Original subtitles

Previously on "Future Man"...

These three have stolen a time travel device.

They can be anytime, anywhere.

‐ I got a ping. Someone just invented

sliced bread 700 years too early.

Wolf‐Hart just decapitated Shoji the Honorable,

wiping out an entire line of noble warriors.

‐ Da, da!

Check out this book. It's got to be Wolf‐Hart.

He set her humanity aflame.

They're hiding in Russia.

‐ Two timelines just momentarily merged.

I think we're looking at temporal decay.

Future and past existing simultaneously,

space‐time collapsing in on itself.

‐ Are you there, God?

Please don't call me that.

‐ What should I call you, then?

How about "friend?" You must come to me.

I will give you the coordinates to find me.

‐ Hey, give me that. ‐ No, I got it!

I'm taking us somewhere safe.

‐ What's going on?

You piss yourself in moments half as tense as that.

‐ I had faith, and my faith was rewarded.

My destiny is not back there.

It's up there.

Yes, Josh. You are close.

‐ What's on top of the mountain?

‐ Home.

We're off to see the all‐knowing,

benevolent, the great, the powerful‐‐

Josh, my friend, I have been patient.

I have waited for your scratch to heal.

‐ It's not a scratch.

Okay, the scent of my leg repels animals.

Except for vultures, who just keep following me.

Today, you must climb the mountain.

‐ I can barely walk.

You keep pushing me to climb, and every time that I do,

the wound just opens up again, and it's making it worse.

Why can't you just come meet me here?

The mountain will not come to you,

you must come to the mountain.

Don't give up, not when you are so close.

‐ Exactly, exactly.

Doesn't close count for anything?

Look, I just want to go home.

I thought we were friends.

It turns out I'm just that sad Bible guy

who God keeps on testing over and over again.

You know the one.

Uh... Jesus?

‐ No! Job.

Right?

If you say so.

‐ Oh. What took you so long?

‐ Oh, you know, I just kept falling and crying.

‐ Mm‐hmm.

‐ Oh, yeah.

Goddamn it.

I asked for King Boletes. These are Death Caps.

You want to guess what happens if you eat these?

This is fine dining, not college improv.

‐ I'm sorry, okay? I'm doing my best.

Just cut me some slack. I'm going to my room.

Oh, well, if it isn't little Miss

"Haven't Been Home in Three Days."

‐

Oh, yeah, my chin is a‐barkin'.

‐ No one's making you wear that thing.

‐ Yeah, well, I'm sick of killing would‐be rapers.

Hey, boy?

Boy? ‐ What?

‐ Why'd you have to bring us to yet another time

where women are treated like garbage?

‐ Well, I'm so sorry. It's called "all of history."

What do you want me to do about it?

Those are bear traps.

‐ Yep, and they need a‐mendin'.

Rabbit's ten away.

I made sous‐vide bags out of elk bladders.

It locks in the flavor.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's food.

- Who gives a shit? - Ooh, careful.

Okay, so how was your day?

‐ Well, I beat my PR on beaver pelts.

97. ‐ Oh, wow.

‐ Yeah, pretty good considering those Mohawk dicks

are messing with my traps.

‐ Oh, well, you know, if you like,

I can speak with the Mohawk.

They're allied with the French, and they don't take too kindly

to independent operators moving in on their territory,

but if I were to communicate our neutrality‐‐

You know what? ‐ And then we can‐‐

Stop you right there Mr. "Tell Morning Not to Come."

‐ I gave you no cause to retrieve the book.

Boy. Read it.

Do I have to?

Read the passage.

"Climax upon climax.

"A cascade that had no beginning and no end.

"I knew I must tell the world what happened

between those beet‐stained sheets."

‐ I mean, you could've just‐‐

finger‐blasted her, called it a day.

But no, you had to go ahead and inspire

a whole new genre of literary erotic fiction.

‐ I only do things one way, and that's all the way.

‐ And that is why you are on a soft lockdown

till further notice, soldier.

I like it here.

The air is clear, the killin's good.

And I don't need you messing it up

by putting your stupid mark on history again.

‐ You're treating me like a goddamn Josh.

Hey.

‐ Don't act like such a prisoner.

You go to the trading post and sell my furs.

‐ Yeah, once a week.

You're running around free doing whatever you like

while I'm stuck here changing the Josh's bandages.

‐ I change them, too. ‐ Once.

And half‐way through, you gave up,

and you handed them to me.

Hey, Tiger.

The Mohawk did not destroy your traps.

There's no human that can bend iron like this.

‐ Whitey.

‐ Oh, Lord. Not this again.

‐ Albino bear of legend.

Ten feet tall, snow‐white fur.

Eyes as red as the devil. Heart as black as...

also the devil.

‐ Whitey is a myth.

Tall tale told by trappers to scare each other

around the campfire.

No, he is real,

and if I do nothing else on this Earth,

I will kill Whitey.

Hunter's log, day 187.

Having thinned the beaver population

to near extinction levels,

I direct my gaze to more elusive quarry.

In nature, there can only be one apex predator.

My mission?

To kill my way to the very top of this food chain.

Failure is not an option.

I rely on keen instinct, finely‐honed skills,

and whatever savagery this hunt requires..

Ursine maggot.

Hmm.

Clue...

and a snack.

Female. In heat.

Same here, sister.

There she is.

Five minutes. Maybe ten.

Looks like a bear does shit in the woods.

‐ Ah. We are having reindeer sweetbreads,

wild asparagus,

a salad of chickweed, peppergrass‐‐

Hunting. Need protein.

‐ That's it. I can't live like this.

I just need to feel seen.

Yeah, well, buy a mirror.

‐

Oh, God, the stench.

It's‐‐it's bad today.

‐ All right, someone needs to change the Josh.

Fine. I'll do it.

‐

‐ All right, let's have a look at this.

Oh, yowzer me. Yikes.

‐ I am not liking the color of that ooze.

You know, it's like chicken.

You want the juices to run clear.

‐ Yep, well, it's about that time.

‐ No, no! No one is cutting my leg off.

‐ Yeah, to get through that femur,

I'm definitely gonna have to saw.

‐ No, no sawing, either.

‐ I heard tale of a medicine woman

at the trading post who works wonders.

I bet I could get you in to see her.

‐ No, no medicine woman.

Okay, my leg is going to heal.

Okay, I know it will.

Why would somebody put me through this

if I can't overcome it?

Pretty shitty thing for a friend to do.

I'm shitty? You're shitty!

‐ Uh‐‐

Okay, buddy.

‐

Hold him steady. He'll be a‐thrashin'.

‐ No, no, please, please, please!

Please, please, don't cut my leg off, please.

I swear I will go see the medicine woman.

‐ See what happens when you set some firm boundaries?

‐ Don't even start. ‐ You coddle him.

So what does this medicine woman do?

More like what doesn't she do?

She's a therapist, frontier doctor,

weight‐loss guru.

She helped me drop the Frontier Fifteen,

and cured my seasonal affective disorder.

Turns out, it's okay to be sad.

‐ Good. I thought it was like a religious thing.

Religion? Hell no.

‐ Yeah, yeah, I know. You and Tiger don't believe.

‐ How could we?

Growing up in the sewer with the Biotics

sending down those toddler bombs.

‐ I'm sorry, the what bombs?

I've told you about the toddler bombs.

Human children genetically engineered

to blow up when you hug them.

‐ No. That's fucked up.

Well, that's not the fucked up part.

We could always spot the toddler bombs

because any actual sewer child was far too emotionally damaged

to yearn for physical affection.

Holy shit.

‐ Again, not the fucked up part.

‐ How is that not the fucked up part?

‐ Eventually, us older kids captured the TBs

and forced them to perform for us in a makeshift circus.

‐ Okay, just cut to the fucked up part.

‐ We laughed at one of the toddler bombs' poetry.

It was bad.

He had the mind of a three‐year‐old.

But we didn't have to laugh.

He took it pretty hard,

ended up hugging himself and self‐detonating.

All the other TBs realized that they, too,

were just there for our amusement.

Pop, pop, pop, pop.

Mass toddler suicide.

That's when I realized there was no God.

He was just some sky genie people made up

to give them hope.

You doubled back.

Why?

Why here?

So visible.

So exposed.

The fuck were you looking for?

Oh.

Is this bear something, or is this bear something?

You're looking at me.

Okay.

Okay.

You want to dance? Huh?

You want to dance?

Let's fucking Lindy Hop.

The old trading post.

Burned to the ground by the outlaw Wild Sam Bladden.

Folks here are gonna have the last laugh.

We're rebuilding this trading center to be stronger,

more vibrant than ever.

Wait, did you say "we?"

What's happening?

How do you know all these people?

Wolf, did you build a thriving international hub of commerce?

‐ No.

I served in a consulting capacity.

Nothing formal. I'm nobody here.

‐

‐ Just go on.

He's just confused.

Trust me, around here, I'm a ghost, a shadow.

My name's on nothing.

‐ Your brand is.

‐ Wolves were sacred to the Mohawk

long before I got here.

I just need to talk to Acona about the new inventory.

Fall is all about beavers.

You're doing it again. You're gonna get us caught.

‐

‐ Wolf, you promised‐‐

‐ Josh I'm gonna stop you right there.

Selling fur is all about building relationships,

So, yes, when I come to the post,

I kibitz a bit.

As Lew Wasserman said,

"Every conversation

is a business meeting in disguise."

But don't you worry about me.

I learned my lesson with Dasha.

That's why I've only been taking illiterate lovers.

‐ Wolf, that was not the lesson, and you know it.

‐ Shall we go see the medicine woman?

Okay.

Don't push me. Don't push me.

‐

‐ She says it's not your leg that's the source of your pain.

‐ Of course it is. What else would it be?

‐ A spiritual crisis.

‐ What? That's ridiculous.

What would be the nature of that crisis,

in her opinion?

‐ Did she just say something profound?

‐ She always does.

Speak freely.

This is a judgment‐free yurt.

‐ I've been talking with God for the last eight months.

He lives inside my ear, and he tells me what to do.

We're, like, super, super close.

He even has me call him friend.

But right now, we're in, like, a fight,

and I don't know what to make of it anymore.

I'm starting to think it's all in my head,

and I'm just going crazy.

Josh, do not go down this road.

Remember the Miracle of the Goo?

‐ Goo? It was a knob.

Okay, I found a knob with my hand.

That's something I could've done on my own completely.

I'm not an idiot.

Sorry.

‐ It's okay.

What's... tiny ear God saying now?

‐ He's telling me that he's real.

But what kind of God knows less about the Bible than me?

I mean, isn't he supposed to be omniscient?

What kind of God would let my leg get caught in a bear trap?

That's so on you, bro.

Whoa, it's happening.

Don't fight it, Josh.

Let her in.

‐ She's right.

I don't believe in myself.

I am a salmon swimming against a tide

of my own self‐doubt.

I created a sky genie just to give me hope.

Josh, don't abandon me when we are this close.

‐ You know what, bro?

I'm done.

I release you.

You release me?

You know what? Fine, be that way.

‐ A real God wouldn't have to slam a door.

Hello?

He's gone.

I'm free.

‐

‐ She's asking if we want to stay

for a shave in a sweat lodge.

Tuesdays are pretty slow around here.

Oh. Yeah, that sounds great.

‐ I feel lighter.

Well, you are lighter.

I usually drop three to four LBs

of a liquid stress after a good schvitz.

Yeah.

Yeah, and you know what? It was just nice to talk

to somebody who was actually there.

‐ Well, now that you realize you're never going home,

you can focus on being happy in the here and now.

‐ I wouldn't say "never." You know, never say never.

Normally, I'd agree with you,

except in this case.

We are history's most wanted fugitives.

A couple of five‐Os are definitely stationed

outside of every Futturman household in the universe.

Did tiny ear God give you a plan to get past them?

‐ No.

I guess he was more of, like, a big picture sort of God.

‐ Yet another reason you should've called bullshit.

God is in the details.

Huh. Yeah, I mean, I guess that...

every other Futturman house

would have another version of me.

So you would have to kill to take their place,

and that's the best‐case scenario.

No, more likely, time constables kill your parents,

turn them into cyborgs, and use them to torture you.

So in that version you technically could go home,

but your robot parents would kill you.

Is that what you want, Josh?

Your robot parents to kill you?

‐ No.

Wait.

I've just had an idea that'll change everything.

‐ Wait? Tell me.

‐ Vegan carnitas.

These are King Boletes.

They have the perfect density

to make faux‐Mex taste like "Fuck yes."

So to sum up, you're never going home,

your God is dead, and taco Tuesday is on.

Whitey, Whitey, Whitey.

Looks like someone's not smarter than the average bear,

because you've just wandered into a sea

of my very best

traps?

‐ Looks like Tiger's gonna be a little late.

Just go ahead and start.

‐ Not hungry.

These King Bs marinated for hours.

They bleed like real meat.

Just...

take a bite.

- ‐ I don't want to. - No, just try it.

Wolf, I don't want to. ‐ No, just‐‐

‐ Stop it!

Just stop pretending we're family.

I could not be farther away from my family.

All right, Tiger gets it.

She knows that we're just three people

going insane in the wilderness.

Our only future is running, and I can't even stand up.

So just leave me alone.

What are you doing?

‐ Going out. ‐ Where?

‐ Do you know what I've sacrificed

to support the two of you?

The dreams I've put on hold?

Tell Tiger...

I went out to buy a mirror.

‐ What?

‐ It relates to an earlier conversation

that you weren't privy to, but trust me,

it is a devastating retort, so just tell her.

‐ That you bought a mirror.

‐ No, not in past tense. Just‐‐

say it like I said it.

I'm not your messenger boy.

When are you coming back?

‐ Never.

I give you two days, maybe three,

before those vultures lose their patience

and start pecking away at what's left of you.

Now, if you'll excuse me, daddy's going dancing.

‐ Oh, yeah?

Well...

there's no point in making tacos

if you're in a time period that doesn't have avocados!

Don't worry, fellas,

your patience will soon be rewarded.

I know you're around here somewhere.

Death cap.

Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry. I knew that you were real.

I don't know why I ever doubted you.

I see it now.

It's clear.

I will yield!

Good. Tell me what I want to hear.

‐ You want me to climb that mountain?

I'll climb that mountain.

Yes, Josh. Now you get it.

I'm coming, God.

Only a few more vertical miles.

Yes, Josh, but go faster.

Dig deep.

- Yeah. - Life is hard.

Full of violence and struggle to survive.

It's enough to drive a good man mad.

But I believe this can be a new world for everyone

where we coexist in peace,

but more importantly...

in prosperity.

That's why we've gathered here on this historic day

to redraw the map of the New World,

and to sign this lasting peace and trade agreement.

Everyone who has an interest in this bountiful new land

is taken care of in this document.

All the tribes of the Northeast,

English, French, Spanish.

And I want to thank our new friends,

the Norse, Japanese, Russians,

whose angel investment will pay significant returns

as we extend our reach around the globe.

Once again, the world is round.

Yep, that's right. It's a sphere.

Now, come on up here.

Take your ceremonial souvenir pen,

and make your mark on history.

Please, I'm just a humble backstage power broker.

My presence is to be felt, not seen.

Okay, okay, please.

Making my mark on history is

I guess inevitable.

Just gonna tuck my name in the corner here, real small.

Guess who killed Whitey?

Turns out, she was a dame.

And so am I.

Of course.

He lives in a humble shack.

He's real. It's all real.

I come to you on my knees,

but I will greet you on my feet.

God?

No, my friend.

‐ Osama Bin Laden?

‐ Guilty as charged.

‐ No.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no.