#Naked Man Orchid

[blogbirdfeather]

Naked-man Orchid - Flor-dos-macaquinhos (Orchis italica)

Carnaxide/Portugal (14/03/2024)

[Nikon D850; AF 105mm Micro-Nikkor F2,8 with Nikon TC-14A; 1/250s; F8; 400 ISO]

#plants #plant photography #herbs #orchids #naked man orchid

[auroralynne]

Clieth - Orchis Italica

Known as the Naked Man Orchid due to its peculiar shape, this variety is associated with virility.

And here we have Clieth, possibly the best character in the whole book. He doesn't stay long but leaves everyone talking <3 And of course he needed the craziest looking flower we could find!

Clieth is from @skaylanphear's incredible book "Deathborne", the first from the Dragon Seer series. And it's free, only for today (May 12th, 2023) so get your copy here!

#clieth #flower series #auroralynne #my art #aurora lynne #skaylanphear #clieth maltre #naked man orchid #orchis italica #fantasy book #dragon seer #deathborne #dragonseer #book recs #book tumblr #this book is FREE TODAY!! #character portrait #erof?????? #go meet clieth you won't regret it

[just-more-trolls]

Wyllow, do you have a favorite flower perchance? :0

"orchids~!"

"they come in all sorts of fun shapes~"

#ic #answered #Wyllow Pannim #windy-trickster #betcha theres a naked troll orchid #like the naked man orchid but with horns

[cerulean-fireball]

you vs the guy she tells you not to worry about

#orchids #naked man orchids #spontaneous ramblings #flowers #you vs the guy meme #cerulean ramblings

[rosicheeks]

I'd feel like the luckiest man alive to buy a beautiful girl like yourself a bunch of flowers! What are your favourite kind of flowers?

#honestly that’s a really really hard question #I love all flowers #all time favorite is probably sunflowers 🌻 🥰 #especially when they are growing off the side of the road cause that spot is getting so much sun #there’s this highway that gets a lot of sunflowers during the summer and it makes me SO happy! #almost that time of year again 😍😍😍😍 #also love roses obviously #especially when you go off what each color rose means I think that’s cute and special #daffodil daisies orchid #I’m trying to think of this other name of flower but I can think of it #fun fact there’s this flower that looks like a naked dude #think it’s actually called ‘naked man flower’ but I might be wrong #but look it up #they are so funny looking 😂😂 #I want a bunch of those in my garden one day lmao #I’m still not over how fucking SWEET that first sentence was??????????????? #I know I started talking about flowers right away and I meant to say something at the beginning of the tags but there is noooooo way #I’m gonna type all that out again lmao #what do you mean YOU would feel lucky?!?$?! I’d feel like the luckiest girl in the world 🥺🥺🥺🥺 #imagine my eyes lighting up when I see the flowers #omg I’d be so fucking happy? #idk if I’d cry or just jump over to you and give you the biggest hug #like wtf stop this is so cute #I want someone to get me flowers one day 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 #(PS my favorite *flower* is weed 😝 lmao had to say it) #ask #anon

[nonameidentified]

Why biology why?

The thing that is currently grinding my gears is the orchis italica or its actual name, the naked man orchids. With a name like that you can guess why this might be cursed.

Actually "cursed" is not the right word. It's fascinating, actually. Because this is common practice for orchids. Let me list some examples. The ophrys apifera which look like bees. The ophrys insectifera which looks like flies. And my personal favourite, the caleana major, it's actual name is the flying duck orchids is a bit misleading. It is just vaguely bird shaped. But it's still extremely fascinating. All of this is really fascinating. Why would any organism evolve this way?

One common explanation is that, it is to attract pollinators. Which makes sense. But that still explain why it also looks like flying duck and in this case tiny naked men. The last I checked neither of those are pollinators.

Basically biology is fascinating, confusing, disgusting and another million different adjectives.

#i am not an expert in any of this #i just wanted to share a cool thing i found #so if any of you know why orchids do this #pls tell me #biology #botany #science #orchids #naked man orchids #flowers

[randomnon911stuff]

#the naked man orchid

[piosplayhouse]

Tbh Shen Yuan was kind of a pussy for getting mad about sqh's weird plant world building shenanigans because real horticulture is so much stranger than anything that could've been in pidw. Here's some very real crazy ass plants with crazy ass names that I would like to bring to fandom attention

- labios de puta / girlfriend kiss

- naked man orchid

- amorphophallus yaoi. Already mentioned various times

- horny goat weed (weed that makes goats horny)

- clitoria / pea flower (yeah that thing they use in boba shops to make instagrammable drinks that are purple/blue gradient. That's pussy juice babe!)

[kebriones]

Some more pictures from today's Hymettus walk!

A view of the path and a little stone I had model for me.

An orchid that looks a lot like underdeveloped naked man orchid and anemones. There were so many purple anemones all over the place

Flowers (i forgor about tics help) and some plants over a pond (with koi in it)

And of course one of my favorite flowers of the season: Asphodel!!!

#photography

[midnightisgod]

Saw these "naked man" orchids and made them into anthro... Idk

#art #artists on tumblr #artwork #small artist #digital drawing #original art #anthro #digital artist #furry character #furry art #sfw furry #krita illustration #illustration #kritaart #krita #concept design #furry cat #furry anthro #furry tumblr #furry illustration #humanization #anthro art #furry design #furry digital art #digital art #digital illustration #artist on tumblr #art blog #furry love #anthro cat

[amnhnyc]

💘Looking for flowers to “send” your beloved? This Valentine’s Day, we’ve got you covered with some tantalizing options you may not have considered… 1. For someone sweet, how about the true passion flower (Passiflora incarnata)? Bees and ants feed on its nectar, while a number of critters—from butterfly larvae to songbirds—snack on its egg-sized fruit. Humans also munch on its fruits, which can be eaten raw or made into jelly! 2. When love hurts, we suggest bleeding hearts (Lamprocapnos spectabilis). This perennial is originally from regions of eastern Asia. Though its heart-shaped flowers are beautiful, watch out… this plant is poisonous! 3. In the mood for a smooch? Try hot lips (Palicourea elata). This tropical flower can be found in parts of Central and South America. Its distinctive bright red leaves, known as bracts, attract pollinators like butterflies and hummingbirds. 4. Make a statement with the naked man orchid (Orchis italica). The flowers of this plant are endowed with a unique shape: They’ve been said to resemble a man “in the buff!” 5. If you’re smitten, try cupid’s dart (Catananche caerulea). This attractive flower blooms for weeks at a time. It’s said that ancient Greeks and Romans used it as an ingredient in love potions. 6. …and if you just think love stinks, the corpse lily (Rafflesia arnoldi) is the flower for you. Its scent, which has been compared to rotting flesh, attracts carrion flies which spread its pollen from flower to flower. It’s also the largest flower in the world! #valentines #flowers #biodiversity #amnh #museum https://www.instagram.com/p/CondlFzv5GM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#valentines #flowers #biodiversity #amnh #museum

[blogbirdfeather]

Naked Man Orchid - Flor-dos-macaquinhos (Orchis italica)

Arrábida/Portugal (10/04/2023)

[Nikon D7100; ∑150mm F2.8 EX DG OS HSM APO Macro with Circular Flash Nissin MF 18; 1/320s; F18; 400 ISO]

#plants #plant photography #herbs #orchids #naked man orchid

[marchswifey]

Perhaps

JPM x fem reader • 1.4k words

a/n: Hello! this his is my first fic so it sucks really bad, english is not my first language so i apologize for any mistake. I hope it didn’t turn out too cringe :) If you want to give me tips, please i need some!!

Warnings: fluff, sex, use of the word daddy, reader being childish

"Perhaps dear…"

Yet again, the response that he gives everytime you ask if he has the same feelings as you.

You met james a month ago when you first checked in at the Hotel Cortez. The first night you went to the bar and while you were talking with the bartender, Liz, a man wearing pinstripe suit with a thin mustache, 20s style walked to the counter and offered you a drink while complimenting your ravishing beauty.

Of course it ended with you both naked on his luxury room. His first plan was to murder you like he always does with his victims, but something about you stopped him from taking away your life, neither he knows if that’s your beauty or the way you two spent the night in a way he had never experienced, not even with the Countess. The sure thing is that you've captured his attention not just for a sex and murder evening.

And here you are, in his room, turned deflated to your side of the bed wondering for the million time why he always avoid to say the words that you want to hear so badly from him.

He notices your upset behavior and takes a small strand of your hair playing idly with it "Sweetness, what makes you so upset hm?" His deep brown eyes look right at your gloomy face waiting for your reply, while keeping his signature warm and charming smile you have fallen for months ago at the bar. "What's wrong?" he continues.

You don't move from your position still facing away from him "I'm tired" you simply say, James lights his cigar before putting a hand on your bare shoulder "That makes the two of us, eh darling?" he sighs "Why don't we rest together so i can caress that pretty hairs of yours" seeing you still silent he chuckles at your childish behavior before pulling you to his chest with one hand on your hair and the other on the cigar that he smokes in the mean time "Ah that's better".

The next morning you wake up alone in your room, you look around for James without managing to find him so you stand up and head to the shower. Later that day you hear a knock on your door, you walk towards it and once you open it James with a beautiful bouquet of flower shows up "My darling, i noticed something that bothered you last night so i asked Liz to find me the most gorgeous blue orchids she could find, your favorites, in hope to make you feel better" you move away from the door letting him in "you shouldn't have bothered" you say dryly.

"Oh I know how much you love orchids my lady, even more than red roses" he takes a look at you, he is able to tell how much you are upset, his hand cupping your cheek

"What's troubling you my lady? I promise I'll solve whatever it is" he looks very serious, no charming smile on his face now "You know what upset me" your voice sounds bitter.

"Dear, i'm a ghost but i can't read minds" His hand leaves your cheek and goes to your hips, playing with the end of the dress that you're wearing "Tell me" you sigh "You don't love me"

He stays silent for a second then chuckles raising a eyebrow "Oh, why would you think that?"

"For you it's just a 'perhaps' everytime i ask you" you sit on the bed sadly.

His eyes soften and he lets go of your hips. He sits next to you kissing your shoulder. "You're being too sensitive darling. is that what you're worried about? a word?"

"Am i not good enough for you? Maybe i'm not like the girls you were used to court in the 20s, or maybe i'm not like your beautiful wife or whatever she is for you. Sometimes i wonder why you didn’t kill me in the first place" you vent, he immediately shake his head in disbelief

"Oh, no my sweet, what a silly girl you are. You are more than enough for me, you are my universe, the way you make me feel...I haven't felt that way in more than 50 years, please darling don't be upset by this nonsense" he lowers his head, and keeps it like that for a minute, then he looks up at you, he puts one of his hands on your thigh while the other one touches your cheek "I adore you, you're adorable and you have a body that would make Picasso cry of joy" He lean your face closer to his and kisses you with his hungry lips. "Would you find it in your heart to forgive me for not expressing my feelings earlier, my sweet?" he waits for an answer while looking into your eyes lovingly. Hearing his sweet words your heart melts making you smile slightly "Of course James, that was a bit childish of me"

He kisses the tip of your nose happy to hear the words of forgiveness and squeezes you tighter like he is afraid of you pushing him away, "There it is. That's the beautiful smile that I love so much. Come here, my darling." He pulls you onto his lap, holding you tightly as you hide your face in his chest "So you love me?" you ask jovially "Yes darling" his warm comforting voice with his brahmin accent resounds in your ear "I truly love you more than anything on this planet."

He holds you firmly and lovingly, he then says "Now, you will stop pouting and listen to daddy" He chuckles as he gives you little pecks on your forehead while caressing your back, his fingers running down your waist. "My sweet.." he moves his hands from your waist to your thighs leaning in and starting to kiss you passionately

His kisses go down towards your neck finding the perfect spot to tease and he whispers "I think you have a sensitive spot here..." you let out a whimper as he sucks on your neck he runs his fingers over your ass, squeezing slightly before moving them down to your thighs

His fingers move down further, tracing over your inner thigh and brushing against your panties chuckling as he feels you moving your hips against his fingers. "So sweet and responsive darling..." his hand slips into your panties, finding your core and circling his finger around it. "Yes, I can feel how much you want me dear" his finger strokes against your clit, teasing it while you whimper frustrated wanting more

"Aw you don't like being teased, sweet thing? I guess we'll have to move straight forward then" he push you onto the soft sheets raising up your dress sliding it out of your body and then kneels between your legs, pulling off your panties and tossing them aside. His hands trace up your thighs, caressing your skin hungrily.

He takes your hard sensitive nipple between his lips, suckling it as two fingers slide inside you, moving in and out of your wetness making you moan loudly.

"Do you like that, my precious one?" you let out a loud moan as a response, James smirks down at you enjoying the look of desire on your face as he leans down to kiss you. You feel his body hover over yours as he quickly undoes his trousers and underwear, positioning himself at your entrance.

His eyes are locked on yours as he begins to move back and forth inside your wet folds. After a few minutes James grunts quietly, feeling his climax approaching quickly as he pushes inside you, feeling you tightening around him as you cum all over his dick. He lets out a deep moan, his seed spilling inside you as he gasps for such an intense orgasm, then he falls in the bed next to you.

"That was incredible," you roll over laying on his chest, he smiles down at you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "I love you, my goddess"

The lights of the Cortez are dimmed and you slowly fall asleep tenderly in his arms.

#james patrick march #american horror story #smut #james patrick march x you #american horror story hotel #evan peters #james patrick march smut #fanfic

[thecampjuicebox]

What if Raphael teleported himself to Tav to speak with her, only to discover that she just so happened to be completely naked at that time? Like they haven't really begun courting yet, and BAM! Now he is in her home and he is seeing the object of his affections interests in all of her glory when he wasn't expecting to.

Bonus points if Tav is super calm about it - minus any initial surprise - and just sighs and casually goes to start covering up, maybe while saying "So what can I do for you, Raphael?" or mumbling something like "And this kind of thing was why I asked Korrilla to tell me when to expect you. So much for 'that would never happen'... "

You can decide what happens from there.

Oh my gods this is so funny to me. I'll do a short lil sum sum for this because the awkwardness is enough to make my skin crawl bahahahahaha. I won't be expanding TOO MUCH on this because I like the idea of him just popping in, getting flustered, and getting the fuck out before he can embarrass himself too much.

A red flurry of magic and the invasive scent of sulfur and cherries assaults all of Tav's senses as she sits at the edge of her bed. Careful fingers work lavender oil into her naked skin, her arms and legs glistening in the candlelight. She'd just bathed, hair still wet, skin smelling of vanilla, orchids, and now fresh picked lavender. A cocktail of scents that would bring any man to his knees. The Devil, Raphael, appears from the sparkling display, eyes immediately blown wide at the unexpected sight. His hands fly up over his face as he turns away.

"By the Nine Hells!"

Tav quickly jumps to her feet, reaching for her dagger before her senses clear and her gaze lands on the flustered man before her. With a heavy sigh, she reaches for her silk robe, tugging the fabric over her freshly bathed and oiled arms. The garment hugs her curves in all the right ways and Raphael gulps, a large lump nestling itself in the pit of his throat. She leaves the front of the robe open lazily and sits back down on the bed to resume her nightly rituals, reaching for a balm to use on her face.

"Raphael.. What brings you to my home? Unannounced."

Her tone is flat and the devil's cheeks nearly burst into flames with embarrassment. He chews on his words for a second. How could he focus in a time like this? His precious little Mouse sits nearly naked before him. Well, she was naked just moments before. And what a sight it was. Tav eyes him carefully and shakes her head, reaching for her comb to brush out the freshly washed locks atop her head. His silence earns a quiet giggle from Tav as she runs the comb through her hair.

"This is why I asked Korrilla to notify me when I should be expecting you.."

Still the devil stares. His feet shuffle nervously against the floor, bard boots making soft squeaking noises against the wood. He places one of his hands on his hip and points a finger toward Tav with the other as he begins to speak.

"You know, it wasn't all that important. Have a pleasant night, little Mouse. We'll speak soon."

With a flash, the devil is gone, embarrassment still lingering heavy in the air.

[loosescrewslefty]

Dana. Dana please. I am BEGGING for more context for this scene, Dana. Are these regular Orchids that have inexplicably begun to thirst for blood in the absence of their mother?

OR are these one of those SPECIAL Orchids, which would be right at home on the Boiling Isles. Like;

Spider Orchids

Monkey Face Orchids

Naked Man Orchids

or Black Shall Tiger Orchids?

#the owl house #toh #willow park #for the future #PLANTS!!!! #PLAAAAAAANTS!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

[lunatic-fandom-space]

Hello! When I made my first Metropolis (1927) post I mentioned the 2001 german radiodrama adaptation and a few people in my notes were like '👀 ?' and since I like it so much and I want more people to know about it and i think translating stuff is pretty fun anyway, Ive decided to write up this english transcript. I would still recommend properly listening to it if you can, its a little over an hour long, because I think the sound design and overall direction is absolutely amazing. Especially towards the beginning, it creates this very surreal atmosphere where youre really put in Freders head and experience this intense disconnect that he has with the world around him, its so fascinating. Unfortunately I think it does lose that as it goes on and it becomes a bit more conventional, but I mean its still pretty good overall. Honestly, out of all the pieces of Metropolis Media ive seen its probably my favorite (I havent read the book yet but given what the author apparently said about its themes Im not expecting to like it that much tbh)

You can find it on the internet archive and on the ARD audiodrama database. Since the version on the internet archive was pulled from someones personal casette it does have a small 'imperfection' where it skips a word, but its just one word you'll barely notice it and its in perfect condition otherwise, I thought it was some stylistic choice at first lol

Anyway, thats all for now, lets get into the transcript

Metropolis.

By Thea von Harbou and Fritz Lang.

Adaptation: Michael Farin.

***

MARIA: Heart. [echoing] Somewhere.

JOH FREDERSEN: Brain. [echoing] Nowhere.

MARIA: Heart.

ROTWANG: Hands. [echoing] Nowhere.

JOH FREDERSEN: Brain.

ROTWANG: Hands. [echoing] Nowhere.

JOH FREDERSEN: Brain.

MARIA: Heart.

FREDER: Heart, brain... [echoing] Somewhere.

JOH FREDERSEN: Brain.

ROTWANG: Hands. [echoing] Nowhere.

MARIA: Heart, brain, hands.

FREDER: Brain, heart, hands.

ROTWANG: Brain, heart, hands. [echoing] Somewhere.

JOH FREDERSEN: Nowhere.

NARRATOR: He was a treasure that needed to be guarded.

FREDER: I want to be alone. Completely alone.

NARRATOR: A crown jewel.

NARRATOR: He feels the closeness of the servants. Silent waiting ones.

NARRATOR: Awaiting his orders to be allowed to come alive.

NARRATOR: He feels it. Too much.

FREDER: You don't put a blood hound... No.

NARRATOR: Freder could see that the eyes of The Thin Man were grazing at him. He knew this silent man, appointed by his father to protect him, was his guardian as well.

THE THIN MAN: I don't have to create reports.

FREDER: My. Guardian.

NARRATOR: Just don't give yourself away.

NARRATOR: The scales of his bloodbeat.

FREDER: I want to be alone. Completely alone.

NARRATOR: They disappeared silently. The servants. Silently, The Thin Man.

NARRATOR: A treasure that needs to be guarded.

NARRATOR: The son of the great father.

NARRATOR: The only son.

NARRATOR: The Club of Sons.

NARRATOR: The Club of Sons owned the most beautiful house in Metropolis.

NARRATOR: It's a district, not a house.

NARRATOR: Fathers, for whom every turn of a machine cog meant money, gave it to their sons.

NARRATOR: Encompasses theatres and movie palaces.

NARRATOR: Spacious flats for the sons.

NARRATOR: Racing tracks.

NARRATOR: Flats for the servants.

NARRATOR: A stadium, auditoriums.

NARRATOR: And flats for the beautiful, well-behaved maidservants. Like cultivated orchids.

NARRATOR: And the eternal gardens.

NARRATOR: They have to look pleasant, at all hours.

NARRATOR: Have to be cheerful, attituidelessly cheerful.

NARRATOR: Gentle dolls, scented like flowers, designed by an artist's hand.

NARRATOR: Not for sale, but pretty gifts.

FREDER: On that day too.

NARRATOR: The small, gentle women served him.

FREDER: [emphasised] On that day too.

NARRATOR: The pale bodies delicately rose from their hips, their mouths unadorned. Showing slim, naked legs.

FREDER: But suddenly...

NARRATOR: There was laughter everywhere.

FREDER: Suddenly...

NARRATOR: None of the friends moved.

NARRATOR: A procession of children. In tunics and rags.

NARRATOR: The sons froze.

NARRATOR: Colourless eyes.

NARRATOR: A girl between them.

MARIA: Look, these are your brothers.

NARRATOR: Inviolability.

MARIA: [emphasised] Look, these are your brothers!

NARRATOR: And her gaze rested on Freder, unwavering.

FREDER: Who was the girl?

NARRATOR: He looked at the friends who never grew tired, except from playing. Who never broke a sweat, except from playing. Who never got out of breath, except...

FREDER: And no one can say who the girl is?

NARRATOR: The eternal gardens glowed.

FREDER: An utterly glorious and enthralling noise, more tremendous than any noise in the world; the voice of the ocean, when it's angry, rushing currents.

NARRATOR: He had already heard it a hundred and thousand times. A hundred and thousand times. And not grasped it.

NARRATOR: It pierces without being shrill, every wall and every thing.

FREDER: Is beautiful and horrible.

NARRATOR: Omnipresent.

FREDER: And irresistibly compelling.

NARRATOR: It comes from the heights above, and the depths below.

NARRATOR: The machines of Metropolis roared.

FREDER: High above the city.

NARRATOR: They wanted to be fed.

NARRATOR: This sound is the voice of the city.

NARRATOR: As big as Metropolis was, it was equally powerful and tremendous in every corner of the machine-city.

FREDER: Feed. [emphasised] Feed. [more emphasised] Feed.

NARRATOR: The city needs living humans as feed.

NARRATOR: There it pushed its way along, the living feed. On its own road, which crossed no other, it rolled in. An endless stream of identical faces.

NARRATOR: In the same step. In the same garb.

NARRATOR: They placed their feet, but they did not walk. Pushed themselves along.

NARRATOR: And coming towards them, past them: the spent shift.

NARRATOR: In the same step, in the same garb.

NARRATOR: They placed their feet,... but they did not walk.

FREDER: They place their feet.

NARRATOR: Pushed themselves along.

FREDER: They don't walk, push themselves along.

NARRATOR: The living feed had disappeared behind the gates. The roaring voice was silent. The throbbing hum of the great Metropolis became audible again.

NARRATOR: Freder looked across the city towards the building that was known in the world as 'the New Tower of Babel'.

NARRATOR: The man who got called 'the Brain of Metropolis' lives in the brain shell of the tower.

NARRATOR: In ten hours, he would let the machine-beast roar anew. And again in another ten hours. And again.

FREDER: The sun is sinking. Houses become mountains. Flying machines swarm over the cathedral — useless in my father's eyes; a traffic obstruction in the city of fifty million. To be borne away, in the silent whining of the neon signs, between chains of light-breathing monsters. Metropolis doesn't know what sunday is.

NARRATOR: A spear of light shot into his eyes, so that he closed them angrily.

NARRATOR: The enormous face of the clock on the New Tower of Babel is bathing in the garish crossfire of the spotlights.

FREDER: Breathing flashes. Breathing light.

NARRATOR: Behind the raging second-flashes was a wide, bare room with switch panels everywhere. A table in the middle. On the plain chair in front of it: the master over Metropolis.

NARRATOR: The brain shell of the new tower is populated by numbers.

NARRATOR: They dripped from an invisible source through the cooled air of the large room. Became tangible under the lead springs of his secretaries — eight young people who resembled each other like brothers. No one lifted their head when Freder entered, his father included.

NARRATOR: The lamp under the third speaker glows white-red.

NARRATOR: New York spoke.

JOH FREDERSEN: False! Inquire further.

NARRATOR: The first secretary writes together. A quick pencil line runs through a name.

NARRATOR: Numbers drip through the room. The first secretary removes himself. The first secretary walks towards Freder,... past him.

NARRATOR: Whenever he entered this room, he was a boy of ten years old again.

FREDER: Cascades of light froth against the windows.

NARRATOR: London speaks.

NARRATOR: The son of the great master of Metropolis understood: as long as the numbers dripped out of the invisible, that's how long he would look at his father's dark skull.

NARRATOR: The white-red light went out. A voice went silent.

JOH FREDERSEN: What do you want, my boy?

NARRATOR: The seven secretaries left the room.

JOH FREDERSEN: Thank you, until tomorrow.

FREDER: How did you know I was there?

JOH FREDERSEN: The door opened, no one was announced — No one comes to me unannounced. Except for... my son.

NARRATOR: A light under glass. A question. Fredersen replied the affirmative. The first secretary came in.

JOH FREDERSEN: G-Bank has been instructed to pay out your salary. Good evening.

NARRATOR: In the young person's chalky face, two empty eyes burned. One of Fredersen's shoulders stirred sluggishly. The young person left.

FREDER: Why did you let him go, Father?

JOH FREDERSEN: I didn't need him.

FREDER: Why not?

JOH FREDERSEN: Beware, Freder, of thinking people are innocent just because they are suffering.

FREDER: And if this person— If you found out tomorrow that he was dead,... wouldn't that affect you at all?

JOH FREDERSEN: Do you think I need the lead springs of my secretaries? The writing charts in Rotwangs oversight devices are a hundred times more reliable than a clerk's brain and hands. But... I can measure the precision of humans against the precision of the machine. The lungs of humans racing against it, against the breath of the machine.

FREDER: And the man that you just let go... that you sentenced...

JOH FREDERSEN: He was my first secretary. He received eight times the salary of the last one, he must contribute eight times as much — perceive work as pleasure. But enough of that. Why did you take the path to me through the machine halls? It's neither the shortest one, nor the most comfortable.

NARRATOR: His eyes wandered from his son to the twitching flashes of the seconds on the clock.

FREDER: I wanted to look the people in the face. The people whose children are my brothers. Help them, Father.

JOH FREDERSEN: I cannot help them.

FREDER: Help the people standing at your machines.

JOH FREDERSEN: No one can help them. They are what they must be.

FREDER: They have ears. But they are deaf, except for one thing: the whirring of the machines. They are blind, except for one thing: the scales of the pressure gauges.

JOH FREDERSEN: Humans are products of coincidence, Freder. The fact that people are so quickly exhausted by the machines is evidence of the inadequacy of human material

FREDER: Are you not afraid, Father, that one day there won't be any more feed left for the man-eating god-machines—?!

JOH FREDERSEN: That is conceivable.

FREDER: And you aren't terrified of it?

JOH FREDERSEN: The time of terror, Freder, lies behind me.

NARRATOR: Then Freder turned around, and left. Behind his back, The Thin Man pressed towards Joh Fredersen. Joh Fredersen let his eyes wander over the great Metropolis.

JOH FREDERSEN: From now on, I wish to be informed about all the ways of my son.

NARRATOR: The man who had been Joh Fredersen's first secretary did not move from the spot.

FREDER: What's your name?

JOSAPHAT: Josaphat.

FREDER: What... are you going to do now?

JOSAPHAT: M-Me?

FREDER: Where do you live, Josaphat?

JOSAPHAT: In the ninety-ninth block, house seven, on the seventh floor.

FREDER: Then go home. I don't know what will happen in the next hours, but... I know that I need you.

JOSAPHAT: I... I can't.

FREDER: Go home! Wait. I will come, Or— a messenger. Trust me.

NARRATOR: While The Thin Man entered Freder's flat and asked the servants about their master, the son of Joh Fredersen followed glowing arrows.

FREDER: Into the depths to the brothers...

NARRATOR: That pointed towards the undercity.

FREDER: To the brothers in the depths...

FREDER: The smell of the oil, whistling with heat, heat-breathing walls, swimming shadows.

NARRATOR: Freder pushed the door open.

FREDER: An unrelenting trembling trickled through the walls and floor. If there are really people living beyond this door, then they must...

NARRATOR: Their eyes stood open as though they never closed. The eyes of the man that Freder came across first too.

FREDER: [shouting] What's your name? [pause] Tell me your name! I want to know what your mother called you! [pause] Georgi? Listen, Georgi; will you be able to remember what I'm telling you now? You have to remember! [pause] We are going to switch our life now! In my clothes, you will go up, into the upper city! You will find more than enough money in my pockets! Go to the ninety-ninth block, into the seventh house, onto the seventh floor! Tell Josaphat I sent you!

NARRATOR: And a while later the son of Joh Fredersen was standing at the machine. He wore the garb of the workers of Metropolis: the blue linen, the black cap. Georgi though was going through a city that he had never seen before. He felt white silk on his body. He did not wear the blue linen, no black cap. Did not go to work. Work was done. A man had come. He had said, 'We are going to switch our life now, Georgi. You take mine, I take yours.'

NARRATOR: The worker number 11811, the man who lives in the undercity in a dingy house beneath the underground railway of Metropolis, who knows no other way than from his sleeping hole to the machine–from the machine back to his sleeping hole, this man sees, for the first time, the miracle of Metropolis, the city at night, illuminated by millions and more millions of lights.

NARRATOR: He was trembling from his head to his feet. And at the same time, his body was shot through with the firework display of spark-spraying wheels, ten-coloured lettering, snow-white fountains, overloaded lamps, rockets hissing high, ice-cold blazing towers of flame.

FREDER: [shouting] You will find more than enough money in my pockets!

NARRATOR: There was music in the air. The music was sassy, of the hottest rhythm, of lashing merriment.

NARRATOR: There was a house in the great Metropolis that was older than the city. It was said that a sorcerer from the Orient had built it, but he disappeared. Then one day came a man from afar.

ROTWANG: I want to have it.

NARRATOR: That man was called Rotwang. Few knew him. Only Joh Fredersen knew him well.

ROTWANG: Who's there?

JOH FREDERSEN: It's me.

NARRATOR: The door opened. The door closed. Fredersen stood in the dark. Joh Fredersen knew the house well, though. Staggering a little, yet unerringly, he walked towards the heavy black curtain. Pulled it apart. Then he opened his eyes, and stood completely still. On a pedestal the witdth of a wall, the stone head of a woman rested.

ROTWANG: Hel. Born for my joy, for everyone's blessing. Lost to Joh Fredersen. Died when she gave life to his son Freder.

NARRATOR: In that hour, Joh Fredersen had laid on the ground and screamed. Like a wild animal whose limbs were being broken alive.

ROTWANG: Lost to you.

NARRATOR: Rotwang's hair, though, had turned snow-white in that hour.

ROTWANG: Lost to you, Joh Fredersen! You have taken her from me!

NARRATOR: Hatred has been simmering the eyes beneath his forehead ever since.

JOH FREDERSEN: She is dead.

ROTWANG: For me, she lives.

ROTWANG: You have to wait a little while.

JOH FREDERSEN: Listen, Rotwang, you know that I only come to you when I want something from you.

NARRATOR: In this great love, in this great hatred, the dead Hel had remained alive for both men.

JOH FREDERSEN: And, that I don't like to waste time.

ROTWANG: I told you, you're supposed to wait!

JOH FREDERSEN: I won't wait, I will leave!

NARRATOR: He wanted to do it, he wanted to leave. A trickle ran down his back. A quiet, faraway voice laughed.

JOH FREDERSEN: You should have your skull bashed in. If only it didn't contain such a precious brain.

ROTWANG: You can't do more to me than what you have already done to me.

JOH FREDERSEN: A brain like yours should be able to forget.

ROTWANG: Forget? Forget, what cost me my heart? I will forget nothing.

NARRATOR: The faraway voice was silent. Joh Fredersen spun around. A being stood before him. A woman, undoubtedly. But though it was woman, it was not human. The body as though it was made of crystal. Cold emenated from the glass skin.

ROTWANG: Be polite, my beautiful parody. [mocking] Greet Joh Fredersen, the master over Metropolis.

FUTURA: Good —— E—Ve—Ning, —— Joh —— Fre—Der—Sen. (plain text: Good evening, Joh Fredersen.)

NARRATOR: The being had no face; the neck bore only a clump of loosely formed mass. Eyes, as though painted onto closed lids, stared unseeing.

ROTWANG: Well done, my crown jewels.

NARRATOR: But in the same moment, the being lost its balance. It fell against Fredersen. He pushed it away from himself.

JOH FREDERSEN: W-What is that?!

ROTWANG: Tell him, Futura, Parody. Tell him who you are.

FUTURA: I —— Am —— A —— Wo—Man. —— An —— Il—Lu—Sion. —— Am — Flaw—Less. —— May—Be —— A —— Lit—Tle —— Cold. —— You —— Can —— Test —— It. —— Am —— Flaw—Less. —— A —— Lit—Tle —— Cold. (plain text: I am a woman. An Illusion. Am flawless. Maybe a little cold. You can test it. Am flawless. A little cold.)

JOH FREDERSEN: I ordered machine-humans from you, Rotwang, not playthings — not a woman!

ROTWANG: Not a plaything; I know, Joh Fredersen. I know. You and I, we... haven't 'played' for a long time. Not for anything anymore. Once... yes, once we have done it. Not a plaything, Joh Fredersen — a tool. Shall I show you, how obedient my creation is?

FUTURA: Flaw—Less—Ly —— O—Be—Di—Ent. (plain text: Flawlessly obedient.)

ROTWANG: Shall Futura dance in front of you? Shall she be chaste, or sassy? She can read too, our beauty. The mechanism of her brain is more infallible than yours.

JOH FREDERSEN: If that is so, then she may decipher this piece of paper for me. That's why I'm here.

ROTWANG: My beautiful parody, did you hear? You're supposed to decipher.

JOH FREDERSEN: Don't blather, Rotwang, speak! Do you know what it means? Then tell me.

ROTWANG: Nothing easier than that. [pause] A map. It's... a map. How did that end up in your hands. Of... the tomb city. Deep beneath the mole tunnels of your underground railway lies the thousand-year-old metropolis, of the thousand-year-old dead; the... necropolis.

JOH FREDERSEN: And what does this plan mean?

ROTWANG: That is what we need to find out. Come back again, tonight. [pause] But... in the garb of your workers. And now, beautiful parody, open the door for the master of Metropolis.

FREDER: Thank you... Father...

NARRATOR: People pushed their way towards him out of the red mist. He let go of the lever and collapsed. Arms snatched him up and led him away.

FREDER: Who is calling me? Who?

NARRATOR: 'She has called', he thought, half-asleep.

FREDER: She has called.

NARRATOR: 'Where are we?', he thought. 'Does the sun live in the navel of the earth?'

FREDER: I feel cold stones under my knees. I'm not sleeping then, I'm just dreaming.

NARRATOR: Then a voice rose out of a jumble of human heads.

FREDER: You're speaking...

NARRATOR: The voice spoke!

FREDER: You...

NARRATOR: But Freder did not hear the words.

FREDER: What are you saying?

MARIA: My brothers! Do you want to know how the building of the Tower of Babel began, and how it ended? I see a person from the dawn of the world. 'Come! Let us build a tower, friends!', he said. They recruited new friends, and the work grew! And they sent out messengers, to all four winds! And hands came, that worked for wages. But none of those who built southwards knew any of those who dug in the north. And the brain that had dreamed up the building was unknown to those that built it. Brain and hands were strangers to each other! A mediator is what the brain and hands need. A mediator! That mediator is the heart. Be patient; he will come! Soon. There are many among you who scream 'Fight! Destroy!', but believe me; one will come who will speak for you.

NARRATOR: When it had become quiet around her, Maria sighed and opened her eyes. That's when she saw a person who wore blue linen, the black cap. She bent down towards him. He lifted his head. They looked at each other. And then she recognized him.

MARIA: If you've come to us to betray us,—

FREDER: You...

MARIA: —son of Fredersen...

FREDER: What should I call you? I-I don't know your name. I have only ever called you 'You'. So please, tell me your name at last.

MARIA: Maria.

FREDER: It wasn't easy to find you.

MARIA: You were searching for me?

FREDER: I needed to come to you.

MARIA: The blue linen garb... You're wearing it for fun. Those who are condemned to wear it live deep beneath the city.

FREDER: Don't you want to understand me? Until yesterday, I knew nothing of hell. And nothing of longing. Everything was mine. But then, you came. Showed me my brothers. From that day on I have been searching for you.

NARRATOR: The girl stepped towards him. He no longer felt the stones under his feet, a surge carried him. Him and the girl.

FREDER: Maria... You have called me. Here I am.

NARRATOR: And the surge was fire.

NARRATOR: In a death chamber, shaped like a pointed ear, a man detached himself from the wall.

JOH FREDERSEN: You know what you have to do. You wanted me to give you the face of Futura. There you have your model.

ROTWANG: Is that an assignment?

JOH FREDERSEN: Yes. Give your phantom the face of that woman, for I want to sow discord.

ROTWANG: You want to become guilty of two people, Friend?

JOH FREDERSEN: What does it matter to you?

ROTWANG: It doesn't. Or... it does a little. Well, Freder is the son of Hel, after all.

JOH FREDERSEN: And my son. I do not want to lose him. I want those in the depths to put themselves at fault by committing acts of violence. I want the right use violence against them.

ROTWANG: [chuckles] Well then, my friend. Let it be done according to your will.

ROTWANG: You fool. You have lost Hel. Now you shall lose the last thing as well: your son.

NARRATOR: Was she mistaken, or was there someone walking behind her, through the darkness of the cemetery? Sneaking shoes on rough stones.

MARIA: [fearful] Freder? Freder, is that you?

NARRATOR: She tripped. The lamp dropped from her hands. She started running. Fear crept up inside of her. She ran, chased by feathery feet. She screamed, she ran. There! Stairs. And immediately behind her, a man. It was as though she was being extinguished.

FREDER: Ge-or-gi. I want to know where Georgi is.

JOSAPHAT: Georgi? I dont know any Georgi.

FREDER: I sent him to you.

JOSAPHAT: No one came to me, Mr. Freder. [pause] How did you get the clothes, if you don't mind...

NARRATOR: Josaphat's eyes were fixed on Freder's garb.

FREDER: Georgi wore them. I gave him mine.

JOSAPHAT: Was there any money in them, if you don't mind me asking?

FREDER: Yes.

JOSAPHAT: Then you shouldn't be surprised.

FREDER: You mean that—

JOSAPHAT: Yes, certainly. The Thin Man should already be on his way; I bet a thousand to one.

FREDER: He cannot find me!

JOSAPHAT: I have to tell you something, Mr. Freder: Joh Fredersen may let go whoever he wants, but his son, he won't let go. The Thin Man understands his trade.

FREDER: Still, I am determined to dare taking this path! And... I will walk down it, even though I don't know it yet.

JOSAPHAT: You already know, Mr. Freder, that everything I am and everything I have belongs to you.

FREDER: Oh... I wanted to help you. And now I can't, for in this hour, I am poorer than you.

JOSAPHAT: And if you were to confide in a friend?

FREDER: I don't have a friend. I had playmates, fun-mates, not friends. [pause] Josaphat, will you betray me?

JOSAPHAT: [shocked] God shall smite me.

FREDER: [sighs] I want to visit the mother of my father.

NARRATOR: A little while later, someone knocked on the door. The knocking repeated itself.

JOSAPHAT: Who's there?

NARRATOR: Josaphat didn't expect an answer. The Thin Man stood in the doorway. His clawing eyes scanned the room. There was a cap lying there. The sweat-soaked lining bore the number 11811.

THE THIN MAN: Where is Freder, Josaphat?

JOSAPHAT: I don't know. And even if I did know...

NARRATOR: The Thin Man smiled sleepily.

THE THIN MAN: If you'll allow?

NARRATOR: He walked up to an armchair.

THE THIN MAN: You... have a lovely home here. I can understand that you would have trouble giving up this flat.

JOSAPHAT: I have no such intention.

THE THIN MAN: No? Well, maybe not yet, but you will soon.

JOSAPHAT: What is that supposed to mean?

THE THIN MAN: I want you to tell me the price for you giving up this flat, Josaphat. The flat is lovely.

NARRATOR: The Thin Man reached into his pocket. Pulled out a bundle of bank notes.

THE THIN MAN: Is that enough?

JOSAPHAT: No. And now leave, before I throw you out.

NARRATOR: The Thin Man placed the third packet of banknotes on the table. Josaphat's reddened eyes bore into his.

THE THIN MAN: I have a cheque book here that has Joh Fredersen's blank signature on several pages.

NARRATOR: Freder went into the cathedral. He was searching for Maria, who wanted to wait for him at the stairs to the bell tower. He did not find her.

FREDER: Why are you leaving me alone?

NARRATOR: He went out of the cathedral like a man walking in sleep.

FREDER: Forehead to forehead... Mouth to mouth...

NARRATOR: He came past the sorcerer's house. He stopped there. Was he mad? There, Maria was standing behind the cloudy window panes. Those were her hands, stretched out towards him.

FREDER: Please open the door!

NARRATOR: He knocked, but the house remained silent.

FUTURA: [muffled] Freder! Freder!

FREDER: It's her voice...

FUTURA: [muffled] Freder!

NARRATOR: It was her voice. He forced his way into the house. Door after door.

FUTURA: [muffled] Come on! Here I am! Here!

NARRATOR: Nothing in the world could be sweeter than the sound of that beckoning, filled to overflowing with dark perfidy.

FREDER: Who are you?

FUTURA: [playful] Don't you know me?

FREDER: [emphasised] Who are you?!

FUTURA: Maria!

FREDER: You're not Maria!

FUTURA: Freder! [mocking] Please help me!

FREDER: Where are you?! Why don't you come to me?

FUTURA: I can't come! Beloved!

FREDER: Where are you?!

FUTURA: [playful] Search for me!

MARIA: Freder! Help me! For God's sake, please come! I don't know what's happening to me, my eyes are—!

FUTURA: Search for me, my love!

NARRATOR: Freder started running.

FUTURA: I'm here!

MARIA: [fearful] Freder!

FUTURA: Here I am!

NARRATOR: Rotwang had seen him fall. Freder lay surprisingly still. He resembled a dead man.

NARRATOR: Rotwang found her like he always found her. Nothing about her alive. Except for her eyes, but they saw past him.

ROTWANG: Don't you want to smile just once? Don't you want to cry just once? I need both. Otherwise you'll make me a bungler at my work.

NARRATOR: He had spoken into deaf air.

ROTWANG: You poor children... Taking up the fight against Joh Fredersen... What will you do, Maria, when he tells you, 'Give me my son back'?

NARRATOR: The girl sat there like a stone statue. Unmoving.

ROTWANG: He will pay you any price.

NARRATOR: Like a stone statue.

ROTWANG: Have you forgotten the Club of Sons, Maria? There are hundreds of women there. And they're all his. They can all tell you about his love. On the day of his wedding, the son of Joh Fredersen will have forgotten you.

NARRATOR: He threw the door shut, looked at the being made of glass and metal, which, almost complete, bore the head of Maria.

ROTWANG: Can I give you the smile that makes the angels fall into hell, full of lust?

NARRATOR: When Freder regained consciousness, there was a dull brightness around him. He stared at the ceiling, which was black. He stared against walls, grey-cold. There was a window. In front of it was a road. Maria was walking down there! She didn't hear him. He hurled a stool against the door, pushed, tore, broke, until it splintered.

FREDER: That's not me who's running there... As though I was running next to myself...

NARRATOR: But he ran. Ran to his father.

FREDER: Where is he?! Where is my father?

NARRATOR: Stairs, and always stairs.

FREDER: Where?!

NARRATOR: They pointed to a door, behind it a second one. He heard voices. He listened. Pushed it open. There was a man standing there. He held a woman in his arms. Maria! Leaning far back in his arms, she offered him her mouth. He looked the man in the eye. It was his father. He saw the hands gripping his father's neck. They were his hands. The hands of the son. The hands released. He stammered.

JOH FREDERSEN: What... is the matter with you, my son? What's wrong?

FREDER: Where is she, Father?!

JOH FREDERSEN: Who? Who are you looking for?

FREDER: She! Who was here!

JOH FREDER: No one was here, Freder! No one!

FREDER: What are you saying?

JOH FREDERSEN: There was no one here. Except for you and me.

FREDER: Did I not see you holding Maria in your arms?

JOH FREDERSEN: [sighs] You're ill, Freder.

NARRATOR: He doubled over, threw himself into an armchair, screamed.

NARRATOR: No matter how often Josaphat tried to break through the wall that had been built around Freder over the next few days, there was always a strange person standing there, telling him with an expressionless face, 'Mr. Freder cannot receive anyone, Mr. Freder is ill.'

NARRATOR: Freder was not ill however.

NARRATOR: Lying on the roof of the house, opposite of Freder's flat, Josaphat watched the person he had betrayed. He had visitors from time to time. His father had come once too. He spoke to him. For a long time. He did not receive an answer.

FREDER: Nine-ty-nine... se-ven, se-ven...

NARRATOR: Freder stood on the balcony, his hands resting on the balustrade. Unconsciously, his eyes caught numbers. They glowed. They faded. A voice in his head made itself heard.

FREDER: Ninety-ninth block... House seven, seventh floor.

NARRATOR: A man stood in the pale light. Over there, on the roof of the house.

NARRATOR: It wasn't easy, but he managed.

JOSAPHAT: I have betrayed you, Freder. The Thin Man came to me. Joh Fredersen's name was written on the cheques.

FREDER: Calm down.

NARRATOR: And they told each other everything.

FREDER: I must've gone insane, Josaphat! I tried to strangle my father. But he forgave me. He came to my bed. I had my eyes closed. I laid completely still. Only the weeping of my soul could be heard. I felt my father's hand stroke over my pillow. He forgave me.

NARRATOR: Joh Fredersens mother had only one son. She had loved him with all her heart. But she had had to watch his machine-titans crush humans as though they were dry wood. She had screamed to God, but He did not hear her. She fell to the ground and never stood up again. Only the head and hands had remained alive on the crippled body. Head and hands.

JOH FREDERSEN: How are you, Mother?

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: What do you want, Joh?

JOH FREDERSEN: I need your advice.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: What advice should I give you? You have gone down a path that I cannot follow you on. Would you listen to me if I told you, 'Turn back'?

JOH FREDERSEN: It's about Freder.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: What's the matter with him?

JOH FREDERSEN: Freder comes to see you often, doesn't he? He's seeking help from you. Against me.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: Does he need it?

JOH FREDERSEN: I have lost Hel. Freder must not be lost to me as well.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: Do you need to fear losing him? When he was with me recently, he was healthy. Like a blooming tree.

JOH FREDERSEN: I don't know how this girl came into his life, how she was able to gain so much power over him.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: If you came to me for the sake of this matter, you could have saved yourself the trip. You know that best.

JOH FREDERSEN: You can't make that comparison, Mother. Freder is still a boy.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: Do you remember what you said to me back then, when I tried to hinder you on your way to Hel, the wife of your friend? Do you remember it? 'If I were blinded, I would see her still. If I were crippled, I would find my way to her.' [sighs] Freder is your son. What do you think he would say to you if you told him, 'Leave the girl you love'?

JOH FREDERSEN: I need to have my son back.

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: What man sows...

JOH FREDERSEN: Who are you crying for, Mother?

FREDERSEN'S MOTHER: For you. For you both.

ROTWANG: I'm not holding you captive for myself. [pause] You're staying silent. Now, however, I will tell you something that will break your defiance: do you think Joh Fredersen knows no other way to get you out of his son's eye? Oh, no, Maria, oh, no! We have stolen your soul. I have eavesdropped on you like the air eavesdropped on you. I have stolen your self from you completely and utterly. We have sent this stolen self to your brothers. It called them. And they came. They all came. The difference to the past, however, is that Joh Fredersen does not want peace, he is seeking a judgement. Your stolen self is not allowed to speak for peace anymore. [pause] Give me your hands. Just your hands. [pause] If you give them to me, just once, then I'll go to the city of the dead with you. So that the one that loves you can find you again... And doesn't have to go insane because of you.

NARRATOR: But at that moment, the hands of Joh Fredersen gripped Rotwang's neck.

NARRATOR: Yes, that was her voice. Freder stood at the back of the chamber. His eyes hung on her blood-red mouth as if it were the centre of the world.

FUTURA: My brothers!

NARRATOR: It's her voice, no doubt about it.

FUTURA: Which is more delicious? Water or wine? Who is drinking the water? Us. Who is drinking the wine? The masters! Which is more delicious to wear? Blue linen or white silk? Who is wearing blue linen? Us. Who is wearing white silk? The sons of the masters! Where do you live more deliciously? On or beneath the earth? Who is living beneath the earth? Us! Who is living on the earth? The masters of the machines! What do your women do? They starve. What do the women of the masters do? They revel! Turn the world around! Turn it on its head! You have waited long enough!

NARRATOR: The girl's blood-red mouth blazed.

FUTURA: Come! Come! I want to lead you! I want to dance the dance of death before you!

FREDER: You're not Maria!

NARRATOR: Who shouted that?

FREDER: You're not Maria! No, Maria speaks for peace, not for murder!

NARRATOR: The blood-red mouth blazed.

FUTURA: Well, well, look at that. The son of Joh Fredersen. [louder] The son of Jih Fredersen is among you!

NARRATOR: The crowd screamed.

FUTURA: Dog in white-silk fur! We have passed judgement upon the machines! [pause] Death to the machines! Death! To! The! Machines!

NARRATOR: The girl danced on the shoulders of the crowd. And sang.

NARRATOR: The room that enclosed Maria seemed to fill with a dull throbbing. It deafened the ears. It was her own heartbeat.

MARIA: Dear God, I'm begging you, stay with me. Just stay with me!

NARRATOR: There was something lying there, something dark, still: a person — Rotwang. At the edge of the trapdoor. She pushed the body aside, ran into the city of the dead. It was boiling down there. The crowd sang.

FUTURA: [chanting] We have passed judge-ment up-on the ma-chines! Death to the ma-chines! Death to the ma-chines!

NARRATOR: 'Destroy! Destroy!', the crowd roared.

FUTURA: Death to the ma-chines! Death to the machines!

NARRATOR: The heart of the machine-city Metropolis lived inside of a white dome. This is where the crowd headed. This machine was a universum onto itself. There wasn't a machine in the whole of Metropolis that didn't receive its power from this heart.

FUTURA: Death to the ma-chines! Death to the ma-chines!

NARRATOR: This heart was guarded by one single man. His name was Grot, and he loved this machine. His machine.

JOH FREDERSEN: [muffled] Grot! It's me! Joh Fredersen! Open the gates! Give it up! Give the machine up!

NARRATOR: Grot didn't want to believe it at first. He demanded the password. He needed to hear it. They tore at the bolts, the gates opened. 'Death to the machine!', the crowd roared. 'Death to the machine!'

FREDER: Father!

JOH FREDERSEN: Yes?

FREDER: Where are you?

JOH FREDERSEN: I am here. What do you want?

FREDER: The machine's lever, it's set to twelve! Where are you?!

JOH FREDERSEN: Here.

FREDER: But I can't see you! Your city is sinking, do you understand?! The machines have come alive! They're tearing Metropolis to shreds! Explosions upon explosion, just why?! Why are you letting this happen?

JOH FREDERSEN: Because death is upon the city according to my will.

FREDER: According to your will?

JOH FREDERSEN: Metropolis is meant to die.

FREDER: But, why?

JOH FREDERSEN: Don't you understand? The city is meant to sink so that you can build it up again.

FREDER: Me?

JOH FREDERSEN: It is happening according to my will.

FREDER: And what about those, Father, who die? With your dying city?

JOH FREDERSEN: Take care of the living, Freder. The living.

FREDER: Death is upon the city...

MARIA: Death is upon the city.

NARRATOR: Death is upon the city.

FUTURA: We want to watch the world go to the devil.

FREDER: [overlapping] Death... is upon the city...

MARIA: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

FREDER: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

NARRATOR: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

FREDER: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

MARIA: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

NARRATOR: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

FREDER: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

FUTURA: [overlapping] We want to watch the world go to the devil.

FUTURA: [overlapping] We want to watch the world go to the devil.

MARIA: [overlapping] Death is upon the city.

FUTURA: [overlapping] We want to watch the world go to the devil.

FUTURA: [overlapping] We want to watch the world go to the devil.

FREDER: Death is upon the city.

NARRATOR: Death was upon the city. The red day streamed* down onto the street then, wailing was in the air, the glow of flames, screams of fear and of horror. And the surge was fire. The blood sang.

MARIA: Much has happened since then, Freder. I felt as though I heard a spring rushing. Heavy with tears and red with blood.

FREDER: I've heard it rushing too.

MARIA: It's still rushing. Do you hear? It's rushing.

FREDER: Give me your hands. [pause] [emphasised] Give me your hands.

***

Metropolis.

From Thea von Harbou and Fritz Lang.

Adaptation: Michael Farin.

Narrator: Peter Fricke.

Freder: Jan Neumann.

Maria: Jule Ronstedt.

Joh Fredersen: Joachim Höppner.

Fredersen's Mother: Helga Roloff.

Rotwang: Werner Haindl.

The Thin Man: Jens Harzer.

Josaphat: Heiko Raulin.

Music: Laar, zeitblom.

Sound and Engineering: Willfred Hauer and Susanne Herzig.

Assistant Director: Anja Scheifinger.

Direction: Berhard Jugel.

Production: Bavarian Radio Broadcasting, 2001.

*I'm not fully confident I could properly make out what was being said here, so this line may be wrong

#my favorite thing about this adaptation is how much of a mentally ill freak freder is #i wanna study him under a microscope #anyway please tell me what you think about this audiodrama im dying to talk about it #metropolis 1927 #translation tag