All language subtitles for SurrealEstate.S02E05.WEB.x264-TORRENTGALAXY_eng

-What’s today?

-I am taking my first couple
to look at houses.

So, if Luke wears this thing,

-he’ll have his tingle back?
-You’re somebody special.

-You have no idea.

-Oh, you got another call
from that Rochelle something.

Is there a story there?

-I just wanted to let you know
that I’m gonna need

a few more days
away from the office.

- House! Let me out!
- We’ve bonded, Susan.

What a mess.

Danny, I’m working.

Yes, I fired them.

The movers you sent me
were hopeless.

I wouldn’t trust them
with my coffee table

much less my canvases.

God... God, everything’s
fighting me here.

It’s-it’s one thing
after another.

Things are going missing.
It’s paint and brushes,

packing materials.

I’m misplacing things and--

Danny, I need to
call you back.

-No, no, no, no.
I can’t do four.

I’m meeting Tandworth at four.

He wants to see
the Lewis place, again.

Wish he’d just buy the place.
He’d spend less time there.

Can you do two?

I’m meeting
Daneel and Holster.

Okay, how about six?
Can you do six?

Well, geez, Zooey,
what can you do?

-Uh, I can tie a knot
in a cherry stem with my tongue

and I can do 4:30 but the client
has a hard out at five.

-Well, put it in the calendar.

-Here, have a muffin.

Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa!
We gotta talk about Nelgrave.

-Nelgrave, that’s where
I’m going now. Right? Right?

-Yeah, okay, but there’s
some hotshot art dealer

from New York who knows you,
or knows of you.

-Danny Portefoy?
-Yeah.

He hired us to help
one of his artists pack,

sell and move -- fast.
She sounds super stressed out

and I’m quoting here:
"Things are getting lost

and moving around by itself."

-Sounds like a Spoon Bender.
-Or a Hummel Chucker.

So no big rush!

-I don’t know! August is
over there to check it out.

-Whoa.
-August...

is their first contact
with the agency?

-Yeah. You were booked.

Zooey was booked.
They’re in a hurry.

-All right, I need to
get over there right now.

-What is the client’s name?
-Aurora Nelgrave.

Yeah.

There’s one more thing.
I got an email

from Susan this morning.
I reached out to her earlier

after the no-show last night,
just asking for proof of life.

-She is fine.
-Thank God.

-But she is taking
a leave of absence. I know.

I have been pushing her
to find the work-life balance

since she started
and she called me on it.

But I’m glad that
she’s taking it seriously.

Really glad.

Really.

-Glad.

-Really.

-Morning.
-Morning.

-How’s everything?

-Just finishing up.

-How’s the client?

-High strung.
Impatient.

Very much the artist.

-Any sign of our
Mug Juggler?

-Inconclusive.

There’s definitely some
interesting energy in the house,

but this close to the ocean

we always get
a lot of interference.

There’s a software patch
to defeat it, but...

it’s not inexpensive.

-The budget’s kind of tight
this quarter.

-It seems crucial to keep
our technology up to date,

given the loss of our...

more analog systems.

-And that would be me.

You can just say it, Augie.

-You lost your fastball, Luke.

We need to
develop your slider.

On a completely unrelated note,
I need a day.

-A day?
-I know the timing is not...

optimal.

I wouldn’t ask
if it were not important.

-Yeah, sure.
Of course.

Can I give you a hand?

-Yeah. Thanks.

-Miss Nelgrave?

-Aurora?
-Yeah.

-Aurora, I’m Luke Roman.
I’m your real estate agent.

-I take it the big guy
with the weird glasses is yours?

-Yeah, he’s ours.

-He quoted Plutarch
and asked about cold spots.

-It’s what he does.

-Look, I told Danny
I could do this on my own.

I really don’t like letting
the work out of my sight,

especially with all
the weirdness going on.

-That’s why your art dealer
reached out.

Weirdness is kinda something...

...we do.

-You’ve worked
with Danny before?

-Seven or eight years ago
there was a certain gallery

in Connecticut
where the statues...

weren’t as static
as they might have been.

-Oh, you’re not kidding.
-No.

-Okay. Whatever.

Uh, I need to sell this place
and get to New York.

-Well, maybe you could start by,
uh, describing the weirdness?

-Well, at first it was
just annoying.

Then things
got a little dark.

-Whoa.

That’s a hell of a thing.

Time for what?

-August Ripley.

-Rochelle Decker.

-I was surprised
to hear from you.

You have been ignoring
my messages for weeks.

-I’ve been rather busy.

And here you are.

Why now?

-Curiosity.
Nostalgia.

This place has changed.

-Mmm. ASDRA’s now
the most modern and prolific

defense and technology
development agency

in North America.

-And yet you look
exactly the same.

-Ha.

I heard about Darla.

I’m so sorry.

-We had everything
but time.

-I wanted to reach out,
but, um...

maybe if we had parted
on better terms?

-It was
a complicated time.

-Do you remember
what you called me

when you cleared out your desk
and stormed out that day?

Oh, dear.

"A willing grease girl
for a corrupt war machine."

-I’m sorry.
-Oh, don’t apologize.

I almost had it printed
on my business cards.

Do you ever wonder...
what if you stayed?

What more you could have
seen and done?

-Perhaps I’ve seen and done
more than you think.

-More than
Project Erebuster?

-That was a mistake.

An arrogant young man

shaking his fist
at the darkness.

-You took an algorithm

that was designed
to retrieve information

and you modified it
to gather data from...

-You can say it.

-The other side.

Everyone thought you were nuts.
I thought you were nuts.

-It was foolish.

-It’s back, Augie.

And it is asking
for you.

Do you remember
when we were gonna

solve tomorrow’s problems
without kissing the ass

of some VC jerk whose life goal
it was to be a 5% stakeholder

in the air that we breathe
and the water that we drink?

-Yes, we the purists,
the idealists,

searching for new
and bigger rocks

to throw at our enemies.

-Grow up, Augie.

Do you know what
we’re working on now?

Climate change.

Micro physiology to
stop the next pandemic.

Technology that uses
infrared light

to extract choice minerals
from bedrock

without mining
or fracking.

Quantum computers
that can answer questions

that we’re not even
smart enough to ask.

-All of which

just happen to have
military applications as well.

For every plowshare,
a sword.

-Oh, all these years later

and the boy scout uniform
still fits.

God, I’ve missed you, Shell.

Come on.

I believe you
two know each other.

Three weeks ago,
our IT people noticed

a bunch of hits
on your old ASDRAnet email.

They tracked the IP address
to your old machine,

which we had in storage,
and it...

It was looking for you.

-This is extraordinary.

May I?

Shit! What did you do?

-I logged in.

Oh, no, no, no!

It’s deleting all of its data
and core programming!

-And appears to be hacking
through the ASDRA servers.

-My God, six point eight
billion dollars’ worth of data.

-Most of it’s irreplaceable!
-I hope you have backups.

-The cloud servers
are the backup!

-Oh, dear.
-I don’t understand.

This is a response
to the administrator’s password

that we programmed into it.

-Then you were right.

It is asking for me.

It wants the password
I buried in its original code

to make sure
it’s really me.

-A root password?
Do you remember it?

-Let’s see.
So many years ago.

Was it, uh,
one, two, three--

-Augie.

-I need access
to all of Erebuster’s data.

Everything it knows.

-Oh-ho.
No. No, no, no.

That is completely
out of the question.

Shit!

Fine!

-I want your word.
-You got it.

-Scout’s honor?
-Oh, for God’s sakes, just go!

-It started right after
I put the place up for sale.

It was like...

Oh! This is ridiculous.

-Yeah?

-It’s like
I hurt its feelings.

-It’s not ridiculous at all.

Every house is a living,
breathing thing.

Some more than others.

-I was just a kid
when I got here.

An art school dropout;

just got divorced;
got sober.

-It must have been hard.

-Not compared
to what I was leaving.

-Something here resonated,
spoke to you.

-Almost immediately.

The brush in my hand
had a sense of purpose

I’d never felt.

I don’t know if you could
call it confidence,

but it was peace.

I truly
became an artist here.

It’s like I could fly.

-It’s always hard to move on.

Sounds like you got
a lot of exciting things ahead.

-I haven’t painted seriously
anyplace but here.

-What if I can’t?
-Yes, you can.

Just because you’re used to
doing things a certain way,

doesn’t mean you can’t move on
from that,

do the same thing
just as well.

Only differently.

Does it?

-I guess we’ll find out.

Okay, call those movers.

Let’s blow this pop stand.

-This is everything we have
on the Nelgrave property?

-Skinny, huh?
-I don’t understand.

That property’s at least
a hundred years old.

-There’s still some ten pounds
of footnotes to pore over.

That’s just what I could turn up
in a half hour.

-Can you put this
on the top of your pile?

-Top of my pile?

What about Pruitt?
And Denning?

-Those are normies.
Zooey’s got those.

Clock is running on this.

There is something in that house
with a weird sense of humor

and I think it could
do a lot of damage.

-To the art?

-And to the artist. Look.

-Yikes.

"It’s time?"
What’s time? Time for what?

-Dig up those ten pounds
of footnotes and you tell me.

-Sheesh.

-No, I am not
submitting that offer.

Because it’s 40% below asking,
Mister Kerr.

No! He’ll be offended.
He’ll be pissed.

People are submitting offers
ten percent above asking

just to get in
that neighborhood.

If I submit that offer,
he’ll think I’m a lightweight

and you’re an idiot and he’ll be
right about at least one of us.

I’d be happy to have
Miss Ireland call you back

at her earliest convenience.

She is away, though.
Lucky her, huh? Okay. Bye-bye.

Ow.

-Zooey, did you just--
-From Susan?

-Yeah.
What did you say to her?

-Nothing.
-It’s her entire database,

every detail
from every listing.

-What is her deal?

I don’t like
this feeling.

-What feeling is that?

-This damsel in
distress feeling.

-You are nobody’s damsel.

-I told you I came here
after I left my husband.

Son of a bitch
was never physical.

Just petty,

vindictive, small.

He made me feel small.

That first night
that I came to this house,

I promised myself I was never
going to let anyone

make me feel that way.

The next day
I couldn’t stop painting.

Became my own little monument
to my existence.

Something bigger than me
to prove I couldn’t be erased.

And now my sanctuary
has turned on me.

-Change is tough.

But, uh,
change brings possibility.

Eventually,

you stand on one foot,
and you squint,

starts to look
a lot like destiny.

But you know that,

or you wouldn’t have
moved back to this place.

-Looks like
that’s the last of it.

-A few days,
your art will be on display

in one of the most prestigious
galleries in New York.

As far as change goes?
Pft.

That’s pretty cool.

-Yeah.

-You know,
setting a root password

is against the rules.

-Five demerits!
No time in the game room.

-You know what
really chaps my ass

is that you didn’t trust me.

-I don’t recall us

ever gazing
into each other’s eyes and...

murmuring sweet root passwords
to one another.

-What does it mean,
"interface not detected?"

-It’s...

seen things.

And it wants to tell me...

personally.

-No.

Let’s see.
One K.

Mm.

Yeah.

It’s been a while

since you weren’t the
smartest person in the room.

-Rather refreshing.
-Mm.

A direct download.

-It’s our only option
for a lossless transfer.

-Yeah, but...

we don’t know
what it’s going to do to you.

You have a family;
four daughters.

-They are grown.
And they never call.

It’s no worse
than a vigorous VR game.

An immersive form
of show and tell.

Besides,

perhaps the data will suggest
a military application,

a metaphysical machine gun,
an existential bazooka.

-You are such an asshole.

What’s happening?

Finish her!

-Aurora?

-It’s time!

Finish her!

-You all right?

-What the hell was that?

-I don’t know what
but I know when.

It wants something from me.

It wants me to paint.

-And it would prefer
if you do it

you know...

-It’s the house.
It has to be.

-I don’t think so.

That painting.

-Oh.

That hotel
puppies and ponies painting?

That came with the house.

I kept it for its camp value.

-I packed it once;

came back.

Painter is Thomas Warner.

Lived in the house with his wife
from 1860 to 1890.

He was a...
an artist, to a point.

-Unappreciated in his time.

-Well, he was rejected
from several art colleges

including the National Academy.

Get this: he spent
his father’s inheritance

bribing critics
to give him good reviews.

-A bitter, entitled artist.
Sounds like our guy.

-Well, I don’t know.

Everything I’ve found says
Thomas died rich, fat and happy

of natural causes.

I don’t know
that he had the self-awareness

to know how lame
he really was.

-This is my house.

And I will not be
pushed around

in my house.

-Aurora?

Aurora?

Where are you?

Aurora?

Hey.

You in there?

Aurora?

Aurora, did you do this?

Aurora.

Thomas Warner?

-No!!

-Hey.

We haven’t met.

Oh!

-Augie, are you...?

We don’t know what
this is gonna be like.

All this information.

-Isn’t it exciting?

Not... quite yet.

Thirty seconds]

-August?

August, can you hear me?

-Heavens to Betsy.

-August?

August, what did you see?

Wow.

-August, what did you see.

-I saw...

nothing.

I saw...

everything.

I saw life

and what comes after

from the cold...

logical perspective of a machine
that can never live nor die.

-You’re scaring me.

-I...

saw Orion...

echoing with spirits
crying through eternity.

Atoms...

warping with the
weight of souls

striving to be reborn.

All parts
of the celestial

ellipses,

the astral ouroboros.

In the end,

Erebuster showed me
there are no answers,

only deeper, more...

wonderful questions.

That the best we can do
is stop worrying about death

and focus on life, on...

on living.

-So that’s it?

That’s the profound truth
from beyond...

YOLO.

It’s gonna be hard to make
a cruise missile out of that.

-You’ve embraced me
and protected me...

changed me in all the ways
that needed to be changed.

Now what do you want?

-"Finish Her." "Now."

"Please."

Every step of the way
this house has been

trying to communicate with us.

With you.

It needs something from you.

That is the leverage,
that’s power.

-Oh, yeah. Power.

-I think you need
to let it in.

Again.

-Says the guy who doesn’t
have to be repossessed.

-I get these things.

I can’t hear them anymore,
I can’t see them,

but I know them.
And something in this house

is hurting and the only way
that I could talk to it

is through you.

-You think you can just
light up a room and leave.

-Something like that.

-I’m pretty sure this is
going to come back to haunt me

on my next performance review.

Come back to ASDRA, August.

Come back to me.

We’ll have so much fun.

You’ll have virtually
unlimited resources.

-Virtue has little to do with
what happens here.

-So you’re rejecting me?

-Just the job.

For now.

I happened to notice that

all-night diner
is still up the road.

Where once we loved

and laughed...
and danced

and withheld our root passwords
from one another.

Is it still the same?

-Nothing’s ever the same, Augie.

Everything changes.

-Some things...

get better.

This is ridiculous.

-I think it’s
more than the house.

I think it’s something
in the house

responding to your art,
your drawing, your painting.

Let’s use that to connect.

I don’t know what to draw.

-Whatever comes to you.

Aurora?

You owe me.

-Keep going.

I gave you everything!

-You owe me!

- Gave you everything.
- You owe--

-You owe me!
-Keep going, keep going.

I matter.

Not Thomas.

I am not small!

I will not be erased!
I was here!

I mattered!

I was here.

-Whoever you are,
you tell her and she’ll tell me.

Not Thomas.

-Aurora, look at me!
-Not Thomas, never Thomas--

-Aurora!

Aurora, are you okay?

You’re back.

-Not Thom...
I’m not Thomas.

I am not small.

I was here.
I matter.

The sketches.

-I know that face.

Her name was Scarlett Warner,
she was Thomas Warner’s wife.

According to our records,
all she left behind

was a birth certificate,
death certificate--

-Mm. Marriage license.

A monument to her existence.

Something bigger than her
to prove she couldn’t be erased.

I’ve been drawing that face
since I moved in here.

It’s the first thing
that came to me.

-She must’ve latched on
that first night,

when you swore
you wouldn’t let the world

make you feel small
or invisible.

-She’s been working through me
the whole time I’ve lived here.

But she said there’s
something unfinished,

something that I have to do
before I can leave.

-Thomas had a thing for horsies
and hunting dogs.

But he...

was no more an artist

than I am
a synchronized swimmer.

He knew it
and it bugged him.

-She was so much better
than him.

More talented.
More inspired.

She had to hide.

-Finish her.

That’s what she wanted.

Finish her portrait.

Use the gift she gave you
and then give it back.

-So, I finish her painting?

I prove that she lived,
she mattered.

-She moves on.

-What about me?

What if her gift

was the only thing
that made me special?

-It’s always the question,
isn’t it?

How much of ourselves
do we owe to others?

Where do they leave off
and we begin?

-I could lose everything.

-Or you could know that every
experience you ever had...

your marriage, your courage,
your house and Scarlett --

all combined to make you
who you are.

One-of-a-kind.

True original.

Dear Luke.

My time at the Roman Agency
has been interesting.

And fulfilling.

Change is seldom easy.

But there comes a time
when change is necessary.

I find that time is now.

-Yeah, I can hold.

-Thank the team for their
assistance and friendship.

And thank you
for the opportunity.

-Thanks.

-Please consider this
my resignation

from the Roman Agency.

Effective immediately.

Susan Ireland.