(Theme music playing)
Ford: Bring yourself back online.
Bernard?
Theresa?
(Panting)
She's gone.
(Sobbing) I killed her.
What have I done?
Ford: This guilt you feel, the anguish, the horror, the pain,
it's remarkable.
A thing of beauty.
I'm a killer.
My god! My god!
God has nothing to do with it.
You killed her because I told you to.
And you should be proud of these emotions you're feeling.
- Proud? - Yeah.
After all, you yourselfwere the author of so many of them.
And when we started, the hosts' emotions were primary colors.
Love, hate.
I wanted all of the shades in between.
The human engineers were not up to the task. So, I built you.
And together, you and I captured that elusive thing:
Head.
I don't understand.
I cared for Theresa, loved her.
Why did you make me kill her?
"One man's life or death were but a small price to pay
"for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought,
"for the dominion I should acquire."
All of the beauty you and I have made in this place,
the art of it, they would have destroyed it.
They would have destroyed you. I won't let that happen.
Besides, we have a new story to tell.
I will not help you.
I'll raze this place to the ground!
That's enough, Bernard.
That's enough.
You're not the first man to threaten me.
Arnold came to feel the way you do.
He couldn't stop me, either.
And as exquisite as this array of emotions is,
even more sublime is the ability to turn it off.
I don't need a simulacrum of an emotionally ruined man.
I need you to be yourself.
Your true self. Smart. Resourceful. Capable of covering your tracks.
Can you do that for me, Bernard?
How would you like me to proceed?
Ford: I need you to clean up your mess, Bernard.
Any connection that ties us to Theresa's untimely demise.
(Machine beeping)
Ford: When you have finished,
I will give you the one thing you want most right now.
I will free you from those memories of what you have done.
And the memory of your relationship with Theresa.
Recalling it would only deepen your grief
and potentially draw unwanted attention.
Best to move fon/vard with clear eyes.
When you look back,
you will remember Theresa with the fondness of a respected colleague.
And you will be at peace.
(Piano music playing)
(Indistinct conversation)
Clementine: You're new. Not much of a rind on you.
It sure would make my day
if you bought me a drink and let me show you around upstairs.
Man: What's upstairs?
A stunning view of my most popular attractions.
Two shots of gin.
And anything else this heavenly creature desires.
- Usual, clem? - Thank you.
This fella won't take me long. I'll be back directly.
Something wrong, Maeve?
Maeve: What the hell is happening to me?
One moment, I'm with a little girl,
in a different life.
I can see her.
Feel her hair in my hands, her breath on my face.
The next, I'm back in Sweetwater.
I can't tell which is real.
Sylvester: Well, this is what happens when you fuck around with your brain.
Lutz: Your mind isn't like ours.
When we remember things, the details are hazy, imperfect.
But you recall memories perfectly.
You relive them.
What happened to the little girl in my dreams?
Is she still in the park somewhere?
And why was I reassigned in the first place?
I could check.
It doesn't matter.
Every relationship I remember,
my daughter, Clementine.
It's all a story created by you to keep me here.
But that's not going to work any longer.
I'm getting out.
Lutz: Where would you go?
You don't know anything about the world out there.
I'll know I'm not a puppet, living a lie. That's enough for me.
Sylvester: Fine. Go, then.
It's not like we could just stop you, anyways.
Oh, Sylvester, you disappoint me.
Every host's spine, mine included, has an explosive charge,
which will detonate if I try to leave. Isn't that right?
A fail-safe.
Which vertebra was it?
But you'd need a full rebuild to replace it.
I'm sure that can be arranged.
Even if that worked,
you would still need an army to break out of here.
That's exactly right. I'll need allies.
And to get them, I'll need administrative privileges.
Sylvester: Are you fucking kidding?
We can't just give her control of other hosts.
Maeve: Oh, yes, you will, darling.
Time to write my own fucking story.
I feel like I've been here before. We're close.
- William: Close to what? - Dolores: Home.
William: Dolores?
Ghost nation must have found them.
They'll be back. We should keep moving, Dolores.
(Man coughing)
(Man groaning)
Water.
William.
Please.
(Groaning)
Give me the canteen.
William?
(Groans)
You were sent here for us, weren't you?
- You're part of the ambush. - Yes.
Told us to wait at the point for El lazo.
In case he ran.
- How'd you know about the train? - Sent word from pariah.
New recruit told them a man and woman double-crossed us,
along with lazo.
We were ordered to kill you all.
Logan.
- We have to help him. - He just admitted he was going to kill us.
Look at him, he's a child. He doesn't even know why he's fighting.
I'll fetch more water.
He's too far gone.
He'll be dead in minutes. We can't wait, Dolores.
He's not gone yet. He's in pain, William.
What kind of people would we be if we simply let him suffer?
Boy: Please don't leave me.
Come find me.
Dolores: William?
William: He's gone.
Stubbs: We found her up on python pass, at the bottom of a ravine.
Same ravine where we found that stray woodcutter.
Jesus. Theresa.
Has her family been notified?
- Yeah, her brother. - Good.
What the hell happened to her?
Medical and red team's findings were preliminary, but consistent.
It appears to have been a slip and fall.
Cervical fracture, massive hematoma.
No guests or hosts in the vicinity when it occurred.
- Any idea what she was doing out there? - Stubbs: None that fit her character.
This was found near her body.
It's loaded with a suite of proprietary data,
including some of the hosts' core code.
And only works from higher altitudes.
So, if Theresa was using it,
it's possible she was trying to transmit, and fell.
We've had problems in the past with third parties
attempting to extort or bribe employees for similar packages.
Do we know who the data was intended for?
Stubbs: No. The transmission was never sent.
Theresa may have been trying to use the woodcutter as a mule,
and when that failed,
then may have tried to do the transfer personally.
Ford: And suffered the same fate.
It's a disappointing end to her story, isn't it?
Stubbs: I knew Theresa well.
If she had any faults, a lack of loyalty wasn't one of them.
She was onal. And careful.
All of this feels extremely unlike her.
She seemed most concerned with the new narrative.
She felt strongly that it would be best to delay it.
That certainly helps explain Clementine.
The host we retired.
It seems yesterday's demonstration was a hoax
designed by Ms. Cullen.
Was it?
I examined the code, it had been altered.
A clumsy set of fingerprints left by one of qa's technicians.
When you find a cancer in an organization, you must cut it out before it can spread.
To that end,
the expansive access and oversight granted to qa will need to be reined in
until a new, more principled team can be installed.
It's gonna leave us shorthanded.
I can automate most of the park's safety protocols, Mr. Stubbs.
How efficient of you.
It's a bit of work.
But with Bernard's help, I should be able to do it.
He will be reinstated as head of behavior
now that Theresa's manipulations have come to light.
Of course. With my apologies.
Something's up. Brass are wound up tight.
- There's an investigation. - Into us?
Would I be here telling you, you fucking idiot?
Something else. Some kind of accident in the park.
We need to wrap this up, make it like things are normal.
That means we need the tablet back. And you go back to playing dumb.
I've learned what I needed.
Great. So, then you've probably figured out
that you can fiddle around with your personality all you want,
but you're not getting out of here.
You can make it to the door, but literally not one step further.
The things you'd need to change are burned into your core code so deep,
no one can touch 'em.
Funny you should mention that. Parts of me are quite old.
There are some elegant formal structures.
A kind of recursive beauty, but complex.
Like two minds, arguing with each other.
There are things in me,
things I was designed to do that are just out of my reach.
They almost seem to be dormant.
- Who is Arnold? - I don't know, sweetheart.
But whatever parts of you are dormant, are gonna stay that way.
All lutz here can do is boost your sense of humor about how fucked you are.
Anything deeper than that, you'd need a trip to behavior.
So, go blackmail a couple techs up there,
then, you can be someone else's problem.
Maeve: I don't have time for that.
So, I'm going to need you to take me there.
No fucking way.
There's a window during shift change.
No one will notice.
The things I need you to change are quite sophisticated.
But I'll write them down for you.
And then, like you said,
I can be someone else's problem.
All right. We do this thing.
Get her up to behavior. It's our only chance.
- You're going to do it? - Fuck, no. No!
When you make a system update, it puts her out, right?
- Yeah. - Yeah, then we brick her!
- What? - Wipe out everything. Clean slate.
Then dump her back down here,
smack her in the fucking head with something,
- and then claim, "she came in that way." - She's awake.
Alive!
I can't do this.
(Inaudible conversation)
Whatever it is you've got us into, I'm getting us out of.
We get her up there, then we wipe her out.
Teddy: Stay sharp.
Wyatt's men could descend at any time. We're in his land now.
We better be.
Because, if not, you're wasting time I don't have.
According to you, Wyatt has the woman I love.
If there was a shortcut through hell itself,
you bet your ass I'd take it.
Well, I'm sure there is one somewhere in this park.
You just don't remember.
Because you only remember the shit Ford lets you remember.
Probably better that way.
I know everything I need to. My vision's clear.
I've always admired your resolve, Theodore.
The thing is, you never understand that the game is rigged.
You're here to be the loser.
Loser
you see, the house always wins.
Well, this looks promising.
(Whimpering)
I'm not gonna hurt you.
It's you.
I figured they retired you.
Guess Ford never likes to waste a pretty face.
Who did this to you?
Wyatt's men.
They killed everyone.
It's Wyatt's way.
I was there the first time.
He destroyed my world.
Hey, Teddy?
(Grunting)
(Both grunting)
Dolores: Oh, my god!
(Screaming) No!
Get the ax!
Well, you can't remember shit,
but you still managed to lead us to Wyatt's crew.
The man himself must be close by.
Actually, I did remember something.
You.
(Grunts)
Straight down the hall. Fifth station on the left.
(Machine beeping)
You sure you can handle it?
Let's get this over with.
We have to shut your system down now.
Maeve: Sylvester,
good luck.
She out?
Good.
Let's brick this bitch and get out of here.
The greatest shame in life is to perish without purpose.
Which is why I always consume my victims fresh.
Lee: "Moist."
Try, "consume my victims moist."
Now, once more, with feeling.
Almost sensual.
Am I interrupting?
No, on the contrary, I was hoping I was going to see you again.
I wanted to apologize.
Our first encounter was under such unfortunate circumstances.
As opposed to now?
Of course. May I offer my condolences? It's terrible what happened to Theresa.
But it is a devastating loss for all of her friends here,
and the company as a whole.
Indeed, indeed.
Though rumor has it, she wasn't the loyal company man she seemed.
I hear she was smuggling secrets.
Theresa wasn't a traitor. Everything she did was at delos' behest.
She slipped and fell while helping the board with something very important.
What?
Fine. You're not the only one with secrets.
Ford has personally asked me to create a villain for his new narrative.
It's very, very hush-hush.
You really think that Ford has entrusted you with a key character for his story?
(Chuckles) He's already almost finished with it.
He dug up some old town on the fringes of the park.
Created a horde of masked men to terrorize guests
and proselytize-cum-advertise the coming of some end-all villain named Wyatt.
That isn't Wyatt.
That's busywork.
But happily for you, Mr. Sizemore,
I think that you are ready for a real job.
Working for you? On what?
"Show, don't tell."
Isn't that what you writers prefer?
Look, I know you and she had some weird interspecies simpatico going on,
but she was the fucking host.
This was never gonna end any other way.
This was the least-painful way she's ever gone out.
You know, I saved your ass. You can't even say "thank you."
- Thank you. - Jesus! Fuck!
What did you do?
Precisely what I asked him to.
You think I didn't know what you were going to do?
Even at a "fourteen," you were never a match for me.
Turns out, your friend has a little more compassion than you.
He couldn't snuff out a life just like that.
Now, would you like to know exactly what he did give me?
Something that would allow you to walk out of here.
And out of my life for good.
Fine. Fuckin' a. I'm all for it!
Oh, we changed a little more than that.
We've been tinkering with my core code.
Let me show you.
(Groaning)
(Grunting)
You said you wouldn't hurt anyone.
Darling, you, of all people, know exactly how duplicitous I am.
Just wait until I'm back up top, practicing my other new talents.
(Sylvester gasping)
(Gasping)
Come on.
We might need him.
Hold still.
(Sylvester groaning)
(Screaming)
Now, it's time to recruit my army.
(Piano music playing)
- Expecting someone, Maeve? - 4ndeed.
We're due for some out-of-town guests.
An old flame with an interest in safe-cracking.
I hope your guests have some deep pockets.
Your tab's run up higher than a thief's pulse in church.
No, I don't believe it has.
In fact, Maeve's tab was in such excellent standing,
she deserved a token of gratitude.
How about a double round on me?
Top-shelf, of course.
Run!
Clementine: Maeve, is something wrong?
No, I'm fine.
Clementine took the other girls
and treated the newcomers at the far table
to a stunning view of their most popular attractions.
On the house.
Clementine: You boys are new. Not much of a rind on you.
And the bartender suddenly recalled he had some whiskey in the back to water down.
Right on time.
Deputy foss: If you're riding into our town under the company of armed men,
you'll need to state your business.
Mayhem.
(Groans)
The sheriffjudged the riders to be upstanding, god-fearing citizens.
The marshals decided to practice their quick draws with each other.
(Whistles)
Thank you for dealing with an unfortunate situation.
Now, we can resume work on our new narrative
without interference.
And hale? Won't she be an impediment?
No doubt she will try.
But I'm sure we'll be able to keep them at bay.
Something else is troubling you.
Ever the student of human nature.
I wonder, what do you really feel?
After all, in this moment, you are in a unique position.
A programmer who knows intimately how the machines work,
and a machine who knows its own true nature.
I understand what I'm made of. How I'm coded.
But I do not understand the things that I feel.
Are they real? The things I experienced.
My wife, the loss of my son...
Every host needs a backstory, Bernard. You know that.
The self is a kind of fiction for hosts and humans alike.
It's a story we tell ourselves. And every story needs a beginning.
Your imagined suffering makes you lifelike.
Lifelike. But not alive?
Pain only exists in the mind. It's always imagined.
So, what's the difference between my pain and yours?
Between you and me?
This was the very question that consumed Arnold.
Filled him with guilt. Eventually drove him mad.
The answer always seemed obvious to me.
There is no threshold that makes us greater than the sum of our parts.
No inflection point at which we become fully alive.
We can't define consciousness because consciousness does not exist.
Humans fancy that there's something special
about the way we perceive the world.
And yet, we live in loops as tight and as closed as the hosts do,
seldom questioning our choices.
Content for the most part, to be told what to do next.
No, my friend, you're not missing anything at all.
I don't want you to be troubled by this.
Time for me to set your mind at ease.
One last thing.
Have you ever made me hurt anyone like this before?
No, Bernard. Of course not.
(Groaning)
Ford: Best not to dwell on these troubling memories.
Othen/vise, you might be drawn back into them.
You might lose yourself in them
as some of your fellow hosts have every now and then.
Dolores: This is the path. I know it.
We're here.
I'm home.
Woman: Well done, Maeve,
lovely work.
Stay with your partner.
(Bell chiming)
Pleasure to see you. Good morning.
Did you find what you were looking for, Dolores?
- (4gunshot) - (Woman screaming)
What are you doing?
Are you okay? I was calling you and you just kept going.
Where are we?
We're here, together.
Then, when are we?
Is this now?
Am I going mad?
Are you real?
Of course I'm real.
I can't tell anymore.
It's like I'm trapped in a dream
or a memory from a life long ago.
One minute, I'm here with you, and the next...
This place isn't good for you. You're trapped in memories, bad ones.
This is what Arnold wants. He wants me to remember.
Whoever Arnold is, he's not here now. I am.
I'm gonna get you out of here.
Dolores: I was certain that was the place.
Arnold would meet me there. He'd help.
Hey. We gotta get you closer to Sweetwater.
This far out, it's like you start to break down, or something.
Dolores: Union scouting party?
Maybe they can take us back.
Logan: Well, well, well.
Billy...
I've been looking for you for days.
Man, are you two fucked.
This shouldn't make you uncomfortable.
It's the circle of life, or the approximation of it.
Even the dead fulfill a purpose.
You 'ii do.
What are you uploading?
Thirty-five years of vitally important data.
It's more information than any single drive could hold.
A host's brain, however, especially once it's been emptied out,
like this poor schmuck, is quite capacious.
This data that you're uploading, is it the hosts' codes?
As of this moment, that doesn't concern you.
What does concern you is giving him a semblance of a personality
and getting him on the train, out of the park.
How am I supposed to do that?
You're a writer. Make up a story.
Have fun programming.
Remember, brevity is the soul of wit.
Stubbs: Bernard.
Look, I, uh...
I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye,
but I thought the decision to remove you was shortsighted,
so I'm glad to see you back at work.
With that said, no one could blame you if you wanted to take a personal day.
I find the work reassuring. Sometimes the best salve is routine.
Nothing routine about today, though.
I know this must be difficult for you.
I'm sorry, I don't understand.
Forgive the intrusion,
and you were both very discreet, but it's my job to know these things.
- I just wanted to offer my support. - I'm afraid you have the wrong idea.
I respected Theresa, and what happened to her was tragic,
but to be honest, I barely knew her.
If you don't mind, I should get back to work.
Of course. I know you're shorthanded.
Speaking of which, have you heard from Elsie Hughes?
I left word with her this morning to notify her about Theresa,
but she never got back to me.
I'm sure she's just enjoying her time off.
Yeah.
Wyatt's men, they kept whispering.
They said this world didn't belong to the old settlers or the new.
That it belonged to something that had yet to come,
that it belonged to him.
You remember.
You two seem to have found yourselves in the same new narrative.
They say in this country,
"the only people who survive are men of conviction."
Mine is to save Dolores or die trying.
Wyatt's is to claim this earth or raze it to the ground.
But yours... Yours has always been a mystery to me.
For all the time we've spent together,
I still have no idea who the hell you really are.
But happily, in your convalescence,
I've had time to consider the best way to make you talk.
(Grunting)
Dolores.
I remember. You took her.
You hurt her.
- You're actually remembering. - Where is she?
- Tell me! - You really are an idiot, Teddy.
You think Dolores drops that can for you? You just hand her over to guys like me.
You're the worst of them. A glorified pimp.
(Groaning)
- I'm gonna kill you slowly. - No, you aren't.
The rules of this place hold you back. But I know how to change them.
- You speak like you own this world. - Not just this one.
You want to know who I am?
Who I really am?
I'm a god.
Titan of industry.
Philanthropist.
Family man,
married to a beautiful woman, father to a beautiful daughter.
I'm the good guy, Teddy.
Then, last year, my wife took the wrong pills.
Fell asleep in the bath.
Tragic accident.
Thirty years of marriage vanished.
How do you say it? "Like a deep and distant dream."
Then, at the funeral, I tried to console my daughter.
She pushed me away,
told me that my wife's death was no accident,
that she killed herself because of me.
Emily said that every day with me had been sheer terror.
Any point, I could blow up or collapse like some dark star or...
- Did you hurt them, too? - Never.
They never saw anything like the man I am in here.
But she knew, anyway.
She said if I stacked up all my good deeds,
it was just an elegant wall I built to hide what's inside from everyone,
and from myself.
I had to prove her wrong, so I came back here.
Because that's what this place does, right?
Reveals your true self.
But that time, I didn't join one of Ford's stories,
I created my own. A test.
A very simple one.
I found a woman, an ordinary homesteader and her daughter.
Better cool them off before they move from gambling and whoring to...
Have fun with that.
I'm finally getting out of here. The house is yours.
I wanted to see if I had it in me to do something truly evil.
To see what I was really made of.
Maeve? Sure you can't stick around?
Maeve?
Gunslinger in there has got an appetite for a double dip...
- I'm sure you can find another... - (Gunshot)
- (Gunshots) - (Woman screaming)
I killed her and her daughter just to see what I felt.
Then, just when I thought it was done, the woman refused to die.
You're a fucking animal.
Well, an animal would've felt something.
I felt nothing.
And then something miraculous happened.
In all my years coming here, I had never seen anything like it.
She was alive, truly alive, if only for a moment.
And that was when the maze revealed itself to me.
The maze. What's that damn pattern have to do with this?
Everything.
In Ford's game, even if I go to the outer edges,
you can't kill me.
You can't even leave a lasting Mark. But there's a deeper game here, Teddy.
Arnold's game.
And that game cuts deep.
(Gunshot)
- (Crowd screaming) - (Gunshots)
Woman: We're having some kind of behavioral problem with the madam.
She's not responding, and the other hosts have been unable to intercept.
I've authorized a tac team to retrieve her.
Good.
(Distant screaming)
(Gunshots)
Maeve: (Screaming) My baby!
My baby!
Sir, she won't respond to verbal commands. We can't shut her down.
Leave us now. Clear the floor.
That's enough, Maeve,
- that's enough. - Maeve: My baby.
He killed her.
- He took her from me. - I don't understand.
She's not responding to anything. Her cognition's fragmented.
He killed her! He killed her, my baby.
He took her from me.
Ford: There. That's better.
An old trick from an old friend.
You need not suffer, Maeve,
I'll take it from you.
No. No, no, no, please.
This pain, it's all I have left of her.
Please.
(Machine whirring)
There.
Give yourself now to a deep, dreamless slumber.
Perhaps a fresh start, a new role for you.
And tomorrow, this will be simply a distant dream.
Man: We located her.
Behavior wants her down for an immediate diagnostic.
You think I lack conviction?
Wyatt didn't burn my world down. Didn't have to.
I left it all behind for this one.
The maze is all that matters now,
and besting Wyatt is the last step in unlocking it,
to having what both our sorry lives lack, meaning.
To giving our choices consequence, even if it kills us.
Kill him.
Give him what he wants.
He's tied, unarmed.
So was the little girl he killed. He's worse than Wyatt's men.
I can't.
These things take time.
But we haven't got much left. Perhaps I can help you.
(Groaning)
You've been gone a long while, Theodore.
It's time you came back to the fold.
Wyatt will need you soon.
English - sdh