Original subtitles

♪ I walk along the city streets You used to walk along with me ♪

♪ And every step I take Recalls how much in love we used to be ♪

♪ Oh, how can I forget you? ♪

♪ When there is always something there to remind me ♪

♪ Always something there to remind me ♪

♪ I was born to love you ♪

♪ And I will never be free ♪

♪ You'll always be a part of me ♪

♪ Whoa ooh whoa oh ♪

♪ When shadows fall, I pass a small... ♪

♪ Oh, how can I forget you? ♪

♪ When there is always something there t o remind me ♪

♪ Always something there to remind me ♪

♪ I was born... ♪

Mm-hm.

Hi. - Hey.

Tours begin at 11:00.

You're the first in line. Could be a busy day.

Road seemed pretty empty.

Nice accent.

You from Australia? - No, I'm from Britain.

So you've got one of those crazy British names?

Esmerelda or...

I'm Nish.

Nish? - Nish.

Well, I can't judge. My name's ridiculous.

Rolo Haynes. Owner. Proprietor.

Well, just us two this morning.

You sure you want to do this? This place ain't for the faint-hearted.

I'm sure I can handle it.

Not everyone can.

So...

I have to peek into your little sack there, if that's OK?

Oh, that's OK.

Can't trust anyone these days.

If you could step through there?

Anything metal, put it in here. - Cool.

Dinky.

Ah, yeah. I call it fun size.

Fun size? I like that.

Guessing you had a gut full of this security shit at the airport?

Our immigration guys are pretty tight these days.

All clear?

OK.

Show on the road.

So, are you on vacation?

Sort of. My dad lives out here. - Uh-huh?

It's his birthday, so my mum just wants to surprise him.

And you're the surprise?

Part of it, I guess.

Where did you fly in? - Salt Lake.

You came here from Salt Lake?

Yeah, I thought it'd be nice to drive the back route, but...

I underestimated the... - Heck of a trip for a girl on her own.

I don't mean to get old-fashioned on you. - Seriously?

That is quite old-fashioned.

It's hot as hell in here.

The AC must've shit the bed.

Sorry for the heat.

God damn digital systems.

Never trust a guy in tech. Jesus, I should know that.

So, what is all this stuff?

Authentic criminological artefacts.

If it did something bad, chances are it's in here.

Take a look around, take your time, see what pops out at you.

Anything piques your interest, I can tell you all about it.

There's a sad, sick story behind most everything here.

Just like our main attraction, which is just through there.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Lots of folks just rush behind the curtain

hardly even eyeball this stuff

and then it's a bunch of one-star ratings on Trip fucker.

And before you know it... - Yo, look, I am not in a rush

so don't worry.

Well, then, take your time.

I shall.

This stuff looks techy. - Well, neuro tech was my background.

Sweet.

So, what's this, then? Looks like a hairdressing thing.

Actually, that was one of my very first souvenirs.

Sheds a little light on how our main exhibit came to be.

What is it? - You heard of Peter Dawson?

Uh-uh.

Doctor Peter Dawson?

Well, usually I say

"This is Dawson's symphatic diagnoser"

and folks shriek, "No way", and I'm like, "Oh, it very much is."

"How the heck did you get that?" is the next question.

OK.

My domain was med tech.

I worked out of San Juniper's.

It's kind of like a university hospital. Sweet setup.

Part of the Land Act, actually.

It was in downtown New York

big old building.

Research up top

Emergency Room and the great unwashed down at street level.

It was the perfect mix of business and healthcare.

Seriously?

Out of the way, arsehole!

Idea was, folks with no coverage signed up for free healthcare

in exchange for consenting to occasional experimental treatments.

I... I... I worked for the guys up top.

What, like a scientist?

I was more, sort of...

recruitment.

- OK, clear. - Yeah, I'm here.

Shocking.

No. - No?

No. - OK, I'm going again. Clear.

- Clear! - Got it.

Shocking!

No.

If I'd known she was on tricyclics I would've nudged the dose.

You couldn't have known.

This a bad time?

Rolo Haynes from the tenth floor.

Seems you've been having some problems.

I think I've got something that can help.

The big thing they're into is neuro technics.

Pioneering brain enhancements.

Neural interfaces.

All that fun stuff.

The holy grail they've been aiming for is a way to transfer knowledge.

So one of the teams here is working on an experiment

trying to find a way to beam information from one brain to another.

This is Kenny.

This is Hector.

Stay with me on this.

So, the experiment.

They built a little maze and they drop Kenny here into it.

He runs round over and over for months on end

till he knows it like a childhood home.

And then...

they put this on him.

It's a transmitter

absorbing signals from Kenny's brain

which were sent to Hector over here.

Hector had our prototype synaptic receiver fitted.

Now, remember, Hector had never even set paw in the maze.

Plan was, he'd now receive Kenny's knowledge of the maze layout

and, boom, he'd be able to solve it, first time.

Did he? - No.

Scrabbled around like a rat, fucking imbecile.

So, um, why are you telling me this?

Because just as it becomes clear that the maze thing's a bust

one of our researchers spills his coffee on Kenny.

Hot coffee spills all over Kenny, so obviously he's squealing like hell

but so is Hector.

Turns out, we haven't discovered how to share knowledge...

But physical sensations. - Bingo.

That's nuts. Holy shit.

And even nutsier shit

Hector felt the burn, but took no damage at all.

All of the experience, none of the physical cost.

But how did he die?

They cut him open after to see if he was OK.

Oh.

Anyhow, thanks to Hector's sacrifice, we prototyped this.

A receiver for human experiences.

A neural implant. Only one of its kind.

This is why you brought me up here.

What's the biggest pain in the arse with patients?

Finding out what's wrong with them in the first place.

Half of the arseholes that roll in here can't even describe their symptoms.

They're... They're either out cold or concussed or drunk or dumb

or 2 years old or they can't speak English.

Imagine if you could feel exactly what a patient feels

minus the physical consequences?

Like reading their minds.

So, what do you say?

Got to hand it to Dawson, he leapt at the chance.

Like he was happy to do it.

And it was only a short procedure.

Irreversible, but, hey, he was a pioneer.

Plus, his mortality rates were in the toilet

so this was his best shot at redemption.

Does it hurt if I touch it? - I don't think so.

There's something kind of kinky about it.

It's like the ultimate piercing.

If you're trying to make me feel better, it's working.

Time for the trial run.

So this is where our hairnet doohickey comes into play.

Theory was, if you slipped it on a willing subject

it'd absorb their physical sensations and relay them to Dawson's implant.

We just had to find out if it worked.

Ow.

This one.

Houston, we got a miracle.

Right off the bat

Dawson gets to work with the ailing public

Starts building up a kind of library of physical symptoms.

Plan was, he'd get to know how things felt so that he could diagnose them quicker.

So, start small in the ER, minor fractures, that sort of thing.

Soon graduates to bigger stuff.

Major injuries. Diseases.

Late-stage terminal stuff.

Dawson grit his teeth and went through it all.

Say a kid comes in obviously in pain.

Doctors suspect appendicitis, they'd hook him up to Dawson just to be sure

Dawson had felt appendicitis many times by now

so he knows if it's something more.

Caught things they weren't even looking for.

Blastomas and so on. - Good luck, man!

That man saved lives.

No doubt about it.

- Good luck, huh? - Bye.

Stay in touch. Bye bye.

Bye.

That was nice.

And, incidentally,

if you'll allow me to be crude...

Dawson's symphatic diagnoser came in handy in the bedroom.

His implant received pleasurable sensations, too.

So, if his girlfriend slipped on that transmitting blue hairnet

and he tuned in his little implant nubbin...

Oh my God, you feel...

He didn't just feel what he was feeling..

I'm going to come! - but also felt what she was feeling.

Son of a bitch was experiencing male and female orgasms at the same time.

Oh, my... Oh, my... Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Shit!

I can't get enough of your...

But?

I'm sorry?

Dawson's having a great time, there's got to be a "but".

Oh.

He's having a great time, but...

But...

Coming through. Coming through.

Come on! - Almost there.

One day, they rush in Senator Whitley

he'd collapsed at some fundraiser.

No one could tell

- what in hell was wrong with him. - Three, two, one, lift.

I've got this.

Dawson's hooked up.

Be careful.

OK. Oh! Oh! Jesus!

And has the roughest ride.

Oh! - Pete?

Like he's got no clue what this is.

Pete! - Just one more minute, please!

Let the man work. - Oh!

It's a pain he's never known.

Oh! Oh! Shit!

He's flatlining. - Just one more moment!

Then it happened.

Pete?

Dawson blacked out for like five minutes.

Turns out the senator had been poisoned.

A rare poison at that, some kind of Russian shit.

He'd been into that whole thing.

But Dawson had experienced death and come out the other side.

At the moment of death

a whole galaxy of synapses fritzes out of existence.

Tsunami of endorphins.

And then there's this rolling dark wave of nothing rushes in behind.

When he came round, they ran every kind of test

but he was all systems go, nothing wrong.

"Shaken but unharmed" they put on his report.

Next day, he was back up and at 'em.

But there was something wrong, right?

To go through all that without dying?

Fucked up his implant like that.

Oh, my God.

I'm just going to get some water. - OK.

Ah!

Oh, goddammit.

Fair to say his relationship with pain

had shifted a little.

Uh, that hurt like hell.

Now he was into it.

He really threw himself into his work after that.

He tried to hide it at first

but thanks to that little nubbin

the more pain he felt, the more pleasure he got.

OK, no, stop, stop.

OK, safe word! Stop!

You said that we could try it. - And we did.

Look, we tried the hair pulling and that choke thing.

I'm not into it, OK? It's just not me.

Maybe I should go.

No.

No, please. I'm sorry.

Stay.

Please?

Ow. Pete!

I'm going.

See, it's like eating chillies.

You acclimatise fast.

First time you had a jalapeno, bet you spat it out, too hot.

But persevere and it becomes addictive.

Soon, a jalapeno's not enough.

You work your way up, red-hot chillies, bird's-eye chillies

till you get to them Scotch bonnet devils.

Dawson's craving was just the same.

Before you know it, he's hanging around the ER

just waiting for a juicy accident victim to latch onto.

All he can think about is that next hit gnawing away up there.

"Give it back to me. Give it back. Got to have it back."

Sarah, will you just file these for me?

- Sure thing. - Pete?

This isn't your shift.

I just...

Pete?

Careful.

And three, two, one, lift.

Let me get this.

As soon as he jacks in, he feels it.

It's a cardiac arrest. She collapsed in the street.

I just want to be sure.

It's a heart attack, alright, but he says nothing.

Plays for time.

Figures he can ride that pain train

all the way through to Nirvana.

Eventually, they have to physically pull Dawson away from her.

Give Aunt Ethel her CPR.

She flatlines in front of him and he's like an alcoholic

watching someone pour a glass of good Scotch down the sink

sick at the waste of good shit.

Look, we always knew going into this there might be side effects.

I mean, we can look into how we deactivate but it's going to take some time.

I can't just pull all the people off the other projects, Pete.

I mean, we have milestones to hit. You know the drill.

But we'll get there.

In the meantime, we can't have you near patients

so just go home, put your feet up and binge a mini-series, whatever.

No one could've known what would happen next.

Authorities are expected to confirm

the body is that of missing WNL weather reporter Denise Stockley.

Certainly a major police presence there, as we can see.

Let's take a look at the timeline...

Dawson was home alone, 24-7

climbing the walls. Withdrawal, I guess.

She was last seen

the evening of Friday, September 15th...

He didn't have patients

to leech pain off any more.

So he started inflicting it... on himself

...for her safe return

or for any information from witnesses.

Spent a week

just whittling away at himself.

Cut here, a gouge there.

I mean, the guy was a doctor.

He knew how far he could go without it getting fatal.

But it was never enough.

None of it was enough.

When he worked on himself, there was a crucial ingredient missing.

Fear.

The amygdala.

Little almond-shaped nubbin in your brain.

When you're afraid, it lights up like a midnight airstrike

sharpens the senses.

The fear the patient feels

when they're staring up at that ceiling light.

The fear accompanying each sudden jab of agony

he'd come to appreciate that, too.

It went with the pain.

Complimented it, like red wine and steak.

You can inflict pain on yourself

but not terror.

For that, you need a volunteer.

Dawson was practically coming when they found him.

He'd enjoyed one big old speed ball of fear and pain and death.

Tell me they put him in jail.

In the hospital.

He wound up in a vegetative state.

Good.

Still there, to this day.

In a coma deep as the ocean.

But the thing of it is

they say he still has that look on his face.

Blissed out, still riding that high.

You're fucking with me, right?

OK, I added the boner, I couldn't resist.

Fun story, huh?

Yes, fun story.

Wooh.

Oh, man. Do you want some water?

Really, I'm fine. - No, man. It's no bother.

Thank you kindly.

So, how come you didn't stay in med tech?

Well, I did for a while.

Just cos Dawson went la-la, neuro research didn't stop.

TCKR adapted it and fine-tuned it.

It's how they wound up with a digital consciousness transference.

What they call "cookies" today.

Uh, like when they upload old people to the Cloud?

Yeah, this is way before that.

We didn't have that whole immersive VR environment shizzle back then

What we dealt with was more organic, almost Io-fi.

How so?

Got to say, you ask more questions than the average bear.

Well, to be honest, my car's still charging so I've got a bit of time.

Well, then...

What I wanted to show you, um...

Part of what I was working on...

It's... um, cute?

Actually one of the saddest things in the whole place.

Doesn't look it.

You ever had one of those relationships where you just can't get someone

out of your head?

Yeah.

Some years back

boy meets girl, boy's called Jack

girl's called... - Jill.

Carrie...

Cupcake?

Thank you.

You're welcome.

♪ Spread your love like a fever ♪

♪ And don't you ever come down ♪

Are you the sheriff now? - Yeah.

And I'm the prisoner? - You're in trouble, sir.

Come and arrest me.

♪ I ain't ever coming down ♪

Eventually, he dick pukes a little baby pace

up her wazoo, which takes hold.

Before you know it, out pops a boy.

Parker. Boom. They're a family unit.

A walking commercial for a sunnier future.

Happy as hell.

I want to take a photo.

Now, OK... I'm going to get the lake in the background.

Alright, buddy. - OK, you ready?

Parker.

Wave to Mummy. Say hello. Say hi to Mummy.

Carrie gets hit by a truck.

Winds up at San Juniper's.

Come back to me.

Come back...

Years go by

Jack visits her every week.

Talks to her. Plays her recordings of their son.

Shoots the shit.

She never wakes up.

But they tested the comm box on her.

Kind of basic device that let's coma folks sort of respond back.

I got you some room fresheners.

You want Pine Forest?

OK.

What about Citrus Fresh?

Got you.

And I recorded Parker singing with some other kids.

Do you want to hear it?

♪ Twinkle, twinkle, little star ♪

♪ How I wonder what you are ♪

Hey. - Hey.

The woman in 302, Carrie Lamasse

you're the partner, right?

Uh-huh. - Jack?

Rolo Haynes. I represent Neuro R&D for TCKR.

OK.

We're working on a project that might be of interest to someone in your position.

What's my position?

We're exploring something that could give the likes of Carrie

a whole new lease of life.

I'm talking miraculous.

What do you mean?

So the guys at TCKR have been working on digitally extracting a consciousness

out of one brain and kind of rehousing it in a host brain.

What does that even mean?

OK, so, even on a good day we only use 40% of our brain capacity.

There's this whole other 60% of our noggin hanging around like an empty Airbnb.

And so...? - And so, with our new compression technique.

we figure we can fit another whole consciousness into that unused space.

I'm talking about taking Carrie's consciousness

from that broken shell

and putting it in there.

What? You're talking like a voice inside my head?

Like the whole of her inside your head.

Like a hitchhiker. Like a passenger.

Vicarious sensations.

She sees what you see. She feels what you feel.

She can live again.

Feels, as in...?

You've got a little boy. Parker.

How do you know all this? - You hug Parker and Carrie feels it, too.

She can hug your son via you.

How much does this all cost?

Won't cost a thing.

We will have to euthanise her physical body

during the transfer process, but...

We would earmark her organs for transplants

Giving back to the community.

So, what do you say?

I'd have to think about it.

Carrie's done her thinking.

How about you?

Commencing upload procedure.

Now moving to download.

OK, she's installed.

She's home.

You can open your eyes now, Jack.

Carrie?

If you can hear me

tell Jack what you see.

An apple. I see an apple.

I can hear her.

Apple. Apple. She's saying apple.

Hey, baby.

Hey, Jack.

Take it.

Grip it.

Carrie, you feel that?

She... She says she feels it.

Sensations looking good. Take a bite.

Oh, God.

So long since I tasted anything.

You can taste that?

She tastes it. Holy shit.

Looks like you're all set.

Shall we bring him in?

Is that Parker?

He got so big!

Oh, God, Jack, hold him. Hold our little boy.

Give me a really big hug, please?

Ah. I feel him. I really feel him.

Mummy says she loves you.

Truly heart-warming.

Yeah. But this is where you say "but".

Well, not to wax philosophical, but...

how long can happiness realistically last anyhow?

God, turn the page already. Man, you read slow.

I like to take in the pictures.

That's what the graphic part of a graphic novel is.

It's true.

Hey, I've got to take a piss.

Oh, urgh. I'll never get used to this.

Feels good, huh?

Whoa, you're not washing our hands?

Our hands?

Seriously, though. It's kind of gross.

Thirty-eight-year-old Clayton Lee

was today found guilty of the horrific murder

of WNL weather reporter Denise Stockley

whose mutilated remains were discovered one year ago...

We should turn this off. It's disturbing to a 4-year-old.

He's fine. He's not even listening.

Parker! Jesus.

Don't snap at him.

Oh, but snapping at me is fine?

Baby, you're... - How does that work?

He's a child.

This is serious, man.

No. No, I'm not... I'm not being... I'm not being unreasonable.

He not yet...

No, just wait, no... Just hear me out.

Having a back seat driver glued into the back seat

ain't no fun for anyone in the car.

No privacy for him. No agency for her.

It'd drive you mental. - Exactly.

You know? Fine. Forget it.

Alright. Go ahead. Keep talking. I'm going for the anchovies.

Going to be quiet?

Hmm? Want to shut up now? We're good?

Hmm?

You...

Fuck you!

Urgh! Fuck.

Yeah. I don't care. Oh, you still talking?

Hmm? You...

Hmm? Oh.

Anyhow...

Soon, he, or "they" come to me.

Like I'm their relationship therapist.

Oh, would you pipe down and let me speak?

Let me finish a goddam sentence. - Ready, guys?

I see the problem.

She's the problem.

Familiarity breeding contempt is the problem.

You need to ration your contact.

Ration how?

She's running through my head like a goddam tune I can't shake.

Well, we could upgrade your privileges, Jack.

Give you a little more control?

Shut up.

Sorry. Go on. - Well...

Maybe if you had the ability to place Carrie on pause...

Now and then...

It'd make things easier for the both of you.

Do it.

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever! Do it.

So we upped his privileges.

You should be able to put her on pause.

That's it. - OK.

Didn't take him long to use them.

So now we're just openly checking out women's racks?

And don't say you weren't because I can feel the fucking boner forming, OK?

And he checks her arse, too as she leaves. Holy fuck.

So I checked her out. What?

Damn. I'm horny as fuck. Haven't jerked off in like a month.

Well... I'm not stopping you.

You're looking over my shoulder, but from the inside.

It's like trying to jerk off in front of a cop, who's also your mum.

Fuck you.

OK. You know what? That's it. That's it. Time out.

I'm putting you on pause. - No.

Jack, don't you dare!

Jack! Jack.

I'm warning you...

Not cool.

Don't do that again.

Are we at home?

Why the Halloween pumpkin?

Halloween's months from now.

Actually, it's today.

How long was I on pause?

Ah... Ju...

Just a few weeks.

I don't know. Eight?

Oh... OK. I know. I'm... I'm sorry.

I know, I'm sorry. I felt really bad, so, um...

I got you this.

I figured it's kind of our anniversary, so...

Fuck you. You're a fucking arsehole.

Are you going to eat this cupcake or not?

Orange cream icing. It's your favourite. - Where's Parker? I want to see Parker.

You had him away from me for months. I want to see my boy.

OK.

OK.

Where is he?

Hey.

Oh!

What you got going on there?

Is that a fire truck? - Yeah.

Tell him I love him.

Hey, buddy. Mummy loves you.

What?

Tell him I need a hug.

You want to know something else?

Mummy needs a hug. Hmm?

Parker complicated things.

They both felt responsibility for him so they tried to compromise.

You know, reach an agreement, like adults.

Jack put Carrie on pause, except for the weekends.

When they'd take Parker out with Carrie in attendance

kind of like a divorcee with visiting rights.

Again?

You tricked me!

Daddy!

It worked OK.

For a while.

Hey.

Looks like we're neighbours.

I've just moved in. - Oh.

Emily. - Jack, nice to meet you.

Oh, please.

Hey.

Oh! Who's this?

It's Parker.

Cool name.

Guess I'll see you around?

Yeah.

Guess I'll see you around?

She was nice, OK?

Oh, cut the shit.

I know when your hormones are flowing, OK?

Our balls are brewing up a blow load as we speak.

I can't. I'm with our son.

What's that? I didn't hit on anyone. You know what?

Fuck it. Visiting time is over.

No, Jack. Don't you dare. Jack!

Jack, you son of a bitch...

Parker, wait up.

Anyhow

as time passed by, Jack got it on with the neighbour.

And Carrie didn't take it so good.

She works all week.

We just wanted to spend a weekend together.

Jesus, can't you just be happy for us?

No, Jack. Weirdly enough, I can't.

Christ, you are so bitter.

What? No. Why?

Is she giving you shit? - Nm-mm.

Carrie, stop giving him shit. - Tell her to back off.

J... - Tell her.

Jesus Christ.

So the weekend thing isn't working.

We tried limiting her to an hour.

But you can tell that she's in there, like that, judging and bitching.

The timeframe is frustrating for Carrie. - Carrie is frustrating for us.

You got Carrie on pause now?

OK, well...

There's always deletion.

A... As in... - As in permanent erasure.

Uh-huh? - No.

That'd be killing her.

Mm, not legally.

But ethically?

Please, she's just some leftover code in your head. It'll be like...

Like deleting an email. - No.

No. No deletion. I'm not doing it.

She wants to be near Parker. I can't take that away from her.

There's got to be something you can do.

My friends...

You're in luck.

It's something we're beta testing.

It's actually aimed at terminally ill parents.

Kind of like a souvenir for their kids.

Here.

A monkey?

More like a keepsake. We can put her in here.

In there? - Uh-huh.

It's... It has a consciousness receptor

Kind of like the one we put in your head but...

a prototype, and there's a camera here.

So she can see Parker.

Plus, the whole body's got haptic feedback

so if little Parker gives it a cuddle, she'll feel it

and she can communicate back, but in a kid-friendly, controlled way.

Yeah, I don't know. I'm going to have to think about it.

I say yes.

Well, she's done her thinking. How about you?

The transfer went pretty fast.

Carrie wouldn't have even been aware it was happening.

Until she woke up.

Come on, buddy. You gotta tear it.

Tear into that thing.

- Jack? - You almost got it.

There you go.

Alright, pull it out.

Oh, there you go.

What is it, Parker?

Monkey!

What?

That's pretty cool, huh?

Jack? Jack? What the fuck?

But you know something?

This... This, uh...

This is a very special monkey.

Mum wanted you to have it.

What?

Every time you hug it, Mum will know, and she'll feel that hug, too.

No, no, no, Jack. Jack, put me back in your fucking head.

Jack!

And this monkey can speak to you.

It can let you know how it feels.

How did she speak?

Well, the comm setup was a little rudimentary.

I mean, this is a prototype.

Jack!

No...

Monkey loves you.

What was that?

Monkey needs a hug.

Give monkey a hug.

Monkey loves you.

Monkey needs a hug.

Monkey... Monkey loves you. Monkey loves you. Monkey...

Yeah, I think...

Monkey... Monkey... Monkey... Needs a hug...

Monkey just needs a minute to get used to how things are going to be.

Now you listen.

You fucking bitch.

We can still have you wiped.

That what you want?

Do "monkey needs a hug" for "no".

Monkey needs a hug.

Are you going to be a good toy?

Are you going to be a good toy?

Monkey loves you.

You'd better.

Anyhow, in the end

Parker got tired of his new toy.

That's kids.

They're ingrates.

Monkey needs a hug.

Whoa.

Wait, so this is a crime museum?

Where's the crime in this? - Well, the monkey is the crime.

A couple of years back

the UN made it illegal to transfer human consciousnesses

into limited formats like this.

Got to be able to express at least five emotions

for it to be humane, apparently.

Human rights for cookies. Right, Carrie?

Monkey needs a hug.

She's still in there?

It'd be illegal to delete her too, so, yeah...

Go figure.

Anyhow, ACLU raised one heck of a stink.

So thanks to this son of a monkey I was out on my arse from TCKR

and not even a severance package.

It's why I started this place.

Had to branch out somehow

and it appealed to the carny in me, I guess

Monkey needs a hug. - Goddam AC still not working.

Whew, it's hot!

But I've kept you waiting too long.

You ready for the prime exhibit?

Step right this way.

Listen, I've got to warn you

he's not the man he once was.

Ehem, sorry. - Do you want some more water?

I'm fine.

He's this way.

Come on, mister, you got a visitor.

May I present Clayton Lee

weathergirl killer.

I know, he's kind of mopey these days.

Cuts kind of a pathetic figure.

But don't feel too sorry for him.

He is a convicted murderer.

Lest we forget Denise Stockley. Tragic and cute.

Ain't that right, Clayton?

Coo-eee!

He's actually looking at you.

Look out. Maybe you're his type.

He looks so real.

Well, it is him, or a fully conscious upload of him.

You're probably wondering how he got in here

After TCKR kicked me out

my plan was to branch out into celebrity consciousness

Sign up famous people

and reincarnate them as holograms after they die.

Kind of like a living Madame Tussaud's.

But celebrities, that's just a quagmire.

Too many rights issues, arsehole representatives.

But convicted killers?

It's a different story.

Michael was asking about you yesterday...

Take it to Jesus... - I know it's hard...

Mr Lee, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Rolo Haynes. - They say you're in technology.

Uh... Yes, that is true.

So you can look into this DNA thing?

Prove it wasn't me? - Um...

Yes, that's certainly a possibility, but that's not why I'm here.

I have a proposal... - Goodbye.

No, wait. I have a proposal. I can help!

I can help your family!

How'd you talk him into it?

He didn't need much convincing.

So, really, it's just signing over the rights to your digital self

in case the worst happens

and I promise

your relatives will receive the lion's share of any profits.

So if, you know, God forbid, you do get sent to the chair

you know your family will be provided for, for life.

How did his family feel about it? - They didn't give a shit.

Abandoned him the moment he got locked up.

I know, right?

Jesus Christ, Clay, it's your soul. - Ain't no such thing.

It's just a computer simulation or something.

Then why does he need your permission?

If my pardon comes through, it won't matter.

And if it doesn't?

Then if they send me to the chair, this is going to pay.

It's going to keep you and the kids above water.

Maintain a roof over you all.

Baby, don't.

This could be a good thing.

But he never did get that pardon.

Shit no, cos he was guilty.

But wasn't there some doubt? You know, that documentary?

Fake news. Hatchet job. - What about the DNA tampering?

Seriously?

There's no doubt about it.

The day he got the chair was a great day for justice.

Clayton couldn't complain.

I mean, he was going to be a pioneer.

I was going to slurp up his entire consciousness.

He'd be the first guy on death row

to survive his own execution.

The transfer went beautifully.

Before I knew it, Clayton was born again.

Hi, buddy.

Congratulations to you.

You're in the afterlife, so to speak.

Looking good.

Am I a ghost?

If that helps, yeah.

I've just got to test a few things

here... OK? So this may seem a little weird.

Just hang on in there.

What the fuck?

See, I knew just seeing the guy

walking around captive, that was good

but that wasn't much of a draw.

But pulling the lever yourself?

Now, that's an attraction.

- Hey! - OK.

Hey! - Three, two, one...

Dawson's pain tech had paved the way for it.

A perfect recreation

of exactly how the agony of electrocution feels.

Every volt simulated for real.

The key was, never let him exceed 15 seconds at max voltage.

That would wipe his digital synapses out for good, kill him.

Ten seconds seemed to be the optimum shock length

so that became the attractable limit.

OK, have a little rest.

Get used to your room.

Official opening's tomorrow.

In fact, in the early days

the problem was fitting everyone in.

Please don't do it. Please, please, please, please...

Please, please don't do it.

But of course, it was really the souvenirs that were driving trade.

It was beautiful.

Every time you finished juicing him

out pops a conscious sentient snapshot of Clayton.

Not a recording

a true copy of his mind

perpetually experiencing that beautiful pain.

Stuck forever in that one perfect moment of agony.

Always on, always suffering.

And, what you'd call...

fun size!

Take a seat if it makes it easier.

Sit down.

What?

My accent?

Not fucking British.

Sorry to disappoint.

Who are you?

You're missing parts of the story out, Mr Haynes. Why is that?

You forgot to mention the protests.

His wife started a campaign, got some momentum behind it.

Guess you'd call it virtue-signalling bullshit

but I know it hurt your attendance.

And even the protesters got bored after a while.

As soon as it was clear the state wouldn't do a damn thing about clearing him

they just moved onto the next viral miscarriage of justice

they can hang a hashtag off of.

But they did their job, right? This place was on the shit list.

Who was your core clientele after that?

You lost the day trippers, the tourists, the fun family crowd. Who was left?

You again, you pasty-faced motherfucker?

Loners. Sadists.

The supremacist sicko demographic.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Out, out, out.

And that crowd's not big enough.

They don't keep the lights on.

So if someone shows up

some classic race-hate rich guy with a hard-on for power...

and he slips you something extra for a longer time at the crank...

you take it.

Thank you.

Wasn't the same after that, was he?

Not dead, but hardly alive either.

Even the perverts didn't want to pull a... a lever on a vegetable.

Where's the joy in that?

But someone came to see him, right?

She saw him.

She stood on this spot

saw what you had done to him

Clay?

He was like a docile animal.

God knows if he even recognised her.

God knows if he even recognises me.

Dad.

Happy birthday.

What my mum saw that day was more than she could take.

She had hoped during the whole fight to clear his name, but that just broke her

You know what she did when she came home?

Bottle of pills and a bottle of vodka. I found her. You fucking piece of shit.

Whoa...

Is it hot?

It's humid, right? I'm sorry.

Stupid digital AC.

Easy to hack.

Never accept drinks from strangers.

My daddy taught me that.

Going by the colour of your lips, you're going to be gone in 30 seconds.

Hey, don't worry.

We're going to see you on the other side.

Hey.

Computer says you're awake.

Congratulations. You're a pioneer.

What the fuck did you do?

Turns out that it is possible

to transfer a fresh consciousness inside a virtual one.

My daddy's giving you a ride.

Get me out of here, you fucking cu...

I'm guessing you're screaming and calling me names right now, but I wouldn't know.

You... - I mean, my dad can't talk, thanks to you.

Otherwise I'm guessing he'd pass on your goodwill messages.

You fu... You fucking bitch! You fucking bitch!

In other news, you'll shortly be undertaking another first.

The first double-decker mercy killing.

No, no, no. No, no, no, no.

I took off the 10-second limit so Daddy will get a full hit of juice.

Should be enough to set him free.

You, however...

buried away inside there, Mr Haynes, you'll feel it all.

Hey! - All the pain.

Fuck yo... - Every perfect little shot of it.

Fuck you! - I'm getting myself a souvenir, too.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Hey, please! Please!

Always on.

Always suffering.

Fuck! No! No! No!

Bye, Daddy.

Monkey loves you. - Shh.

How'd I do, Mum?

All good?

Just great, honey.

I'm proud of you.

Aw, thanks.

♪ Always something there to remind me ♪

♪ I was born to love you ♪

♪ And I will never be free ♪

♪ You'll always be a part of me ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa ♪