There is darkness...
There is light.
There are men and women.
There's food.
There are restaurants.
Disease.
There's work.
Traffic.
The days as we know them.
The world, as we imagined the world.
How do you feel about heading home?
I'd just fallen asleep.
You have? I haven't.
I have a tough time sleeping with someone else in bed.
You're kicking me out?
I have to go to work soon anyway.
We danced and drank all night, we go back to your place,
you fucked me, and now you wake me up and kick me out?
I can't sleep with another person in the bed.
-That's funny. -That's just the way it is.
I didn't know you'd started smoking again.
-What do you feel like doing? -Throwing stones.
-At what? -At seagulls.
Sweetheart...
-You'll find someone. -Shut up and throw.
I suppose I should go back to work.
Come. Poor baby.
Lebanon?
Morocco.
-Now that's funny. -What's funny?
-Seeing you today. -Hilarious.
Just come with me for a minute, will you?
We're wanted at the hospital.
Aren't you going to ask me why I haven't been to work?
-You've been sick? -Not sick. Just unhappy.
Well, it's the same thing.
-Unhappy on account of a man. -No kidding?
So, what are we wanted for?
-To see a patient. -Why?
What's going on?
We're just gonna find out.
Well, you know, he's very pissed off in there.
Excuse me, when can we take him back home?
We just need to talk to him, and...
-He needs to and explain the whole thing again? -Well...
Look, look, listen... He called me up, right, and he told he was coming home.
And then, all of a sudden his voice breaks, and he burst into tears.
And then he starts telling me that he doesn't see any meaning in life.
Well I mean he's not usually like that.
-He's a truck driver. -Okay.
And then he pulls over at the side and says he's fine again.
He said, he can't smell anymore.
He can't smell anymore?
I told him we'll find out at hospital. Because, you know, that isn't normal, is it?
Hello... Donald.
Stephen Montgomery here, again.
Hi, I'm Susan.
Hello, Stephen. Hello, Susan.
You can't smell anymore?
That's right, Susan. I can't smell anymore.
But is your mood back to normal?
I've been sitting here for nearly eleven hours, my mood is not great.
But you don't feel any discomfort, other than the lack of smell?
No, Susan.
And has anybody else in your family or at work had similar experiences?
I haven't got a clue 'cause I'm sitting here, aren't I?
What do you want from me?
-I just want your opinion. -I'm an epidemiologist, Stephen.
So why am I talking to this guy?
Because we have seven more just like him in Aberdeen.
Five in Dundee.
Eleven right here in Glasgow, eighteen in Edinburgh.
There's over one hundred reported cases in England...
We got them in France, Belgium, Italy, Spain.
They all appeared in the last 24 hours.
-How were they infected? -I'm not sure they are.
Meaning?
Well, all the early indications suggest no connection between them at all.
No contact. No pattern. Nothing.
Is my wife still out there? Let me speak to my wife.
Please, let me speak to my wife.
Maybe I'll just go, eh...
So we won't panic.
Michael, that's a table of twelve that sat down.
-Where, in the bar? -Yeah, in the bar.
You're a world's champion arsehole, by the way. What's the matter with you?
What are you talking about? We'll start with the table seven.
That girl was a sweetheart.
What girl?
You just fucked her and dumped her, didn't you? You're a little baby.
Where are those salads?
Okay, one oysters, one soup, an antipasti, two duck and a steak rare.
Tell them in the breakfast.
Strawberries, heat the milk for a coffee.
Why they don't wanna fuck the nice guy, wanna fuck the asshole.
-How about those ravioli, boys? How long on those? -Three minutes, chef. -Right, right, right.
-Chef... -How do we know it's fresh?
-We smell it? -No, check the eyes.
Eyes should be clear and gills should be red, not pink.
-And the smell? -Fishy?
You can smell fishy, if it smells fishy than it's not fresh.
Can you smell the sea? Does it smell like the sea?
Mostly smells like fish.
Richard, get me another fucking sea basket.
One day...
One day, son, you'll be in love. And you'll be miserable.
-Table seven! That's your karma. -Hot pot!
Truly in love and miserable.
Richard, I need that pot back! Richard!
-Hi, Jen. -Hi, sweetheart.
Really?
-Do you want to come with me? -Of course I do. -Great.
I can find someone else, if you're busy.
Don't worry, it might not be that serious.
I'll call you as soon as I know more. OK?
-Would you give me a cigarette? -I'm on the phone!
-Who are you talking to? -It's nothing.
It's just a guy asking for a cigarette.
-Okay, okay, bye. -Have you got a light?
How about board and lodging while we're at it?
No, I don't even know your name. Do you have one, though?
Shit.
Oh, dear.
I'm Michael. I work in the restaurant, there.
All right, sailor.
-I'm a chef. -Good for you.
Come on, guys. What we got?
We've checked all the Scottish cases but we have no obvious match.
There's no protein mutating, no prions. Nothing.
There's nothing to say it's a virus.
There's nothing that matches anything we know.
It's fair to say it isn't obviously contagious.
-It's fair to say it's spreading. -Okay.
It can be environmental, it could be a toxin we know nothing about.
It could be terrorism.
Okay, so it's not contagion, I'll tell them...
Probably disappear in a short while, and don't panic.
Maybe they put something in the water.
Overwhelmed with grief...
People are hit with all that they've lost.
Lovers they never had...
All the departed friends...
They think of all the people they hurt...
First overwhelmed with grief.
And then no sense of smell.
That's the disease.
They call it "Severe Olfactory syndrome".
SOS
This is obviously a cause for concern,
and requires a heightened state of alert.
But it's not a cause for alarm.
They say it isn't contagious.
But how do you believe that?
Nothing.
Well shall we call it a night?
I don't know what the fuck we should we call it.
Let's go chase some pretty ladies, eh?
You chase and I'll pick up the peaces.
-I don't feel like it, James. -Come on!
Wanna watch that, that's what happens when you have too much high class fun.
Gorging himself on Europe's finest.
-I'm going to get the Entonox, quick! -What's that?
Entonox. Laughing gas. St Nitrous. Patron saint of pasty chefs.
Richard, don't, don't, don't... It'll make you feel...
James, leave him alone. James!
-I recommend it for you especially, sir. -James, put it back.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.. Stop, stop, stop...
-Smell my finger? -Yes, I smelled it.
-How does it smell? -Oranges.
Wrong. Balls!
Man down! Man down! Quickly. Evacuate!
-Good night. -See you later.
-See you, boys. -Good night.
-Keep smiling. -Bye, James.
Got your own smokes tonight, sailor?
I'm still a chef.
My dad called everybody "sailor".
His worked in the docks all his life.
Never went sailing anywhere, but he called everybody "sailor".
All right.
Even people he didn't know. "Hello, sailor." "Goodbye, sailor."
Well you can call me sailor if you like. Or Michael.
When I was a child, I thought it was really embarrassing.
Now I'm doing it myself.
Are you hungry?
People aren't eating in restaurants these days, and we've got a lot spare food.
This is...
Mac fish cheek. Fish is my thing.
Good?
-I get greedy when I eat. -That's all right.
I had [unintelligible] when I was younger.
Trying to catch up.
What do you do ... when you're not eating?
-Death and misery. -What?
I am an epidemiologist.
I'll get you something sweet.
This is a mango jelly, and... chocolate macaroons. And...
I didn't make these, I can't remember what the fuck that's called
-but I think it's got coconut in it... -God...
All that sailor stuff, reminds me of him.
My dad.
I miss him so much...
We had so much fun together, he could always make me laugh.
I'm... Let me get you...
-Here... This is clean. -Thank you.
Okay.
Here, you're all right.
Do not stand so close. You never know.
No, they say it's not contagious.
We don't know. That's just something we tell people.
Look... Would you like me to take you back to your home? Yeah? Come on.
Take that cloth.
Hey!
It's gone.
The smell. All gone.
Well, I...
-It was a crazy evening. -Yeah.
Good morning.
Well, this has its benefits.
Yes.
We were in the Algarve once, Maggie and me.
Came home, had a freezer full of food there'd been a power cut.
I've never smelled anything so disgusting in my life.
I'll never forget it.
Maybe you will.
-I've met someone. -Okay.
I'm pathetic.
-Not even sure I like him. -Okay.
Actually, I think he is a smooth asshole.
It will probably come back.
By the moment, our customers won't be able to smell, so...
Prepare light. Couldn't for snotty nosed people.
Bring out the big guns, all right?
Life goes on.
The food becomes spicy.
Salty.
More sweet.
More sour.
You get used to it.
The greater loss are all the memories that are no longer triggered.
Smell and memory were connected to the brain.
Cinnamon might have reminded you of your grandmother's apron.
The scent of cut hay could evoke a child who'd a fear of cows.
Diesel oil might bring back memories of your first ferry crossing.
Without smell an ocean of past images disappears.
-I'm off work. -Congratulations.
-Are you okay? -Yes.
-Any more news on death and misery? -Not really.
I was a really good smeller.
-I bet you were. -I was!
-Do you want a cigarette? -No, thanks.
-Something else, then? -Like what?
-Are you hungry? -No.
I could cook you something special.
Or buy you a lollipop.
We could go for a coffee and the apple pie and licorice.
A glass of wine? Some fresh air?
Come on!
My sister got married a few years ago, came to stay for a month...
And met a guy.
And then a good job came up.
And now, ladies and gentlemen ...
We'll call upon a new smell. The scent of the forest after a spring rain.
We imagine a path underneath our feet.
We see the green, moist colors surrounding us.
And we feel the wet branches, against our faces.
And now imagine...
We pass between the trees.
Come on.
And we begin drawing in the air.
Deep inside and enjoy the moment.
The humidity level is high.
At the lower... There's the moss, the fungi, the water leaves.
The middle tone is the tall, fresh grass.
A crisp and almost invigorating scent.
And at the top, we feel not only the leaves and the rainwater,
but also, the sky.
On a day like this, we can smell the sky itself.
What should we do now?
Well now you could invite me back to your place.
I don't know if I want.
Well you can just start walking home and I'll follow you.
I should have made a better effort to sniff you
the first time you were lying here.
Pity.
-What do you want? -What do I want?
Yeah.
Soon I'd like to close my eyes and try and go to sleep.
Which is a big deal to me because usually I can't sleep in bed with someone.
I need to be by myself. Okay?
-Now? -Now, yes. -You want me to leave?
I live here, so I guess you'll have to.
-Now? -Yes, please.
Did I say something wrong?
Let me give you my card, in case you want to, you know...
-..call me or something. -You have a card?
I have a catering company that doesn't do very well.
Not very many clients. Lots of cards.
You can call me. My number's on there, and my address.
And I guess you know where I work, so...
Do you know that this is the Day of the Lord? The prophesy has been spoken!
Do you pray? Are you aware of your sins?
Come back, if you will! This is the day of the prophesy!
Hello.
No flowers?
She loved flowers, Michael.
Ian got married.
In a church, with the Full Monty.
Apparently she's pregnant... his bride.
And what about this Michael?
-What about him? -He sounds nice.
I don't know. I usually pick arseholes.
They can't all be arseholes. They just can't.
I'm trying to take care of myself.
Right. You do that a lot, don't you?
Fuck you, sailor!
Let me see...
-What do you say? -One for you. And one for you.
Not soap. Big soap. BIG soap.
Apparently. Big tobacco, big fizzy Cola,
for this cocktail to start selling - wait for it - "Fruity flavoured oxygen".
In order to create a proper market for it, we've enlisted big soap.
And big soap flooded the environment with enough organophosphate
to temporarily disable your central nerve system.
That's why I've stopped washing.
In case you were wandering what the smell was...
You get.. Don't have to talk such shite.
Environmental grips are sure
it's the start of an ecological apocalypse
caused by pollution and genetically modified plants and hormones.
Intelligence claims that it's an attack on the free world.
All indicators point to fundamentalists.
The fundamentalists talk of God's punishment on a world of unbelievers.
And promise that all pure people with the right faith
will regain their sense of smell, in the final days.
Others talk of a degenerate capitalist system
has released a military virus to stimulate the economy.
And there are other theories.
There is so much hatred in the world!
So much hatred!
-So much hatred in the world. -Stephen!
-Stephen, calm down! -Easy!
They are going to blow us up. They want to destroy us.
So much hatred..
So many sharp edges, so many sharp edges.
-It's okay. -Sharp things.
I've just given him as much sedative as I dare.
It will pass in a second.
-So many sharp edges. -It's okay.
-We are so soft. -It's all right.
We are so soft.
-Are you all right? -I can't die alone.
I'm here with you. I'm Barbara.
I work in research. I've seen you in canteen.
Calm down. What's your name?
It betrays us... Yes, it betrays itself.
-Michael, come on. -No, listen.
-The body, it takes away the color of your skin. -What?
And betrays you...
-Bring some water over here! -What's wrong with him?
I have seen it. The end. You're all alone.
Do not say that.
James, you'll die on your own.
-Don't say that! -You're all alone!
Michael, stop. Michael, don't say that.
First, the terror.
Do not leave me, Michael. Do not leave me, Michael.
And then a moment of hunger.
This is how the sense of taste disappears from our world.
They don't even have time to give the disease a name.
Do you think we'll lose our other senses too?
Smell and taste are related. They're the two chemical senses.
-So, the other ones might be all right, then? -They might.
-We'll just have to wait and see. -That's right, sailor.
And what happens if you're wrong?
Then we're fucked.
-It's still out there. Who? -The World.
-What can you see? -People.
-What are they doing? -They're heading off to work.
What should we do?
We go to work as well.
Do we kiss each other first?
Maybe.
I'd like to see each other again. We probably do.
Maybe even this evening.
Maybe.
-And I'm looking forward to that. -Yes!
I may not even have a job anymore.
Forget it, Michael. We're closed. We're closed.
We'll open again.
People can't smell, they can't taste.
They're going to buy flour and fat.
That's all you need to survive.
Take a hit on that. Go on.
Now that is damn expensive brandy. Damn, damn expensive.
But you might as well drink surgical spirit, or sniff glue.
-Doesn't matter. It's flour and fat. -And yet it does matter.
-There's no difference. -No, I think you're wrong.
Life goes on.
They'll come back. People'll ask each other to dinner again.
They'll toast each other in there, while we take care of their needs.
-We will sell them flour and fat. -No, anything but flour and fat.
We'll be all right.
Slowly, things returned to normal. And life goes on.
People do what they did before as best they can.
Within a few weeks, taste becomes a distant memory.
And different sensations take its place.
And restaurants, it's all about offering another person a dinner.
Letting yourself be waited on.
Listening to the trickle of wine and the clink of glasses.
Not only has the food received special attention
but also the temperature of the food and it's consistency.
And we tried it all. From the freezing-cold to the scorching hot.
It was dry, it was moist, it was crisp,
it was spongy, it was crunchy and it was all at the highest level, up to and including the desert
a light pudding with caramelised nuts and a bright orange sorbet
dark blue coolie on blackberries and black currant.
Chew on that.
-Great. -Life goes on.
My dad let me shave him once.
I was eight.
I managed to do it without a single scratch. I was very proud.
And then...
He went to the sink and he shaved himself all over again as if I hadn't been there.
I was devastated.
Your turn.
Try. It's soft.
-Would you like to go dancing? -Sure.
-And get drunk. -Sure.
-And smoke cigarettes. -Always.
There's still pleasures [unintelligible]..
Let's have them. All of them.
I've got a soap in my eye.
-Let's play a game, sailor. -What game?
Is called "Make me special."
-What are the rules? -Only one.
-Just tell me something. -Something?
Something other people don't know about you.
-Something secret. -Like what?
My sister's got two kids. And sometimes I hate them.
I can't have children.
My ovaries are crippled. My eggs are no good.
Because of not eating.
I pretend that I'm not that into them, I have an interesting job...
Anyway...
I can't have them.
Your turn.
I had a girlfriend.
You don't get this game, do you?
No, I had a wedding planned.
And she got sick.
She was already sick.
You could smell that there was something wrong inside there
like something damp in the basement.
I didn't stay with her.
I didn't look after her. I ran away.
I make myself go and visit her grave.
At first it was once a week, and then maybe
once a month, now even less...
I go there to feel guilty, you know?
I thought I would feel guilty for the rest of my life, but...
Actually it's starting to fade.
-You're an arsehole. -I am.
It works.
-I'm an arsehole. -So am I.
A couple of arseholes.
Mr. and Mrs. Arsehole.
This is the situation here, in Bangkok, Thailand.
We call it the big hearing loss syndrome.
We still do not know much about it. Anger, rage, hatred.
And then they go deaf.
And how does it spread?
I can't hear you. I don't know what to do.
Tell me what to do!
Don't just stand there looking at me.
I think it's okay to panic now.
And that's basically what the world does.
Severe Hearing Loss Syndrome.
Spreads from Thailand.
Across India, to China, Russia and beyond.
Rage...
Anger...
Hatred.
And then, the loss of another sense.
All the uninfected can do, is wait.
-Can you still get film on those? -Yes. I got some from my uncle.
-He was a collector. -What did he collect?
Polaroid cameras.
Incubation period has dropped from 24 hours to about 11. Very aggressive.
Yes?
Yes. We stick to the 2006 plan.
-Stephen? -Okay.
It's still valid.
Isolate the first ones, get ready for loads more.
They say the child was born in Berlin with all its senses.
Might be a chance of antibodies.
What is going on?
Somebody is infected on the third floor. They've sealed it off.
-Who owns this restaurant? -Me.
-You're shutting down. -Give me a fucking break!
Everywhere is shutting down.
The council wants to have you and your staff
to cook for the quarantined.
We have thousands of people held up in their homes, sport arenas...
They all need to be fed, three times a day.
Here is the menu and budget for the coming week.
There's plenty of other restaurants will do it.
If you don't want the job, just say no.
-All I need to hear is a "no". -Aye, all right. We'll do it.
That's very moving. I even got tears.
Fuck you.
Look, we are just trying to do our jobs.
We're trying to keep everything working.
Make sure that pasta is al dente.
Fat and flour. Fat and fucking flour.
-You're homeless. -Shit.
You can choose between a gym full of those not infected,
out behind the bus station, or you can come home with me.
Tough one.
What?
Oh, Jesus!
So all of a sudden we're living together?
Mr. and Mrs. Arsehole.
We can play "Make me special" games.
We could play at lovers, we could fuck.
But you're just like all the others.
Don't think that you matter, because you don't.
You're nothing. You are just passing time.
It's not difficult to understand.
It's just fucking... and eating. And fat and flour.
You go out there, you lie down on your back, and spread your legs.
Or else take your profound conversation and your emotions and fuck off.
You're just a pair of ears and a mouth. An arsehole and a cunt.
And If I may surprise you to know that everyone else has that, too.
A pair of ears and an arsehole. Fat and fucking flour.
Nothing special. Except that she's infertile.
Fat and flour.
Fat and flour! Fat and fucking flour!
Let me in!
Hello!
Can you hear me?
Pardon?
Seen anyone else?
I hope you can hear this.
Whatever I said to you, I didn't mean it.
It wasn't me. It was the disease.
It was not you. It was not you.
It was not me. It's nobody. Nothing.
Nobody is here. Nobody. No.
Disease. Which disease?
Where is it? Where are you hiding, you fucking...
Where are you?
I think you should come back to me.
I need you to believe me.
It's me.
Why? Why? Why?
I need you to come back.
I love you.
We will keep you informed.
Deaf? Stay at home.
This is the safest place to be.
Keep your television on.
We will keep you informed.
There are two movements now.
There are the people who run through the streets grabbing all they can
People who don't believe in anything, but the end of the world.
Then, there's the other movement.
Farmers going out to milk their cows.
Soldiers reporting for duty.
Those who believe that life will go on somehow.
Or just don't know what else to do.
People prepare for the worse.
But hope for the best.
They concentrate on the things that are important to them.
All the things beyond fat and flour.
Once we thought of the Ice age as something that crept up,
Glaciers slowly spreading.
Temperatures gradually dropping.
But recently a number of intact mammoths have been discovered
with stomachs full of undigested grass.
The cold must have hit them like a blow from a club.
That's how the darkness descends upon the world.
But first, the shining moments.
A shared flinching of the brain's temporal lobe
A profound appreciation of what it means to be alive.
But most of all, a shared urge to reach out to one another.
To offer warmth.
Understanding.
Acceptance.
Forgiveness.
Love.
It's dark now.
But they feel each other's breath. And they know all they need to know.
They kiss.
And they feel each other's tears on their cheeks.
And if there had been anybody left to see them, then they would look like normal lovers.
Caressing each other's faces. Bodies close together.
Eyes closed.
Oblivious to the world around them.
Because that is how life goes on.
Like that.