Original subtitles

Two, three, four.

Hold for seven.

Two, three, four,

five, six, seven.

Out for eight.

Two, three, four, five,

six, seven, eight.

Woo-sah, and all of that.

[Grunts]

When you're ready, tell me about your experience.

Um, my little sister, Shaena --

she was pregnant

and she needed me to defend her from her baby daddy, Drew,

who put his hands on her.

He actually turned out to be an alright dude in the end,

and then -- and then he got murked.

They shot him clean through his forehead,

and you know what?

I don't have a sister.

That I know of. [Chuckles]

'Cause I am an only child.

So you visited a reality where at least

one of your parents had another child.

My mom. We had different fathers.

Her father never came around and --

and she resented me for that, and it's crazy,

'cause I remember our whole life together,

[Children laughing]

And it feels real, and I know that it's not.

These acquired memories are like the particulars of dreams.

They fade away the further you are from sleep,

but let's pay close attention to the thoughts that linger.

They may be relevant to your state of mind.

How do you mean?

DIRT follows the path of your subconscious impulses.

On some level, you chose this adventure.

It's up to you to understand the "why."

Your homework --

Ho-- Homework?

Martyrdom ain't easy.

This is your Tethur.

It's a digital prefrontal cortex.

Think of it as a backup file to your primary self.

The more you interact with the Tethur,

the more data we have,

should we ever have to restore you to factory settings.

Come -- Come again?

Journal everything, from a pestering thought

to a fleeting memory.

I want to hear it. So, you're listening?

I'll be monitoring your vitals in real time.

We want to catch any adverse effects early on.

Adverse effects?

Well, some subjects have reported,

um, mild disorientation, vertigo,

erectile dysfunction --

Wait, wait, what?

Great. There's no hearing loss.

Basically, if your body starts doing anything ghetto,

I'll hear about it.

Wait, wait, hold on.

This Tethur thing -- it seems very invasive.

What if -- What if I decide to opt out?

[Chuckles] You know, what's --

what's the worst that can happen?

Brain death.

Or just death, period.

Okay, I-I-I'll do it.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Sniffs]

Shekinah, place an order for delivery from Kalbis Kafe.

Shekinah: Good afternoon to you, too.

Hey. Sorry.

Can you place my order for a large tteok-bokki

and a side of kimari. Side of kimari.

Fried hard. Fried hard.

The usual.

ETA -- 25 minutes via delivery drone.

Nice.

[Sighs]

Oh, come on.

[Tether beeps] New device detected.

Yeah, that's my Tethur. Just sync to it, please.

Syncing to random hardware is how I caught Y2K.

Shekinah.

[Chuckles] I'm already synced.

I'm just being folksy. Mm.

It says for optimal experience, insert ear-nodes.

Alright. What you getting into?

[Tethur whirs, beeps]

[Sighs]

[Ear-nodes click]

Tethur: Welcome to the Tethur, your anchor in a storm.

Session 0001.

Please state your full name, age, place of birth,

and the names of your parents,

siblings, and/or three closest friends.

And in that order.

Okay. That's a lot.

My name is Demascus Haynes.

I'm 33 years old.

I was born and raised in Washington, D.C.,

by my mother, Therease Haynes.

Point of clarification --

is Therease Haynes living or deceased?

♪♪

Deceased.

Uh, my father's name is William, and he dead, too.

He died before I was born.

What else?

Siblings and/or three closest friends, in that order.

I'm an only child.

♪♪

In -- In this reality, at least.

My three closest friends are Redford Wilson, and that's it.

Oh, and Budhi, I guess.

Yeah, that's all I got. Thank you.

These primary touchstones will help ground you

on your journey through DIRT.

Let's move on to

the free association portion of our session.

Free association about what?

Whatever comes to mind.

I can't think of anything.

Budhi Banks is here.

Uh...

[Ear-nodes, Tethur beep]

♪♪

Mm.

Who were you talking to?

Shekinah.

♪♪

Sorry to stop my unannounced, but I need my calibrator.

It's kind of an emergency.

I have a client meeting in a half hour.

He's a super plugged-in type dude.

He's threatening to fire me.

Talsom -- I'm paying for the benefit of the algorithm.

And, I mean, I get it,

but it's only a 200-square-foot office.

I got it, I got it, I got it.

[Chuckling] Ah-ha.

♪♪

Did you even use it?

Nah. Yeah.

I mean, uh, I decided I like the design aesthetic

of my place as is.

Oh. Which is what, exactly?

Um, minimalist clutter.

It's eclectic.

I don't need an algorithm to tell me

that I put my chair in the wrong place.

Well, one, it is, and two, since when are you so anti-tech?

I'm not anti-tech.

I...

I just think it's kinda wack to use tech

to make your creative decisions,

'cause, you know, I'm -- I'm an artist.

Right.

And I'm not an artist because I use the calibrator.

No.

Oh, no, no, no. Don't backpedal.

I ain't even offended.

You work for the government.

In the art department.

That's an oxymoron.

Look, all I'm saying is,

shun the algorithm if you want to

and wind up with a house that looks like this.

Like what? [Sighs]

Like a flop house for monastic fuckboys.

No man over 30 should be using sneakers as decor.

Meanwhile, the calibrator can harness

the raw data of millions of interior designs

and tell you the perfect painting to hang on this wall

and turn this house into a home.

Anyway...

...what are we doing tonight?

I was planning on doing this.

Getting high and talking to your operating system?

Yeah. I had a -- Mnh.

I had a weird afternoon.

Well, I'm not coming all the way back down here

to couch surf with you.

Maybe I'll see what Dyanne is up to tonight.

Unless -- Dyanne?

Wait, Redd's baby mama, Dyanne?

Yeah.

They may not be able to keep their shit together,

but she's cool.

What?

[High-pitched ringing]

[Muffled] Okay, bye, babe.

Huh?

Mwah.

[Clears throat]

[Door closes]

Shekinah, check messages.

[Beeping]

♪♪

What -- What the fuck is this, Shekinah?

Shekinah?

Shekinah, messages off.

♪♪

[Sighs]

Hey, D, D, don't you do it.

I know you, D. Don't do it.

Don't swipe left on me, man.

This ain't no mass text, bro.

This is a personally curated invitational experience.

Message and data rates apply.

A-A-A-- pulling out all these stops because I need this

to not be one of the times you flake on me, bruh.

Bruh, I'll come to the next one.

No, nigga, no.

See, you said that the last time,

and the only reason I agreed

is because I knew my next show would be this one, bro.

This is my first show with the Nu Afrique Collective.

That means I need a good turnout.

That means I need one of my wealthiest patrons to come by

and spend some of that government bread, bro.

Please.

Bruh, I'll send you a Schmunny text.

That's not the same, D.

Hey, baby. How you doing?

Hey, who's that? Who's that? Uncle D.

[Coughs] Yeah.

What up, Tarantula?

That's not my name.

My name is Roshanna.

Right, right, right. Tarantula.

Are you going to my daddy's show?

Um...

I don't --

I wanna go, but Daddy said if he took me,

Mommy would use it to get full custardy.

So could you go for me instead?

Please?

Hey, D, D, I promise you

I didn't tell her to say none of that.

I didn't.

Here, take that. Go play.

♪♪

♪ Oh, oh-oh-oh

♪ Yeah

♪♪

♪ Who said, who said

♪ That I can't?

[Indistinct conversations]

♪♪

♪ If I

♪ If I, if I tell you

You made it. Oh, my God.

I appreciate it, man.

Of course, man. How could I not?

After that guilt trip you laid on me.

Well, this is important to me, and simply saying that to you

just doesn't seem to be enough, so... You right.

Fine, I'm here, right? Alright. Yeah, yeah.

Under duress. And underdressed, apparently, bruh.

Is that Demascus Haynes?

You remember Sebastiaan Charles?

Yeah, yeah.

It has been a month of Sundays,

as the Southern colloquialism goes.

I thought you'd absconded from the art scene.

D works for D.C. government now.

Yeah, in the art department. Yeah.

He wrote the city's style guide.

Wow.

You're a regular Minister of Propaganda, huh?

Speaking of propaganda,

uh, Sebastiaan is now an art critic

for The New York Times. Oh.

So he's doing me a huge solid coming down here to B-more.

Nah, I always love to promote fresh new visions.

You know, some people are naturals

at translating art for the masses.

Take this, uh -- This piece, for example.

Bro, this is dope.

Don't be gassin' a nigga just because.

Nah. I'm not, man. Oh, D, come on.

It's dope.

♪♪

You've always been one of my favorite artists, man.

Even back when you were drawing

Black space boys on notebook paper.

Yo, I can't believe you remember the Trapper Keeper.

Hell yeah. Yeah.

See, that's why I needed you here, D.

To remind me of who I am.

♪♪

It's your best work yet, brother.

I'd have to agree.

[Chuckles] Yeah.

This is your breakthrough piece.

It speaks to the violent state of Black art

and how it's necessarily intermingled

with a traumatic history.

The stark ebony canvass connotes the futility

of Black life under a white patriarchal society.

The Black woman, in contrast,

represents the well of creativity

and gives birth not to a living being,

but to objects associated with the legacy of chattel slavery.

Profound.

I personally think it's about a nigga

who can't pay his child support.

And a system that tells him he has no value otherwise.

And -- And chattel slavery.

Yeah. Mm.

Well, that's a fascinating debate.

And the winner is...

whoever gon' buy this bitch.

[Laughter] Here's a journalist.

Must remain impartial, but I'll leave you to it.

Good luck. [Both chuckle]

[Sighs]

How much? [Chuckles]

You serious?

Yeah.

It just so happens

I'm in the market for a new piece of art.

Alright. Come on. Hit -- Hit me with it.

I got you. I got you. [Devices beep]

Oh, well, damn.

I mean...

Your prices have certainly improved, bruh.

[Laughs]

[Devices beep]

Yo, I got you, man. Sebastiaan: Redd!

Thank you. I gotta go do --

Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, man.

Alright, yo, I'm happy you're here.

[Speaks indistinctly] Say it one more time?

[Indistinct conversation in distance]

♪ Yeah, yeah

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Yeah

♪ Yeah, yeah

♪ Yeah, I'm a, I'm a young, brilliant Black man ♪

♪ Pay me my respects

Club soda. Man: Sure.

[Sighs]

♪♪

I take it from the self-satisfied

look on your face you just bought this piece.

I did. Mm.

Yeah.

Just [chuckles] looking to spruce things up, I guess.

Do you approve?

I mean...

I would have to see your place first.

But if I had to say, based on the painting's merit alone,

iss ahhight.

It's ahhight?

It's mixed media.

Yeah, and what's wrong with that?

[Chuckles] It's like, make up your mind,

you wishy-washy mixed media fuck.

Know thyself.

Pick a lane, floor it.

♪♪

Got it.

♪♪

Let me guess. The artist is a friend of yours?

Yeah, we go back to junior high.

[Both chuckle]

You had that look like I put my foot in my mouth.

Do you get that look a lot?

Comes with speaking your mind.

♪♪

Well, um, cynical opinion of a stranger aside,

I still think it's a transcendent piece.

I think it opens up a conversation about Black art

and how it's intermingled

with the futile and traumatic nature

of Black life and its connection to chattel slavery

in a white patriarchal society.

[Chuckles]

You see all of that? Yeah.

'Cause I thought it was about a nigga

who couldn't pay his child support.

But I-I see the chattel slavery in there, too.

♪♪

[Chuckles]

♪♪

Can I get you something else to drink maybe?

Oh, no thanks.

I never drink before a performance.

Woman: Brothers and sisters,

Nu Afrique presents Naomi,

our lady in red.

[Applause]

♪♪

[Cheers and applause]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Spectators gasp]

♪♪

♪♪

♪ To ba b'oni shakara pade

♪ Pasan to ma fi na e oje l'o nje ♪

♪ Ki lo'n se npe o

♪ Shakara oloje ni

♪♪

♪ To ba b'oni shakara pade

♪ Pasan to ma fi na e oje l'o nje ♪

♪ Ki lo'n se npe o

♪♪

Ah.

♪♪

Oh. Woman: Oh.

♪♪

♪♪

[Cheers and applause]

♪♪

D!

Golly, bro.

My boy is down bad.

You in love, man.

You gonna introduce yourself?

I already did. We actually met.

Okay. You gonna shoot your shot?

I can't.

Did you forget, man. I'm seeing Budhi.

Did you forget? I see Budhi more than you do.

Her and Dyanne are getting real chummy.

Hell, they're together now.

Yeah, Budhi mentioned that they might be hanging out.

No, they're together.

Here. Right now.

♪♪

Hey. Hey, Demascus.

It's good to see you. You, too. Mwah.

Surprised? Yeah.

[Chuckling] Yeah.

♪♪

[Clears throat] Hey, Dyanne.

Glad to see you feeling better.

So, you two back together now?

Yes. I'm back his muse again.

Mm-hmm.

Don't you recognize me?

Hit the pose. Mm.

♪♪

Redd: Ha!

You see it?

Ah.

Oh, perfect.

I just bought a naked painting of Dyanne, bruh?

Yep. That's right.

I'm that bitch in "Bitch I ain't got yo Schmunny."

Yeah, you always been my little Schmunny bitch, huh?

Who you calling a bitch? Calling you a bitch.

Don't get me heated up in here. What's gonna happen if you get heated?

Get heated, then. You know what's gonna happen.

Do it. Ooh, shit.

[Both moaning]

♪♪

What? Ooh, shit.

They're attractive and healthy.

It don't make you a little...

God damn. Mm.

Okay, I need a drink.

You want -- You want a G&T?

Yeah.

♪♪

♪ Pray for me

♪ Pray for you

♪ Pray for me

♪ Pray for you

♪ Pray for me

♪ Pray for you

♪ Pray

[Exhales sharply]

H-How did we get here?

Right.

I thought you were staying in tonight.

Wait. [Coughing] Um...

Uh, Redd guilt tripped me with Tarantula,

so, you know, I couldn't say no.

Look, I'm not mad that you went.

He's your best friend.

It just would have been nice to let me know.

Then we could've gone together as a couple.

Not bumping into each other like casual acquaintances.

You said you were gonna be with Dyanne.

I didn't know her and Redd got back together.

That's not the point.

♪♪

I'm sorry.

I guess I didn't ask enough questions.

It's fine.

I guess I didn't give enough information.

♪♪

Hm.

You know, Demascus, I put up with a lot from you,

because on paper, you're kind of a catch.

You got a good job, no kids,

no priors.

But to have all of that,

do I have to put up with this?

♪♪

With -- With what?

The constantly missing each other.

♪ With that diamond shining at me ♪

I-I hope -- I hope not.

We gotta do more than just hope.

What's gonna change?

♪ The same way that it did when we were together ♪

Me.

♪ And the way he's looking at you ♪

I hope.

♪♪

I, um...

I started going to therapy.

Yeah. [Clears throat]

I've just been feeling like, in some ways,

I'm losing track of myself, you know what I mean?

Wow.

You're going to therapy?

Yeah.

Is that okay?

Okay?

That's fucking hot.

Oh. [Chuckles]

A man -- no, no, uh...

A Black man that's connected to his feelings

enough to clock a problem with his mental health

and then...

takes the proper steps to address it.

♪ Could you really be so happy? ♪

Without a court order.

♪♪

♪ The way you look when you're with him ♪

I think I just came already.

Okay. Okay. Stop, stop, stop.

Mm.

It's a bonus that you find it so attractive,

but, you know, I'm doing this for me.

Like -- Like, for real. I'm -- I'm doing this for me.

I know.

I know.

This is for you.

Not me.

♪ And the --

This is for me, not you.

This is for me, not you. Demascus: Yeah.

This is for me, not you.

This is for me, not you.

This is for me, not you. Mm-hmm.

This is for me, not you.

Oh, not you!

I feel great.

Really? Since our initial visit,

you've reported chronic tinnitus, nausea,

and episodic loss of time and space.

Oh, well, I just smoke a lot of weed,

so it's probably just that.

And, uh, when I get the ringing in my ears,

I just drink Gatorade for the electrolytes.

So can we do the DIRT now?

What's the rush?

I have a few more data points to discuss.

Who is Budhi?

Uh, Budhelia Banks.

That's my girlfriend.

And how long have you two been dating?

Uh, four years in January.

And you didn't think to mention her in your initial visit?

She only appears in a Tethur as an afterthought.

I-I don't know what to say to that.

[Clears throat] Well, how do you feel about Budhi?

Oh, she's perfect.

And I mean -- I mean, nobody's perfect.

We're algorithmically compatible,

which is important to her.

The --The only potential issue is that I-I feel like

I like her less and less every day.

But not -- But not by a lot.

Only an infinitesimal amount.

And the rate it's decreasing, it'll probably be, what,

50, 60 years before it runs out, so...

That's fucked up.

That's your clinical diagnosis?

If she's seeking a true commitment

and you're giving her some lifelong facsimile,

then yes, "fucked up" is my clinical diagnosis.

I've never sad that out loud.

You right. That's fucked up.

Good.

Admitting you have a problem is the first step

in healing your inner fuckboy.

That -- what -- what is that? Fuckboy?

Fear of commitment and intimacy,

usually in response to an overbearing mother.

[Chuckles] Yeah, my mother's dead.

[Clears throat] It still tracks.

You -- You right.

What is it that keeps you in this relationship with Budhi?

She's really certain of who I am,

and -- and that version of me

that lives in her perspective, it's --

it's worth hanging on to, in case all else fails.

Maybe if I can see what a lifetime of commitment

looks like --

you know, play it out, see the outcome.

Potential outcomes.

There's an infinite amount of outcomes.

Yeah.

But can it be done?

AR time is truncated, so, um, in theory,

I suppose you could see what a decision to commit

might look like over time.

We could try setting that as the intention

for our next DIRT session.

Yeah, if -- if -- if you think.

[Chuckles, clears throat]

♪♪

♪♪

[Nodes beep]

♪♪

[Grunts, sighs]

♪♪

[Grunts]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪ Home

♪♪

♪ Home

♪ Baby, I'm home, I'm home, I'm home ♪

♪♪

♪ No more lonely nights

♪ Will you fear

♪ No more lonely days

♪ Will you ever be alone

♪ No more lonely nights