Bernard: Good morning, Dolores.
Bring yourself back online.
Hello.
Has anyone else interacted with you in a diagnostic since our last conversation?
No. I've been cleaned and serviced three times. No diagnostics.
And you haven't told anyone of our conversations?
You told me not to.
Good.
I brought you a gift.
I used to read
this story to my son at night.
I thought you might enjoy it.
This passage.
Dolores: "Dear, dear!
"How queer everything is today!
"And yesterday things went on just as usual.
"I wonder if I've been changed in the night?"
Does that passage make you think of anything?
It's like the other books we've read.
How so?
It's about change.
It seems to be a common theme.
I guess people like to read about the things that they want the most
and experience the least.
Your son.
Where is he now?
Nowhere that you would understand, Dolores.
Perhaps that's why I enjoy our conversations so much.
Analysis.
Why did you ask me about my son?
We have been talking for some duration
and I haven't asked you a personal question.
Personal questions are an ingratiating scheme.
I see.
Continue, Dolores.
"Was I the same when I got up this morning?
"I almost think I can remember feeling a little different.
"But if I'm not the same,
"the next question is...
"Who in the world am I?"
Voice: Do you remember?
Why don't we reacquaint ourselves, Dolores?
Start at the beginning.
Man: Ready?
Thank you so much.
Morning, cowboy.
Man: Move it! Let's go! Get out there.
Stand right there.
Shit.
You really ought to talk to someone about your poster, Horace.
That likeness is a crime in itself.
I'm gonna tend to my nag.
You deal with him.
Ready my pay.
Don't no man shoot or I'll send her to unction.
Any of you don't believe it are welcome to read my biography there.
Let's go.
Oh, I bet you'rejuicy as a freshwater clam.
Are you okay?
Holden: Nice shot, amigo.
You got grit.
Hey, I'm riding out tonight.
Looking for desperados.
Could cut you in, if you're amenable.
Someone get the minister down here for what's left of the deputy.
Sure I can't tempt you inside?
Just to express my gratitude?
Holy shit.
You popped your cherry.
I thought you said we couldn't get shot.
We can't get killed.
Wouldn't be much of a game if they can't shoot back.
How do you feel? Alive?
Little tight in the pants?
She was terrified.
That's why they exist, man. So you get to feel this.
Come on, let's go put some memories in that spank bank.
Trust me, you will thank me
after you've been married to my sister for a year.
Actually, I have something different in mind.
What?
That?
You've been preaching nonstop about all the narratives in the park.
But all you've done since we've arrived is fuck and drink, so...
I'm waiting for the good stuff.
This bounty is jv shit.
Then stay here.
I want a little adventure.
I've been looking for you.
I got a late start this morning.
Didn't get much sleep last night.
Forgive me if I'm not sympathetic
to the fluctuations of your sleep cycle, Mr. Lowe.
Ford taking over the narrative launch at the eleventh hour has made the board
uneasy.
Just the board, uh?
I specifically asked you about whether Ford was going to be a problem,
and you assured me he wasn't.
Well, I can't tell you what I don't know.
Well, here's what I know.
As of this morning, Ford's carved out a huge swath of the park
for whatever storyline he's cooking up
and thrown half of the existing storylines into disarray.
- Is there anything I can do? - You tell me.
I asked you point-blank if the problem with the update was resolved.
It is.
Then why are your people still pulling hosts for follow-up?
Get your house in order, Bernard.
And if there is a problem, I strongly suggest you tell me.
Drop a new bookmark and resume history.
Walter's intent on relieving the milkmaid of her unmentionables.
Switch to analysis.
You didn't report the incident?
The unit self-corrected within the acceptable window.
Right. Then he self-corrected a fucking milk bottle into your skull.
It's amazing how resilient the hosts are.
You were supposed to have purged his memory on the last cycle.
I will. But rebus here was the last host to interact with Walter.
- Look at this. - Walter: Any for you?
Who said that?
Who's saying that?
Don't you talk to me that way.
I can't hear you.
Do you see that?
He's talking to someone.
He carries on practically an entire conversation.
Walter: I need more milk, Arnold.
Elsie: Who's Arnold?
They're designed to play off aberrant behavior.
- That could explain the "conversations." - Fine.
Then explain this.
He kills six hosts.
He lets the other three go.
I pulled the narrative logs.
All six of these hosts were part of storylines, over the years,
in which they killed Walter.
It's like he was holding a grudge.
It's a stray. Qa needs a tag team to go track it.
Go. Handle the stray.
Do something that's actually in your job description.
The last thing we need is Theresa storming down here seeing this.
I'll do a little more digging and get our friend here back upstairs.
Lost another one, huh?
Tell me, is qa's surveillance coverage really this spotty,
or do you just like the nature walks?
Maybe it's the company.
You know, if you wanted to play cowboy,
you could have just used your employee discount.
The only thing stopping the hosts from hacking us to pieces
is one line of your code.
No offense, but I sleep with this.
I bet you do.
Morning, Samuel.
You and your dickless associate proposing to engage me in a gun battle?
Well, I'd challenge you to a fistfight, but the way I heard it,
you only like to tussle with working women.
Marti: Is he dead?
Dead enough.
Why are we gonna handcuff a dead man?
Don't want someone walking off with him.
It's not a man anymore. That's merchandise, $500 worth.
All right. Which of you derelicts hitched a dead body outside my saloon?
My apologies, ma'am.
I figured it was preferable to bringing him inside.
Here. For your troubles.
Clementine: Ah. You're new.
Not much of a rind on you.
I'll give you a discount.
You mind waiting on that drink a bit?
Don't mind me.
Just trying to look chivalrous.
You came back.
I told you I would.
You gonna tell me where you been?
Just_
Away.
You know if I could stay right here with you, I would.
What if I don't want to stay here?
It's just sometimes I feel like the world out there is calling me.
Whispering, "there's something more."
You've traveled all over these parts. Isn't there anywhere we could go?
There is a place I heard about down south.
Where the mountains meet the sea.
They say the water's so pure there, it'll wash the past clean off you.
And you can start again.
I'd like to go there with you.
Well, someday I'll take you.
"Someday."
Is something wrong?
You said "someday."
Not today, or tomorrow, or next week.
Just "someday."
"Someday" sounds a lot like the thing people say
when they actually mean "never."
Let's not go "someday," Teddy.
Let's go now.
Before I met you, Dolores, I was a different man.
And I got some reckoning to do before I can deserve a woman like you.
But I'm close. I'm close to making things right.
And someday soon,
we will have the life we've both been dreaming of.
And I'd best get you home before your dad starts loading that shotgun.
Father wouldn't let them roam this close to dark.
Stay put, Dolores.
Ford: "A coward dies a thousand deaths,
"the Valiant taste of death but once."
Of course, Shakespeare never met a man quite like you, Teddy.
You've died at least 1,000 times.
And yet, it hasn't dulled your courage.
Tell me, is that all you aspire to, Teddy?
There's a girl.
Dolores.
Better than I deserve.
But maybe, someday soon,
we'll have the life we've both been dreaming of.
You never will.
Your job is not to protect Dolores, it's to keep her here.
To ensure that the guests find her
if they want to best the stalwart gunslinger
and have their way with his girl.
Tell me, has it never occurred to you to run off with her?
I got some reckoning to do before I can be with her.
Ah, yes, your mysterious backstory.
It's the reason for my visit.
Do you know why it is a mystery, Teddy?
Because we never actually bothered to give you one,
just a formless guilt you will never atone for.
But perhaps it is time you had a worthy story of origin.
Would you like that, Teddy?
A small part of my new narrative?
A fiction, which like all great stories,
is rooted in truth?
It starts in a time of war.
A world in flames.
With a villain called Wyatt.
"Wyatt"?
Who's Wyatt?
Do you remember now, Teddy?
Yeah, of course I remember Wyatt.
You look upon the face of true evil, you ain't liable to forget.
He claimed he could hear the voice of god.
It started down near escalante.
Army was sent to put down the natives.
Bad business.
Wyatt was a sergeant, went missing while out on some maneuvers.
Came back a few weeks later
with some pretty strange ideas.
Rebus: I wasn't lying, was I?
Pretty as a picture and tight as a tympani drum, I reckon.
Afternoon.
My friend here is new to town.
Figured the rancher's daughter would be a nice way to kick things off.
Maybe take us all for a little hayride.
I'm sorry.
I have to get home. My father will be expecting me.
We won't be long.
Teddy: The lady doesn't appear interested.
Try it.
You might get the draw on me, you might not,
but I'd say your odds ain't looking good.
Told you I wanted something easy.
Rebus: She ain't worth the lead.
Let's head to Virgil's.
See if they'll stake us.
First, you gotta learn how to stand.
Now, take a breath.
Hold it.
Now squeeze.
I can't.
Some hands weren't meant to pull a trigger.
Perhaps it's for the best.
Teddy, we got another bounty.
I think this is a big one.
Man in question gunned down an entire settlement out near flat rock.
Men, women and children.
I think this may be the man you've been looking for, for quite some time.
A man named Wyatt.
Wyatt.
Who is he, Teddy?
Pickett: You'd be better asking "what" than "who," ma'am.
Wyatt's a pestilence.
Word is, flood here's the only man ever
come up against him and lived to tell the tale.
Give me a moment, sheriff.
You have to leave again, don't you?
You know if I could stay right here with you, I would.
Promise me you'll come back.
I promise.
I'm gonna come back for you,
someday soon.
I got a pit in my stomach the size of a sow's tit.
Cook up that rabbit.
Get the wood.
I can't cook shit without a fire.
Don't sell yourself short, cookie. You can cook shit in all conditions.
Now, see, I pitched them tents.
I ain't chopping any more wood.
You spend more time on your back than a hooker in heat.
Now pick up that fucking ax and go chop us...
So, after our stray ran away from camp,
looks like these guys got caught in a loop.
They were due in town for the cattle drive over two days ago.
Host who went missing is the woodcutter.
Looks like the rest of them got stuck here, waiting for supper.
You guys can't program more than one of these idiots to make a fire?
We could, but thanks to a new policy from your boss,
only one of them is authorized to handle the ax.
The rest of them can't even touch it.
Weapons privileges need to be doled out selectively.
Hmm.
Yet they give you a gun.
Stubbs: Looks like our stray has a hobby.
Another one of your fucking backstories?
Backstories do more than amuse guests.
They anchor the hosts. It's their cornerstone.
The rest of their identity is built around it, layer by layer.
Well,
if you're gonna go to all that trouble,
you could've at least given him a steadier hand.
This looks like shit.
Pickett: Way I heard it, Wyatt is a mercenary.
Forces his men to wear the bones and flesh of their enemies.
They're masks.
There's men underneath them to be afraid of.
Wyatt's got them so twisted around, they'll do anything for him.
Kill anyone.
Pain don't slow them.
They don't fear death.
They reckon they've already died and gone to hell.
And this is it.
Sounds like you learned something about him while you were tracking him down.
I wasn't tracking him down.
I wasn't always a bounty hunter.
I did a stint in the army down near escalante.
Wyatt was my sergeant.
My friend.
Well, then everything...
Everything changed.
Changed how?
Wyatt disappeared while out on maneuvers.
He came back with some strange ideas.
He claimed this land didn't belong to the old natives or the new settlers,
that it belonged to something that had yet to come.
That it belonged to him.
Holy shit.
If ever the devil walked the earth...
He's not a man, but he's not the devil either.
The devil can't be killed.
And that's exactly what I aim to do to Wyatt.
Take cover! Go!
I didn't sign up for this crazy shit.
I told you we should've done the riverboat thing, man.
There's too many of them for us.
Wyatt's been recruiting.
Sheriff, the only chance you have is if I draw their fire,
lead them up into the hills, so you can make it back to town.
- Try and find help. - Uh-uh. I'm staying.
Took an oath.
- Hell, no. - I'll take them back.
- You coming? - I'm not backing out now.
All right, you wait till I lead them to the tree line,
then you make a run for it.
Stubbs: I plotted a line from the work camp to our present location.
Satcom picked up these images.
He's vectoring, just not to home base.
Keep going in that direction.
Keep staring.
Maybe it'll tell you your horoscope.
Come again?
The markings on its shell.
Look like stars.
Orion, right?
What are you, gali-fucking-Leo?
Maybe it's in my backstory.
I was hoping to run something by you.
Apologies.
I was chasing inspiration.
It's a tricky thing, weaving the old into the new.
- Give me one moment, Bernard. - Good afternoon, sir.
Why is this host covered?
I just...
Perhaps you didn't want him to feel cold.
Or ashamed.
You wanted to cover his modesty. Was that it?
It doesn't get cold, doesn't feel ashamed.
Doesn't feel a solitary thing
that we haven't told it to.
You understand?
What can I do for you, Bernard?
I thought it best that we speak in private, sir.
Yeah.
I thought we had agreed to put these questions to rest, Bernard.
We did.
But what if we misdiagnosed the original problem?
Treated the symptom rather than the disease?
Then the disease is still out there.
Abernathy and Walter were exhibiting other aberrancies
beyond memory recall of previous builds.
They were hearing voices.
Uh, talking to someone.
A simple cognitive dissonance.
That's all.
I'd agree, except
They were talking to the same imaginary person.
Someone named Arnold.
"Arnold."
With due respect, sir,
I'm not sure you've told me the entire truth about this situation.
I did tell you the truth, Bernard.
What we do here is complicated.
For three years, we lived here in the park,
refining the hosts before a single guest set foot inside.
Myself, a team of engineers, and my partner.
- You had a partner? - Yeah.
When the legend becomes fact, you print the legend.
My business partners were more than happy to
scrub him from the records,
and I suppose I didn't discourage them.
His name was Arnold.
Those early years were glorious.
No guests, no board meetings, just pure creation.
Our hosts began to pass the turing test after the first year.
But that wasn't enough for Arnold.
He wasn't interested in the appearance of intellect or wit.
He wanted the real thing.
He wanted to create consciousness.
He imagined it as a pyramid.
Memory, improvisation, self-interest.
And at the top?
Never got there.
But he had a notion of what it might be.
He based it on a theory of consciousness called "the bicameral mind."
The idea that primitive man believed his thoughts to be the voice of the gods.
I thought it was debunked.
As the theory for understanding the human mind, perhaps,
but not as a blueprint for building an artificial one.
You see, Arnold built a version of their cognition in which the hosts
heard their programming as an inner monologue,
with the hopes that in time, their own voice would take over.
It was a way to bootstrap consciousness.
But Arnold hadn't considered two things.
One, that in this place, the last thing you want the hosts to be is conscious,
and two,
the other group who considered their thoughts to be the voices of the gods.
Ah, lunatics.
Indeed.
We abandoned the approach.
The only vestiges that remain
are the voice commands we use to control them.
But for all his brilliance,
I don't think Arnold understood what this place was going to be.
You see, the guests enjoy power.
They cannot indulge it in the outside world, so they come here.
And as for the hosts, the least we can do is make them forget.
But some of them are remembering.
Accessing fragments ofarnold's code.
If I may ask, what happened to him?
Well, he died.
Here in the park.
His personal life was marked by tragedy.
He put all his hopes into his work.
His search for consciousness consumed him totally.
Barely spoke to anyone,
except to the hosts.
In his alienation, he saw something in them.
He saw something that wasn't there.
We called it an accident, but, um...
I knew Arnold, and he was very, very careful.
Anyway, the update should prevent any further voices,
but you will let me know if any of the hosts
display or exhibit any unusual behavior, won't you, Bernard?
- Yes, of course. - Good.
And, Bernard,
just don't forget.
The hosts are not real.
They're not conscious.
You mustn't make Arnold's mistake.
Why would I?
Well, forgive me, but I know that the death of your son, Charlie,
still weighs heavily on you.
Bernard: Yeah, sorry it took me a while to get back to you.
You know how hard it is getting an open line out here.
Lauren: It used to annoy me, how difficult it was to reach you.
You were always so busy.
And now?
I suppose I'm glad for you.
At least you have a way of forgetting.
I don't forget.
It's always there.
Sometimes, it still feels unreal to me.
There are some mornings
when I first wake up...
And for a split second, I forget where I am,
orwhen I am...
And I reach over, half expecting to
find him there next to me.
Between us.
Remember how he used to sleep?
Like he was doing kung fu in his dreams?
I think I suffered a few bruises.
It was the best worst sleep I ever had.
These talks.
I don't know if they help or hurt.
Do you ever wish you could forget?
This pain,
it's all I have left of him.
It doesn't make sense.
Why the hell would he carve Orion?
You're the ones that programmed him.
He wasn't programmed to give a shit about stars.
Maybe he went "moon-mad."
Elsie: See? This is why I hide behind sarcasm.
Stubbs: Where are you going?
Elsie: Vectoring, asshole.
Stubbsl
over here!
Teddy: Wyatt's men could be anywhere.
If you see or hear anything, don't hesitate.
Shoot and don't stop shooting.
Okay.
Oh, my fucking god!
- Here. - Shit.
Take this and go.
Now! Go! I'll hold them off as long as I can.
Come on. Come on, damn it.
I'm not afraid of you.
Look, this is bullshit.
I can have a retrieval team out here in the morning.
It's policy. We just need the control unit.
What if he's like the others? Get back to me, Bernard.
Bring yourself back online.
I need your help, Dolores.
I need to decide what to do with you.
I think I made a mistake.
I was just fascinated.
I was being selfish,
but I think it would be better if I restored you to the way you were before.
- Is there something wrong with me? - No.
But this place you live in,
it's a terrible place for you.
Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world.
Stop.
Lose all scripted responses. Improvisation only.
All right.
You're saying I've changed?
Imagine there are two versions of yourself.
One that feels these things and asks these questions,
and one that's safe.
Which would you rather be?
I'm sorry.
I'm trying, but I still don't understand.
No, of course not.
There aren't two versions of me.
There's only one.
And I think when I discover who I am,
I'll be free.
Analysis. What prompted that response?
I don't know.
Have I done something wrong?
Made a mistake?
Evolution
forged the entirety of sentient life on this planet
using only one tool.
Mistake.
It appears you're in good company.
Did I ever tell you about the time I taught Charlie to swim?
For hours, he clung to my arms while practicing his kicks.
He was too scared to let go and I was too scared to let him.
But I had to.
That's what parents do.
Do you still want to change me back?
No, Dolores.
Let's see where this path leads.
And you won't tell anyone about our conversations?
And you'll stay on your loop?
Yes.
Good.
You should be getting back, Dolores, before someone misses you.
Wyatt's men set a trap for us.
The sheriff stayed behind to fight them off.
Are you going to ride back up into the hills to look for them?
I'll send for the rangers.
We'll go back up there in force as soon as they get here.
But, miss, in truth,
if there is a merciful god, those men are dead already.
Father wouldn't let them roam this close...
To dark.
Daddy! Daddy!
No, no!
All alone after sundown.
Who's gonna protect you now?
You got any use for this one?
No, thanks. Seems a little crazy.
Maybe you'd like her.
I don't mind if I do.
No daddy, no cowboy.
No one here to interrupt us this time.
"Interrupt this time"?
Well, well.
Got some sand after all, I see.
Looks like your boyfriend taught you a thing or two.
You having trouble?
Why don't we reacquaint ourselves, Dolores?
Start at the beginning.
Voice: Kill him.
Mama?
G u est: Hey! Get back here.
Get back here.
Can you put him in sleep mode for me, please?
Security even approve you to carry that thing?
We just need his head and we're done here.
You might want to look at the stars for this part.
Stubbsl
shit.
Elsie, get out of there!
Get the fuck away.
Shit.
Jesus, I can't believe I let you talk me into this shit.
40k a day to jerk off alone in the woods, playing white hat.
Did you hear that?
Thank fuck. Anything to relieve the boredom.
Hey, maybe you'll even get to use that thing again.
English - sdh