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A Neoprimitive.

Someone who believes

that we've ruined the
world by trying to save it.

Your family,

they were killed brutally.

This is all quite distressing.

You want to kill him, don't you?

Oh, very much so.

You can be my ally or my enemy.

I assure you,

it's not easy being my enemy.

Anything going on in your life,

new or out of the ordinary?

Whoa.

Jesus.

I missed you, too.

- What are you doing?
- Just saying hello.

Shall I review?

I prefer to live face forward.

Ass to the past. Let bygones
be bygones, and all that.

I tried to greet you
on my first day here,

and you cut me dead.

- Yeah.
- Oh, yeah, and then there was

that charming letter on
my desk the next morning.

I still have it somewhere,

if you'd like me to quote verbatim.

Off the top of my head,

without immediate recourse to the text:

"If you ever fucking speak to me again,

I will scratch your eyes out,
you selfish, conniving bitch."

It was "cunt," I believe.

Bitch. I'm quite certain.

Well, it seems like I would've gone

with the alliteration
of "conniving cunt."

Another missed opportunity.

Yeah, like this one, if you walk away.

Chance to have a drink, old times' sake?

- I'm married.
- Well, belated congratulations.

What's she like?

He.

Oh, Grace.

Say it is not so.

I have two children.

Fuck.

You poor thing. Was it a stipulation?

You broke my fucking heart.

♪ I'm a fool to want you ♪

♪ I'm a fool to want you... ♪

One drink, and then I'm off.

So whatever you want to say,

I suggest you get straight to it.

I just thought it was time
for an after-action review.

Which makes it sound like a firefight.

It wasn't?

♪ True ♪

♪ A love that's there ♪

♪ For others, too ♪

♪ I'm a fool to hold you... ♪

I saw an AI therapist for a bit.

After things fell apart with us.

And is that how you
presented the matter?

That things just "fell apart"?

It said the allure...
and the fatal flaw...

of our relationship

was that you were a bad good-girl,

and I was a good bad-girl.

On the surface, you make
a show of being rather bad,

but deep down, you're
almost frighteningly good.

- And I'm the opposite.
- And did you pay

for that drivel with actual money?

It helped me. Quite a bit.

Do you still muck about
with those doll's houses?

Not for years.

The AIT had a theory.

It said it was all
about order and control.

That you came from a place
where you had neither,

and the doll's houses
were a way to compensate.

Miniature worlds in
which you could feel safe.

That sounds like a
steaming pile of horseshit.

You have a better explanation?

You have to admit it's
an eccentric hobby.

Do you ever find it difficult
to understand people?

You know, what they're
thinking, what they're feeling?

Empathy, you mean?

There's something about

taking a tiny figure
and shifting it about.

Arranging how it's sitting.

What it's looking at.

And it made me feel like I had access

into another being's inner...

inner life.

And that can feel rather priceless.

♪ To want you ♪

- ♪ Pity me, I need you... ♪
- You gonna kiss me?

Is that what you want?

♪ I know it's wrong... ♪

I have fucking missed you, Aelita.

You have no idea how much.

Mm. You should've treated me better.

You-you want an apology?
Is... is that it?

No.

Water under the bridge.
Swept out to sea long ago.

What, then?

Tell me about your job.

- My job?
- Yeah.

What mysteries do you oversee,

down there in your secret
burrow with the big steel door?

- You don't want to hear about that.
- No, I do.

I do.

... like a giant petri dish, really.

We can do anything we want here.

Well, we are doing anything we want.

And it's real? You're certain of that?

Boggles the mind, doesn't it?

See, we're told it's like a simulation.

An elaborate...

That's how we're
instructed to explain it.

The data we send down to
you lower-echelon types.

Lower-echelon types?

All right.

And, uh, how many people have access?

Just my team.

And Dr. Nuland, of course.

As well as the upper
tier security personnel.

So maybe two dozen?

You ready?

We call it the God font.

I can access anything here.

And not just from the stub, either,

but from the R.I. in its entirety.

But our data culls...

that's just a grain of
sand on a larger beach.

We're actively altering
conditions in the stub.

We have over 8,000 studies running.

Researching what?

It would be difficult to name
a field without a foothold.

Botany, meteorology, zoology, genetics,

oceanography, robotics, forestry...

But the truly exciting stuff,

the hush-hush, saving-the-world shit?

That comes from our
Behavioral Mod Department.

They set up a shell company in the stub

which bid on a contract
with the American military

to install haptic implants in personnel.

Our tech, more or less,

but on an appropriately primitive level.

To what end?

Watch. This one's fun.

Let's say we have a
group of elite Marines

at a remote outpost.

They've been told

enemy forces are planning
to use injured animals

to draw them into the open.

So, what would these
highly trained young men do

if a wounded dog were to appear
in front of their position?

Shoot it.

But...

if our implants subtly goosed
the subjects' neural chemistry,

increasing electrical activity
in the anterior insular cortex?

Oh. The, uh, compassion center.

Okay.

Which one?

All of them.

Now, that's where it
gets really interesting.

You see, they all react differently,

based on their... their
personal histories,

their life experiences.

The mystery of character.

- Is he...
- Wait for it.

Stop him.

- Stop him.
- It's already happened, luv.

Long ago.

I mean, you can imagine
the implications.

Implementing a similar modification

on a societal level.

I mean, say goodbye to mob violence.

- Say goodbye to...
- You can't do that.

I mean, they're people.
They're real people.

You see?

So frighteningly good.

Is she planning on implementing
something like that here?

Would you believe me if I said no?

- Has she already?
- Again,

would you believe me if I said no?

Good evening.

Wait.

You're from Grains and Legumes?

Yeah, that's right.

Would you mind explaining
your presence here,

where you assuredly have
no fucking right to be?

I'm sorry?

You lack clearance for this floor.

- Oh, um, I was just...
- You know who I am?

Of course, Dr. Hogart.

Well, then, perhaps you can explain why

you're addressing an old and
rather dear friend of mine

in such an unacceptably rude manner?

I am simply doing my job, ma'am.

Her presence on this floor
would seem to require an...

We met upstairs. But I forgot my jacket.

So I brought her back down with me.

Under my supervision and as my guest.

You may file a report on
the matter, if you wish.

But please take care to sign your name.

So I'll know who to address
my grievance against.

I don't think that will
be necessary, Doctor.

But I will ask that
you not do this again.

Excuse me.

I-I just want to say you have

the most extraordinary eyes.

Seriously.

I...

I'd kill for eyes like that.

Robert O'Connell,

pleasure to make your acquaintance.

$10 million , Bob.

Twenty-five percent has already
been deposited into your account.

That's how much I believe in you.

Name's not Bob, pal. It's Pete.

Why is it so bloody difficult to
get you people to take my money?

I haven't got the slightest
idea what you're talking about.

I'm talking about

Bob the Butcher O'Connell.

- I don't know who that is.
- Dublin lad.

Made his name killing three UDA fighters

on the eve of his 18th birthday.

Racked up quite an impressive body count

before fleeing the country.

Do you ever count them
up in the night, Bob?

All those poor souls

you've cut free from
their fleshly prisons?

Who the fuck is this?

Your new employer.

I tried a hammer, and it didn't work.

So I'm looking for a better tool.

A scalpel, if you will.

You've been both in your
time, haven't you, Bob?

Seriously, buddy. You
got the wrong number.

Well, I guess I must have

Tommy Giorno's number wrong, too, then.

Which is a shame, because I was
planning on calling him next.

Maybe tell him about your daughter.

In that little bungalow of hers.

Baton Rouge, isn't it?

Do I have your attention now, Bob?

Who do you want dead?

All right, Flynne. You ready?

Yeah.

- Yeah!
- Oh, baby!

Frank's back in the house.

Okay, who's up?

- I think it's Tony.
- Let's go.

- Bring 'em home, Tony.
- I didn't get up there.

All right, buddy, you got this.

- You got it. All right.
- Back in a sec.

Okay.

Beer, Janet.

And one for my friend.

There you are.

Looking pretty fit for an old man.

Takes more effort than it
used to, that's for sure.

Like everything else.

You surprised to see me?

Figured you might pop up.

Not here, though.

This is a bad play, Bobby.

You know how I am.

Always a sucker for the long odds.

My boys.

Looks like they're all grown up.

The years rush by, don't they?

My daughter, she's all grown up, too.

I might've let it
slide, Frank, you know,

for old time's sake,

if you'd left her out of it.

The way the guy laid it out...

- Who?
- I don't know. Voice on the phone.

Some Brit.

- He said it was you or me.
- Girls, go freshen up.

I ain't proud of myself, Bobby.

I'm fucking ashamed is what I am.

Mr. O'Connell?

Holy shit. Yeah, we thought it was you.

- That's enough, folks.
- Give us a minute, boys.

- We've got some things to talk about.
- No.

I think we'll walk Mr.
O'Connell to his car.

What do you say, Bob?

I loved you like a brother, Frank.

Gun, gun, gun!

Mr. O'Connell.

I know the what.

The why doesn't matter.

The how is what you're paying me for.

I need a where and a
when to get it done.

Your targets will be
here tomorrow morning

for a medical procedure

that should take no longer than an hour.

- What type of procedure?
- A spinal tap.

After which, they'll return
to their residence, here.

The rest I leave to you, Bob.

For fuck's sake.

Oh, no.

Could've just stayed
inside, son, you know?

Pretended to be dead.

Tell you what I'm gonna do.

I'm gonna get in this car here.

And if I can get it to start
after your little fusillade,

then I'll be gone.

Now, if you can manage
to crawl free before that,

I'll consider us even.

For your father's sake.

How does that sound?

I can't move my legs.

That arm doesn't look too great, either.

Good luck.

Oh, please.

Fuck.

Fuck! Don't!

- What did you do, Jasper?
- What?

Did I or did I not

explicitly tell you not
to take any of that money?

I didn't.

So, this-this just magically fucking
showed up in your jacket pocket?

Whoa, babe. My uncle gave it to me.

For what?

Huh?

Did you ask him what
he wanted in exchange?

Of-of course.

I'm not a fucking idiot.

And?

He doesn't want nothing for it.

It was just... a gesture of gratitude

for all my years of hard work.

Seriously, babe.

No strings attached.

That's it.

Nothing's for free, Jasper.

Well, I can give it back, you want.

No, no.

I guess we can use it.

- Could've told me last night, though.
- I know.

- Saved me a panic attack this morning.
- I'm sorry.

There's some coffee left in the pot,

- if you want it.
- Thanks.

Have a good day.

You're 100% sure about this?

Absolutely. It's bacterial.

The oddest thing I've ever encountered.

Little bit like meningitis,

just extremely localized.
In her occipital lobe.

- Which is what again?
- It's basically

the part of the brain
involved in seeing.

A lumbar puncture will
at least give us some idea

of what kind of bacteria you
got throwing a party in there.

It looks scarier than it is.

All right, you might
feel some pressure here.

- Mm-hmm.
- It shouldn't hurt at all,

but by all means, feel free
to hold your brother's hand.

I won't judge.

There.

- Wasn't so bad, was it?
- Just peachy.

- Hello?
- Ms. Andrews?

This is Derek Thompson of the
Appleview Insurance Company.

I'm sorry to bother you,

but I'm afraid we've had
to cancel your policy.

When is this change effective?

Immediately, I'm afraid.

I'd make other arrangements
as soon as possible.

And with great care.

My husband and I

had hoped to continue our
relationship with Appleview.

I... if we can?

I'm afraid that might
not be possible, ma'am.

There's a chance Appleview
may be closing its doors soon.

For good.

Jesus, Dad.

But I want to say that we have
valued our relationship with you.

More than you can possibly know. I...

And we wish you and your husband

- health and happiness in all things.
- I'm pregnant.

Well... Well, that's
wonderful news, ma'am.

Goodbye.

And good luck.

You all right, sir?

Just a bit of car trouble.

I'll be fine, thanks.

You want me to take a look?

Well, that's awfully
kind of you, young lady.

But, uh, I've already called it in.

Mechanic should be along
here any minute now.

Who they sending? Charlie Burr?

I don't believe they gave me a name.

Yeah, I'll bet it's Charlie.

I could maybe save you whatever
ransom he'll end up charging.

I appreciate it. But, uh...

- I'll take my chances.
- This wouldn't be

one of those situations

where you're looking at me and thinking

I can't fix a car 'cause
I'm a woman, would it?

No, ma'am.

I can take one look at you

and guess you'd know
your way around an engine.

I honestly can't tell if that's
a compliment or an insult.

Oh, I'd never waste an insult

on a stranger, young lady.

I save them up for friends and family.

Okay. Well, good luck to you, sir.

Take care, now.

Let-let me just take a
quick look on the off chance

I can one-up Charlie.

I-I got some history with him,

which I won't bore you sharing,

but sending a little grief
his way would make my morning.

You don't mind, do you?

I'd, uh, actually

just as soon wait.

- What happened?
- Gravel truck overturned.

Almost like getting hit by buckshot.

Not a pleasant experience,

- I can assure you.
- Whoo-whee.

You're having quite a day.

You're telling me.

And just getting started, too.

Okay, I'm gonna give you a
friendly warning here, mister.

If you let Burton
Fisher touch this engine

when you wouldn't let me,

I might have to just
go and shoot you both.

Tell me you didn't run

into this man with that
tired-looking truck of yours,

- Billy Ann.
- Just trying to be a Good Samaritan here, Burton.

But some folks can't seem to believe

a woman might know how to fix a car.

I think the young lady
simply misunderstood me.

I, uh, I apologize for all the fuss.

I-I didn't mean to offend
anybody or I was, um...

I guess a bit flustered, to be honest.

Shoot him.

Shoot him now.

Get down!

Shit.

You okay?

Burton, Burton! Shit.

Fuck. I'm stuck. Fuck.

You all right? Knife.

Fuck. Burton!

Pretty good with a shotgun, too.

Want to see?

Next one's in the head, old man.

Flynne?

This what you do to suspects, ain't it?

Break 'em up?

Talk to 'em one-on-one,
get the story straight?

Witnesses, too, Flynne.

Now, what about victims, Tommy?

You, uh, you got any idea what this is?

I don't know. Hell, I mean,
it looks like it's almost

something from the...

future, you know?

Yeah, it does, don't it?

Well, he hasn't said a peep.

No ID, no registration, nothing.

But he is wearing a vest.

And?

Makes it feel like he was
expecting a fight, don't it?

Sort of like Burton seems to be.

Driving around, all geared up
like he's still off in Texas.

Weapons, drones, all ready to go?

If he wanted him dead, Tommy,
you know he would have done it.

But he didn't. We called you instead.

I know that.

But I can't help thinking...

you know, a dead body on this bridge?

Y'all got Homeland Security showing up.

Whereas just some bullets
flying, without a corpse?

Well, that remains a local
matter, now, don't it?

We're not doing anything wrong, okay?

Promise you.

You know what my first
memory of you is, Flynne?

My very first?

I was in the third grade.

So you must've been in first.

And they had you down at the
principal's office in a rage.

Remember?

'Cause somehow, you managed to take

all the earthworms from the science room

and dumped them in the woods.

Couldn't bear to have the
fifth graders dissecting them.

Made quite the impression,
I'll tell you what.

My uncle had a saying,

how people are a lot like onions.

One skin grows over
another, year by year.

Which would mean that little girl,

who freed all them worms...

... she's still inside you.

And I can't help but feeling I
ought to protect her if I can.

But I need your help.

I'm sorry, Tommy.

Guess you better, uh...

head on home.

Flynne?

Talk to me, sweet pea.

I don't know.

Thousand ways it could
have gone wrong back there.

Can't dwell on the past, Flynne.

Got to focus on what's in front of us.

How, Burton?

When they're always about
ten steps ahead of us?

He was posted up on that
bridge waiting for us.

- He knew that we'd come by.
- Let's just get you home.

Safe and sound. Then
we can talk about it.

No need to censor
yourself around me, Burton.

I know more than you think.

Trips to the future.

Men coming in the night to attack you.

And you sending Corbell
Pickett a bag full of cash.

Then I guess you can see
how maybe there's a conflict

- of interest at play here, Billy Ann?
- I think we can agree

we're both interested
in Flynne's well-being.

It's not you I'm concerned about.

If you're insulting
Jasper, you're insulting me.

And I'd say what just
unfolded ought to buy me

a little trust and a
whole lot of respect.

Jasper would never harm a soul.

Let alone Flynne. Never.

I'm a phone call away.

Thank you.

I didn't say nothing
that wasn't true, Flynne.

Burton, she's a friend of mine, okay?

And I'd like to think that
she's a friend of yours, too.

Like it or not,

she's involved in this now, okay?

It's getting real hard
to keep this under wraps.

Billy Ann ain't the problem.

Tommy and his sheriff
badge ain't the solution.

We should have closed
that loop on the bridge.

Yeah, well, you didn't.

Where's Mama?

Mama? Leon?

Oh, no, Burton. The bodies.

Shit.

I'm just struggling to
wrap my head around this.

Medicine sent from the future.

Just the formula for it.

They sent it to Pharma Jon to print.

Sent how?

Does it matter, Mama?

It worked.

Do you know why your
cousins grew up in Ohio?

'Cause Uncle Charles lost
their farm to the bank.

My daddy told me that story enough times

for me to grow impatient, too.
But I also took it to heart.

The idea that the worst thing

a person can do is grow
dependent on some outsider.

All they care about is taking
something from your pocket

and putting it in theirs,
and on a regular basis, too.

But we aren't paying them anything.

They're the ones paying us.

That's what my Uncle
Charles must've thought,

when that loan money came in.

They're giving me these drugs.

What happens if I stop taking them?

I don't know.

What happens if you stop
paying Corbell Pickett?

Now I... I'm putting aside

all the traveling to the future part

'cause I suppose I'll need
to think on that for a while

before I find a way to accept it.

But the dependency seems simple enough.

And it makes me worry for all of us.

Because I-I'm just
getting caught up here,

on all the complicated ins and outs

of what you got going on.

But if it looks to
me like you don't have

that much power in your
current arrangement,

think how it must look to them.

We need to talk this through.

Burton, I'm done being a sitting duck.

We don't even know if
that headset is safe.

And how safe is it here?

Sitting around, just waiting
for someone to come and get us?

Yes?

The polts have hacked
into the Peripheral.

- Do you want us to cut the connection?
- No.

This is a pleasant surprise.

No, Wilf.

A surprise is when
someone tries to kill you

out of the blue, which is
what just happened to me.

A whole new person.

And he had one of those

sonic punch things, like the guy

- from the Research Institute had.
- I didn't...

You were supposed to let
us know if somebody else

was coming to kill us.

Except you can't only not do that,

but you didn't even know
it happened after the fact.

So much for your living-in-the-future
wisdom bullshit, huh?

Flynne. What happened?

It's a fucking mess now.

The Sheriff's Department's involved.

There's gonna be a lot
of complications, Wilf.

Is everyone okay?

I need to ask you something.

The other day when we went walking

and you linked up with me...

... did you have another motive?

- I'm not sure I'm following.
- Were you trying to confuse me?

Or...

my emotions, I guess, with
the haptic drift stuff?

Haptic drift?

I... I don't know what that means.

Wilf...

Did you merge with me
so I would start to...

... I don't know, have feelings for you

that you hadn't necessarily earned yet?

I'm sorry, Ms. Fisher.

I honestly...

Wilf...

I'm starting to trust you.

Is that a mistake?

No.

No.

How old are you, son?

I'm guessing 28 or so?

I don't read you as
ex-military, for some reason.

You've probably never left this town.

Lived a nice, quiet
life here, I imagine.

Well, that's over now.

The quiet part, I mean.

Though maybe the living part, too,

depending on how this plays out.

You believe there are moments when fate

can go one way or another?

Like a fork in the road?

'Cause you're at one.

Whether you know it or not.

Now, you can take me back the station.

You can book me,

you can put my prints in
the system, swab my DNA,

and you set a clock ticking.

On me, for certain.

But on you, too.

Because the people who'll
be coming for me, well,

they're not the sort to
leave loose ends untied.

And me talking to you like this, well...

I'm afraid that makes you a loose end.

Goddamn it.

Look at your face.

Don't you ever play poker.

You're too transparent.

I can see the curiosity
building up inside you.

"Who the fuck is this guy?

What's he doing, coming round here

trying to kill these folks?"

Well, I'll tell you.

Someone said they would
kill my daughter if I didn't.

They also paid me $2.5 million.

First installment of an eventual ten,

if the job got done right.

Which...

... it didn't, obviously.

Who?

A voice on the phone.
Doesn't matter who.

What matters is the $2.5 million.

Which is yours...

... if you want it.

What do you say, Deputy, huh?

I say...

Fuck.

I fear I've made a mistake,
agreeing to bring you here.

I'm questioning what you might
hope to achieve by going in there.

I want Cherise to know
what it feels like.

To be hunted.

What? You don't think I can handle her?

Oh, I have no doubt you can handle her.

It's the afterward that concerns me.

This isn't fending off an attacker.

It's being the assailant yourself.

Which carries a far heavier weight.

How would you even know?

You're always off in some
corner watching, aren't you?

Did I tell you how I first met Lev?

When I was 12 years old,

my parents sent me to boarding school.

We were still crawling out
of the Jackpot at that point.

And there were some
people who didn't like

the way power in the
new world was coalescing.

They saw it as corrupt.

What? Neoprims, you mean?

They attacked the school.

- Why? You were just kids.
- To send our parents a message.

The Neoprims had me serve them
their food at the refectory.

And they failed to notice

when I grabbed a steak
knife off one of their trays.

I slashed their leader's throat.

Then shot his four companions dead.

It was self-defense, Wilf.

Even self-defense
can be cold-blooded.

I didn't think of the weight...

... because I never
could have imagined it.

Don't go over there.

Unless you realize what
you might have to do.

And you're at peace with it.

How may I be of assistance?

- Has my face been scanned?
- Of course.

That's all the
assistance I'm gonna need.

Ma'am, if you don't
have an appointment...

... I'm afraid I'll
need to call security.

I think I can handle
it from here. Thank you.

Hmm.

I just assumed you'd be taller.

I can only spare a minute, alas.

So perhaps we ought to get
straight down to business.

How can I be of help?

You mean, besides not
killing me and my family?

Well, exactly, because
that's rather nonnegotiable.

The fuck did I ever do to you?

Sticky fingers, dear.

You absconded with
some rather vital data.

Just return it, and
all shall be forgiven.

I didn't take shit from you.

I played my game and died.
Got sent home. End game.

So Aelita West still has it?

I don't know who the fuck has it.

And quite frankly, I don't give a shit.

I just need you to leave
me and my family alone.

You're either lying, or
expendable in your ignorance.

Either way, your death continues
to be my only viable goal.

Now, what makes you so
certain I won't kill you?

Right here?

I mean, I'm not that careless, dear.

Now, I'm in a Peripheral of my own.

Ah, that doesn't mean I can't
deal you an awful lot of pain.

Though I do imagine

you'd pop right out of that thing

at the first sign of trouble.

And why would you say that?

Now, you see, we got people
like you where I'm from.

Folks with power, money,

love to walk all over the rest of us.

Not the kind to suffer through
anything close to a real fight.

I've lived through more extremity

than you could possibly imagine.

It would crush your tiny little mind.

So please, don't care
to lecture me about pain.

Oh, I don't want to lecture you.

I just want to snap your fucking neck.

Do you feel it?

The darkness closing in?

Let it be preparation
for when I kill you,

and it's real.

Ah!

I got a foothold in your world now.

So next time, I'll be
coming for you instead.

There's been a murder
involving a Peripheral.

Well, I suppose we best get busy.

How come people here
stay so distant to us?

Do this.

You're telling me your
invisible car's missing?

How hard did you hit
that pretty head of yours?

You almost got killed.

Is there something else
you're not telling me?

Whatever you do, don't lie to her.

It wasn't an accident, it
was more like an ambush.

No, no, no, no, no.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.MY-SUBS.com -