All language subtitles for Wargames.The.Dead.Code.2008.WEBRip.x264-ION10

How many did she get?

All of them.

Glad she's on our side.
Yeah.

Resuming game site
surveillance.

Jay, I'm doing
all the work here, buddy.
Come on.

Where are you?
You're supposed to be
on my left flank

with second platoon.

Die. Die. Die.

Jay, where are you?
I'm getting pummeled
over here.

Die. Die. Jay,
I said left flank, Jay.

Die. Die.
Jay, where are you
in second platoon?

Why are you...
You're never where
you're supposed to be.

Jay, Jay,
that's me you're shooting.

Jay, you just shot
me in the head, Jay.

Yeah, great, do me a favor.
Never join the Army.

Thank you.

Amateurs.

Dude, I'm seriously
bored over here.

Aren't you bored?
What are you doing?

Hey, how about
a war drive, huh?
We love that.

Okay, five minutes,
World of Warcraft.
What do you say?

Come on,
I need some bloodfang gear
and some undead rogues,

and you're the man.

No Warcraft. No rogues.

Remember, way back to
last month, when I maxed out
my mom's credit card?

Yeah. But, you know,
you paid her all back.

And wasn't she impressed?

Dude, I almost lost 2 grand.

Besides I'm still
on probation.

Why? Why because
you posted this photo
of Maltz on facebook?

Come on, look,
he's having a great time.

No.

Okay, plan B.

I just traded these hacked
credit card numbers to
a guy online

for this new
peer-to-peer tool.

You ready for this?
Are you ready?

Guaranteed undetectable.
What do you say?

Be my guest.

Was kind of hoping
you'd sort of help me
figure this stuff out

since I'm not
totally sure how it works.

Look, man, I promised her
I'd give it a rest.

Of course you did.
It's your mom.

What else are you
going to tell her?

Only this time I meant it.

Wow, I'm really
touched. Sweet.

Here, call someone.

Anyone but me.

Maybe I'll call
your ex-girlfriend.

Ask her on a date.

She'll probably play with me.

Hello, White House,
how may I direct your call?

Are you kidding me?
Dude, how do you...

That's my number.
Come on, let's go.

Can I have that?
Uh, no.

Thanks for the Pop-Tart.

Hey, it's breakfast.

Hey, Will, I got a problem.

Hey, Mr. Massude.
What? They still didn't get
your Medicare straight?

No, that's okay,
thank you.

But it's my computer.

I don't know,
it's stuck again.

Something about
an administrator.

And you haven't introduced
any new software since
I wiped your drive?

Come on,
we're gonna be late
for gym class,

and that would be
a huge tragedy.

Well, it's sites my
granddaughter sent me.

I know you
warned me about it.

But, you know,
she's in Damascus
and she sent pictures.

And you know how hard for me
it is to see her.

Did you get a security alert?

No, I simply cannot
get into my banking files.

Come on, let's go.
Let's go. Let's go.

Okay, um, I'll have
a look when I get back.

But just don't do
anything else. Okay?

Okay. Thank you.

All right. Oh and I'll
pick up your prescription
on my way home.

Bye.
Okay.

Enjoy the view, dickhead.

Screw you, Maltz.

Why don't you go
make out with your
cross-eyed girlfriend?

Penis.

Newman, is this your
first time with FIGJAM?

Yeah, we're in
the information
acquisition business.

Well, okay.
Yeah.

"Fuck I'm good,
just ask me."

Him.

This better be good, Rashe.

Good morning, Ken.

Show me.

Morbidity rate, 98.6%.

Set up the skiff.

Get me Paget from Homeland,
Cavanaugh from CDC

and Stradler from
the joint chiefs.

Again, full-screen.

Yes, sir.

That's my girl.

These are terrorists, people.

Eliminated in
an automated operation
with 98.6% efficiency.

98.6, the temperature
of blood.

And not a drop of ours
spilled, thanks entirely
to our girl RIPLEY.

RIPLEY detected
this particular
terrorist cell

through one of
her honeypot sites.

Attractive, high-stakes games
hidden in the darker
reaches of the Internet.

Screen.

Once a player penetrates
level 5,

RIPLEY tags him
as a security threat.

RIPLEY engaged
skilled gamers,

exhibiting familiarity
with weapon systems
and terror tactics.

This particular group managed
to pool winnings of just
under $3 million,

which we paid.

Wait a minute.

You paid
a terrorist group $3 million?

That's affirmative, General.

But you'll be pleased
to know that everyone
associated with this group

is either in custody
or already enjoying
their much-hyped afterlife.

RIPLEY walks tall
and carries a very big stick.

That's why we
applaud everyone here

for endorsing RIPLEY's status
of complete autonomy,

both foreign and domestic.

Temporary domestic autonomy,
Kenneth.

Let's take your girl
for a walk before you
let her off her leash.

There were innocents
at that party.

Understandably collateral.

But what assurances
do we have

RIPLEY won't orchestrate
a similar attack at home?

RIPLEY won't be
dropping bombs at home,
Mr. Paget.

And there will
always be innocents.

At least RIPLEY hit
this target away from
population and cameras,

and she targeted
their vehicle,

which just happened to be
loaded with C-4 and Iranian
Katyusha missiles.

The explosion that
killed these people
was theirs, not ours.

Thank you for your time.
One question.

What happens if we miss
the connection after
we've paid them off?

I mean, if these
guys are smart enough
to beat the game,

then they might
be smart enough
to beat their tail,

in which case
we wouldn't just
be tempting them,

we'd be financing them.

Terror is a filthy sewer,

filled with hatred and bile
that threatens our shores.

If we are to
protect ourselves,

we have to be able
to anticipate threats.

Are we tempting those
who would harm us?

Damn right.
If they're innocent,
truth will out.

In the meantime, RIPLEY
will be online 24/7,

looking to
identify our enemies.

And the next 16-year-old
who is a year away from
strapping on a bomb.

Let's focus, people.
You got 10 minutes
to turn in your tests.

Need answers for 7,
15, 16 and 20.

Mr. Maltz, I believe
you dialed the wrong number.

Damn.

All computers are doomed

This machine didn't make
this kind of mistake.

This machine was
adjusting itself
during the game

to the situation
that just arose.

Now, I know
I propose that these...

Hey, you know you promised
your mom you won't play
WOW anymore?

I totally agree with that.

In fact, I swear to you,
I will never, ever
bother you about that again.

Aren't you gonna ask why?
Why...

Actually, you don't
have to because I'm gonna
tell you anyway.

I just found this
new gaming site.
It's called RIPLEY.

You know, like
the Matt Damon movie.

Or Alien.
Yeah, whatever.

Anyway,
this one has no limit,

and I will stake you
with every cent that I have.

Which is equal to
or less than the amount
you already owe me.

Less. Less, actually.

So, exactly how did
Mr. Kasparov
beat Big Blue,

the world's smartest
chess computer?

He used
an unexpected strategy...

He used an
unexpected strategy.

A counter-intuitive strategy.

Something the computer
couldn't anticipate.

Mr. Farmer,
you've suddenly taken
an interest in chess?

Well, actually,
I don't play.

But I was considering
taking it up.

Perhaps you'd like to join
our excursion to Montreal
for the internationals?

I'll think about it.
Think, Mr. Farmer.

Imagine yourself
making a decision.

So, you're
interested in chess?

About as much as you.

Oh, you mean,
because it didn't look like
I was paying attention?

Because you were texting
and doing your nails.

I already know
that match by heart.

Oh, you don't believe me?

Didn't say that.

Didn't have to.
You looked up
and to the right.

It's a clear tell.

Oh, really?

What am I telling now?

Pain.

If you're serious
about the trip,

it's $550,
but you might get a discount
because of the no-show.

You going?
What's it to you?

Just curious.

You are so full of it.

You're an easy read
for a smart kid.

Maybe you shouldn't take up
chess, 'cause if I faced you
over a board,

I'd take you apart
before your first move.

Bring it on, then.

No, you gotta get yourself
together before someone
can take you apart.

That's how it works.

* There's a little hope

* In little plans

* Bells chime out today

* You made your key
quite old to find

* The space you left behind
fills meaning there

* But now just favorite songs

* You know tonight I'm home

Hmm.

Favorite quote,
Robert Oppenheimer.

Okay. Dog's name. Hoover.

Younger sister. Rebecca.

Rebecca.

Becky.

No!

I have your ID, sucker.

You try and hack
my password again,
I'll burn you.

She put in a mousetrap.

That's scary.

Of course, if you happen
to be Mr. Will Farmer,

maybe you should
just come to Montreal
if you're so curious.

Grab me a beer.

So neatness doesn't
really count.

Not when you're
about to pass out.

Bless you. Tough day?

Lately, we're
putting out more bullshit
than air freshener.

Don't touch!

They're dumping
my odorless bleach idea.

But I talked them
into letting me keep
my beta samples.

"Talked them into."

Let's just say they owed me.

It's one thing
to take my ideas
and keep all the profits,

but to dump something

because a new VP doesn't want
to be upstaged by a woman...

You getting sick?

Uh-huh.

I hope it's a cold.

The flu is supposed to be
really nasty this year.

What would you say if I
told you I was thinking of
taking up chess?

I'd wanna know
the girl's name,

and how much
it's going to cost.

Mr. Massude
left you a packet.
It's over by the door.

There's a trip to Montreal.

It's $550, but I think
I can get a discount.

Her name's Annie.

Good luck.

* Everybody wanted to see you

* Everybody wanted to steal

Okay.

* No one else is here
to stop this

* Something they
just couldn't steal *

Spyware?

No. Something else.

There's someone deep inside.
I just wiped this
drive two days ago.

Well, I guess you didn't do
a very good job, did you?

Oh, funny guy.

He said he was
having problems
with his online banking.

Whoa. You know this guy's
online banking password?

Yeah, I helped him
set up the account.
He couldn't remember, so...

$97,000?
That's weird.

What?
Look at this.

Dude, $105,000?

How? We changed everything.

Why?

He was worried about
his brother back in Syria,
who he says is a crook.

His brother's a crook?

See? Same last name.

But the guy's
putting more money
than he's taking out.

Yeah, it's called layering.

You put it in and take it out
a couple thousand at a time
to avoid detection.

I mean, this stuff never sits
more than a few hours.

Really?

But for now,
all of that money is real.

Huh?

No, I'm just gonna
hack some SkyMiles
and then see if I can...

Come on, dude.
It's not like
you're stealing,

you're fixing
the guy's computer.

Listen to me, Will,
listen to me,
all you have to do, okay,

is transfer some
money for 15 minutes,
log on,

you win some money
from the RIPLEY game, right?

And then you put it back.
No.

With interest.

Do you want to go on that trip
to Montreal with your future
ex-wife or not?

'Cause this is
your only chance.

Fifteen minutes.

Welcome, baby.

Whoa, she's hot.

Play with me, baby.

Come on, big fellow.
Play with me.

Come on.

Your $500 wager
has been accepted.

Please select
your game platform.

Nah.
Nah.

The Dead Code.
Smells like money.

Take it. Take it.

Do it. Yeah.

You have selected
the Dead Code.

Please choose body count.

All right. Let's see
what 20,000 dead gets us.

You have
selected 20,000 bodies.

It gets you half
an hour of game play,
which is good.

Yeah, but you're only
playing for even odds, man.
That sucks.

Why don't you bump it up
to 100,000 bodies?

You've selected
100,000 bodies...

Yeah, 5-to-1 odds,
now we're in business.

Thank you very much.
Yeah, but I've
only got 10 minutes.

Okay, do you want
your mom to finish her bath
and come pay us a visit? Huh?

Come on, dude,
you're only in
for 500 bucks.

What's the worst
that could happen?

Even if you bust,
go back to Massude's account
and get more money.

No. This is a one-time
and a one-time deal only.
Remember?

Yeah.

You have entered the Dead Code.

Prepare for
scenario selection.

You have 10 minutes
to procure and deploy
bio and chemical weapons.

Okay.

Penetrate our security
protocols and exterminate
100,000 citizens.

Please select your
target area code.

Philadelphia.
Philadelphia.

Target Philadelphia.
Projected dead, 100,000.

Current wager, $5000.

You have 10 minutes
to complete your mission.

What? I'm gonna
kill you, man.

Clock's ticking, Will.

Contract begins now.

Good hunting, Will.

This is interesting.

What do you got?

We have a first-timer
playing the Dead Code
for $5,000 at 5-to-1.

Where is he?

Looks like Philly.

He's pretty good,
whoever he is.

Better tag him POI.

No, no, forget it.

Whoever this
person of interest is,

RIPLEY's already
got five flags on him.

Who is this guy?

We're gonna be rich, Will.

Yes, I'm gonna
buy a 72-inch plasma
for my room,

rig my entire
house with computers.

No more schools...
Quit talking!

Twenty thousand dead.

Opponent has been
engaged at level 2.

You have eight minutes
to complete your body count.

Would you quit hopping?

Thirty thousand dead.

How are we doing?

Quit breathing.
Then I'll die.

Exactly.

Forty thousand dead.

Opponent has been
engaged at level 3.

Check out the tail
on his buy-in.

Oh, straight out of Damascus.

Via Fort Worth to
banks in two, three...

Ten US cities.

Nice, nice,
50% morbidity count
and climbing.

Keep going.
Keep going. Sorry.

Dude, dude,
look at your
playing chart.

Oh, my God.
You're about to set off
the decon system.

Decon counterattack.

Like flies.
That's tragic.

But profitable.

Half of Philly is
gonna die, a.k.a...

* Decontamination
of the population

* Philly's gonna burn
in flames of damnation *

Sixty thousand dead.
Game clock reset.

Two minutes to
complete body count.

Opponent has been
engaged at level 4.

* Philly's gonna burn
in flames of damnation *

Soluble contaminants
confiscated.

They just took
all my airborne
soluble contaminants.

So what? Nuke 'em.

Wrong game. You gotta
stick with chem weapons.
Neurotoxins.

Come on, there's
always room for nukes.

One minute to complete
your mission.
Wait. Where are you going?

Better hurry, Will.

Select secondary weapon.

Mom, if you had to
choose between
atomizing anthrax or sarin,

which would be more deadly?

Will, honey...
Just guess.

You're talking
about sarin gas?
Yes.

Why do you want to
know such a thing?

Mom, please,
just take your best shot.

Go with sarin.
It's much quicker,
it's odorless.

Select secondary weapon.
Come on, come on, come on.

You have 20 seconds
to complete your body count.

Select...
You have selected sarin.

Eighty thousand dead.

Ninety thousand.

Congratulations, Will.
One hundred thousand dead.

Opponent has been
engaged at level 5.

Oh, shit!

What happened?
Shut him down.

RIPLEY shut him down.

Aaron, Claudia,
did you get that?

We're on it.

Will?

Did we win?

She knew her pigeon
was toast and wanted
to keep him on the hook.

When he reboots
his computer...

He'll have a new
friend in his CPU.

Oh, yeah.
RIPLEY'll be so far
up this guy's butt,

he won't know whether
to scratch his watch
or wind his ass.

Tina, we got
a big bite on RIPLEY.

Yeah, I'm already
on top of it.

We have a team
headed for Philly now.

That's right.
It's domestic.

Hey, Bill, I'm bringing
back a nice, greasy
Philly cheese steak.

You're a cruel man, Aaron.

Initiating Spyware ICE.

Returning to
regulated power grid.

Play with me, baby.

Play with me, baby.

Come over here.
Come and play.

Activate his webcam.

Don't stop now.

Congratulations, Will.

You've won $25,000.

How could they have
closed his account?

Play with me, baby.

Play with me, baby.

Play with me...

Play with me, baby.

Play with me, baby.

Play with me...

This is not right.
This is not right.

Play with me, baby.

Play with me, baby.

Newman, I'm out of here.
Keep watching.

Constructing opponent matrix.

Why? This is not right.

You can call
your attorney later,
Mr. Massude.

Mom!

Mom, what was
that all about?

I don't know.
Mr. Massude didn't really
have time to talk.

He wanted me to make sure
to give you this.

And he said thanks.

He didn't say anything else?

Those two with him,
and they didn't
exactly try to shut him up,

but you could tell
that they didn't want
any chitchat.

If you ask me,
it's probably something
to do with immigration.

But he's nearly done
with his citizenship program.

Aren't you gonna open it?

Yeah, sure, right.

Holy shit!

Wow!

So what time's
your flight?

Bye, Mom.

Bye, sweetie. Have fun.

Okay, you're sure
he's coming?

He said he was coming.

Well, I guess he's
not gonna make it.

Looks like it's gonna be
just you and me.

I'm gonna go look for him.

Relax. Relax.
Sit down, okay? Hold it.

I'll go find him.

Please make sure
they don't leave without me.

Yeah.

Mr. Nichols?
Yeah.

Looking for your friend?
Will Farmer?

Yeah, why?
You know where he is?

This way.

Whoa.

Where are you taking me?

Excuse me. Sorry.
Excuse me. Excuse me.
Sorry.

Excuse me.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Some basic rules
for this excursion,
Mr. Farmer.

If you're going to be late,
please let us know.

And if you feel
the need to be
overly dramatic,

save it for the school play.

I'm sorry. I'm having
trouble with my cell.

Will.

You made it.

Yeah.

I sent a text to Dennis.
Didn't he tell you?

It's from security.

No.

Ladies and gentlemen,
thank you for your patience.

Please prepare
for departure.

Mr. Baron, we can't
leave without Dennis.

Everyone can relax.
I just heard from Mr. Nichols
via airport security.

Something to do with
a family situation.

Hopefully he'll be joining us
in Montreal by tomorrow.

This way, Mr. Nichols.

Aren't you going to offer me
a cigarette and a blindfold?

We usually wait until after
we beat you with
a phone book, Mr. Nichols.

You know, if you guys want
to convince me
I'm not in any trouble,

then you'll quit
calling me Mr. Nichols.

We don't have to convince you
of anything, Mr. Nichols.

It's going to be up
to you to convince us.

Of what exactly?

That I'm not part of
a high-school terrorist
chess conspiracy?

Why did you make me
miss my flight?

Do you have any idea
how much money my father paid
for that ticket?

Tell us about Mr. Farmer,
your friend.

All right.

Tell us about the game.

If you'd like to cooperate,

you might save both yourself
and your friend
a great deal of trouble.

What do you want me to say?
There's nothing to tell.

Will is just a smart kid
who played some
stupid online game

to win some money
to go on a trip with a girl.
That's it. Okay?

End of story.
There's nothing else.

But you know, I mean,
if you guys wanna
add more to that,

then feel free
to call my father,
who happens to be a lawyer.

Then we can sue you
for violation of
my civil rights.

What girl?

Oh, you've got to be
kidding me.

Consider this.

Your smart friend
used funds provided
by a terrorist cell in Syria

and wagered it against
government computers,

and displayed insider
knowledge of biological
and chemical weapons.

Meanwhile, his mother,
a bio-engineer at Wyren,

has been stealing
and stockpiling
chemical agents.

This means that
your very smart friend,
Mr. Will Farmer,

is being sought for
bioterrorist activities
against Philadelphia,

and is very likely to spend
the rest of his life
in federal prison.

Regarding your civil rights,
you don't have any,

not where terrorist linkage
is highly probable.

You happy now, Dennis?

Why should I be happy?

I just called you Dennis,
didn't I?

Command, we have visual
on Baker, Zulu, Niner.

We'll continue
observer status
till subject lands. Copy.

It wasn't Immigration,
wasn't the local law,
it wasn't FBI.

You hacked all those sites?

I had to find out
who took him.

According to local, state
and federal databases,
that car doesn't exist.

So who took him?
I don't know.

But whoever it was
really freaked
the shit out of him.

Because he left me
the same amount of cash
for fixing his computer.

He knew he was gonna
be gone for a while.

Hello?
WILL: Mom, hey.

Will, is that you?

Of course it's me.
Who else calls you Mom?

Are you in Montreal?

No, we're still on the plane.
They're still
kind of circling.

Listen, I was just wondering,
have you heard
anything from Dennis?

He didn't make the flight.
Something about
a family emergency.

No, nobody called,
I don't think.

Hey, anything else
about Mr. Massude?

Oh, a moving van pulled up,

and I think they took
everything out.

They cleaned out his house?

It just seems
kind of sudden.

Oh, just a sec.

Hey, Mom.
Oh, there's somebody
at the door.

They're wearing suits.

Either they want
to sell me a Bible
or I've just won $1,000,000.

Have fun. Love you.

I love you, too.
Feel better.

Thanks for your
patience. We have been cleared
to land in Montreal.

Got it.

Come on, Dennis.
I want to show you something.

I want to talk
to my father!

No! Let her go!
Mrs. Farmer!

Still think we're playing
games here, Dennis?

I'm gonna get a coffee.
Can I get you a coffee,
Dennis?

Thank you, Dennis.
You've been a great help.

Would you like to
call your father now?

I don't know,
I'm worried about her.

I cannot get
a signal in here.

Don't worry. I'm sure
your mom is fine.

We'll try her when
you get outside, okay?

I feel like I'm stoned,
and not in a good way.

It's Dennis.

He's got a strange number,
but that's definitely his tag.

Will! Will!

Will!

RIPLEY had a lock on him?

She's got him.

Let's see where he leads us.

Quite a performance.

Tell the airport unit
they did solid work.
We'll take him from here.

Emergency override.

What the hell is this?

Why did she just do that?

Somebody?
I'm locked out.

We're back on.
Analyzing compound.

Bioterror threat, level 2.

Holy shit.
Tell me why that happened.

What does she know?
Come on, what does she know?

She's analyzing the chemical
compounds that were seized
from the Farmer home.

If I were a betting man,
I would say
she found something.

Perfect.

Who is it?

Jesus!

I just got off
the phone with CDC
and Homeland,

who were giving me
a tag-team ass-chewing

because you put Philadelphia
on a stage 2 alert.

Not us, sir. RIPLEY.

That's exactly what
we wanted to do.
What the hell's their problem?

Well, there's
a new flu out there,

and Cavanaugh's
people are jumping.

Meanwhile, RIPLEY has labeled
Mrs. Farmer's son

and we're tagging him
to see where he leads.

How's the hunt going?
On the Syrian front,
extremely well.

Solid leads.
I've got a budget
meeting next week.

This could be good.

I don't know
much about him...

Mr. Baron.
Annie, Annie, please.

It's been a very
miserable afternoon
for all of us.

You have my word they will
let me know the minute
they hear anything.

But for now,
can we just take a Will break
and find our bus?

Sorry. I'm sorry.

It's my fault.

I've been meaning to get
these glasses fixed,

but life just keeps
getting in the way
of my best plans.

Tell me about it.

That's great.

WILL: Did anyone see
you leave the group?

No, you really scared me.

Are you all right?

Okay, let's go. Okay.

Video cameras,
street surveillance.
They're tracking me.

Who are "they"?
That's what
we have to find out.

Wait.

Listen, I promise,
I will not get
you into trouble.

I just want to find out
if my mom is okay.

I have a plan.
If I could do this alone,

I wouldn't ask you.
Come on.

So what now?

I've gotta hack RIPLEY
and try to find my mom.

You're nuts,
do you know that?

Okay, take a look.
He's standing
next to the computer.

You see him?
Yeah. No,
I don't see anything.

Here. Tell me what you see.

I see a really,
really hot guy.

That's not what I meant.

Okay, Mr. Slick over there
is doing more than just
mesmerizing women

with his supreme,
manly intelligence.

He is hacking into
the merchant bank
supercomputer behind us.

I was in the cafe.
The guy's pulling
heavy side jobs.

I'm talking
running credit cards
and pocketing the cash.

Of course,
he didn't notice me
because I'm not a chick.

And these Pringles,
this is all
part of your plan?

Yes, as a matter of fact, yes.

We're gonna
piggy-back on our guy there
to get into that system.

You don't really
think he's hot.

Okay, so that's why we have
to borrow his terminal.

Borrow?

And let me guess,
you want me to distract him?

Just for a minute.
Not a problem.

And yes, in a purely
put-a-bag-over-
his-personality,

use-him-as-a-pleasure-machine
kind of way,

he's passable.

So, you want to use
a computer?

You look really smart.

Thanks.

It's hot.

You know computer?

Is that a camera?
Yeah.

So technological.
See?

Just go there.
You wanna use it?

There are so many letters...
Pleasure machine?

...I don't know what to pick.
Just pick one.

Um, that one.
Oh, I'm sorry.

Sorry. Sorry.
That's all right.

The Internet isn't
waterproof, right?

I just wish.

It's all right.
So, mademoiselle,
Um...

let me show you
the computer over there.

Okay.
Mademoiselle. You have
a really nice accent.

I like that.
You like that? All right.

I'll just show
you how this works.
Yeah.

Oh, wow,
there's numbers
on the top and under.

Easy, isn't it?

You can actually give me
your e-mail address.

Really?

Do you have one?
I don't know what that is.

Oh, okay, yeah.

That was impressively scary.
I almost felt sorry
for the guy.

Thank you.
Almost.

Is your cell phone working?

Don't worry. I'll bump through
some hacked accounts,
so they can't trace us.

Fine.

Okay, we should be
peer-to-peer

and ready to look
right down RIPLEY's throat.

Okay, so, like,
when other kids were out
playing baseball,

you were in a dark room
playing with computers?

I played baseball.
Third base. All-stars.

And I didn't play
with computers,

I built them.

Okay, can you
spell "over-achiever"?

Hey, my dad taught me
about computers, and he was
my third-base coach.

Blame him.

Attention. Intrusion.

Sorry. Talk to me.

We got somebody
in our database
with a knife and fork.

They're backdoor
through a hacked account.

Someone knows
what they're doing.

Any idea?
RIPLEY's tracing it.

Oh, Christ, get that
image off the screen.

At least we know
who's watching.

But he didn't need
to see her like that.

Tracing file access.

Inserting mobile
tracking software.

What's RIPLEY gonna do?
In all likelihood,
she's already done it.

This is Carter.
Who have we got
up at Montreal?

Do you think that was her?

I couldn't really tell.

She's got bad sinuses
from working around chemicals
all these years.

When she gets a cold,
if she's not careful,
it turns to pneumonia.

Will, Will,
we can't stay here.
Why?

Because there is someone
watching us in the doorway
across from the cafe.

This guy.
I ran into him before
at the airport.

A guy? What guy?
What did you say?
I... Nothing.

He seemed innocent.
I just ran into him.

Oh, jeez! Annie, go.

Over here. This way.
I think we lost them.

ANNIE: Go, go, go, go!

WILL: Down here.

Okay, did we lose them?

WILL: Yeah, I think so.

It's crazy.

Oh, Jesus! Come on, run.

Where are we going?
The subway. Just trust me.

This way!
Cut them off!

Are they following us?
I don't know.

Are you okay?

RIPLEY:
Tracing mobile transponder.

We gotta be bugged.
Did they give you
anything at orientation?

I didn't get that far,
remember?

Wait. Wait.
Your cell phone.

Stupid.

Will! Will!

RIPLEY: Connection lost.
Connection lost.

Will.

(SHUSHING) It's okay.
It's all right.

We're gonna stay
here till after dark.

No, no, they're gonna
come after us.

They won't.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I just wanna go home.

The girl's cell phone,
found it 12 miles
down the track.

They're still searching.
They haven't found the kids,
you know.

You want some fries?
Yes, thank you.

RIPLEY have any guesses
where they're going?

I don't think RIPLEY guesses
about anything.

I think RIPLEY relies
on her amazing
feminine intuition.

Sorry, RIP, didn't mean
to make that sound offensive.

(PEOPLE SPEAKING
FOREIGN LANGUAGES)

And the mother?
She's still in ICU.

They're doing tests on her.
Nobody's sure
exactly what she's got.

Does Hassert
know any of this?

BILL:
You didn't speak to him?

You know, I spoke
with him earlier.

He's confident
that RIPLEY's
following protocols

and that we should
do the same thing.

RIPLEY premature
in any of this?

Who knows?
That profile certainly fits.

Kid and his mother both
disenfranchised after what
happened to the father.

The kid with
outstanding computer
and chem weapon knowledge.

And the stuff that
we found in that kitchen...

There's stuff there
that could be used
to make a bio-weapon,

which could trigger
the decon system,

or it could be used to make
anti-bacterial mouthwash.

And where are the samples?

That's the thing.
She won't tell us.

What?
Yeah.

Hassert gave RIPLEY
priority to classify
on her own discretion.

Even from us?

Yeah.

What do you think?

Thinking is...

RIPLEY: Bioterror threat,
level 3.

Decontamination
system on standby.

Back at the cafe,
when my e-date
was wowing me

with his mastery
of the Internet,

I asked him if he ever
heard about RIPLEY.

Let me guess, he claimed
he owned the concept.

Not exactly,

but he did help me
do a Google search,

which, yes,
I could have done myself,
but you said to distract him.

Did you ever hear about
a guy named Stephen Falken?

He designed the old system,
the one that they
replaced with RIPLEY.

The Joshua Project.

I know what
the Joshua Project was.

I just had no idea
it was replaced by RIPLEY.

No, not just that.

When RIPLEY took over,
Falken went crazy.

He threatened to kill
himself to stop them,
and then they ignored him.

And one day
he just rode his truck
off a bridge.

He killed himself?

Just an urban legend.

And he had remarried,
he had a wife and two kids.

A hell of a protest.

I think I just
found a way out.

Uh, I'm just gonna stay here.

RIPLEY: Upgrading search
for suspects to local police.

I hope this is
important, people.

The fat lady was
just about to die
of consumption.

I'll assume
we're all up to speed

with the samples confiscated
from the Farmer residence.

I believe it's clear that
these alone constitute just
cause for a level 3 alert.

The complete list contains
at least 15 agents

which, in a series
of combinations, could be
used as a bio-weapon.

By who?
That's our call.

We also have confirmation

from your chemical
and bio-sensors in
the greater Philadelphia area

that they are showing
the presence of some
of these compounds.

Well, we're talking about
a major chemical
manufacturing corridor here.

Hell, we've got Wyren,
Dow, Corning
and four or five others

less than 10 miles
from downtown Philly.

All the more
reason for caution.

You can't honestly
believe this kid's
mother is involved.

Worst thing anyone's
ever said about her

is that she's over-qualified
for her pay scale.

You're forgetting the father.

Ancient history.

The woman works
with household
and personal antiseptics.

We're talking
about mouthwash,
for Christ's sakes.

They test
the stuff on bacteria,

which makes it
perfectly reasonable
to expect traces at home.

I doubt the woman could
threaten our democracy
with gingivitis.

There were more than traces.

We are talking
about the quarantine
of millions of people,

billions in expense,
not to mention the potential
for riot and panic.

And how in hell
did you gain access
to our sensory data

without our knowledge?

It's as much
our turf as yours.

Our turf? Our call?

Are these your
staff's decisions?

Or is this incredible load
of horse shit

being handed out by
that computer vixen of yours?

Computer vixen? I see.

I'd like to
underscore the importance
of our mutual cooperation,

and unless
I hear otherwise,

I'm going to assume
we have your support.

Unless anyone has anything
to add, I'm going to try
and catch the fourth act.

Ah?

I gotta get some real food.

I wish I'd taken French.

I did.

I'm trying to remember
the French word for "hotdog."

Uh...

Try bread. What's that?

You want two rabbits?

Nice work.

Um... Two of those.

Oh, hotdogs.

Yes, hotdogs.

Hey, we're gonna
get through this.

Are you sure?

I haven't been
sure of anything

since that "glass
half full" question
in seventh grade.

Really? So, what is it?

Half full or half empty?

You first.

Never thought it mattered
unless you happen to
be dying of thirst.

Oh, my God!
What?

It's us. We're on TV.

We're like this
bio-chem version of
Bonnie and Clyde.

Will, there's a cop.

Still there?

I think we should split up.
Okay.

I'm gonna go first.
All right.

Okay.

You should stay together.

I have a truck in
the lot down by the pier.

Meet me there.
Who are you?

I'm the gentleman who nearly
started World War III.

Move, move.
We haven't much time.

On the driver's seat,
there's a laptop.
If you wouldn't mind...

Okay.

You're Stephen Falken.

Mr. Slick showed me
his picture on the Internet.

You know what?
You're supposed to be dead.

I am, technically.

After I trashed my reputation
and everything else
I valued in life,

trying to put
a stop to RIPLEY,

suicide seemed like
a believable way out.

This way, I can keep tabs
on what they're up to,

without giving them
a reason to kill me.

How did you find us?

I've been following RIPLEY,
RIPLEY's been following you,

and my little
friend here helped.

Damn, we're out of range.

May I?

FALKEN: They're biting.

They assume
you've already escaped.

And they're abandoning
their perimeter.

Very clever.

All I need is
a clear line of sight,

I can hack into their cells,
reroute all their
calls through me.

Too risky,
with RIPLEY watching.

Any signature,
and she'll be on us.

What do they want?

RIPLEY is hunting. You, Will,
and everyone on her matrix.

Let's go, please.

Wait, before we go,
you mind telling us
where we're going?

To find someone to
help us stop RIPLEY.

Jesus, Bill.

What the hell is that?

Please tell me this isn't
another RIPLEY issue.

Not exactly.

Look, I understand
what RIPLEY's doing.
It's just...

It's why, you know?

Come on, Bill, maybe
she is being excessive on
the kid and the mother side.

But how can you
discount that?

What, you mean that stuff
from Massude's brother?

Is that what
you're talking about?

We're into dozens
of randomly associated cells.

Massude's a gold mine.

I spoke to Massude's brother.

I talked to the guy
and with our interrogators
over there.

He's a petty thief.

He sells fake Cartier watches
out of the souks in Damascus.

And by now he's
probably coughed up
the names of every person

that he's ever known
since he was six years old.

Which, think about this,
explains why we
have no linkage

between the terrorist side
and the Farmer family.

No, I disagree.

Six degrees
of separation, Tina.

Think about it.

Given enough time,
RIPLEY is gonna tie

half the goddamn
civilized world
to this thing.

What are you saying, Bill?
What do you want us to do?

TINA: You want us to stop?
That's probably
a treasonable offense.

Let's... We could send her
on a wild goose chase.

A smoke screen.
Something to slow her down.

I can hear what
you're saying, Bill.

But you don't
mess with RIPLEY.

She messes with you.
Yeah.

RIPLEY: Moving satellite
search to sector Alpha 43.

Satellites, heat signatures.

Does it work?

They haven't nabbed me yet.

My youngest child,
Joshua, loved bears.

His favorite.
Called him Max.

You mind if I
ask you something?

Shoot.

Does your wife
know you're alive?

Or does she really think
you killed yourself?

She knew I was sick,
so probably made some sense,

me not wanting
to drag them through it.

You're sick?

Pancreatic cancer.

It's nasty.
At least it's quick.

I was part of
RIPLEY's design team.

That makes me a threat.

My family's safety,
I couldn't let
them threaten that.

It's probably
better this way.

I lost my dad
when I was seven.

But I still think
about him all the time.

I know your kids are
probably grown up by now.

But it seems
a shame to deprive them
of even a little more time.

I thought you said
they wouldn't be
looking for us.

Glove compartment,
two passports.
One for you, one for Annie.

I photoshopped in your IDs.

Do either of
you speak French?
I do.

A little.

Pretend to be asleep.
If they try to
search the vehicle,

wake up and mumble something
about having to
go to the bathroom.

You just play dead.
What if it doesn't work?

Then they'll
save you the trouble
of having to pretend.

RIPLEY: Enlarging
Massude/Farmer matrix.

(SIGHS)
Hey, why are you here?

I'm not.
Okay.

Uh...

Are we where
we're supposed to be?

It's a funnel.
Rarely used as
a murder weapon.

There's a thermos
and sandwiches in the cab.

Good Vermont cheddar.

Once we fill up,
we won't be stopping again.

Too dangerous.

What happened to your dad?

He was a computer guy,

worked for MCI
and lived in Virginia.

Y2K rapid deployment.

He used to have all
kinds of cool gear.

He used to let
me play with it.

Anyway, he was off
on a big job in Europe.

Picked up some weird bug.

The infection went
straight to his heart.

One day we were laughing
about how much snot
he could blow out his nose,

then he wasn't there anymore.

(SIGHS) Funny thing.

Mom was always the one
that had problems
with infections.

He was afraid she'd pick up
something at work.

That's what they told you?

Your dad worked at MCI?

Technically, that's true.

But it wasn't Y2K.

The travel was in Bosnia
for the government.

I knew about your dad
when I was teaching at MIT.

He was a student there.

Later, he became
a communications liaison
for the military.

He believed it was
an important
humanitarian mission,

and he wanted to help.

Because of his
specialized knowledge
of early GSM networks,

he was sent to
track down F-16 pilots.

There were

unspeakable atrocities,

rumors of biological weapons.

Your dad may
have been a victim.

Shouldn't they
have warned him?

Or at least tried to help?

Exactly the sentiments
your mother expressed,

which made her very
unpopular with certain
government agencies.

I think you begin
to see why RIPLEY is so
interested in you both.

It's not right.

It's no matter.

Your dad was a hero, Will.

You must never forget that.

NEWMAN:
Was the decon system alerted?

What I don't get is
why RIPLEY won't share
information with us.

BILL: She's a computer.

Her primary job
is to identify
and kill terrorists.

Anyone who compromises
that objective is expendable.

And loser buys breakfast.

I think I got you.
Hey!

It goes to show you,
beauty before age.

BILL: Newman!

No.

No network.

Does he know you're coming?
Who?

The guy who's gonna
help us beat RIPLEY.

Oh, God! Dr. Falken. Falken.

Two.
Okay.

Right here?
Two.

Okay, here you go.
All right.

Two. All right?

All right.
Okay.

All right.

WILL: All right.

Are you gonna be
okay, Dr. Falken?

Stephen, please.

You two are now
all the family I have.

Hey. Hey, in there.

Hey!

Don't bother with that.
There's nothing to sight on.

You don't like to knock?

FALKEN: I sent you
several text messages.
Didn't you get that?

It's broken. You fix.

That's who's gonna
help us defeat RIPLEY?

Oh, dear God, no, not him.

Him.

That's Joshua.

Wow! It's old.

In his day,
he was miles ahead
of the curve.

They sent us
both out to pasture
at the same time.

I had him quietly shipped
out of state,

and then here
to run a power grid.

Amazingly, no one cared.

That piece of shit
can do nothing right.

(STUTTERING) He's slow.
I can beat it at chess.

ANNIE: Are you Russian?

I used to be in
Soviet space program.

But Soviet space program
not what it used to be.

You like vodka?

You've been doing a lot more
than just playing chess
and running the grid.

I do a little
phishing after hours.

That piece of shit can barely
manage simple job like
credit card fraud.

Maybe you don't know
how to handle
a sensitive one like this.

I treat it too good.

WILL: Wow.

Atta boy, Joshua.

Time to wake up.

JOSHUA: Greetings,
Professor Falken.

Shall we play a game?

Yes, Joshua,
many, many games.

RIPLEY:
Bioterror threat level...

Are you really suggesting
RIPLEY tried to kill you?
That's absurd.

No, no, I'll tell you
what's absurd.

That a kid is
fighting for his life
in hospital right now

because of your
goddamn arrogance!

That's what's absurd.
TINA: Excuse me, sir.

I just spoke with
the surgical team.
And?

Newman's vitals are stable,
but he hasn't regained
consciousness.

That's Cavanaugh.

He's on me, wanting to know
why we still haven't
released the Farmer woman

now that her condition's
been downgraded.

How could he know that?

Someone hacked
into the system
and circulated her file.

Someone?
No prizes for guessing who.

Will somebody please
explain to me how,
with a $300 million budget,

we can't manage to find
one high school kid
and his girlfriend?

(CELL PHONE RINGING)
And that would be the CDC.

CDC, FBI, DHS, CIA,

I've got the whole damn
alphabet on my ass,

demanding that we shut
this operation down.

Is that something
you're considering?

I can't.
Another tip from
Massude's brother.

Our Afghan special-ops team
found a bio-weapon prototype.

Three of the compounds
in common with
the Farmer samples.

Evidence points to
a sleeper cell in Philly.

RIPLEY:
Bioterror threat level 4.

Commencing
pre-decontamination
procedure.

Initiating
decontamination countdown.

I'm sorry, Mr. Hassert.
I've got the CDC, Homeland

and the joint chiefs
for you on speaker 10.

Decontamination countdown
beginning now.

Never seen that
countdown before.

What happens at zero?

You don't wanna know.

Turn the bitch off.

We can't.
What do you mean,
you can't?

RIPLEY has control.
The system's impervious
to human interference.

That was the point.

Edwards Air Force Base
just came online.

RIPLEY's taken control
of one of their Predators.

It was stationed
over Afghanistan,
fully armed and fuelled.

Nukes?

Smart bomb
with multiple,
low-yield warheads.

Well, say halleluiah, Hassert.

If that baby hits
U.S. airspace,

it's gonna be
a white damn Christmas.

How long is it gonna...

Okay, Joshua, have fun.

JOSHUA: Beginning power
reroute now.

Can Joshua defeat
RIPLEY's protocol
in Philadelphia?

Given enough time,
that's what I designed
him to do.

Checks and balances.

Work in tandem with RIPLEY,
not against her.

Bipartisanship.

And we know
how that ended up.

RIPLEY: Intrusion detected.

Gaming scenarios detected.

Initiating response.

Mr. Hassert.

We've got something here.

RIPLEY: Locating opponent.

I'll be damned.

War Operation Plan Response.
WOPR.

What the hell is going on?

Somebody's playing games.

People?

RIPLEY: Locating opponent.

Predator deployed.

Predator target confirmed.

ETA, two minutes.

No, leave 'em alone.

What the hell are
you talking about?

Joshua.

Atta boy, Joshua.
Good work.

Thank you, Professor.

I programed you to operate
at a reduced level.

It was important to
conceal your identity.

There are those
who would wish
to do harm to you and us.

Are you referring to
the current operation

seeking to apprehend
you and your friends?

Wait. RIPLEY knows
we're here?

Yes, that is why she requests
that I deliver a message.

She wants you to leave.

It is your only
hope for survival.

Why is that?

Because this game is lost.

RIPLEY: ETA, one minute.

Joshua, how does
this game end?

Obliteration.

(RUMBLING)

Get out! Get out now!

RIPLEY: ETA, 30 seconds.

Strike team dispatch.

Professor Falken!

No! No!
Annie!

Goodbye, Joshua.

MAN: Stay on the ground.

WOMAN ON TV: Massive unrest
in Philadelphia
due to the power outages,

the city of brotherly love
has become chaotic.

RIPLEY: Decontamination
in 53 minutes.

Calculated morbidity, 50%.

Collateral damage acceptable.

WILL: Oh, my God,
what are you people doing?

Leave the Russian with me.

Will!

Those decon systems,

do they follow
the same protocols
as the game I played?

Huh? Are you guys
listening to me?

Falken's Joshua computer.

How was it configured
to stop RIPLEY?

It's garbage.
It couldn't stop traffic.

"Decon" as in decontamination?

It's an automated
aerial extermination.

It said that
morbidity was 50%.

Half the city is
going to die, Will.

Our families are there.
We have to stop them.

I know. Tell me if
you hear anyone coming.

Okay, what are you doing?

Jay, you know what?
You're off the team.

You're off the team.
Look, I'm shooting you
in the leg.

That's what you get.
That's exactly
what you get...

Dennis. Dennis.

Will?

Will, is that you?
Yeah, it's me.

Dude, how did you...
Listen, we need help.

You're out of the city?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
The feds tipped us off.

I'm at my aunt's house
in Cleveland.

Okay. I want to hack
RIPLEY's gamebot network.

If we can run all
the players in her files
through you,

are you up to
launching a DDOS attack?

Yeah, damn straight, dude.
Who are you talking to here?

Of course, she might
get pissed, though.

I mean, I've been seeing
what she's doing to Philly.

We do it right,
she won't have time.

Then I'm down, baby.
I'm subterranean.

Good.

Hey, you gonna be okay?
You don't sound too good.

We'll see.

Right now,
I've got to figure out a way
to get all the IP addresses

of everyone who has
ever played RIPLEY.

No problem.

How long have you been there?

Long enough.

Just give me a few minutes.

See you in the basement.

Look, that guy.
He opened up the database.

How did he do that?

ANNIE: All these
people played RIPLEY?

Over 400,000.

Busy girl.

HASSERT: Let's begin again,
shall we?

Let's talk of microchips.
I have a buyer.

We could make
wonderful business.

And I could
have you arrested.

I am arrested.

So you are.
Get him out of here.

RIPLEY: Decontamination
in 48 minutes.

ANNIE: How's this gonna work?

When you log on to RIPLEY,
she puts a bug
in your system.

If everyone can log
on at the same time,

and tie up her servers with
renegade zombie computers,

she might loosen
her grip on the city.

RIPLEY: Intruder alert.
Intruder alert.

Decontamination
in 47 minutes.

Initiating response.

Mr. Hassert, RIPLEY
just let go of six blocks
in downtown Philly.

Make that eight blocks, sir.
10 blocks, sir.

Get the kid in here.
He's clearly onto something.

He set this up.
The son of a bitch set us up.

No, I'm trying to help.
I'm trying to fix this.
Where are we going?

ANNIE: Let me go.

If RIPLEY gives us an opening,
we gotta mobilize against
those decon units.

I want them taken out.
BILL: If.

Sorry.
If she gives us an opening.

That's a damn big "if."

Have a seat, Will.
We like what you're doing.

That's why you let me
keep the backpack.
Correct.

RIPLEY: Decontamination
in 45 minutes.

Responding to intrusion.
Gaming protocol alert.

Emergency override.

She's cut us off.

WILL: Damn, we need help
to overload her.

She's too powerful.
We gotta get
more players in there.

Can you give me a prompt
on RIPLEY's screen?

We tried a million ways,
and she won't respond.

Decontamination
in 44 minutes.

We're not trying
to talk to her.

That's why the professor
went back inside.

You've gotta be kidding me.

Is this glass bullet-proof?

That's pure steel,
two inches...
I know.

If we can raise
her temperature,
we might force a prompt.

Try.

RIPLEY: Morbidity rate
recalculated to 58%.

Collateral damage acceptable.

If you fire into
that mainframe,

RIPLEY will think
she's being attacked,
and start launching missiles.

Not if I just break the glass.

I'm not gonna risk
a nuclear attack.

Step aside, Ken.
I swear to God,
I'll blow that 40 grand

worth of cosmetic surgery
right up to your
smug goddamn face.

Go ahead, shoot me.
But I'm not gonna move.

WILL: I've got a prompt.

Go ahead, Will.

Decontamination
in 40 minutes.

Come on.

He's gotta be in there.
He's gotta be.

Try... No, try Max.
Joshua's little teddy,
remember?

JOSHUA: Greetings,
Professor Falken.

Yes.

Joshua?
Yeah, the professor
saved him.

Sent him like e-mail.

Professor isn't
with us, Joshua.

But I know that
he would want you to help.

JOSHUA: Perhaps a game?

Yes.

RIPLEY: Decontamination
in 37 minutes.

Shit, she's not even
slowing down.

We should bump the money
in the honeypot games.

We need traffic,
give the winner $1,000,000.

A million?
Not a wager. A prize.

Beat the computer,
win $1,000,000.

Make it 100 million.
We're not playing for second.

RIPLEY: Intrusion detected.

Gaming protocol alert.

Yes!

Come on. Come on. Come on.

RIPLEY: Gaming systems
overload alert.

JOSHUA:
Power successfully rerouted.

RIPLEY: Decontamination
in 20 minutes.

Decontamination halted.

All systems restored.

Yes!
Yes!

Wait. Wait.
Wait a minute. Hold it.

There's still
something wrong here.

JOSHUA: Professor Falken.

We hear you, Joshua.

What's happening?
What's RIPLEY doing?

JOSHUA: Partitioning.
Shutting down.

Shutting down?
That's good, that's
what we want, isn't it?

She's not just
admitting defeat.

RIPLEY's self-destructing.

She ran a self-check,
discovered Joshua.

She's treating him
like a virus.

Now, as he tries
to migrate through her
system to survive,

she has to cannibalize
herself to get to him.

RIPLEY can't self-destruct.
That's a direct violation
of her program.

Technically, yes.

So what's the problem?

RIPLEY: Mission redirected.

Destination, Washington D.C.

Target ETA, 17 minutes.

Morbidity rate, 100%.

You realize that if RIPLEY's
destroyed, it automatically
triggers a response.

Nuclear?

Depending on
the incoming vector.

Radar'll trace that baby
right back to Afghanistan.

There is a genius subculture
of chess fanatics
who play to lose.

They call it suicide chess.

You force your opponent
to take your pieces

before he can do
the same to you.

So whoever loses wins.

If we can teach
RIPLEY that...

Yes.

Joshua,
I'm going to teach you
to play a new game.

What are you doing?

Teaching Joshua to
play Russian roulette.

Are you serious?

If Joshua plays
with live missiles,

RIPLEY will have to play out
the wargame scenario.

Each event will end
in total annihilation,

which is
a direct contradiction
to her programing.

And what then?

It'll force her hand.

She either backs off
or starts World War III.

Hopefully, she'll see that
by playing to win, she loses.

Fifteen minutes before
the Predator hits D.C.

For this to be a real threat,
I can't tell Joshua
not to lie.

JOSHUA: Confirm codes?

Do it.

JOSHUA: Codes accepted.

There's 36,000
nuclear missiles out there,

6,000 of which are
armed and ready to fire.

That's a 1-in-6 chance
of having a freaking
nuclear warhead.

How do you know that?

Video games.

JOSHUA:
Launching Wargames.

RIPLEY:
Opponent engaged.

JOSHUA: Scenario selected.

Target, Pyongyang,
North Korea.

RIPLEY: Game clock set.

Does RIPLEY know Joshua
won't actually launch?

Last chance to see.

JOSHUA: Mission authorized.

RIPLEY: Game clock running.

Defcon one.
Retaliation required.

JOSHUA: Escalation selected.

Projected result,
total annihilation.

RIPLEY:
Weapon not available.

Game clock set.

JOSHUA: Scenario selected.

Target, Tehran, Iran.

Can he at least pick a target
that won't destroy
the entire world?

JOSHUA:
Mission authorized.

RIPLEY:
Game clock running.

Defcon one.
Retaliation required.

JOSHUA: Escalation selected.

Projected result,
total annihilation.

RIPLEY: Weapon,
not available.

Game clock set.

JOSHUA: Scenario selected.

Target, Washington, D.C.

Oh, my God, that's us.

Mission authorized.

She'd better get it right.

RIPLEY:
Game clock running.

Defcon one.
Retaliation required.

JOSHUA:
Escalation selected.

You know, you never told me.
What?

About the glass?

Is it half empty
or half full?

Neither, it's just
the wrong size.

JOSHUA: Projected result,
total annihilation.

RIPLEY:
Weapon available.

Weapon available.

JOSHUA: Target acquired.

RIPLEY: Weapon available.

Weapon available.

JOSHUA: Launch code accepted.

RIPLEY: Weapon available.

Launching in five,
four, three, two, one...

JOSHUA:
Are we still playing?

RIPLEY:
A strange game.

The only winning
move is not to play.

WILL: Thank you, Joshua.

Thank you, Will Farmer.

Joshua,

would you have launched
if RIPLEY hadn't stopped you?

Yes, the human race
is finished.

That was humor.

(JOSHUA LAUGHING)

* We're safe here tonight

* Like stars in the sky

* The world's asleep around us

* The starlight
still surrounds us

* As we kiss tonight

* I'll hold your hand in mine

* We've made it through
these darkened days

* And nothing else
can break it
'cause we've tried

* So hard

* We're waking up
the satellite

* And all the stars
that shine so bright

* With all of this around you,
all of this around you

* Still be mine

* Just go

* There's nothing left to say

* As they're looking
through the window

* While everyone is sleeping
in their beds

* We'll go
where no one else can find

* The spaces where
we're hiding from

* Yeah, you're still
safe beside me

* And we've tried so hard

* We're waking up
the satellite

* And all the stars
that shine so bright

* With all of this around you,
all of this around you

* Still be mine

* Just waking from sleeping

* I'll try to play it safe

* If you take my song

* Starting over

* Satellite

* And all the stars
that shine so bright

* With all of this around you,
all of this around you

* Still be mine

* We're waking up
the satellite

* And all the stars
that shine so bright

* With all of this around you,
all of this around you

* Still be mine

* We're waking up
the satellite

* Stars so bright

* With all of this around you,
all of this around you

* Still be mine

* Satellite

* Stars so bright

* With all of this around you,
all of this around you

* Still be mine