Snowpiercer

This cold isn't something we can tame.

We did this to our climate.

Now, only the Earth herself can restart her warm heart.

I believe we can find her pulse again.

And my biggest fear isn't dying out here.

It's that the coldhearted among us will crush that hope before I can prove it.

All right.

Breslauer Research Station.

The temperature is minus 122.6°C.

I'm 11,000 feet above sea level,

dangling from a thin umbilical…

…many miles from Snowpiercer,

1,034 cars long.

There you are.

Okay…

Are you there?

Where are you?

Mommy?

Mom?

All right.

I found the bodies

of two of the scientists stationed here at the Freeze.

One male, shot in the head.

The other, a woman who slit her wrists.

Must've been a grim place to face the end of the world.

But at first light, I have to power it back up,

patch my batteries into the solar array.

Then, I'll go back down for the sled I left behind with my rations.

Okay.

Thank you.

In the Old Time, the future seemed multi-faceted.

We had careers, families, personal aspirations,

places to go, friends to see, bucket lists.

The hum of human dreams we took for granted.

But we were sleepwalking.

Just one step away from trading all those possible futures

for the shared fate of the Freeze.

I thought I'd find you here.

It's a beautiful thing we've created.

Depends how we define "created."

Well, I suppose you might deserve a little credit.

You're the glue.

You put all Snowpiercer's pieces together. She's just as much yours as she is mine.

And you'll never hear me repeat that in public.

Whatever your investors need to hear, Joseph.

Oh, they heard it, my Engine Eternal.

Depends how we define "Eternal."

Now, now…

Let's not ruin the moment.

That's not possible.

Because now…

we finally get to drive her.

Okay.

Where's my food?

I'm hungry.

Ah, so that's where that arm went.

You're exhausted.

Or is it this thin mountain air that's playing tricks on your mind?

So, with your supplies under that avalanche,

all you have left is one ration pack,

one bag of sweeties from Ben.

And an arm.

- I'll manage without the arm. - Really?

That seems a bit optimistic.

According to the log books,

our fine young cannibals out there were climate scientists.

They came out at the start of the Freeze, looking for a way to survive CW-7.

Well, the effects of it.

Apparently, they didn't succeed,

though she did hang on for five months.

I only have to make it one.

Hmm.

Afraid to look upon your predecessor's visage?

Just don't wanna see it.

Because they had a little girl?

You've acquired a sentimental streak, Melanie.

You were a lot more useful when you were naive and ambitious.

Snowpiercer should be releasing the first of her weather balloons right about now.

I am…

patched into the climate modeling program.

Just need to link to the balloon from the radio tower.

Feed it enough data points to extrapolate a model.

Well, if anyone can kludge together a heuristic climate model,

it's you, my dear.

Shame you have to rely on Ben, though. Hmm?

And his balloons.

And that Spaniard.

You know Javi's Colombian.

Oh. Well, perhaps that's where you'll find our fabled Eden.

They didn't know we were stealing the train from you.

Hmm.

Actually, we were two days down the track before he figured it out.

This is nice, isn't it?

Jousting.

Keeps your mind off the hunger.

Yes.

Yes.

Seems a long way to Eden.

It's a start.

Lost your biscuit?

I must've eaten it.

I know you don't believe that.

No.

I didn't eat that cracker.

Which begs the question…

Who did?

Perhaps our cannibals are hungry?

Either that, or you're cracking up, Engineer.

Tell me you aren't really doing this.

With everything else we need, you're working on your brothel.

Not a brothel. A Nightcar.

This train is now an ark for humanity, not your personal indulgences.

Can't it be both?

Art on stage,

and entertainment in the back.

It sustains the soul, Melanie.

And it's a release valve to keep everyone under control.

The resources that you're wasting on this

could sustain 20 more people that we're going to need.

Ticketing says you removed half of my geneticists from the passenger list.

- We have more important priorities. - Like what?

Like… your security?

I promised you, all guns will be confiscated and thrown from the train.

But the Jackboots will keep order.

Three thousand souls stuffed into a ten-mile steel tube,

you think they're all gonna suddenly start singing "Kumbaya"?

I think that if we're going to save humankind,

we need people who actually know how to save humankind.

How many?

Six geneticists and next of kin. Twelve total.

- Just cut 12 Jackboots. - I'll cut six.

Joseph,

please.

There are gonna be more important things than order.

Nothing's more important than order.

Do you even believe in any of this?

Clearly I've been working you too hard.

Which is why I will forgive what you just said.

Snowpiercer has only one Head Engineer, her creator.

She runs on my order.

Now, if you can't accept that, then…

your family can stay behind.

Is that clear?

Come, you can't sugarcoat the end of the world, Melanie.

Not everything's going to be fine.

But I promise you,

you will survive.

Thank you, Joseph.

It's been ten days since I arrived.

If I had food,

this would be a glowing report.

With each new probe, the system has more data,

and I coax a climate model.

The picture is far from complete.

Now, the question…

is whether I can survive long enough to finish painting it.

Hunger's a bitch, ain't it?

You're getting a little taste of what you did to us back in the Tail.

Not to rub it in.

Oh, you're rubbing it in.

Yeah, I am.

Those bodies might have a little freezer burn,

but I wouldn't let that put you off.

No judgment here.

I'm not resorting to cannibalism.

- Give yourself another week with no food. - I've got food.

You know this is crazy, right?

Yep.

It's been seven years. How could anything be alive?

It shouldn't be.

So, either something did survive out there, which is a miracle, or…

- I'm losing it? - You said it, not me.

Oh! Very nice. Looks like something a Tailie would've cooked up.

That's what I'm talking about.

I've been thinking about the three bodies I found.

Torrid affair.

Arthur was the first to go,

the fellow with the bullet in his brainpan.

The other two got rid of him.

He was her husband.

Really?

The woman who killed herself.

How'd you find that out?

He's the guy in the screensaver.

Oh, I like that twist.

- Maybe he got sick. - Yes.