Palin and Tsering are carrying backpacks and walking along a road.
Pither (voice-over): After that amazing escape I was happy to return to my tour. It seemed a good idea to exit the Kingdom of Nepal as quickly as possible. I took the road to the Chinese border.
Pither: So, Phorbu, you've gotten over that strange bout of identity confusion?
Tsering: Yes, the excitement of being pursued by the Nepali police seemed to snap me out of it. There's something important that I can't remember. I still wish to go to America but I don't know why. I will accompany you to Tibet. Perhaps I will find my answer in my family's homeland.
The road runs along a steep, heavily forested gorge. The road climbs high up to the end of the valley.
Tsering: You know, Che Guevara was a very compassionate man. In his travels in South America he saw children whose constitutions appeared to be those of 8- or 9-year-olds yet almost all of whom were 13 or 14. He called them "the authentic offspring of hunger and misery". He thought that the isolated individual physician, for all his purity of ideals, is of no use fighting against adverse governments and conditions which prevent progress.
A Buddhist, of course, does not look for a revolution to liberate the individual. But then, perhaps in practice it does not matter which comes first.
Cut to Pither and Tsering crossing a bridge over the gorge. On the far side they reach a bunker-like concrete building flying the Chinese flag. Some trucks roll slowly past without stopping. Men carrying heavy loads on their backs also walk past. Pither looks in a window. The interior is deserted.
Pither: Strange, there's nobody here. Where are all the border guards? Oh, there's the answer.
Pither looks at a piece of paper stuck on the window which has the message: "Gone to Bingo. Come back tomorrow."
Pither and Tsering are on a highway that climbs steeply. The tree cover is gone and on the mountainsides bare rock shows through. They continue to climb. Around them are undulating brown hills. On the horizon is a chain of towering white peaks. A herd of black-haired yak graze on the grassland.
Pither: Every step feels like twenty. How high are we?
Tsering: We're at the pass of Tong La, over 17,000 feet.
Pither: I'm feeling faint. I've got to sit down.
There is a crack of thunder. Pither and Tsering look up. A bright white light is on their faces. Shot of the luminous clouds parting. The face of a man with a gray beard and a massive golden crown appears in the opening in the clouds. Pither recognizes it as a vision of God Himself. He falls to his knees.
God: Arthur! Oh, don't grovel! One thing I can't stand, it's people groveling.
Pither: Sorry.
God: And don't apologize. Every time I try to talk to someone it's "sorry this" and "forgive me that" and "I'm not worthy". What are you doing now?
Pither: I'm averting my eyes, O Lord!
God: Well, don't. It's like those miserable Psalms-- they're so depressing. Now, knock it off! Right! Arthur, King of the Britons, your Knights of the Round Table shall have a task to make them an example in these dark times. Behold!
Choral music swells, like the singing of angels. The image of the Holy Grail, a glowing golden chalice, appears in the sky.
Pither: Wait, did you say, "Arthur, King of the Britons"?
God: Of course I did.
Pither: But you've got the wrong Arthur. I'm Arthur Pither of 365…
The music slows and dies out.
God: Oh, sorry.
God walks away from the opening in the clouds. Then the light disappears and the clouds close like a window sliding shut.
Pither: Well, that's a bit of a let down, isn't it?