you know it was her?
Well, you told us, sweetie.
You were probably too young to remember.
What...? -I mean...
it was very brave of you to speak up
with a girl so violent.
You were so scared.
Um, no, that--that, uh, that can't be right.
I did what anyone would do, and I protected us.
Tell me what happened.
Why?
I want to understand, Dad, it's...
it's really important.
Floramae's kid was a nightmare.
As soon as we saw what she'd done to the furniture,
we called the police.
Police?
She was just a kid.
It was thousands of dollars of damage.
Thousands.
What did the cops do?
But this was years ago.-Dad.
Tell me what the cops did.
They charged her with property damage.
But because she was so young,
it was a slap on the wrist, really.
She and her mother had to pay us back
for the damage done to the furniture.
And they didn't have any money, of course.
So, when the brick came along...
You took it.
It was the only object of value they had.
And with violent outbursts like that, we didn't feel
we could continue supporting a music scholarship.
I mean, what if she-- what if she hurt another student?
All of this over some furniture?
You don't understand how scary it was.
You were terrified that she might hurt you.
And the dining table is my great-grandfather's.
It has emotional value.
We could never really fix the damage.
After everything we gave that kid...
We were glad to be rid of both of them.
Darling, look, I don't know why
you're bringing up such an unhappy memory.
Let's just-- let's just move on.
I think...
I think you...
I think you got it wrong.
What?
About the furniture. It wasn't Paula.
Sweetie, I don't want to hear about it.
I'm serious, Dad.
I said let's not talk about it, okay?
No more talk about the past and this ridiculous brick.
- Leave it alone. - Yeah, but I wanna talk
about it.
This brick just isn't some "art thing."
It's more than that.
It means something.
My podcast is helping--
Are you recording this?!
Turn that bloody thing off now.
- Why, Dad? - You need to stop
this rubbish, okay?
You need to heal, not drag up the past.
What's the plan?
Expose your family on some ridiculous podcast?
Christ.
I don't know.
All families have secrets.
And they should stay that way.
Understood?
Kid was a nightmare.
As soon as we saw what she'd done to the furniture,
we called the police.
About the furniture. It wasn't Paula.
Sweetie, I don't want to hear about it.
Hello.
What are you?
Can you understand me?
I wanna know
why
you're here,
and what you want from me.
From us.
Shit.
Please.
The same.
Yes, we're the-- we're the same.
- Are you gonna hurt me? - Are you gonna hurt me?
- Shit. - Shit.
I wanna tell you a story.
You might not believe it,
but that doesn't mean it isn't true.
I need to tell it anyway.
I have a secret.
I'm the only one who can share it.
The only one who is willing.
And when I tell this story,
I will change everything.
All you have to do
is listen.