All language subtitles for Black.Mirror.S07E05.720p.HEVC.x265-MeGusta[EZTVx.to].mkv

Hello. Am I speaking
to Mr. Philip connarthy?

It's pronounced "connarty."

Apologies. I'm calling on
behalf of a miss Kelly Royce.

I don't know a Kelly Royce.

Absolutely, but this regards
miss Royce's mother, Carol Royce.

I don't know a Carol Royce either.

Her maiden name was
hartman. Carol hartman.

Yeah, I know the name.

I knew her. Sorry, why are you calling?

I'm afraid she passed
away last Wednesday.

Her daughter wanted you to know.

Hello?

- Tell her I'm sorry for her loss.
- Of course.

Thank you for letting me know.

There will, of course, be a
funeral. In London. In england.

In england.

No, I can't.

No, that's understood.

I'm not calling about attendance.
I'm from a company called eulogy.

Eulogy, okay.

We're helping the family
curate an immersive memorial.

Immersive memorial.

We've been contacting names
in her mother's old papers,

which is where you were listed.

Locating people who knew Carol
in her youth has been challenging.

If you could contribute a memory, it
would mean a great deal to the family.

- It was all so long ago, and I can't...
- well, you won't have to write anything.

The system curates your recollections
and uploads them for the memorial.

- Would you like to take part?
- I'm not sure.

It's entirely voluntary.

If it's easier, we can just send
you the kit, and you can decide then.

The kit?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

You don't have to speak directly into
me. Sorry. I know, weird thing to say.

Sorry.

I've got a bit of an opening
spiel I need to do here.

- Go for it.
- Okay.

Today, we celebrate
the life of Carol Royce.

As guide, my role is to
help you reminisce, relive,

and to curate your
fondest memories of her.

Yeah, can we maybe skip the intro?
Just tell me what you need me to do.

Okay.

So first, let's, let's calibrate.

Simply place the guide disc,
that's me, on your temple.

This, like, on the side of my, like

that's it.

Now all you have to do is think of Carol.

Well, I haven't done that for a long time.

Understood.

But try to recall her now.

Close your eyes and picture her face.

Okay, not really getting anything.

Well... sorry, but...
Just, just try to focus.

I am, but it's hard to...

To see her clearly?

Yes.

At first, getting hold of a memory

feels like trying to grab
a river with your hands.

- Boy.
- Yeah, sorry, not my words.

That's what the, brochure says.

What helps are tangible prompts.

Photos, songs, mementos.
That kind of thing.

Can't you supply photos?

I'm not allowed to
provide external material.

- It would get mixed up with your memories.
- Right.

They do it this way to keep
the recollections accurate.

Right, right, right.

But if you Grant access
to your photo cloud,

I can search for images of Carol.

Smartphones and clouds
didn't exist back when I knew her.

Okay, but do you have
any physical photos?

- Are you there?
- Yeah, did you find some?

- A few.
- A few?

Okay, three.

- I can process up to 1,500 photos.
- And I got you three.

They recommend a minimum
of six different images.

- Can we just get going?
- Absolutely.

- So?
- So pop me back on.

Lay out the first image you'd
like to import and then look at it.

- Literally just look at it?
- That's right.

Okay. The first one is, this.

Okay. What are we looking at here?

That's the day I met Carol.
This would've been in Brooklyn.

Rooftop barbecue at the Coop.

- The Coop?
- Yeah. It used to be a squat.

The idea was it was a co-op, so everyone
just called it Coop, hence the Coop.

I mean, we were just kids, really,

but we called ourselves
artists, musicians... misfits.

Well, believe it or not, that, yeah,
that young man is me, and that is Carol.

What, the... the woman
with her back to us?

Yeah.

We're looking for a
clear recollection of her.

This is what I have.

We can enhance the
moment by entering the image.

Shall we go in?

- What do you mean "go in"?
- It's easiest to just show you.

Jesus Christ.

Hi. Sorry.

It's me.

- Your guide.
- Holy crap.

I didn't... didn't mean to make you jump.

No, it... it's not...
it's just that this is...

Yeah. Take a moment
to get your bearings.

This is the photograph
fused with your memories.

Some parts are missing,

but details appear as and
when your memories fill out.

So when this was taken, this was
before you and Carol got together?

Well, I never said we got together.

Come on. Look at the
way you're looking at her.

And I'm guessing she was
looking back at you the same way.

I'd made her laugh.

She was new in the house.

I didn't know her, but I wanted to,

and I'd made her laugh,

and she looked...

- Christ.
- It's okay.

No, there's no... I can't see her face.

It'll come to you.

Try to focus on what you
can recall of this moment.

Okay.

She had just moved in.

She kept to herself. She
had been studying the cello.

She was usually in her room, practicing.

I think she still had a boyfriend
back home at this point.

Fiancé.

Sorry?

There's an engagement
ring on her finger. See?

The eye can't make that
level of detail out in your photo,

but there's enough for the algorithmic
sharpening to make visible to us in here.

I never knew she was engaged.

Maybe you chose not to
see or not to remember.

No, she never said it was that serious.

Perhaps she underplayed it.

Didn't wanna scare you off.

Shall we Mark this moment for
potential upload for the memorial?

I don't think her family would
appreciate seeing a fond memory

of her flirting with me while
engaged to someone else.

You're right.

Though it would be an honest
representation of her character.

Shall we move on?

Jesus Christ.

Yeah. Don't worry.

These transitions should get
less disorientating as you go.

Shall we try your next photo?

Okay.

Looks like another party.

Yeah, I can't remember what for.
Any excuse would do, you know?

That was the Coop.

Okay. A lot of faces. Why don't
you talk me through who's who?

Okay.

That's Emma with the blonde hair.

And the guy with the bong, that's jamo.

And the girl lying back there is Amanda.

You'd have liked her.
She was British, like you.

But there's no Carol.

Or you.

No, we're not in the photo, but
we were definitely both at this party.

Looks like there was a
record playing. "Fools gold" by

the stone roses.

It's one of Amanda's.

Music's great for jogging the memory.

There.

Right.

Yeah.

We were through there,

down the hall.

That was the first time me
and Carol really got talking.

I was so nervous.

My brain was screaming behind
my ears, "don't fuck this up, man."

But I didn't fuck it up.

Talking with her was easy.

She was funny.

Can you remember
what you talked about?

No, but

she was like no one I'd ever known.

Or even thought of knowing.

That was our first night together.

I can't use this either, can I?

"I screwed the deceased.
May she rest in peace."

Probably not.

Let's try your last photo.

Me again.

What the hell was I wearing?

Don't have a clue who took this.
I didn't notice anyone taking it.

But still no sign of Carol.

No. But I was listening

to her.

She was in her room.

On her cello, practicing.

Lost in it.

She didn't know I was watching.

- She's in there, but I can't see her.
- Can you remember what she was playing?

This thing she used to play over and
over. It was a beautiful piece of music.

If you can remember the name
of the piece, I can look it up.

Listening might fill out the memory.

No, it won't be on a service.

She wrote it herself.

It was a piece she composed?

Yeah. She was good.

She was good.

It's a shame you don't have more
photos, but since that's all you have,

perhaps we should try
some other form of stimuli

it's not.

Sorry?

I've got other pictures.

Of her.

Great! Then let's look at those.

They won't help.

See what I mean?

Yeah.

A year or so after we broke up,

if it had her face in it, I
either threw it out or I did that.

You were upset with her.

That's one way of putting it, yeah.

You won't ever know
how hard I fell for that girl.

Like, beyond everything.

And she said... She always
said she felt the same,

and I believed she felt the same,

and then she drops me.

Into a pit. Just a fucking pit.

Just cold, bang.

Just, "see ya."

Not a word. Just walks away.

And she went on with her
life while mine just stopped.

So that was me.

Lost. No hope. Nothing.

So then came the drinking, all
that shit, the desperation of it.

The fucking shame.

Me and Carol were together three years.

It took me 15 to climb out
of the hole she put me in.

- So, yes. I was upset.
- And you never stayed in touch?

No.

No, we did not.

Reexamining the past
isn't always comfortable, but

okay, sorry.

But, yeah,

there were good times...
When we were together.

I know that. But...

That's all gone.

I can't even picture her face anymore.

Do you want to stop?

No.

Well, do you have
any particular memories

associated with what's
left of these photos?

I don't...

Used to, maybe? I don't know.

It's just the more you can recall,

the more likely it is we can
restore your memory of her face.

All right, then. Let's...
let's try this one.

Which one's you?

Sorry, I'm joking.

You're hilarious.

What do you remember
about the day this was taken?

It was wet.

Well, that's a start.

Let's see what else you can recall.

So where exactly are we?

The pier at Cape Cod.

Well, that's where you live now.

Yeah, well, I inherited my folks'
house, but they were out of town,

so we took the opportunity
to take a cheap little vacation.

My first getaway with a girlfriend.

Who took the photo?

Just a tourist.

Some passerby we handed
the camera to and asked.

I liked this photo more than Carol did.

- She wasn't into hot dogs?
- No, it was the beer.

"You could've put that
bottle down for the picture."

Well, yeah. She had a point.

Yeah.

You know, it was on this trip
that we knew we were serious.

Lying in bed, fascinated
by each other's eyes.

"I love you" back and forth, all that.

Nothing else existed. Just us.

That's all we needed.

We made plans.

Man, we were so young.

So what were the plans?

Well, we decided to get
our own place together.

Black and white? That's a bit arty.

This was it. Tiny place over a piano store.

I took the picture, so I
would have been about there.

Can you remember what
color she's painting with here?

The walls were nicotine-yellow
when we moved in.

First place of our own for both of us.

We wanted to make our Mark, so
we painted the whole place... blue.

Yeah, that's it. Blue.

Yes!

My god, the landlord lost his shit.
We weren't supposed to redecorate.

It was a stupid idea, really.

It made it look even
smaller than it already was.

The two of you were happy here?

Just me and her.

And the cello.

Yeah, we both kept up the music.
She'd joined the band by now.

- You were in a band together?
- Yeah. I'll show you.

Here, it's one of our gigs.

It's about... '91, I think.

I stabbed it with a pen.

Will it still work?

Should do.

There we are.

So Carol played keyboards?

Yeah, that was my idea.

Not cello?

Cello wouldn't have fitted our sound.

You could adapt the sound.

She could play anything.

It might not have been the
cello, but she was fine with it.

She told you that?

Sorry, it's not a trial.

No, it's not.

We were getting quite a following.

I'm not saying we were a big
deal, but maybe we could've been.

Have you got a recording? It might
bring back more of the moment.

Not anymore, no.

Zeke quit the band, moved to
Seattle, decided he was god,

and that was it for us.

So, no, no recording.

It's just as well.

Hearing his voice gives
me hives, to be honest.

He went on to become
a big deal, didn't he?

Yeah, well, assholes prosper.

Maybe we could've kept
going without him, but.

Carol's heart wasn't in it.

- Maybe you should have let her play cello.
- Maybe you could say "cello" again.

- Well, the cello was important to her.
- I know.

She played it her whole life.
Taught her daughter to play it.

Are you supposed to be mildly
annoying? Is that how they coded you?

I wasn't really coded.

- More generated.
- Okay.

Generated from some digital asshole.

Sorry.

Apology accepted.

Let's try another picture.

Okay, so these are definitely all '91.

- Halloween at the under vault.
- This is good.

With multiple photos, we'll get
a composite of the entire night.

Yeah, jamo took a whole bunch.

Wild night. A lot of
drinking. And I mean a lot.

Jesus, that's Carol in red there. I
was so mad, I used a cigarette on this.

- You burned your own face out too?
- That's not me.

That's me in the hockey mask.

I had the bar job by now.

So who's beetlejuice?

Just some dick bag trying
his luck with my girlfriend.

Even though you're standing right there
dressed like Jason from Friday the 13th?

Exactly. I was that close, and
she still just sat with this guy.

Right in front of me.

Looks like you had company too.

Who's she?

That's Emma.

She was in the Coop photos earlier.

Yeah, she worked there too.

The two of you get on?

We worked together.

Jesus. Not you too.

Carol thought I encouraged
her, which I didn't.

It was a bar job, for Christ's
sake. You joke around. You know?

So she was jealous?

We fought about it that night.

I was pissed she'd been
sitting all night with Mr. Asshole.

Looks like she wants
to get away from him.

What?

She's leaning back,
like his breath smells.

Okay, that's one snapshot.

Believe me, she could've moved anytime.

- She was there the whole night with him.
- The whole night?

Absolutely.

I think so.

See that area?

Jamo must've photographed it
at some other point that night.

Isn't that Carol with
her back to us in red?

Okay, not the whole night, literally.

It was just a stupid fight.

She went on and on,

and then she blamed me
that she didn't get an early night

'cause she had some audition
tryout thing the next day.

Brooklyn philharmonic.

For the cello.

And she didn't get it.

She must've been sad about that.

Not for long.

It opened the door to other things for her.

When the orchestra gig didn't
work out, she was bummed.

She didn't have any work.

But then Amanda, the
British girl from the Coop,

she'd moved back home,

pulled a couple of strings.

Got Carol a six-month placement

in the orchestra pit for phantom
of the opera, of all things.

London's west end.

Total tourist bullshit, but

she was excited.

Yes, she was.

You didn't want her to go?

She kept saying, "it's
just for a few months," but

it's easy to say that when you're
the one going on an adventure.

She sent me a postcard every week.

Upbeat, but saying she missed me.

Little poems and such.

Maybe we could scan in one of the

I was thorough.

So you didn't see her for a while?

No, but we arranged for
me to fly out there in the fall,

see her for a long weekend, but

it felt so far away, you know?

A long time on my own.

What's this?

My birthday.

So you weren't alone the
whole time she was gone.

What do you mean?

Well, someone took this photo.

So that's... Emma.

God, yeah.

Christ, yeah.

Don't look at me like that.

- Like what?
- Like you are.

I'm not looking at you like anything.

Okay, so it was my birthday.

I had a few drinks at work.

Not my idea. They were
practically forcing shots on me.

Sure.

And Emma came back to
the apartment, and, you know...

We weren't... It was a dumb thing, okay?

It was just a one-off thing.

I mean, we'd... we'd have just
regretted it, me and Emma, in secret.

It wouldn't have been
a big fucking deal if...

If what?

I mean, Carol never called.

Couldn't afford to.

Long distance back then was a fortune.

But this night,

she gets up early and called
to sing me "happy birthday,"

and Emma answers the call.

I don't know why.

- Making mischief?
- Yeah, I don't know, maybe.

Anyhow, shit hit the fan.

Me and Carol screaming
at each other down the line.

She yelled all kinds of shit.
I yelled all kinds of shit back.

Just ugly, scorched-earth stuff.

Ugly.

She hung up on me.

Or I hung up on her.

I don't know. I can't fucking remember.

But, yeah, anyway,

not good.

Do you want to Mark this memory
for potential upload? For the memorial?

I never said I was perfect.

You've said a lot about Carol's failings.

"She did this, she did that,
she's the root of all evil."

Okay, you don't understand.

What did she do that
was so awful, so heinous,

you become this wounded dog?

I haven't shown you yet.

You remember I told you we
arranged for me to fly out there?

I already had my ticket, so...

- So Carol knew you were coming.
- Right.

A few months or so after my birthday.

Now, she was staying in
this British family's spare room

in the sticks somewhere,

so I booked us a stupid
suite in a hotel I couldn't afford.

Big romantic.

Nice.

I went to the matinee.

Not my thing, and I couldn't
even see her, of course.

She was in the pit somewhere,
but... I met her at the stage door after.

I took her suitcase
back to the hotel, and...

We went out for dinner.

Anywhere nice?

To a fancy restaurant.

I'd read this article
about it on the flight.

When I landed, I called to
see if they had a table for two.

I think they bumped someone
when I told them what I was gonna do.

What do you mean?

We were over here.

So walk through what happened.

Well...

She looked kind of
the same but different.

She said she'd put on
weight, but I couldn't see that.

I thought she looked beautiful.

And I ordered a bottle of champagne.
First time I'd done that anywhere.

But she didn't touch it. She
didn't wanna drink anything.

And I was like, "come on." "I've
come all this way. Have one."

But no.

So I had to bite my tongue
because, you know, it was irritating.

I had the ring in my
pocket, so I was nervous.

I'm draining the glasses.

And, finally, I pluck up the nerve,

and I take out the ring,
and I almost dropped it.

I was so jittery.

And she looks at it, and...

She goes quiet.

She doesn't say anything.

She doesn't even look at me.

And now the waitresses
are shooting looks over

'cause they know I'm there to
propose, so I'm on display, you know?

My cheeks are burning. My
throat is dry, so I'm drinking more.

And then, in the end, I just... I
ask her, "just say something."

"Say anything."

And she's just staring at the floor,

so I bang the table with my fist,

and now everybody's watching,

and she just gets up...

And walks out.

There's just silence. There's
just the clanging in the kitchen.

And I'm there, and

everyone's quiet, the staff
can't make eye contact,

just this stink of humiliation on me.

So I sat there, and I finished that bottle.

They told me I didn't have to
pay for it, but I insisted I would.

- I didn't want their pity.
- No, because you could provide your own.

What?

You're talking a lot
about how sad you were.

I was destroyed.

And how was she?

I'm not saying that she was a
big, happy fucking sandwich,

but she walked out on me.

Not a word as to why.

Would you have listened if she told
you? A bottle of champagne down.

- Of course.
- So why do you think she left?

Maybe she was cheating.

Maybe she was sick of
me. Maybe she was cruel.

She... she knew that I was coming.
She could have ended it on the phone.

She made me fly all that way. She knew,

but not that you were coming to propose.

Like that's a big difference.

You said this was Autumn '92?

Fall, yes, like October.

She looked sort of
different. Wouldn't drink.

She was pregnant.

With me.

Kelly Royce.

Carol's daughter.

The one she taught to play cello.

Don't worry. You're not my dad.

He was a one-night stand.

Played xylophone in the
orchestra, believe it or not.

You're Carol's daughter?

Yes. Well, kind of.

I'm not real.

I'm a disposable avatar.

A temp guide. An echo, really.

I'm programmed with
her thoughts and opinions

so I can decide what she'd like to include

without her having to be
exposed to everything herself,

which, as you can imagine,

might be upsetting.

Why didn't you say?

You said, "skip the intro."

So you know everything
that the real daughter knows?

More or less.

So you already knew everything
I've been telling you here.

Well, some of it,

but, to be honest, she never really
spoke much about this time in her life.

- Right.
- I think looking back was painful for her.

It doesn't mean your time
together wasn't meaningful.

Probably the opposite.

This guy, your dad.

- What was he like? I just wanna know.
- Why?

- She cheated with him.
- You mean, followed your lead?

Could you just tell me?

I never knew much about
him. He was called Brian.

- Brian?
- Yeah.

And they were never together.

And by the time I was
born, he was in Manchester.

I saw him maybe five or six times.

And the last time, he was ranting about
some online rabbit-hole conspiracy theory.

And the year after that,
I heard he died of covid.

Boy.

He sounds like a real catch.

Great choice, Carol.

Great choice.

Sorry.

It's okay.

She'd agree.

She said she wrote to you to explain
or at least start the conversation,

and you never replied.

- She never wrote to me.
- It's what she told me.

She never wrote!

Or I never got it. I... I didn't get it.

I'd have listened.

Yeah, and said, "get rid of it."

No! I don't know. We'd
have talked it over.

- And you'd have heard her?
- Yes, I would! Yes, I would!

I wanna get out of here.

I just wanna see her, you know?

Maybe there's something else
that could jog your memory?

I don't know.

Well, what about in that box?

Is that, like, a camera there?

- This?
- Yeah.

It's a disposable camera.

Big in the '90s. I got it at the airport.

The plan was we would take
photos around the city together.

That never happened,
of course. We never...

Here.

- I haven't seen one of these in forever.
- Can you still process it?

- There's only one photo been taken.
- I know, I know, I know.

- I'll have to wind it on.
- Okay.

- You'll waste the rest of the film.
- But you can retrieve the one photo?

Might take a while.

I'll wait.

Matte or gloss?

Matte.

So?

Was there anything on it?

Here.

I think I took this. Just a nothing photo.

Look, we could still go in.

What's the point?

Well, you took it on your trip,
so it might give us something.

Sure.

Told you. It's nothing.

This was the hotel room.

When I came back from the
restaurant, her case was gone,

so I knew that was that.

And I took it out on the room.

It was pathetic.

What are you even looking for?

I just want to see what
your camera picked up.

There's a note here.

It says "Philly."

System sharpened it up.

There's a piece of paper
with "Philly" written on it.

- That's what she called me.
- I'm pretty sure it's her writing.

Well, I... I never saw that.

No, Philip, it's just part of an image.

- You...
- come on.

You won't be able to pick it up. I'm
sorry. That's just not how it works.

No, come on.

Please, come on.

Get me out of here.

Maybe you kept it somewhere.

- No.
- Are you sure?

I'd fucking remember.

Sorry.

It's okay.

Let's just walk through what
you did after you took the photo.

I just smashed the room up.

I went out, drank myself into a blur.

And when I got back,

the maid had cleaned the
place up, put it all in a little pile.

I just packed everything up,

I... I put it away, and I never.

Philly, I have to tell you something.

I couldn't say earlier. I froze.

I'm sorry.

Please... please don't hate me.

That day I rang and
got Emma, I was so mad.

I had a one-night stand with
someone in the orchestra here.

It didn't mean anything, and I'm sorry.

I've missed my period.

I don't know what to do.

I love you, and I want us to work,
but I don't know how you'll feel.

I think I wanna keep the baby.

I don't know.

But could you live with that if I did?

If you still wanna talk,

meet me tomorrow afternoon at
the stage door, after the matinee.

I'll understand if you
never wanna see me again.

I hope you do.

I love you,

Carol.

I'm so sorry.

Okay, Philly.

So you asked me to record
this piece of music for you.

Careful what you wish for.

Let's see her.