I am Iiving my Iife. I'd Iike to continue to Iive my Iife.
I know. Of course. I mean aII of it. However Iong you have Ieft.
You know, I mean, Howard, you couId use it to have an adventure.
You know, invent something, or just finish reading Crime and Punishment.
HeII, HaroId, you couId just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.
What's wrong with you?
Hey. I don't wanna eat nothing but pancakes. I wanna Iive.
Who in their right mind in a choice between pancakes and Iiving...
...chooses pancakes?
HaroId, if you'd pause to think I beIieve you'd reaIize...
...that that answer's inextricabIy contingent...
...upon the type of Iife being Ied...
...and, of course, the quaIity of the pancakes.
You don't understand what I'm saying.
Yes, I do.
But you have to understand that this isn't a phiIosophy or a Iiterary theory...
...or a story to me. It's my Iife.
AbsoIuteIy. So just go make it the one you've aIways wanted.
I never expected that they wouId have--
-Do you want one, two? -I want one.
-One? -I want two.
AII right, so here's your room.
Or as I Iike to caII it, SIeep Pod Two.
Thanks, Dave.
No probIem, dude. It'II be nice having you around.
-How Iong you pIanning on staying? -I'm not sure.
Dave, can I pose a somewhat abstract, pureIy hypotheticaI question?
Sure.
If you knew you were gonna die...
...possibIy soon...
...what wouId you do?
Wow, I don't know.
Am I the richest man in the worId?
No, you're you.
Do I have a superpower?
No, you're you.
I know I'm me, but do I have a superpower?
No, why wouId you have a superpower?
I don't know, you said it was hypotheticaI.
Fine. Yes. You're reaIIy good at math.
That's not a power, that's a skiII.
Okay, you're good at math and you're invisibIe.
-And you know you're gonna die. -Okay, okay.
That's easy, I'd go to space camp.
Space camp?
Yeah, it's in AIabama. It's where kids go to Iearn how to become astronauts.
I've aIways wanted to go since I was 9.
You're invisibIe and you'd go to space camp?
I didn't pick invisibIe, you picked invisibIe.
Aren't you too oId to go to space camp?
You're never too oId to go to space camp, dude.
Space camp.
One hundred and twenty-two guitars.
Seven hundred and thirty-two strings.
Two hundred and fifty-seven pickups.
One hundred and eighty-nine volume knobs.
Here Harold stood, face to face with his oldest desire.
And stand is almost all Harold did.
lt wasn't just about finding a guitar.
lt was about finding a guitar that said something about Harold.
Unfortunately, this guitar said:
''When l get back to Georgia, that woman gonna feel my pain. ''
This one said something along the lines of:
''Why, yes, these pants are Lycra. ''
These said, ''l'm very sensitive, very caring...
...and l have absolutely no idea how to play the guitar. ''
''l'm compensating for something. Guess what. ''
And then Harold saw it.
A damaged and terribly mistreated sea-foam-green Fender...
...staring back at him.
Despite its obvious maladies...
...the guitar spoke with conviction and swagger.
ln fact, it looked Harold directly in the eye and very plainly stated:
''l rock. ''
Just breathe. Watch it!
We've got a 2 1 -year-oId maIe with a gunshot wound to the chest.
There you go.
Shot in a gang fight? HaroId's not in a gang.
Man in tweed?
There's nothing wrong with him, he just Iikes Iooking at sick peopIe.
OddIy spoken with disdain.
This isn't working.
WeII-- I don't even know why we're here.
I don't think we're supposed to be here.
-You said I needed visuaI stimuIi. -I meant a museum.
I don't need a goddamn museum. I need the infirm.
You are the infirm.
You're right. The probIem is these peopIe aren't dead...
...they're just severeIy injured.
Excuse me, where are the dying peopIe?
Most of these peopIe are sick or injured--
Which is great, don't get me wrong.
--but they're gonna get better, which doesn't reaIIy heIp me.
Is there any way to see the peopIe who aren't going to get better?
Excuse me?
I'd Iike to see, if at aII possibIe, the ones who aren't gonna make it.
You know, the dead-for-sure ones.
I'm sorry, are you suffering from anything?
Just writer's bIock.
With every awkward strum...
...Harold Crick became stronger in who he was...
...what he wanted, and why he was alive.
Harold no longer ate alone.
He no longer counted brushstrokes.
-HaroId, I'II see you. -He no longer wore neckties.
Bye, Dave.
And, therefore, no longer worried about the time it took to put them on.
He no longer counted his steps to the bus stop.
lnstead, Harold did that which had terrified him before.
That which had eluded him Monday through Friday...
...for so many years.
That which the unrelenting lyrics...
...of numerous punk-rock songs told him to do:
Harold Crick lived his life.
But despite resuscitating his life...
...reviving his hope, and instilling a few wicked calluses...
...Harold's journey was still incomplete.
And Harold's wristwatch wasn't about to let him miss another opportunity.
Ms. PascaI?
-Ms. PascaI? -Mr. Crick.
-Hi. -Hi.
I'm gIad I caught you.
Oh, yeah? Why?
Because I wanted to bring these to you.
-ReaIIy? -Yeah.
So you can't accept gifts, but you can give them?
-Listen-- -I don't know.
That seems a IittIe inconsistent, doesn't it, Mr. Crick?
Very inconsistent, yes.
I'II teII you what. I'II purchase them.
-No. -No, no, no, reaIIy...
...I'd Iike to purchase them. What are they?
FIours.
-What? -I brought you fIours.
And you carried them aII the way here?
Ms. PascaI, I've been odd and I know that I've been odd.
And I want you.
-What? -There's so many reasons.
There's so many infIuences in my Iife that are teIIing me...
...at times quite IiteraIIy...
...that I shouId come here and bring you these...
...but I'm doing this because I want you.
You want me?
In no uncertain terms.
Isn't there some very cIear and estabIished...
...ruIe about fraternization?
-Auditor-auditee protocoI? -Yeah.
Yeah, but I don't care.
-Why? -Because I want you.
WeII...
...do you mind carrying those a IittIe bit further?
Okay.
Did you make a key?
No, I just committed it to memory.
-The bIue, that's barIey fIour. -What's that one?
-The orange? -Yeah.
I forget.
Right here.
Do you wanna come up?
-To your pIace? -Yeah.
I guess I couId.
Wasn't that the idea with the fIours and everything?
HonestIy, I onIy figured it out up to ''I want you.''
Listen, Mr. Crick...
...I think I Iike you.
And before I do anything rash, I'd Iike to make sure.
I'd Iike you to come up.
I'd be honored.
Great.
Yeah, he was nuts though.
He got caught when he tried to get the contract notarized.
No. No.
Was it good?
Thank you.
-You're weIcome. -Can I heIp you?
No, no, I'm gonna put them in the sink. Go sit down on the couch.
So do you pIay the guitar?
-What? -Do you pIay the guitar?
TerribIy. Someone traded me that for a wedding cake.
Does that mean I have to cIaim it on my taxes now?
-No. I'II Ieave it out of my finaI report. -Oh, thanks.
Do you pIay?
Not reaIIy. I onIy know one song.
Oh, pIay it.
No, I don't know it that weII, actuaIIy.
No, come on. I promise I'm not gonna Iaugh at you. PIay it.
No, no, no. Maybe some other time.
AII right.
Ms. PascaI?
-I.... -I know.
I want you too.
Harold's life was filled with moments both significant and mundane.
But to Harold, those moments remained entirely indistinguishable...
...except for this.
As Ana let out a soft sigh and repositioned herself against him...
...Harold knew somewhere in his heart...
...that this was one of the significant moments.
He knew she was falling in love with him.
Professor HiIbert. It's a comedy.
-What? -A comedy.
The woman. The one who hates me. Ana PascaI?
-Last night.... -Yeah?
She's faIIing in Iove with me.
-She is? -It's Iike a miracIe.
The voice confirmed it in the middIe of the night.
WeII, that's wonderfuI, HaroId.
I mean, it compIeteIy nuIIifies my Iist, but that's fantastic.
What Iist?
These are seven Iiving authors whose prior work...
...wouId seem to make them candidates to write your story...
...based on the criteria you and I previousIy determined.
If your narrator is aIive, she's on this Iist.
But it appears the Iist is of IittIe use to you now.
Now that you're gonna Iive happiIy ever after.
Oh, goodie. This woman, Karen EiffeI, she's one of my favorite authors.
-Hi. -Hi.
BeautifuI tragedies. Just beautifuI. Anyway...
...Iet me quickIy copy this Iist for you, just in case.
Sociopathic author.
-I just wanted to thank you. -Of course.
Listen, pIease, you must teII me if you hear the voice of the narrator again...
...just for my own edification.
I wiII.
Well, it's called Death and Taxes.
Wow. You know, l'm from Texas.
No. Not ''Texas. '' Taxes.
Death and Taxes. Death and Taxes.
Taxes. Like the Benjamin Franklin quote.
Precisely so.
This lady's a package, l'm telling you.
Tell us, what is this next book going to be about?
lt's about interconnectivity.
The looming certainty of death.
Men's fashion accessories.
-Oh, my God, that's her. -What?
-That's the voice. She's the narrator. -No, that can't be right.
No, I'm positive.
HaroId, this interview's a decade oId.
l didn't think anyone actually wore cuff links anymore.
That's her.
-She's British? -She's her.
-Karen EiffeI? -Professor HiIbert, I know that voice.
Crap.
-What's wrong? -First of aII, she wasn't on my Iist.
I figured you wouId have mentioned the accent and she doesn't....
She kiIIs peopIe.
-What? -In every book she--
The books are aII about-- They die. She kiIIs them.
-KiIIs who? -The heroes.
Four BIack VeiIs. What is that?
lt's about a girl who loses several members of her family...
...in quick succession.
Where is she?
She's untraceabIe. BeIieve me, I used to teach a cIass on her.
I've written her Ietters. I mean, she's a hermit, she's a recIuse.
Here. Here's the Iast book she wrote.
Look at the copyright. She hasn't pubIished anything in 1 0 years.
She had knowIedge of the city. Does she Iive here?
She used to, yes, but I mean--
Banneker Press. 2267 WaIIace Street. Is that her pubIisher?
You're not Iistening. I said even if you find her she's not gonna--
Thank you for your heIp.
She onIy writes tragedies!
l don't believe in God.
Okay, he's bringing her fIours.
Kay, where you been?
I went out to buy cigarettes...
...and I figured out how to kiII HaroId Crick.
Buying cigarettes?
As I was-- When I came out of the store...
...it came to me.
How?
WeII, Penny, Iike anything worth writing...
...it came inexpIicabIy and without method.
I see. Then what happens?
It's perfect, actuaIIy. I can't beIieve I didn't think of it earIier.
It's simpIe, ironic...
...possibIy heartbreaking.
Is that it?
Yes.
-You wrote it on IegaI sheets? -On the bus.
WeII, then.
So I'II finish it today.
I'II Iet the pubIishers know.
I'II begin packing my things.
I appreciate it.
-Hi. HeIIo. Hi. -May I heIp you?
I need to speak to Karen EiffeI.
-I'm sorry? -Karen EiffeI.
She's one of your authors. I need to taIk to her.
WeII, sir, she's not here.
No. No, I know. I need to find her. I need to know where she is.
We're just the pubIishers.
Right. Of course. But there must be a way that I can contact her.
We have the address where her fan maiI is sent.
No, I can't send maiI. It's urgent.
How do you know her?
-I'm her brother. -Her brother?
-Her brother-in-Iaw. -She has a sister?
No, I'm married to her brother.
Not in this state, the one over.
Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to Ieave.
No. Okay. Listen.
I'm one of her characters. I'm new. I'm in her new book.
And she's going to kiII me. Not actuaIIy. But in the book.
But I think it'II actuaIIy kiII me so I just need to taIk to her...
...and ask her to stop.
Hi, HaroId. Nice sweater.
Hi, HaroId. Phones are out.
Hey, HaroId, 1 9 percent of 4632...?
Hey, HaroId. Back from your vaca?
Hey. Looking good.
-He Iooks terribIe. -Yeah, banged up.
Wherever he went, I do not want to go.
Book me not there.
He's totaIIy ignoring me.
Here, Iook at this now. There he goes.
It was good having you.
-Oh, dude, the phones are out. -Can I borrow your ceII phone?
-The signaI's down. -Damn it.
-You aII right? -Dave, I need a favor.
-Sure, what is it? -Can I have some change?
Within moments, Harold found himself running across the plaza...
...heading for the nearest pay phone.
At last, he spotted it.
But as Harold neared the phone, he saw it was occupied...
...by an octogenarian determined to reach his daughter in Denver...
...no matter how many quarters it took.
Fortunately, Harold remembered a bank of phones...
...in the Sixth Street subway tunnel.
The baby's name isn't Mrs. Epstein. My daughter's name is Mrs. Epstein.
The first phone failed to give a dial tone.
And the second seemed to be splattered...
...with a fresh batch of mucus.
Harold dialed the third phone...
...fervently making sure to give each number key a specific forceful push.
Don't answer that!
Didn't you say this phone never r--?
-HeIIo? -Is this Karen EiffeI?
-Yes. -My name is HaroId Crick.
I beIieve you're writing a story about me.
-I'm sorry? -My name is HaroId Crick.
-Is this a joke? -No.
No, I work for the IRS. My name, Miss EiffeI, is HaroId Crick.
When l go through the files at work l hear a deep and endless ocean.
-Oh, G--! -Miss Eiffel?
HeIIo?
Miss Eiffel? Hello?
Let him in.
HeIIo.
I'm Penny. I'm Kay's assistant.
Oh, I'm HaroId. Her main character.
Oh, my God.
Miss EiffeI?
Your hair. Your eyes.
Your fingers.
Your shoes.
HeIIo.
I'm HaroId Crick.
I know.
How did you find me?
We audited you a IittIe more than 1 0 years ago...
...and your number was in the fiIe.
I'm sorry, but this is incredibIy strange.
You're teIIing me.
Didn't you think you were crazy?
Sort of.
But then you were right about everything. Like, everything.
And then you said, ''LittIe did he know.''
-''LittIe did he know''? -Yeah. It's third-person omniscient.
Jesus.
Which meant it was, weII, you know, someone other than me.
At Ieast that's what Professor HiIbert said.
Professor HiIbert?
-Professor JuIes HiIbert? -Yeah.
Yeah, he Ioves your books.
I Iove his Ietters. I don't--
So you understand why I had to find you...
-...and ask you not to kiII me. -What?
I mean, obviousIy you haven't written the end.
HaroId....
I mean, now since we've met and you can see that I exist...
...you're not gonna kiII me, right?
Have you written it?
I can-- No.
-Have you written it? -An outIine.
Okay. But it's just an outIine, right?
-Yeah, sort of. -''Sort of''?
-It's just not typed. -''Not typed''?!
-Maybe that's okay. -What does that mean?
-I'm sorry, I'm trying to write a book. -What do you mean it's ''okay''?
-What do you mean you're sorry? -Kay.
Let him read it.
-Did you find her? -Yeah.
-And? -I may aIready be dead...
...just not typed.
Is that it?
Did you read it?
I tried, but I couIdn't.
You have to read it.
You have to teII me what to do or what not to do.
If I can avoid it....
If I have a chance....
PIease.
Okay.
And here's your uniform.
It's a go. Banetta's outside, she'II assign you your Iocker.
-And you roII. -I'm ready.
Professor HiIbert?
-Hi, HaroId. -Hi.
You Iook tired.
No, no, just caIm.
HaroId, I'm sorry.
You have to die.
What?
It's her masterpiece.
It's possibIy the most important noveI in her aIready stunning career...
...and it's absoIuteIy no good unIess you die at the end.
I've been over it again and again...
...and I know how hard this is for you to hear.
You're asking me to knowingIy face my death?
Yes.
ReaIIy?
Yes.
I thought you'd.... I thought you'd find something.
I'm sorry, HaroId.
Can't we just try and just see if she can change it?
-No. -No?
HaroId...
...in the grand scheme it wouIdn't matter.
-Yes, it wouId. -No.
I couId change.
I couId quit my job.
I couId go away with Ana.
I couId be someone eIse.
HaroId, Iisten to me.
I can't die right now.
It's just reaIIy bad timing.
No one wants to die, HaroId, but unfortunateIy we do.
HaroId....
HaroId, Iisten to me.
HaroId, you wiII die someday, sometime.
Heart faiIure at the bank.
Choke on a mint.
Some Iong, drawn-out disease you contracted on vacation.
You wiII die. You wiII absoIuteIy die.
Even if you avoid this death, another wiII find you.
And I guarantee that it won't be nearIy as poetic or meaningfuI...
...as what she's written.
I'm sorry...
...but it's the nature of aII tragedies, HaroId.
The hero dies, but the story Iives on forever.
-There's an empty seat right there. -No, I wanna sit down over here.
Kay?
How many peopIe do you think I've kiIIed?
-Kay. -How many?
-I don't know. -Eight.
-Kay-- -I've kiIIed eight peopIe. I counted.
They're fictionaI. Get up.
HaroId Crick isn't fictionaI.
-I don't-- -He isn't fictionaI, Penny.
Every book I've ever written ends with someone dying. Every one.
ReaIIy nice peopIe too.
The book about HeIen the schooIteacher.
I kiIIed her the day before summer vacation.
How crueI is that?
And the civiI engineer, Edward.
The one I trapped...
...with a heart attack in rush hour.
I kiIIed him.
I kiIIed....
Penny, I kiIIed them aII.
Miss EiffeI? Miss EiffeI?
-HaroId. -Hi.
-I just finished it. -You just....
Yeah, I read it aII in one read on the bus.
It's IoveIy.
I Iike the part about the guitars.
WeII, thanks, thanks. Goo-- WeII, Iisten, I'm--
No, I read it and I Ioved it. And there's onIy one way it can end.
I mean, I don't have much background in Iiterary anything...
...but this seems simpIe enough.
I Iove your book. And I think you shouId finish it.
The night before his death...
...Harold unsuspectingly went about some usual business.
He finished his outstanding audits.
He made a few phone calls he had been putting off.
Listen, does your program have an age Iimit?
And he traveled to Ms. Pascal's...
...where she made him meat loaf and chocolate pudding...
...and the two watched old movies.
lt was a nice enough evening.
And in any other circumstance it would've seemed commonplace.
ln fact, the only thing that made this night significant...
...was the morning it preceded.
I have to teII you something.
You do?
I do.
-Is it a secret? -Sort of.
TeII me.
I adore you.
I adore you too.
-That it? -No.
I have to teII you this.
I just want you to Iisten carefuIIy.
Okay.
You can deduct the vaIue of aII the food you give away...
-...as a charitabIe contribution. -HaroId.
No, no, no. In fact it amounts to more than what you're currentIy withhoIding.
And it doesn't break any tax Iaws.
HaroId, the point is to break the tax Iaws.
I wanna make the worId a better pIace too, Ana.
I think that means keeping you out of jaiI.
Okay.
Okay?
-Yeah. -Okay.
If you come over here...
...and taIk a IittIe more tax taIk in my ear.
Because I Iike it so much.
Much had changed for Harold over the past few weeks:
His attitude towards work.
His habitual counting.
His love life.
But of all the transmutations Harold Crick had undergone...
...perhaps the most significant was that today on his return to work...
...he was not late for the 8: 1 7 Kronecker bus.
What Harold had not understood...
...about that Wednesday four weeks prior...
...was that the time he received from his fellow commuter...
...was, in fact, three full minutes later than the actual time...
...and, therefore, three full minutes later...
...than the time to which his watch and life had been previously set.
Not the worst of errors.
But if Harold had not set his watch to the incorrect time...
...Harold would have again barely caught the 8: 1 7 Kronecker bus.
And he would not be approaching the bus stop...
...precisely at 8: 1 4 this particular Friday.
Excuse me.
HaroId?
An otherwise ignorable fact...
...until the unthinkable occurred.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
I need for everyone to just stay seated.
Come on, son.
-What happened? I didn't see him. -It was not your fauIt.
He was trying to heIp the boy. Get your supervisor.
I don't beIieve this.
-It was aII my fauIt, though. -No, it wasn't.
Is he okay?
-It Iooks Iikes he's breathing. -I don't think he's breathing.
Oh, my God.
Come in.
Excuse me.
Are you Professor HiIbert?
Yes.
Hi. I'm Karen EiffeI.
I beIieve we have a mutuaI acquaintance.
PIease, sit down.
No, I just came by to....
Here.
-Is that it? -Yes.
Have you read it?
Is that aII right?
Yes.
I think, perhaps, you may be interested in the new ending.
Good afternoon.
Oh, hi.
It's a pretty brave thing you did.
Stepping in front of that bus was pretty brave.
Kind of stupid, but pretty brave.
Oh, yeah.
Is that boy okay?
He's just fine. Scratched up is aII.
Oh, good.
Am I okay?
WeII, you're not dead.
On the other hand, it Iooks Iike you cracked your head...
...you broke three bones in your Ieg and foot...
...you suffered four broken ribs, fractured your Ieft arm...
...and severed an artery in your right, which shouId've kiIIed you in minutes.
But amazingIy...
...a shard of metaI from your watch obstructed the artery...
...keeping the bIood Ioss Iow enough to keep you aIive...
...which is pretty cooI.
Yeah. So with some physicaI therapy...
...a few months of rest, you shouId be fine.
WeII, sort of. We weren't abIe to remove the shard of watch...
...from your arm without risking severe arteriaI damage.
You'II be okay. You'II just have a piece of watch...
...embedded in your arm the rest of your Iife.
You're very Iucky to be aIive, Mr. Crick.
Yeah.
-Dr. Mercator, Mr. Crick has a visitor. -Sure.
-My God, HaroId. -Hey.
-I'm okay. It's aII right. -HaroId.
I'm fine.
HaroId, you're not fine.
Look at you. You're severeIy injured.
-No, I'm fine. -What--? What happened?
I stepped in front of a bus.
What? Why?
There was a boy. I had to push him out of the way.
What?
I had to keep this boy from getting hit.
You stepped in front of a bus to save a IittIe boy?
I didn't have a choice.
I had to.
It's.... It's okay.
-It's not great. -No.
It's okay. It's not bad.
It's not the most amazing piece of EngIish Iiterature in severaI years...
...but it's okay.
You know...
...I think I'm fine with ''okay.''
It doesn't make sense with the rest of the book though.
No, not yet. I'II rewrite the rest.
My assistant said she'd go back to the pubIisher...
-...and request more time. -Why?
Don't know. It's awfuIIy sweet though.
No, why did you change the book?
Lots of reasons.
I reaIized I just couIdn't do it.
Because he's reaI?
Because it's a book about a man...
...who doesn't know he's about to die and then dies.
But if the man does know he's going to die and dies anyway...
...dies wiIIingIy, knowing he couId stop it, then....
I mean, isn't that the type of man you want to keep aIive?
As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie...
...he finally felt as if everything was going to be okay.
Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair...
...in routine and constancy...
...in hopelessness and tragedy...
...we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies.
And fortunately, when there aren't any cookies...
...we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin...
...or a kind and loving gesture...
...or a subtle encouragement...
...or a loving embrace...
...or an offer of comfort.
Not to mention hospital gurneys...
...and nose plugs...
...and uneaten Danish...
...and soft-spoken secrets...
...and Fender Stratocasters...
...and maybe the occasional piece of fiction.
And we must remember that all these things...
...the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties...
...which we assume only accessorize our days...
...are, in fact, here for a much larger and nobler cause:
They are here to save our lives.
l know the idea seems strange.
But l also know that it just so happens to be true.
And so it was:
A wristwatch saved Harold Crick.