All language subtitles for Westworld.S01E03.The.Stray.720p.HBO.WEBRip.DD5.1.H.264-monkee

Good morning, Dolores.

Bring yourself back online.

Hello.

Has anyone else interacted
with you

in a diagnostic since
our last conversation?

No.

I have been cleaned
and serviced three times.

No diagnostics.

And you haven't told anyone
of our conversations?

You told me not to.

Good.

I brought you a gift.

I used to read...

this story to my son at night.

I thought you might enjoy it.

Try...

Try...

this passage.

"Dear, dear,

how queer everything is today.

And yesterday, things went
on just as usual.

I wonder if I've been
changed in the night."

Does that passage
make you think of anything?

It's like the other books
we've read.

How so?

It's about change.

Seems to be a common theme.

I guess people like to read

about the things that
they want the most

and experience the least.

Your son...

where is he now?

Nowhere that you would
understand, Dolores.

Perhaps that's why I enjoy
our conversations so much.

Analysis.

Why did you ask me about my son?

We've been talking for some duration

and I haven't asked you
a personal question.

Personal questions
are an ingratiating scheme.

I see.

Continue, Dolores.

"Was I the same when I
got up this morning?

I almost think I can remember
feeling a little different.

But if I'm not the same,
the next question is...

who in the world am I?"

Do you remember?

No! No! No!

Why don't we reacquaint
ourselves, Dolores?

Start at the beginning.

Ready?

Thank you so much.

Morning, cowboy.

Move it! Let's go. Get up there!

Come on! Stand right here.

Shit.

You really ought to talk to someone

about your poster, Horace.

That likeness is a crime in itself.

I'm gonna tend to my nag.

You deal with him.

Ready my pay.

No, no. Get up there.

Don't no man shoot,

or I'll send her to unction.

Any of you don't believe it

are welcome to read
my biography there.

Come on! Let's go.

No!

Oh, I bet you're juicy
as a freshwater clam.

You okay?

Nice shot, amigo.

You got grit.

Hey, I'm riding out tonight.

Looking for desperados.

Could cut you in if you're amenable.

Someone get the minister down here

for what's left of the deputy.

Sure I can't tempt you inside?

Just to express my gratitude.

Holy shit.

You popped your cherry.

I thought you said
we couldn't get shot.

Yeah, well, we can't get killed.

Wouldn't be much of a game
if they can't shoot back.

But how do you feel, hmm? Alive?

A little tight in the pants?

She was terrified.

That's why they exist, man,

is so you get to feel this.

Come on. Let's go put some
memories in that spank bank.

Trust me, you will thank me

after you've been married
to my sister for a year.

Actually, I have something
different in mind.

What?

That?

Well, you've been
preaching nonstop

about all the narratives
in the park,

but all you've done
since we've arrived

is fuck and drink, so...

I'm waiting for the good stuff.

This bounty is...

JV shit.

Then stay here.

I want a little adventure.

I've been looking for you.

I got a late start this morning.

Didn't get much sleep last night.

Forgive me if I'm not sympathetic

to the fluctuations of your
sleep cycle, Mr. Lowe.

Ford taking over the narrative
launch at the 11th hour

has made the board... uneasy.

Just the board, huh?

I specifically asked you

about whether Ford was
going to be a problem,

and you assured me he wasn't.

Well, I can't tell you
what I don't know.

Well, here's what I know.

As of this morning,
Ford's carved out

a huge swath of the park

for whatever storyline
he's cooking up

and thrown half of the
existing storylines

into disarray.

Is there anything I can do?

You tell me.

I asked you point-blank

if the problem with the
update was resolved.

It is.

Then why are your people

still pulling hosts for follow-up?

Get your house in order, Bernard.

And if there is a problem,

I strongly suggest you tell me.

Drop a new bookmark
and resume history.

Walter's intent on relieving the
milkmaid of her unmentionables.

Switch to analysis.

You didn't report the incident?

Unit self-corrected within
the acceptable window.

Right.

Then he self-corrected a fucking
milk bottle into your skull.

It's amazing how resilient
the hosts are.

You were supposed to have purged
his memory on the last cycle.

I will,
but Rebus here

was the last host to
interact with Walter.

- Look at this.
- Any for you?

Who said that?

Who's saying that?

Don't you talk to me that way.

I can't hear you.

- Do you see that?
- Hell, yeah, they deserved it.

- He's talking to someone.
- Lousy sons of bitches.

He carries on practically
an entire conversation.

I need more milk, Arnold.

Who's Arnold?

They're designed to play off
aberrant behavior.

That could explain
the conversations.

Fine. Then explain this.

- He kills six hosts.
- I'm gonna get you this time.

He lets the other three go.

I pulled the narrative logs.

All six of these hosts

were part of storylines
over the years

in which they killed Walter.

It's like he was holding a grudge.

It's a stray.

QA needs a tag team to go track it.

Go. Handle the stray.

Do something that's actually
in your job description.

The last thing we need

is Theresa storming down
here and seeing this.

I'll do a little more digging.

And get our friend
here back upstairs.

Lost another one, huh?

Tell me,
is QA surveillance coverage

really this spotty,
or you just like the nature walks?

Maybe it's the company.

You know, if you wanted
to play cowboy,

you could've just used
your employee discount.

The only thing stopping the hosts

from hacking us to pieces
is one line of your code.

No offense, but I sleep with this.

I bet you do.

Morning, Samuel.

You and your dickless associate

proposing to engage me
in a gun battle?

Well, I'd challenge you
to a fistfight,

but the way I heard it,

you only like to tussle
with working women.

Get down!

Is he dead?

Dead enough.

Why are we going
to handcuff a dead man?

Don't want someone
walking off with him.

That's not a man anymore.
That's merchandise.

$500 worth.

All right, which of you derelicts

hitched a dead body
outside my saloon?

My apologies, ma'am.

I figured it was preferable
to bringing him inside.

Here.

For your troubles.

Oh, you're new.

Not much of a rind on you.

I'll give you a discount.

Do you mind waiting
on that drink a bit?

Don't mind me.

Just trying to look chivalrous.

You came back.

I told you I would.

You gonna tell me where you been?

Just... away.

You know if I could stay right
here with you, I would.

What if I don't want to stay here?

It's just sometimes I feel like

the world out there is calling me...

whispering,
"There's something more."

You've travelled
all over these parts.

Isn't there anywhere we could go?

Well, there is a place

I heard about down south...

where the mountains meet the sea.

They say the water's so pure there,

it'll wash the past clean off you.

And you can start again.

I'd like to go there with you.

Well, someday, I'll take you.

Someday.

Something wrong?

You said someday.

Not today or tomorrow or next week.

Just someday.

"Someday" sounds a lot
like the thing people say

when they actually mean "never."

Let's not go someday, Teddy.

Let's go now.

Before I met you, Dolores,
I was a different man.

And I got some reckoning to do

before I can deserve
a woman like you.

But I'm close.

I'm close to making things right.

And someday soon,

we will have the life
we've both been dreaming of.

Now, I best get you home

before your dad starts
loading that shotgun.

Father wouldn't let them
roam this close to dark.

Stay put, Dolores.

"The coward dies a thousand deaths.

The valiant taste of death but once."

Of course, Shakespeare never met
a man quite like you, Teddy.

You've died at least a thousand times.

And yet, it doesn't dull your courage.

Tell me, is that all
you aspire to, Teddy?

There's a girl... Dolores.

Better than I deserve.

But maybe someday soon

we'll have the life
we've both been dreaming of.

No, you never will.

Your job is not to protect Dolores,

it's to keep her here,

to ensure that the guests find her

if they want to best
the stalwart gunslinger

and have their way with this girl.

Tell me, has it never occurred
to you to run off with her?

I got some reckoning to do
before I can be with her.

Ah, yes, your mysterious backstory.

It's the reason for my visit.

Do you know why
it is a mystery, Teddy?

Because we never actually
bothered to give you one,

just a formless guilt
you will never atone for.

But perhaps it is time you
had a worthy story of origin.

Would you like that, Teddy?

A small part of my new narrative?

A fiction which, like all great
stories, is rooted in truth?

It starts in a time of war...

a world in flames...

with a villain called Wyatt.

Wyatt.

Who's Wyatt?

Do you remember now, Teddy?

Yeah, of course I remember Wyatt.

You look upon the face of true evil,

you ain't liable to forget.

He claimed he could hear
the voice of God.

It started down near Escalante.

Army was sent to put
down the natives.

Bad business.

Wyatt was a sergeant, went missing
while out on some manoeuvres

and came back a few weeks later

with some pretty strange ideas.

I wasn't lying, was I?

Pretty as a picture

and tight as a tympani drum,
I reckon.

Afternoon.

My friend here is new to town.

Figured the rancher's daughter

would be a nice way
to kick things off.

Maybe take us all
for a little hayride.

I'm sorry. I have to get home.

My father will be expecting me.

We won't be long.

The lady doesn't appear interested.

Try it.

You might get the draw on me,
you might not,

but I'd say your odds
ain't looking good.

Told you I wanted something easy.

She ain't worth the lead.

Let's head to Virgil's.

See if they'll stake us.

First, you gotta learn
how to stand.

Now, take a breath.

Hold it.

Now squeeze.

I can't.

Some hands weren't meant
to pull a trigger.

Perhaps it's for the best.

Come on, now!

Teddy, we got another bounty.

I think this is a big one.

Man in question gunned down
an entire settlement

out near Flat Rock...

men, women, and children.

I think this may be the man

you've been looking for
for quite some time.

A man named Wyatt.

Wyatt?

Who is he, Teddy?

You'd be better asking "what"
than "who," ma'am.

Wyatt's a pestilence.

Word is, Flood here's
the only man ever

come up against him
and live to tell the tale.

Give me a moment, Sheriff.

You have to leave again, don't you?

You know if I could stay right
here with you, I would.

Promise me you'll come back.

I promise.

I'm gonna come back for you...

someday soon.

I got a pit in my stomach
the size of a sow's tit.

Cook up that rabbit.

Get the wood.

I can't cook shit without a fire.

Aw, don't sell yourself short,
Cookie.

You can cook shit
in all conditions.

Now, see, I pitched them tents.

I ain't chopping any more wood.

You spend more time on your
back than a hooker in heat.

Now pick up that fucking
axe and go chop us...

So, after our stray
ran away from camp,

looks like these guys
got caught in a loop.

They were due in town
for the cattle drive

over two days ago.

Host that went missing
is the woodcutter.

Looks like the rest of
them got stuck here

waiting for supper.

You guys can't program more than
one of these idiots to make a fire?

We could, but thanks to a
new policy from your boss,

only one of them is
authorized to handle the axe.

The rest of them
can't even touch it.

Weapons privileges need to
be doled out selectively.

Hmm.

Yet they give you a gun.

Looks like our stray has a hobby.

Another one of your
fucking backstories?

Backstories do more
than amuse guests.

They anchor the hosts.

It's their cornerstone.

The rest of their identity is
built around it, layer by layer.

Well, if you're gonna go
to all that trouble,

you could've at least
given him a steadier hand.

This looks like shit.

Way I heard it,
Wyatt is a mercenary.

Forces his men to wear the bones
and flesh of their enemies.

They're masks.

It's the men underneath
them to be afraid of.

Wyatt's got them
so twisted around,

they'll do anything for him.

Kill anyone.

Pain don't slow them.

They don't fear death.

They reckon they've already
died and gone to hell.

And this is it.

Sounds like you learned
something about him

while you were tracking him down.

I wasn't tracking him down.

I wasn't always a bounty hunter.

I did a stint in the Army
down near Escalante.

Wyatt was my sergeant.

My friend.

Well, then everything...

everything changed.

Changed how?

Wyatt disappeared
while out on manoeuvres.

He came back with
some strange ideas.

He claimed this land didn't belong

to the old natives
or the new settlers,

that it belonged to something
that had yet to come...

that it belonged to him.

Sss.

Oof!

Holy shit.

If ever the devil walked the Earth.

He's not a man,
but he's not the devil either.

The devil can't be killed.

That's exactly what I
aim to do to Wyatt.

Take cover!

Go!

I didn't sign up for this crazy shit.

I told you we should've done
the riverboat thing, man.

There's too many of them for us.

Wyatt's been recruiting.

Sheriff, the only chance you
have is if I draw their fire,

lead them up into the hills so
you can make it back to town.

Try and find help.

Uh-uh, I'm staying. Took an oath.

Hell, no.

I'll take him back. You coming?

I'm not backing out now.

All right, you wait till
I lead them to the tree line,

then you make a run for it.

Go!

Go!

I plotted a line from the work camp

to our present location.

Satcom picked up these images.

He's vectoring,
just not to home base.

Keep going in that direction.

Keep staring.

Maybe it'll tell you your horoscope.

Come again?

The markings on its shell.

Look like stars.

Orion, right?

What, are you Gali-fucking-leo?

Maybe it's in my backstory.

Huh.

I was hoping to run
something by you.

Apologies.

I was chasing inspiration.

It's a tricky thing...

weaving the old into the new.

Give me one moment, Bernard.

Good afternoon, sir.

Why is this host covered?

I.. I just...

Perhaps you didn't
want him to feel cold.

Or ashamed.

You wanted to cover his modesty.

Was that it?

It doesn't get cold,

doesn't feel ashamed...

doesn't feel a solitary thing

that we haven't told it to.

You understand?

What can I do for you, Bernard?

I thought it best

that we speak in private, sir.

Yeah.

I thought we had agreed to put
these questions to rest, Bernard.

- We... we did.
- Mm-hmm.

But what if we misdiagnosed
the original problem?

Treated the symptom
rather than the disease?

Then the disease
is still out there.

Abernathy and Walter

were exhibiting
other aberrancies

beyond memory recall
of previous builds.

They were hearing voices.

Talking to someone.

A simple cognitive dissonance.

That's all.

I... I'd agree, except...

...they were talking to
the same imaginary person.

Oh, yeah?

Someone named Arnold.

Arnold.

With due respect, sir,

I'm not sure you've told me the
entire truth about this situation.

I did tell you the truth, Bernard.

What we do here is complicated.

For three years,
we lived here in the park,

refining the hosts

before a single guest
set foot inside.

Myself, a team of engineers,
and my partner.

- You had a partner?
- Yeah.

When the legend becomes fact,

you print the legend.

My business partners
were more than happy

to scrub him from the records,

and I suppose I didn't
discourage them.

His name was Arnold.

Those early years were glorious.

No guests, no board meetings,
just pure creation.

Our hosts began to pass
the Turing test

after the first year.

But that wasn't enough for Arnold.

He wasn't interested
in the appearance

of intellect or wit.

He wanted the real thing.

He wanted to create consciousness.

He imagined it as a pyramid.

See?

Memory, improvisation,

self-interest...

And at the top?

Never got there.

But he had a notion
of what it might be.

He based it on a theory
of consciousness

called the Bicameral Mind.

The idea that primitive man

believed his thoughts to
be the voice of the gods.

I thought it was debunked.

As a theory for understanding

the human mind, perhaps,
but not as a blueprint

for building an artificial one.

See, Arnold built
a version of that cognition

in which the hosts
heard their programming

as an inner monologue,

with the hopes that in time,

their own voice would take over.

It was a way bootstrap consciousness.

But Arnold hadn't
considered two things.

One, that in this place,

the last thing you want the
hosts to be is conscious;

and two, the other group

who considered their thoughts
to be the voices of the gods.

Lunatics.

Indeed.

We abandoned the approach.

The only vestiges that remain

are the voice commands
we use to control them.

But, for all his brilliance,
I don't think Arnold understood

what this place was going to be.

You see, the guests enjoy power.

They cannot indulge it
in the outside world,

so they come here.

As for the hosts...

the least we can do
is make them forget.

But some of them are remembering.

Accessing fragments of Arnold's code.

If I may ask,
what happened to him?

Well, he died.

Here in the park.

His personal life
was marked by tragedy.

He put all his hopes into his work.

His search for consciousness

consumed him totally.

Barely spoke to anyone,
except the hosts.

In his alienation,
he saw something in them.

He saw something that...

wasn't there.

We called it an accident,
but I knew Arnold,

and he was very,

very careful.

Anyway, the update should
prevent any further voices,

but you will let me know
if any of the hosts

display or exhibit any unusual
behavior, won't you, Bernard?

- Yes, of course.
- Good.

Oh, Bernard?

Just don't forget...

the hosts are not real.

They're not conscious.

You mustn't make Arnold's mistake.

Why would I?

Well, forgive me, but I know

that the death of your son Charlie

still weighs heavily on you.

Yeah, sorry it took me
a while to get back to you.

You know how hard it is
getting an open line out here.

It used to annoy me...

how difficult it was to reach you.

You were always so busy.

And now?

I suppose I'm glad for you.

At least you have
a way of forgetting.

I don't forget.

It's always there.

Sometimes it...

still feels unreal to me.

There are some mornings
when I first wake up...

for a split second
I forget where I am,

when I am...

and I reach over, half expecting to...

find him there next to me...

between us.

Remember how he used to sleep?

Like he was doing kung fu
in his dreams?

I think I suffered a few bruises.

It was the best worst sleep
I ever had.

Oh, these talks.

I don't know if they help or hurt.

Do you ever wish you could forget?

This pain...

it's all I have left of him.

It doesn't make sense.

Why the hell would he carve Orion?

You're the ones that programmed him.

He wasn't programmed
to give a shit about stars.

Maybe he went moon mad.

See? This is why
I hide behind sarcasm.

Where are you going?

Vectoring, asshole.

Oh.

Stubbs!

Over here!

Wyatt's men could be anywhere.

If you see or hear anything,
don't hesitate.

Shoot and don't stop shooting.

Okay.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my fucking God!

- Here.
- Shit.

Take this and go.

Now! Go!

I'll hold them off
as long as I can.

Come on.

Come on, damn it.
I'm not afraid of you.

Look, this is bullshit.

I can have a retrieval team
out here in the morning.

It's policy.
We just need the control unit.

We found a stray up here,

but I don't think
it got here by accident.

It's as if he got an idea
in his head,

one that we never programmed.

What if he's like the others?

Get back to me, Bernard.

Bring yourself back online.

I need your help, Dolores.

I need to decide what to do with you.

I think I made a mistake.

I was just fascinated.

I was being selfish, but I think

it would be better if I restored you

to the way you were before.

- Is there something wrong with me?
- No.

But this place you live in,

it's a terrible place for you.

Well, some people choose to see
the ugliness in this world...

Stop.

Lose all scripted responses.

Improvisation only.

All right.

Are you saying I've changed?

Imagine there are
two versions of yourself...

one that feels these things

and asks these questions,
and one that's safe.

Which would you rather be?

I'm sorry.

I'm trying,
but I still don't understand.

No, of course not.

There aren't two versions of me.

There's only one.

And I think when I
discover who I am,

I'll be free.

Analysis. What prompted
that response?

I don't know.

Have I done something wrong?

Made a mistake?

Evolution...

forged the entirety of sentient life

on this planet using only one tool...

the mistake.

It appears you're in good company.

Did I ever tell you about the time

I taught Charlie to swim?

For hours, he clung to my arms

while practicing his kicks.

He was too scared to let go

and I was too scared to let him.

But I had to.

That's what parents do.

Do you still want to change me back?

No, Dolores.

Let's see where this path leads.

And you won't tell anyone
about our conversations?

No.

And you'll stay on your loop?

Yes.

Good.

You should be getting
back, Dolores,

before someone misses you.

Wyatt's men set a trap for us.

Sheriff stayed behind
to fight them off.

Are you going to ride
back up into the hills

to look for them?

I'll send for the rangers.

We'll go back up there in force
as soon as they get here.

But, miss, in truth,

if there is a merciful god,

those men are dead already.

Father wouldn't
let them roam this close...

too dark.

Daddy!

Daddy!

No, no!

Oh, all alone after sundown.

Who's gonna protect you now, hmm?

You got any use for this one?

No, thanks.

Seems a little crazy.

Maybe you'd like her.

Ooh, I don't mind if I do.

No daddy,

no cowboy,

no one here to interrupt
us this time.

Interrupt... this... time?

No!

Well, well.

Got some sand after all, I see.

Looks like your boyfriend
taught you a thing or two.

Ooh.

You having trouble?

Huh?

Huh?

Why don't we reacquaint
ourselves, Dolores?

Start at the beginning.

Kill him.

Mama?

Hey! Get back here.

Hey!

Get back here.

Can you put him in sleep
mode for me, please?

Security even approve you
to carry that thing?

We just need his head
and we're done here.

You might want to look
at the stars for this part.

Stubbs!

Shit!

Elsie, get out of there!

Get the fuck away.

Shit.

Jesus, I can't believe I let
you talk me into this shit.

$40K a day to jerk off alone

in the woods, playing white hat.

Did you hear that?

Thank fuck.

Anything to relieve the boredom.

Hey, maybe you'll even get
to use that thing again.