Original subtitles

25 years ago, America launched Overture, a generation shift to a nearby star.

Today, Overture is the set of the first reality show shot in space.

Through confessionals, we'll learn the crew's love, fears, and most secret

dreams. Welcome to Personal Faith.

We live in anarchy.

There are no rules.

Literally, we are no longer in possession of them.

King ejected the rule book.

To save weight.

They're orbiting the ship.

If you want to look up a rule, you have to sit by a window and wait for it to

come around.

I offered to get them back, and as the person who's responsible for making sure

this place flies, I'd like to keep the number of objects orbiting around us to

minimum. I ejected the rule books.

Along with the other items.

This place needs to get a lot more efficient before I go in there.

Funny that King threw out the rulebook instead of the other way around.

I've never had to grow extra food to feed the rulebook.

King's games are now consuming my engineer's time.

I'm moving forward with a plan to get King back to bed as soon as Leonard gets

the books back.

I didn't get the books back, but there's bigger faith to fry. There's some sort

of...

to a panel, and it sort of looked like the last ship tried to fix it, and then

they welded a chair onto it.

Freeman found one of Jeff's fixes.

Jeff could make do with anything.

Guy's a genius.

It looked like he patched a hole.

Maybe. I saw a piece of duct tape there on the hull of the ship.

Next to the chair.

There's nothing about it in the logs.

King has no idea why it's there.

Leonard doesn't know what's behind it or what will happen if he tries to remove

it.

So now I have to wake up another first shifter.

I wanted to be on the first shift, you know.

I mean, that engineer had to fire the pulse drive.

At the time, I understood why they chose Jeff, but...

Now... How would you describe your mental state following your revival?

You're not Amy.

I've been updated, including my voice. I sound different than you remember, but

I'm still me.

Nope.

Trust me, waking up from cryo isn't pleasant.

He was in discomfort, so...

I gave him some time before I asked him to please remove the chair. I noticed he

was using his second lease on life to hoard food coloring.

Good to know, I guess.

I asked him what the repairs were for and why he welded a chair to the ship.

He launched into the deep theoretical musings on the physics of pulse

and the natural state of man and...

It gave me so much to think about, I didn't even realize for hours that he

didn't answer my question. I really shouldn't have done this, but, well, no

rules.

He left his box in the mess hall. Thinking it would help me understand the

I opened it to see what he brought for when he's down on the colony.

It was half full of chalk.

He boarded a spaceship with a box full of chalk.

And all our Tums are missing.

Anyone's guess, whether it was Jeff or Blasto.

I'd ask, but I haven't seen Jeff in two days.

I think he goes up in the chair and just sits for like hours at a time.

25 years of plunging toilets and re -inspecting the same truss segments.

I don't want to talk to you.

How do you feel about Tom, Jeff?

I've got ulcers.

He went back into

cryo without telling anyone, except Blasto.

His exact words were, Hull's fixed.

Freeze me.

Then he gave me a piece of blue chalk, told me to give it to Leonard.

No rule, so I could keep it for myself, but luckily for Leonard, I'm a man of

honor. He just patched the hole and didn't remove the chair.

I mean, we could tell by one of our monitoring feeds, but... How does

get to be this way?

Joyce is... This is who he wanted to be.

Now I have ulcers.

I had to do another EVA and I was supposed to remove the chair once and

And I wondered, was he really just trying that hard to avoid people?

Whatever his secret, he wanted it to be just that.

A secret.

We may never know.