All language subtitles for Person.of.interest.S01E11.ASAP.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

You are being watched.

The government has
a secret system,

a machine

that spies on you
every hour of every day.

I know, because I built it.

I designed the machine
to detect acts of terror,

but it sees everything...

Violent crimes
involving ordinary people.

People like you.

Crimes the government
considered irrelevant.

They wouldn't act,
so I decided I would.

But I needed a partner--

Someone with the skills
to intervene.

Hunted by the authorities,
we work in secret.

You will never find us.

But victim or perpetrator,

if your number's up,
we'll find you.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.MY-SUBS.com

Got eyes on Reese.
Kill the cameras.

Time to come home, John.
Slate's been wiped clean.

You know that'll never happen.

Third one tonight.
Must be a full moon.

Your name is Farouk Madani.

You were the best
surgeon in Najaf,

but you can't afford
a license in the States

because you send
all your money home to family.

Stitch him up--
No questions asked--

and you can be a doctor again.

Police. Everybody out.

NYPD!
Come out of there!

There a problem, detective?

Are you guys this sloppy
when you tail Al-Qaeda?

Cute place.
You gonna be out for a while?

Right, this isn't you
being sloppy at all.

This is you making a point.

You're the only person
we know of who's had any contact

- with our boy.
- If I hear from him,

you'll be the first to know,
but all this?

- Unnecessary.
- Is it?

You know, I was really surprised
he was able to slip away.

Just can't figure out
how he did it.

Watching someone night and day,

you never know
what you'll dig up.

I've seen it ruin
careers, families.

Threatening a police officer
is against the law, Mr. Snow.

So is lying to a federal agent.

I'll be seeing you.

Okay, where would you keep...

This guy's his partner,
and it turns out

I've had his cell phone number
for weeks now.

The number you have reached
is not in service.

You're gonna use my computer,
you gotta do my reports too.

Hi, Detective Carter, NYPD.

I need all
the locations data you've got

on a disconnected cell phone.

Yeah, name's
"Burdett, Norman."

917-555-0131.

So who's this guy?

That's what I'm trying
to find out.

I thought these folks
were just for your boss.

Sorry about all
the cloak-and-dagger.

So what brings you up from DC?

You.

I'm flattered, Alicia.
Don't be.

My people want answers.

Your company has had the NSA
feeds for three years.

Not my company, just me.

If congress knew about
this machine you're building,

about the unfettered access
we've given you

to all the data we're compiling
on U.S. citizens,

you wouldn't just be shut down.
You would go to jail.

I don't suppose
they'd let us be cell mates.

We need progress, Nathan,
or we're pulling the plug.

- What's this?
- It's progress.

- Nine digits?
- You work in intelligence.

Figure it out.

For once, I'd like you
to handle one of these meetings

while I lurk in the shadows.

You couldn't lurk if you tried.

That number we gave her...
It better pan out.

It will.

How?

I don't know.
But the machine does.

- Have a little faith, Nathan.
- In you or in the machine?

Okay, Mr. Hayes,
this is the place.

Watch your step-- Uh...

Not your step, I mean--
It's just one of those things

people say, you know?
No-- no offense.

But we got ramps all over the
place, so if you need anything--

I'll be on my feet
in a few days.

Yeah, but if anything
goes wrong, you call me.

I'm the super.
Name is Trask.

- I tell you that already?
- Twice.

I guess I'm getting old.

It seems like yesterday
I was partying till dawn

down in Miami.

Used to own six nightclubs
down there.

You know, I had a mansion
in coral gables,

a white bengal tiger...
Had to give all that up.

Bad for my health.
What about you?

Where you from?
What do you do?

How'd you wind up
in that chair?

I had a rough night.

Okay.

Here are the keys.
You need anything,

my number's on that lease.

The name is--
Well, you know.

Everything satisfactory,
Mr. Reese?

Nice place.

You really shouldn't have gone
to this much trouble, though.

No trouble-- I thought
you'd get tired of hotels,

and, in your condition,
I felt that something a bit more

low-profile was in order.

Where's our pal Snow?

Preoccupied with detective
Carter at the moment.

She all right?

Not that I don't share
your concern for the woman

who tried to hand you
over to the CIA--

She did let us go.
Just...

Keep an eye on her
for me for a while,

while I'm resting up.

About that...

I'm not here to rest, am I?

I'm afraid the machine
waits for no man.

So who's the next number
on your list?

- You just met him.
- The super?

Mr. James,
got that shower head for you.

- Thanks.
- How you doing, Mrs. Park?

Oh, fine, thanks.

Ease up on the phone, Aaron.
It'll nuke your brain.

Yeah, thanks, Ernie.

Lily the cook,
I love how you look.

Thanks, Ernie.
You write that one yourself?

Ernest P. Trask,
51 years old.

Born in Goodland, Florida,
population 394.

Small towns
aren't exactly paragons

of digital record-keeping,
but I did verify

he got a high school diploma.

Let me guess.
No nightclubs, no mansions,

no pet tigers?

Mr. Trask seems to have
a vivid imagination.

Don't you have
anything to unpack?

I travel light.

- Any idea what the threat is?
- Not yet.

He's been super for 14 years.

Lives and works
in the same place.

So whatever's
gonna happen with Trask,

it will probably happen here.

How many people
in the building?

- 241.
- So 241 suspects?

Or maybe just one.

I took the liberty of hacking
into Trask's online phone bill.

He called three pawn shops
last week,

the kind that specialize
in off-the-books sales

of untraceable handguns.

Trask might be planning
to kill somebody.

- You didn't get me anything?
- Coffee's for closers.

I got you a clear shot
at Reese and you whiffed.

I wasn't aiming to kill.
You said you wanted

to question him
about what happened in Ordos.

If possible.

Secondary objective.

What's she up to?

Near as we can tell?
Catching up on paperwork.

She's not using
her computer or phones.

Reese?

We got people checking
every hospital, clinic,

and morgue
in a 300-mile radius.

If anybody stitched him up,
we'll pick up the scent.

I hope you don't mind,
but in addition

to the necessary hardware,
I brought a few books

for you to read...

And a little housewarming gift.

- Thanks.
- You want to try it out?

Oh, no.
I'm-- I'm good for now.

You'll thank me later.

You know, Trask may seem
like a harmless bag of wind,

but I've been fooled before.

If he bought a gun,
I'd just like to know why.

Only one way to find out.

We're going to hack
his wi-fi?

We're gonna hack all of them.

If the threat's
in the building,

we should get to know
our neighbors.

You're into
16 networks already?

When the phone company
puts in your wi-fi,

the password
is your phone number.

Most people never
even change it.

The other ones might
actually take a minute.

Once we're in, we can turn
every webcam, nanny cam,

security system,
and laptop on the network

into our eyes and ears.

- Just like the machine.
- I suppose...

If one apartment building
were the entire world.

Well, Lily the cook
seems to be dating Rick

- from the penthouse.
- Hmm.

And Amber in 714 is...

Healthy.

Somehow I doubt
that's what alerted the machine.

Got one, Finch.

Doug Stanley, security guard.

He's been hunting a thief
who's been stealing jewelry

out of women's apartments.

Maybe Trask is the thief
planning to kill Doug,

to cover his crimes.

Or Trask knows who the thief is

and now they're planning
to kill him.

That's the landlord, Alan Holt.

Doesn't look like Trask
is the employee of the month.

Maybe he's about to snap
and kill his boss?

Why did the machine
give us his number?

Is Trask in trouble...

Or is he the problem?

Well, you're not gonna
get it staring at the wall.

We need to do some legwork.

Right.

I'm in position.
Make it quick, please.

Mr. Trask,
it's John Hayes in 521.

- I'm having a bit of a problem.
- I'll be right there.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

I've planted
the cameras, Mr. Reese.

I'm starting to search.

I haven't seen damage
like this since hurricane Opal

trashed my yacht.

Looks like somebody
went at this with a hammer.

No sign of a gun.

But I doubt if he's
just a collector of bullets.

So who does he want to shoot?

Of course,
I didn't bring the right one.

I'll be right back.

Trask needs
a pipe wrench, Finch.

- He's coming back down.
- Okay, just a minute.

Finch, he's in the courtyard
headed your way.

Watch where
you're going, Trask.

Finch.

He's obsessed with her.

I'm afraid we're not
the only ones

spying on our neighbors,
Mr. Reese.

Harold, get out of there now.

Finch,
did you get out of there?

Finch?

Who the hell--

Hey! Come here!

What were you doing
in my place?

I could use a hand here.

Okay, hang on,
hang on, hang on.

Okay, he's gonna
kill the elevator.

Security, this is Trask.

Finch,
he's in the west stairwell.

Turn right,
take the east stairs up

three flights and you're home.

But move quick, he'll be on
your floor in about 40 seconds.

I feel like a rat in a maze.

How do you put up with this?

Doug, I just caught
a guy breaking in.

He was just in my apartment.

Keep walking, Finch.
You'll be fine.

5'9", glasses.
He walks with a limp.

I think he might be that thief
you've been looking for.

Hey.

What was that security guard
doing in that apartment?

Finch...

I'm pretty sure Doug
knows you're not the thief.

He is.

And I'm sending you the proof.

- Nice phone.
- Can I show you something?

Doug, is he up there?
Have you found him yet?

So we can call the police...

Or you can forget you saw me,
and I'll forget I saw you.

I'm gonna check the next floor.

He's not on two.

So Trask is armed, has
a dangerous fixation on Lily,

and he just chased me
up three floors.

Safe to say
he's our perpetrator.

I don't know, Finch.
Sure you don't want to

double-check
with your machine?

Yes, that joke never gets old.

Harold, is everything okay?

What the hell?

We have company.

Sorry to pop up
unannounced, Nate.

I guess we're not
doing this over drinks.

He works here.

Even I need
technical support sometimes.

Nathan, you remember
Deputy Director Weeks.

The man in charge.
I hope I'm not in trouble.

The nine digits you gave us
are the social security number

of a man named Gordon Kurzweil.
He's one of ours.

He's a DIA case officer.
Top secret clearance.

Been acing FBI background
checks for 20 years.

We surveilled Kurzweil
for two weeks, got nothing.

And just when we were
thinking that you'd sold us

a bill of goods,
he breaks pattern.

Goes for a drive.

At a park in Bethesda, a Syrian
businessman drops his phone.

Kurzweil picks it up,
and via coded SMS,

he arranges to sell 26 pounds
of weapons-grade uranium

to the iranian government.

So I guess
the number panned out?

What I need you
to explain to me is...

How did some damn
computer program spot a traitor

when federal agents couldn't?

Honestly?
Not a clue.

The machine will deliver
actionable intelligence

in time to thwart any threat
to national security,

but its operating system
is a black box.

And if we want to direct this
machine at a specific target?

No need.

It already watches
every target.

You're asking us to take
a lot on faith here, Nathan.

A piece of software
we can't inspect,

can't control or modify,

that only feeds us intel
when it feels like it?

When it perceives a threat.

Look, I'm sorry, folks,
but it's the only way

that we can keep it
and us protected.

If no human sees
what the machine sees,

then technically,

no one's fourth amendment rights
have been violated.

Why don't you just focus
on your computer, Mr. Ingram,

and leave the constitutional
concerns to us?

Because I'm a citizen too,
and I'm a lot more comfortable

having this machine
watch my every move

than someone like you.

So it will remain
a closed system,

fully autonomous?

All we get is a number?

Did you need more than
a number to pick up Kurzweil?

The software told you to take
a closer look, so you did.

It's a black box.

That's the deal.
Take it or leave it.

I'm not accustomed to having
contractors dictate terms.

If you're going to be
supplying crippled software,

maybe we need to revisit
the question of price.

Why don't you tell him
the price negotiated, Alicia?

Mr. Ingram felt
that this project was his duty

as a citizen,
not a businessman.

He's building the machine
for one U.S. dollar.

I suppose
I don't have a choice.

I know, I know.

I don't know
what to do anymore,

how else to say no.
He's always right there.

Even when I can't see him,
I can feel his eyes on me.

It's a bump key.

A hardware hack.

Just stick it in, twist,
give it a little jolt...

And it'll open any lock
in the building.

You won't be caught
with nowhere to run again.

And this is everything
you've found on the woman

that Trask is obsessed with?

Uh-huh.

Lily Thornton.
Grew up in Georgia

cooking in her dad's diner.
Cordon Bleu, class of '05.

Staying in her great aunt's
apartment since '09

and currently a rising star
at a top Manhattan bistro.

Romantically linked
to Rick Morris,

a powerful restaurateur.

This is very nice work,
Mr. Reese.

Well, I have used
a computer before.

But we can't get video
from her place.

She changes her
wi-fi password every day.

Random alphanumerics.

You gotta love a girl
with good security habits.

So Trask has been
snapping pictures of her.

Are we sure that means
he wants to kill her?

76% of all female
homicide victims are stalked

before they're murdered.

Well, I better
keep an eye on her then.

You're not tailing her to work?

I'm getting
pretty good at this thing.

Yes, I'm sure the CIA
will be deeply impressed

when they shoot you.

Just feeling a little
restless here, Finch.

Use the cushion.

The numbers never stop
coming in, Finch.

What are we gonna do
if another one comes in

while I'm sidelined?

I'm sure
I'd think of something.

And I know you
won't carry a gun,

but if I'm sending you
back in the field,

you're getting some
basic self-defense.

- Oh, I really don't think--
- No, listen up.

If Trask comes at you,
put your fingers straight out

like this
and strike at his eyes.

Poke him in the eyes?
That's your technique?

No, that's your technique,
and if that doesn't work,

you can always take your thumb,
jam it in his eye socket,

and twist till
you hit his brain.

Please, stop.

Trask is still
in the courtyard,

but I want eyes
on Lily at work.

I'll be with her shortly.

If she is Trask's
intended victim,

I'd like a better view
of the inside of her apartment

instead of simply
peering at her through a window.

Mr. Reese,
there's already a camera here.

Basic consumer model.
Wireless.

Streaming to a hidden network.

The receiver it's paired with

could be anywhere
in the building.

I think Trask has been
watching her every move.

And I think Lily's
been spied on enough.

Cell phone location data.

- Oh!
- Hey, where you going?

To get lost.

Need to dust this for prints.

- There you go.
- Yo! I think you broke it!

So? Read a book.

Sir? NYPD.
I need your jacket now.

You're requisitioning
my jacket?

Taxi!

Queens,
corner of 45th and 21st.

Hey,
you guys got a real problem.

Carter's got info
from one of your cell phones.

She's tracking you.

I'm aware
that she's looking for me.

I don't suppose you know why.

No, not yet.
How's our guy?

Alive. Hidden.

Did you receive
the package I sent?

Yeah, I got it right here.

What, did you
run out of Adderall?

Our friend's prints are on it.

I need you to throw
the CIA off his trail.

Take a road trip, detective.

Connecticut's nice
this time of year.

- Is everything good?
- It's great. Thank you.

- You make sure you try...
- Good afternoon, Mr. Finch.

How's it going with Lily?

This may be the best-catered
stakeout in history.

Don't eat in the field, Finch.

Never know when
you'll have to move fast.

Any progress
on the landlord's email?

Still working on that one.

What about the camera
I found at Lily's?

If we can trace it to Trask,
we can get him fired,

maybe even arrested.

Still trying to break into
the hidden wireless network.

No luck cracking
the password yet.

But I did find out
some information

about our friend Trask.

Turns out there
used to be a Mrs. Trask.

- Used to?
- She disappeared 13 years ago.

Trask never called the cops.

Told everyone she went to be
with family in Boca Raton.

And I'm guessing
she's not in Boca.

As far as I can tell...

She's not anywhere.

Maybe Lily's not his first.

And I think it's safe to say
she knows she has a stalker.

Hey, Aaron?

Can you just
throw these away for me?

Yeah, sure.

Poor girl seems miserable.

She just threw
a gift in the trash.

Bouquet of roses.

Taxi!

So, this is where
Burdett's trail ends.

Where'd you go from here?

You're wasting
your time, detective.

I falsified
the location data this morning.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and
guess your name isn't Burdett.

Do you think finding me
will lead you to my partner?

Are you still trying
to make that arrest?

Oh, no. His CIA pals
got that out of my system.

I wanted to catch him,
not kill him.

What do you want now?

Still working that out.

But if I'm going to keep
lying to government agents

to protect you two, I'm gonna
need a damn good reason.

I want answers.

I need to know what you do.

Turn around, detective.

How's your friend?

You're gonna
have to tell me something.

Like who the hell are you,

and what exactly
is going on here?

When I was nine years old,
my brothers decided

I needed to learn swim,
so they tossed me

into the deep end of the pool.

Took a few minutes,
but I figured it out.

Do you see that man, detective?

His name is Derek Watson,
39 years old.

18 months ago, he lost his job.

He tried to keep up with
the mortgage as best he could,

but the money
ran out eventually.

Lost his house,
and his wife left soon after.

Derek Watson is about to be
involved in a violent crime.

I don't know what exactly,
but believe me,

something is gonna happen.

You can't know that.

Did you bring
your service weapon, detective?

Sorry to toss you
into the deep end,

but, as you know,
my friend is indisposed.

NYPD homicide.

It's Carter.

I need a background on
a Derek Watson, 39 years old.

I show a Derek H. Watson
in Mount Vernon.

House was foreclosed
two months ago.

No current address.

That's him.
What do you got?

Not much.
No priors, no arrests.

A couple of unpaid
parking tickets,

but that's about it.

Hey, what's the name of
the bank that took his house?

Truprime Mortgage.

Who filed the paperwork
for the bank?

John Dalton.
Is this for an open homicide?

I'll have to
get back to you on that.

Finest surveillance training
on the planet,

and a New York cop
gave you the slip.

Well, I know
she's not in here, guys.

Reese hasn't turned up dead,
so odds are

- he's found a safe house.
- Expand the search.

All apartments and hotels
rented in the last two days.

- But if he's anywhere--
- Just... Make it happen.

You have eyes on Trask,
Mr. Reese?

Where the hell have you been?

Now you know how I feel.

Lily's headed home.
Is it safe for her there?

I'm watching Trask right now.

And I'm not sure
she's his target.

I think Trask
might be after Rick.

- Why?
- Well, he spent the afternoon

sniffing around
Rick's apartment.

If I didn't know better, I'd say
now he's digging a grave.

Trask gets rid of the boyfriend

and has Lily all to himself.

Everything allight?

Yeah, I'm just sick
of being cooped up

and, uh, staring
at screens all day.

I'd rather be doing that
than trudging around

half of Manhattan.

I have half a mind
to spot Lily cab fare.

Finch,
how fast can you get here?

About 15 minutes.
Why?

Because we just
ran out of time.

I think Trask
is making his move tonight.

Checking your mail,
huh, Mr. Morris?

- Looks like it.
- Yeah, I think I, uh,

I think I figured out
why your place is flooding.

It just, uh, it just
needs a special faucet.

Why don't we, uh, why don't we
go downstairs and check it out?

If, uh, if you like it,
I can install it tomorrow.

No more floods.
So why don't we go

- down to the basement?
- I-I'm busy, all right?

I don't need to see anything,
just have it fixed.

You need to stay away
from Lily.

What?

Have you lost your mind?

I've called the car.
I can be there in five.

That'll be
four minutes too late.

She doesn't love you, man.
All right?

You need to leave her alone.

You got some kind of pathetic
old-man crush here, Trask?

Gonna punch me out,
take Lily to the dance?

You're not her boyfriend,
and you're not her hero.

You're just the damn janitor.

So if my toilet clogs,
I'll let you know.

Otherwise, step aside.

Is the building on fire?

I'm sure
everything's fine, Mrs. F,

but I'm gonna go check it out
just the same, all right?

I come home
and things have moved,

like he's been
inside my apartment.

I'm scared of
what he's going to do.

Finch, this isn't over.
Trask will try again.

And he's still
obsessed with Lily.

Perhaps we should consider
more aggressive tactics.

He's terrorizing her.

I want Trask
out of the building tonight.

- Mr. Hayes.
- My name isn't Hayes.

Well, then I'm gonna
ask you to leave.

Actually...

You're the one
who'll be leaving.

Hey, I don't know
what you think--

I know about the roses,
and the texts,

- and the hidden camera.
- No, I would never--

I know about the gun, Trask,
and I know you were ready

to kill her boyfriend tonight.

He's not her boyfriend.

You don't understand.

Now, you're gonna pack
your bag and leave this place.

And no matter how much
you think you love her,

you're never coming back.

Please...

I love this job.

And I do care for Lily,
but not like that.

Not like that.

Finch, Trask didn't take
those photos of Lily.

He stole them
from the penthouse.

I know.

He didn't plant
the cameras either.

Trask isn't the stalker.

Didn't you like
the flowers, babe?

How did you get in here?

I thought it could
just be you and me tonight.

Please, go.
I want you to go.

Come on, baby.

You know
you don't want me to leave.

Mr. Reese,
we're gonna need a little help.

Get out of my apartment now.

You don't mean that.

Rick, please.
This has to stop.

The phone calls,
the flowers--

Oh, come on.
Those were just a little

"thank you"
for our date last night.

That wasn't a date.
We were going to the same party.

You're such a tease.

You made me
share a cab with you

and then you
followed me all night.

I'm just trying
to help you, sweetie.

Come on, I could do so much
for you in this town.

Make you executive chef.

I don't want to work for you,
I just want you to leave.

The super told me
to stay away from you.

Did you----
tell him about us?

Did you lie
and say you don't love me?

No.

Now, why would you want
to hurt me like that, baby?

Would you like it
if I hurt you?

No--

All I've ever done
is look out for you, Lily.

It's time you showed
a little gratitude.

Let her go, Mr. Morris!

Oh!

Agh!

I believe I told you
to leave her alone.

Ah!

We got something.

Break-in at a veterinary clinic
in northern Connecticut.

Reese's prints
were on a prescription bottle

found at the scene.

Couldn't be telling me
this while we drive?

"Anonymous tip" my ass.

This has gotta be
some kind of joke.

All right, let's go.
Hands behind your back.

BP 90 over 50.

Thready pulse, multiple
fractures, bleeding internally.

I told him that
I wasn't interested, and...

And it was like
something in him snapped.

He became obsessive
and, um, very unstable.

He's been stalking me
for months, but I was too afraid

to tell anyone.

And if Ernie hadn't
shown up when he did--

That wasn't nothing.

Should've seen some of the guys

they sent after me
back in Miami.

You do not want to mess around
with the Cuban mafia.

- Ow-- Easy.
- Sorry, sir.

Here.

- What's this?
- Trask's gun.

Oh. Good.

You know,
his name isn't Ernest Trask,

it's Ernesto Machado.

He used to own
six nightclubs in Miami,

a yacht,
house in Coral Gables, and...

A pet tiger.

It was all true.

Even the part about it
being bad for his health.

He testified against
the Cuban mafia in 1996.

Still a price on his head.

He's in Witness Protection.

That's why
you couldn't find Mrs. Trask.

She came with him from Miami,

but without the houses and
the clubs she didn't last long.

She left him,
moved in with relatives--

In Boca Raton.

How'd you find all that out?

I'm good with computers.

Be honest, Finch.

There is no machine, is there?

It's just you.

I'll be ready
when the next number comes.

Funny you should mention that.

Gun!

Drop it!
Drop it!

It's all right. NYPD.
Everything's under control.

Get down.

That, Detective Carter,
is what we do.

Well done, my friend.

Now, tell me...

What on Earth was it
that made the machine

pick out Kurzweil's number?

You want me to pop the hood?

Yeah.

November 2002.

This isn't
the first item chronologically,

but it's the one
that triggered a harder look.

- A gas station receipt?
- 18 of them...

From a Shell station
just outside Towson, Maryland.

Kurzweil stopped there
every third Thursday

of every even month, even if
he'd filled up the day before.

On 3 of his 18 visits,

this SUV was present
two hours before.

A dead drop.

The SUV
was registered to the wife

of a turkish oil executive
that paid for plane tickets

used by an iranian suspect
in the bombing

of a Jewish community center
in Buenos Aires in 1994.

The thinnest thread connects
Kurzweil and his contact

and the machine could see it.

It knew, and it was right.

It does this all the time...

To all of us?

That's...Terrifying.

It's probably a good thing that

you're the only other person
that will ever see

how this machine works.

When it's complete, I'll encrypt
the OS so completely

that no computer on earth
will ever crack it.

Does it bother you?
I mean...

What you've achieved
is historic.

But no one will ever know.

It's the way it has to be
to be sure.

Sure of what?

Sure that they'll use it
the way I intended.

So you think the government
would abuse this machine?

Denton Weeks has spent
the last six months trying

to tunnel into the machine
by way of the NSA feeds.

He's failed,
but he'll keep trying.

And he won't be alone.

I don't even want to think
about what a man like Weeks

would do with
that kind of power.

That's why we have to
keep him or anyone else

from ever getting
their hands on it.

You sure it was Weeks?

The machine told me.

It has an instinct
for self-preservation.

You talk about
that thing like it's alive.

Shh.
It can hear you.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.MY-SUBS.com