All language subtitles for Travelers.S01E01.Travelers.1080p.BluRay.DDP.5.1.x265-edge2020_Track03

"You're... a... b-b...

big...

g... girl... now."

Marcy?

I gotta leave early tonight.
You all right alone?

I'm... I'm fine.

Don't forget to take your break.
You work too hard.

I won't. I won't.

Bye, Tory.

Don't!

Stop!

David gave that to me!
David gave that to me!

David--

Ah!

Ah!

Ah!

Aah!

That's mine.

Holy shit.

Trevor.

You stay down, man.
He's better than you.

-You can stay down, man!
-Shut up!

You should've stayed down.

Trevor! Trevor!

Aah!

I concede the fight.

-Do we need to cut it?
-Nah.

Ahh!

It's okay.

It's okay.
It's almost ready.

Carly?

Carly?

You're not
coming in like that.

You promised, Jeff.

Come on, Carly.
Don't make me mad.

I gotta take a piss.

Not supposed to be here
when you drink.

- Why is he crying?
- He's just hungry.

Give him something to eat!

I'm warming it up.

What is this shit?

It's baby food.
He's a baby, Jeff.

Don't talk to me
like I'm an idiot.

This is bullshit.
Yo, come on!

Hey, all you're doing
is pissing me off!

Listen, I'm sorry.

You make me crazy.

You need to go.

All right.

I'm going.

"Ruok"?

"Ru-ok"?

"Ruok..."

You're up early.

The headache wake you?

The sound of birds.

Know how stupid it is
to pick a fight before a game?

How do you throw a football
with a broken hand?

Doctors are more
concerned with his concussion.

You blow your chance
at a scholarship,

you better start
learning to flip burgers.

All right.
You scoot upstairs. Get ready.

They wanted to see you again
in the morning.

Thank you, Mom.

"Thank you, Mom"?

Who the hell's that?

Philip Pearson?

Tried to find you
at the university.

I'm Detective Gower.

"Gower"?

Your roommate
passed away last night.

You don't seem surprised.

It's me.

- David?
- Yeah.

Oh! That's...
not appropriate.

Marcy, put some clothes on.

Yeah, I can't, uh...

be your boyfriend, Marcy,
w-we talked about this.

What's that?

Oh...

What happened?

Uh... I fell.

And you just went home?

Oh, kiddo, are you okay?
Does it hurt?

I'm fine.

Well, I know
going to the doctor's

not your favorite thing
in the world, but...

That's a--
That's a nasty cut.

Is this appropriate?

Appropriate? Sure.

Maybe some underwear.

So you skipped out?

I just walked.

Uh-huh.

And the loaded syringe
we found on the table,

that wasn't meant for you?

Uh, what difference
does it make?

Did Stephen inject himself,
or did you do it for him?

Because your prints
were found on both syringes.

I was there, but then I-I left.

Yeah...

because you knew
he was gonna O.D.

Yeah, you knew.

You know, a phone call to 911
could've saved his life.

That's cold, Philip.

Either way,
you have got a problem.

On top of your drug problem.

I don't have a drug problem.

I know who your dealer is.

I know how much you buy.

I know who your friends are
and where you're from.

You have no idea where I'm from.

You inject somebody,
they O.D.,

that's manslaughter.

I have the right

to court-appointed
legal counsel, yes?

Sure you don't want
to call your parents instead?

You think you're sick now,
wait till your lawyer shows up.

I'm proud of you, you know.

What? What for?

You got knocked
in the head last night,

and you're...

you know, the naked thing,
that-- that was weird,

but otherwise, you're handling
this amazingly well.

Hey, it's Thursday.

It's reading-aloud day.

There's no point in wasting
time sitting on a bus.

It's just me.
It can be anything at all.

Think I got your favorite.

"Police were forced
to use tear gas

to disperse a crowd

shortly after
a not-guilty verdict

was announced out--"

What?

What-- What's wrong?

You didn't answer your cell.

What did they say?

I have a concussion.

Oh, no.

Will you be able to play
in the game next week?

The doctor said that...

if I hadn't walked away
from the fight,

I might have died.

Does it hurt now?

A little.

Are your folks home?

No. Why?

Oh, I don't think
that we should, Rene,

'cause my concussion.

Let me make you feel better.

Look. Please, stop.

-I don't think that we should.
-Are you breaking up with me?

No!

If anything...
I want to be closer to you.

There are things
I don't remember.

Things about me?

It's more things about myself.

The doctor said
that a concussion as bad as this

can cause changes in personality
and memory loss,

that the only treatment
is time--

that in time I'll be the person
I was before the concussion.

I need you to help me
remember who that person is.

Y-You want me to help you
find yourself?

Trev...

That is so beautiful.

Look...

You should go.

I don't want to,
but I will.

That's how much I love you.

Daddy's coming.

You busy right now?

Not yet.

We just got sent a red flag.

Can't you handle it?
I'm all over Jonas Walker.

I'm in court
today and tomorrow.

What's the flag?

Potential cell.

Encrypted communication
in the deep web.

I have no idea
what I'm looking at.

Analyst who flagged it is hoping
that they're just gamers.

Who travel, apparently.

Those GPS coordinates
correspond

to an abandoned building
downtown.

And what's a "T.E.L.L."?

I asked the same question.

They ran it
and nothing showed up.

Aw, shit, I'm late.

It's probably nothing, but...

Yeah, yeah. I got it.
I'll let you know.

Have fun in court.

Make sure Jonas Walker

doesn't shoot anyone
while I'm gone.

You didn't coach her?

No amount of coaching
can do that.

You recognize

Marcy has a significant
intellectual disability.

Yeah. "Had."

You want to think
something wonderful's happened,

but no traumatic brain injury

is going to increase
intellectual capacity.

It's just not possible.

Which brings us back
to "miracle."

Assuming that there was
a traumatic injury,

likely a concussion,

the most common symptoms
would be memory loss,

change in personality--

So...

What if this is the real Marcy?

Seriously?

Up until the age of 18,
Marcy lived in an institution,

one with a reputation
for neglect and abuse,

right up until the time
it was shut down.

She doesn't talk about that.

Maybe the "Marcy" we knew

was her way of coping there,

her way of making people
look after her,

and she just continued that
behavior after her release,

and when she hit her head...

She just forgot
who she was pretending to be?

That's crazy.

It's infinitely
more possible

than her I.Q.
doubling overnight.

I've been her caseworker
since her release.

-That was over a year ago!
-My case in point.

You got her
a subsidized apartment,

a job at the library.

You see her
four or five times a week--

You're saying she played me?

The most innocent soul
I've ever met.

Played the system.
Fooled me, too.

So she could live in a flophouse
full of crackheads,

work nights at a library
for the rest of her adult life?

No, you're right.
She's a mastermind.

She's a James Bond villain.

Neural pathways
can't spring up overnight.

Vocabulary doesn't
come out of nowhere.

And what's happened
to her stutter?

Is something wrong?

"You're... a...

big...

girl...

now,"

said... Mary...

T...

Tee-- Teacher.

Good.

Do you remember that?

It was just a few months ago.

I don't understand.

Neither do we.

I'd like to find out
what else you don't remember.

It's okay... I'm here.

Let's start with yesterday.

Where were you?

At the library.

Good.

What did you do
at the library?

I'm a librarian, so I was...

So you were
checking books in and out,

helping folks find
what they were looking for?

Yes.

And can you name
one of those people?

David.

Uh, to do research.

He's a reporter.

Marcy, stop.

What's wrong?

You being a librarian,

me going there to do research
for a newspaper I work for--

those are all part
of a profile page

that we made up.

That's my profile.

We created it as an exercise...

so I could teach you
about social media

and other things
about the world.

Remember?

You're not a librarian.

You work there
as a cleaning lady.

I'm not a reporter.

I'm your social worker.

So... so what...
you're saying is... that--

We're just trying to understand.

Marcy?

Marce?

- Marcy?
- Marcy!

Take it you're not "Leticia."

Wrong file.

Go ahead, have a seat.

Sit.

You look like shit, Philip.
When was the last time you hit?

-I don't use drugs.
-Come on, man.

You don't have to pretend.
I know all about addiction.

Trust me.
Mine's just legal.

Have they talked
to you at all about

the methadone program
they got going on?

-What is it?
-Methadone?

Your addiction.

Is it gambling?

Cigarettes.

Look, I'm just trying
to be simpatico here.

Don't be a dick.

I apologize.

We're gonna plea.
You'll end up doing some time.

There's no way around that.

They got you two ways,
all right?

But, in the meantime--

Are you bound by
attorney-client privilege?

Can you guarantee
your confidence

if I tell you information
that can help us both?

Absolutely. What?

I'm so sorry.

Come on, you love...

You love making up
after we fight.

That wasn't a fight.
You struck me.

If I hadn't demanded you leave,
you would've struck me again.

From now on, you'll be allowed
to see your son once a day

for one hour,
time to be arranged.

I see him when I wanna see him.

Also, you'll provide
proper financial support.

Okay. Okay, okay.

I get it.

Let me make it up to you.

What do you want me to do?

Change Jeffrey's diaper.

Hey! Phil!

Hey.

You got out quick.
What'd they tell you?

They didn't say anything.
They just let me go.

Come here, come here.
Come here for a sec.

How did you know?

Come on, man.
Three horses?

Three races,
three different cities--

all 20 to one or better?

The bets were so stupid,
I had to go to three bookies.

I wouldn't have done it if you
hadn't fronted the cash advance.

It's all here, by the way,
with interest.

Credit card's in there.

Go ahead. Take it.

Come on, come on.

You gotta tell me.

Do I still have
attorney-client privilege?

Yeah, sure, whatever.
Yep. Yep.

I'm from the future.

Okay, I get it,
you can't tell me.

But Phil...
you're gonna need me.

The cops are gonna
be all over you.

We gotta look after
each other here.

All right?

Oh, speaking of which--

There's something extra in there
for you, from the lock-up.

Just a little taste
so you don't get sick.

David?

There she is.

What happened?

Dr. Lee says you had a seizure.

It's the diminished capacity.
There's too much pre-existing damage.

What?

How did I get--?

We had to take you
to the hospital.

You've been out of it all day.

Soon as you feel up to it,
they wanna run tests--

-No, please.
-It's not up to me.

I can't be in the hospital.

- Marcy.
- Listen to me.

I have important work to do.

At the library?

No, not at the library.

This is all happening
for a reason.

Okay.

How about I go get the doctor
and we can talk about this?

Thank you.

Okay.

- Forbes.
- Hey.

How's Judge What's-His-Nuts?

Still an asshole.
How's our potential shooter?

Jonas Walker hasn't
left his house in a week.

Starting to think we're wasting
our time on that one.

Our chatroom,
on the other hand,

has been filling up all day
with the same weird messages.

I.P.s all over town.

You think it's something?

Gotta admit,
it's making me curious.

The one who set up the chatroom

was arrested
and released on a technicality.

Might save time if you contact
the arresting officer.

Name's Gower.

Okay. Bright and early.

Marcy, what're you doing here?

I was at your apartment!
I've been worried!

I didn't know where else to go.

What is going on?

Tell me.

I can't.

A mistake's been made,

and I'm not sure
how to correct it.

I don't even know if it can be.

Just... know
that I'm playing a small part

in something that's important.

Well, what does that even mean?

I couldn't explain it
if I tried.

Please...
just trust me anyway.

Morning.
Sorry to bother you so early.

I'm Special Agent Grant MacLaren
with the FBI.

FBI? Really?

Really.

A message was sent
from this I.P. address--

that just means one of
the computers in your house--

kinda raised
a flag in our system.

Please tell me
this is not about Internet porn.

No. Not porn. At least,
I-I don't think so.

No, this is more
of a chatroom conversation.

Ah. My son's always
in those rooms.

Is he a gamer, by any chance?
Video games?

It's all he ever does.

That, and the other thing.

When do you expect him home?

Said he'd be out
late tonight with friends.

Is he in any kind of trouble?

Nah. I doubt it.
You have a good day.

Hey. What're you doing here?

What do you mean?

You got a free ticket

to stay home
for the rest of the year.

And fail to graduate?

Yeah,
like that was gonna happen!

Can I ask you something
without telling everyone?

-Yeah.
-Honestly?

-Yeah, God, what is it?
-Which locker is mine?

Holy shit.

You mean you got,
like, brain damage?

Post-concussion syndrome.

Yeah.

It's, uh...
it's right here.

You want me
to show you the combo?

Please.

Hey.

Why is this body
always so tired?

"This body"?

Well, maybe
'cause it works nights.

This body just made breakfast.

That's very kind.

And you're naked again.

Okay.

How about you get dressed
before joining me?

David?

If I could tell you, I would.

Hey, as long as
you're not an assassin

or a Hollywood actress
researching a character.

Those--
Those are the...

two worst-case scenarios
I came up with

while I was laying
awake all night.

Gower.

Morning.
Grant MacLaren, FBI.

I'm investigating a 20-year-old
male you booked yesterday--

-Philip Pearson, yeah.
-That's him.

Well, I guess you heard he won
the lottery yesterday, huh?

-You had to drop the charges?
-No, he won the fucking lottery.

Six numbers outta seven.
92-grand and change.

Lucky kid.

Not if I catch him with that bag of smack
he's walking around with.

Our system red-flagged him as
a potential member of a terrorist cell.

I got the rest of the suspects
covered,

but if you could watch
this one--

Agent MacLaren, there's no way
in hell this kid's a terrorist.

Yeah? What were the odds
he was gonna win the lottery?

Okay.

Keep this number
and check in with me later.

Tomorrow, he's all yours.

Mm! You like that, sweetie?

Yes?

Special Agent MacLaren
of the FBI.

-Sorry to bother you.
-"MacLaren"?

How can I help you?

Our computer spits stuff out,
we have to follow it up.

-Do you live here alone?
-With my son.

-How old is he?
-Just over a year.

So, no criminal record?

Sorry.

I probably
know the answer to this,

but do you have plans
for later tonight downtown?

No. No plans.

You don't sound very sure.

I was trying to decide
if you were asking me out.

Uh, no.

Me? I'm--
I'm busy tonight.

Thanks for your time.

Hey! Pearson!

I wonder how much smack
you can buy with 90 grand.

The money's for something else.

Save me the trouble of following
you and just tell me.

I'm financing a secret hideout.

Sorry, kid, you're gonna
have to do better than that.

You're welcome
to stay while I'm at work.

-There's nothing in the fridge--
-I'll be out before you're home.

I'd like to come back tonight,
if that's all right.

It'll be late, though.

I could come with you.

No. No, you should
stay home tonight.

The streets won't be safe.

Wh-- What?
What's gonna happen?

Oh, come on,
that's going too far.

-I shouldn't have said anything.
-You can't expect me to--

I'll be back
just after midnight.

You're Batgirl, aren't you?

Bye.

Shit!

Come here.

You're welcome.

Get in. Let's go.
Come on.

Had to pay a kid to dare a kid
to get Gower off your ass.

Watching your back's
getting expensive, Philip.

-What do you want in return?
-Today's bet.

I can't do it.

Yesterday, you gave me three.
I'm only asking for one.

Yesterday was an emergency.

Today's kind of
an emergency for me.

Then you are a very bad gambler.

Yeah, I'm a bad gambler...

Maybe you'd like
to think about it.

Get out.

Pearson! Come here!

-Where are you going?
-Out.

With that guy?

I don't have time for this.

Well, make time.

Okay! Damn it.

Last warning.

Okay.

Hey! Hey!

Pearson! Stop!

Come on! Stop!

It's a good thing
you stopped, kiddo.

If I had to climb that fence,
I was gonna have a heart attack.

You're having one right now.

Oh, shut up.

I just need to catch my breath,
that's all.

Ooh!

Maybe you're right.

My phone--
it's in the car.

-Help me.
-I can't, Mr. Gower.

Then find someone
with a phone!

I can't, I'm sorry.

You can. I won't
come after you, I promise.

You're supposed to die
this afternoon.

No, you don't know--

I knew the moment
that I heard your name.

-I just didn't know I'd be here.
-Call 911 and go!

Because we considered you
as a host.

The heart attack
was inevitable within days.

No... I'm okay.

I think I'm okay.

Hello?

- David Mailer?
- Yeah?

Special Agent
Grant MacLaren with the FBI.

I came by earlier,
left a card under your door.

Oh, sorry, I didn't, uh...

-I didn't see it.
-Not a problem.

Just following up
on a chatroom message

that was sent from
your I.P. address last night.

You mean my computer?

Right. Tell me, do you have
plans to meet anyone tonight

downtown,
on the 12th floor

of an abandoned building,
about 11:17?

No. Why--
Why would I do that?

I guess that means
I won't be seeing you there.

I'm just thinking out loud,

but sometimes I let neighbors
use my Wi-Fi. Maybe that's, um--

Well, that's a federal offense,
Mr. Mailer.

Is it?

No. I'm kidding.
Have a good evening.

No. I'm not pressing charges.

I just want to know
where she took it.

Well, just check
and keep your mouth shut.

All right. Thanks.

Hello?

I'm-- I'm trying to reach
Detective Gower.

I thought this was his--

Jesus, I'm sorry to hear that.

No, it's-it's not important.
Um, thank you.

Carly?

Carly?

Got you.

You're actually all here.

We've been waiting for you.

Uh-huh.

Where's the social worker?

-David isn't one of us.
-One of--?

We're travelers from the future,
Agent MacLaren.

In our time,
many years from now,

humanity's been
all but wiped out.

We've come back to change that.

There are thousands of travelers
already here taking part.

Huh.

Okay, what do you say
we, uh, travel downstairs

and talk about this
somewhere else?

It's not safe here.

60 seconds.

Till what?

In the future,
we've developed a technology

that allows a traveler to project his
or her conscious mind into a host body

by knowing the precise time, elevation,
latitude, and longitude of their death.

"T.E.L.L."

A Traveler's consciousness

arrives moments before
that historical time of death,

overriding
the original host's mind,

then resumes his or her life
by using their knowledge

of historical records
and social media.

Okay, that's enough bullshit
for now--

-30 seconds.
-Wait.

Who the hell is that?

That's the body of Jonas Walker.

We stopped him from going
on a shooting rampage,

as you tried and failed to do,
between 11:14 and 11:17.

20 seconds.

We know the events of tonight

because for us,
they've already happened.

Just as we know
during a blackout,

at 11:17,
in pursuit of Jonas Walker,

Special Agent Grant MacLaren

fell 45 meters
down an open elevator shaft

to his death.

Three seconds.

Aah!

I see we all made it.

Let's begin.