Original subtitles

"You're... a... b-b...

big...

g... girl... now."

Marcy?

I gotta leave early tonight. You all right alone?

I'm... I'm fine.

Don't forget to take your break. You work too hard.

I won't. I won't.

Bye, Tory.

Don't!

Stop!

David gave that to me! David gave that to me!

David--

Ah!

Ah!

Ah!

Aah!

That's mine.

Holy shit.

Trevor.

You stay down, man. He's better than you.

-You can stay down, man! -Shut up!

You should've stayed down.

Trevor! Trevor!

Aah!

I concede the fight.

-Do we need to cut it? -Nah.

Ahh!

It's okay.

It's okay. It's almost ready.

Carly?

Carly?

You're not coming in like that.

You promised, Jeff.

Come on, Carly. Don't make me mad.

I gotta take a piss.

Not supposed to be here when you drink.

- Why is he crying? - He's just hungry.

Give him something to eat!

I'm warming it up.

What is this shit?

It's baby food. He's a baby, Jeff.

Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot.

This is bullshit. Yo, come on!

Hey, all you're doing is pissing me off!

Listen, I'm sorry.

You make me crazy.

You need to go.

All right.

I'm going.

"Ruok"?

"Ru-ok"?

"Ruok..."

You're up early.

The headache wake you?

The sound of birds.

Know how stupid it is to pick a fight before a game?

How do you throw a football with a broken hand?

Doctors are more concerned with his concussion.

You blow your chance at a scholarship,

you better start learning to flip burgers.

All right. You scoot upstairs. Get ready.

They wanted to see you again in the morning.

Thank you, Mom.

"Thank you, Mom"?

Who the hell's that?

Philip Pearson?

Tried to find you at the university.

I'm Detective Gower.

"Gower"?

Your roommate passed away last night.

You don't seem surprised.

It's me.

- David? - Yeah.

Oh! That's... not appropriate.

Marcy, put some clothes on.

Yeah, I can't, uh...

be your boyfriend, Marcy, w-we talked about this.

What's that?

Oh...

What happened?

Uh... I fell.

And you just went home?

Oh, kiddo, are you okay? Does it hurt?

I'm fine.

Well, I know going to the doctor's

not your favorite thing in the world, but...

That's a-- That's a nasty cut.

Is this appropriate?

Appropriate? Sure.

Maybe some underwear.

So you skipped out?

I just walked.

Uh-huh.

And the loaded syringe we found on the table,

that wasn't meant for you?

Uh, what difference does it make?

Did Stephen inject himself, or did you do it for him?

Because your prints were found on both syringes.

I was there, but then I-I left.

Yeah...

because you knew he was gonna O.D.

Yeah, you knew.

You know, a phone call to 911 could've saved his life.

That's cold, Philip.

Either way, you have got a problem.

On top of your drug problem.

I don't have a drug problem.

I know who your dealer is.

I know how much you buy.

I know who your friends are and where you're from.

You have no idea where I'm from.

You inject somebody, they O.D.,

that's manslaughter.

I have the right

to court-appointed legal counsel, yes?

Sure you don't want to call your parents instead?

You think you're sick now, wait till your lawyer shows up.

I'm proud of you, you know.

What? What for?

You got knocked in the head last night,

and you're...

you know, the naked thing, that-- that was weird,

but otherwise, you're handling this amazingly well.

Hey, it's Thursday.

It's reading-aloud day.

There's no point in wasting time sitting on a bus.

It's just me. It can be anything at all.

Think I got your favorite.

"Police were forced to use tear gas

to disperse a crowd

shortly after a not-guilty verdict

was announced out--"

What?

What-- What's wrong?

You didn't answer your cell.

What did they say?

I have a concussion.

Oh, no.

Will you be able to play in the game next week?

The doctor said that...

if I hadn't walked away from the fight,

I might have died.

Does it hurt now?

A little.

Are your folks home?

No. Why?

Oh, I don't think that we should, Rene,

'cause my concussion.

Let me make you feel better.

Look. Please, stop.

-I don't think that we should. -Are you breaking up with me?

No!

If anything... I want to be closer to you.

There are things I don't remember.

Things about me?

It's more things about myself.

The doctor said that a concussion as bad as this

can cause changes in personality and memory loss,

that the only treatment is time--

that in time I'll be the person I was before the concussion.

I need you to help me remember who that person is.

Y-You want me to help you find yourself?

Trev...

That is so beautiful.

Look...

You should go.

I don't want to, but I will.

That's how much I love you.

Daddy's coming.

You busy right now?

Not yet.

We just got sent a red flag.

Can't you handle it? I'm all over Jonas Walker.

I'm in court today and tomorrow.

What's the flag?

Potential cell.

Encrypted communication in the deep web.

I have no idea what I'm looking at.

Analyst who flagged it is hoping that they're just gamers.

Who travel, apparently.

Those GPS coordinates correspond

to an abandoned building downtown.

And what's a "T.E.L.L."?

I asked the same question.

They ran it and nothing showed up.

Aw, shit, I'm late.

It's probably nothing, but...

Yeah, yeah. I got it. I'll let you know.

Have fun in court.

Make sure Jonas Walker

doesn't shoot anyone while I'm gone.

You didn't coach her?

No amount of coaching can do that.

You recognize

Marcy has a significant intellectual disability.

Yeah. "Had."

You want to think something wonderful's happened,

but no traumatic brain injury

is going to increase intellectual capacity.

It's just not possible.

Which brings us back to "miracle."

Assuming that there was a traumatic injury,

likely a concussion,

the most common symptoms would be memory loss,

change in personality--

So...

What if this is the real Marcy?

Seriously?

Up until the age of 18, Marcy lived in an institution,

one with a reputation for neglect and abuse,

right up until the time it was shut down.

She doesn't talk about that.

Maybe the "Marcy" we knew

was her way of coping there,

her way of making people look after her,

and she just continued that behavior after her release,

and when she hit her head...

She just forgot who she was pretending to be?

That's crazy.

It's infinitely more possible

than her I.Q. doubling overnight.

I've been her caseworker since her release.

-That was over a year ago! -My case in point.

You got her a subsidized apartment,

a job at the library.

You see her four or five times a week--

You're saying she played me?

The most innocent soul I've ever met.

Played the system. Fooled me, too.

So she could live in a flophouse full of crackheads,

work nights at a library for the rest of her adult life?

No, you're right. She's a mastermind.

She's a James Bond villain.

Neural pathways can't spring up overnight.

Vocabulary doesn't come out of nowhere.

And what's happened to her stutter?

Is something wrong?

"You're... a...

big...

girl...

now,"

said... Mary...

T...

Tee-- Teacher.

Good.

Do you remember that?

It was just a few months ago.

I don't understand.

Neither do we.

I'd like to find out what else you don't remember.

It's okay... I'm here.

Let's start with yesterday.

Where were you?

At the library.

Good.

What did you do at the library?

I'm a librarian, so I was...

So you were checking books in and out,

helping folks find what they were looking for?

Yes.

And can you name one of those people?

David.

Uh, to do research.

He's a reporter.

Marcy, stop.

What's wrong?

You being a librarian,

me going there to do research for a newspaper I work for--

those are all part of a profile page

that we made up.

That's my profile.

We created it as an exercise...

so I could teach you about social media

and other things about the world.

Remember?

You're not a librarian.

You work there as a cleaning lady.

I'm not a reporter.

I'm your social worker.

So... so what... you're saying is... that--

We're just trying to understand.

Marcy?

Marce?

- Marcy? - Marcy!

Take it you're not "Leticia."

Wrong file.

Go ahead, have a seat.

Sit.

You look like shit, Philip. When was the last time you hit?

-I don't use drugs. -Come on, man.

You don't have to pretend. I know all about addiction.

Trust me. Mine's just legal.

Have they talked to you at all about

the methadone program they got going on?

-What is it? -Methadone?

Your addiction.

Is it gambling?

Cigarettes.

Look, I'm just trying to be simpatico here.

Don't be a dick.

I apologize.

We're gonna plea. You'll end up doing some time.

There's no way around that.

They got you two ways, all right?

But, in the meantime--

Are you bound by attorney-client privilege?

Can you guarantee your confidence

if I tell you information that can help us both?

Absolutely. What?

I'm so sorry.

Come on, you love...

You love making up after we fight.

That wasn't a fight. You struck me.

If I hadn't demanded you leave, you would've struck me again.

From now on, you'll be allowed to see your son once a day

for one hour, time to be arranged.

I see him when I wanna see him.

Also, you'll provide proper financial support.

Okay. Okay, okay.

I get it.

Let me make it up to you.

What do you want me to do?

Change Jeffrey's diaper.

Hey! Phil!

Hey.

You got out quick. What'd they tell you?

They didn't say anything. They just let me go.

Come here, come here. Come here for a sec.

How did you know?

Come on, man. Three horses?

Three races, three different cities--

all 20 to one or better?

The bets were so stupid, I had to go to three bookies.

I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't fronted the cash advance.

It's all here, by the way, with interest.

Credit card's in there.

Go ahead. Take it.

Come on, come on.

You gotta tell me.

Do I still have attorney-client privilege?

Yeah, sure, whatever. Yep. Yep.

I'm from the future.

Okay, I get it, you can't tell me.

But Phil... you're gonna need me.

The cops are gonna be all over you.

We gotta look after each other here.

All right?

Oh, speaking of which--

There's something extra in there for you, from the lock-up.

Just a little taste so you don't get sick.

David?

There she is.

What happened?

Dr. Lee says you had a seizure.

It's the diminished capacity. There's too much pre-existing damage.

What?

How did I get--?

We had to take you to the hospital.

You've been out of it all day.

Soon as you feel up to it, they wanna run tests--

-No, please. -It's not up to me.

I can't be in the hospital.

- Marcy. - Listen to me.

I have important work to do.

At the library?

No, not at the library.

This is all happening for a reason.

Okay.

How about I go get the doctor and we can talk about this?

Thank you.

Okay.

- Forbes. - Hey.

How's Judge What's-His-Nuts?

Still an asshole. How's our potential shooter?

Jonas Walker hasn't left his house in a week.

Starting to think we're wasting our time on that one.

Our chatroom, on the other hand,

has been filling up all day with the same weird messages.

I.P.s all over town.

You think it's something?

Gotta admit, it's making me curious.

The one who set up the chatroom

was arrested and released on a technicality.

Might save time if you contact the arresting officer.

Name's Gower.

Okay. Bright and early.

Marcy, what're you doing here?

I was at your apartment! I've been worried!

I didn't know where else to go.

What is going on?

Tell me.

I can't.

A mistake's been made,

and I'm not sure how to correct it.

I don't even know if it can be.

Just... know that I'm playing a small part

in something that's important.

Well, what does that even mean?

I couldn't explain it if I tried.

Please... just trust me anyway.

Morning. Sorry to bother you so early.

I'm Special Agent Grant MacLaren with the FBI.

FBI? Really?

Really.

A message was sent from this I.P. address--

that just means one of the computers in your house--

kinda raised a flag in our system.

Please tell me this is not about Internet porn.

No. Not porn. At least, I-I don't think so.

No, this is more of a chatroom conversation.

Ah. My son's always in those rooms.

Is he a gamer, by any chance? Video games?

It's all he ever does.

That, and the other thing.

When do you expect him home?

Said he'd be out late tonight with friends.

Is he in any kind of trouble?

Nah. I doubt it. You have a good day.

Hey. What're you doing here?

What do you mean?

You got a free ticket

to stay home for the rest of the year.

And fail to graduate?

Yeah, like that was gonna happen!

Can I ask you something without telling everyone?

-Yeah. -Honestly?

-Yeah, God, what is it? -Which locker is mine?

Holy shit.

You mean you got, like, brain damage?

Post-concussion syndrome.

Yeah.

It's, uh... it's right here.

You want me to show you the combo?

Please.

Hey.

Why is this body always so tired?

"This body"?

Well, maybe 'cause it works nights.

This body just made breakfast.

That's very kind.

And you're naked again.

Okay.

How about you get dressed before joining me?

David?

If I could tell you, I would.

Hey, as long as you're not an assassin

or a Hollywood actress researching a character.

Those-- Those are the...

two worst-case scenarios I came up with

while I was laying awake all night.

Gower.

Morning. Grant MacLaren, FBI.

I'm investigating a 20-year-old male you booked yesterday--

-Philip Pearson, yeah. -That's him.

Well, I guess you heard he won the lottery yesterday, huh?

-You had to drop the charges? -No, he won the fucking lottery.

Six numbers outta seven. 92-grand and change.

Lucky kid.

Not if I catch him with that bag of smack he's walking around with.

Our system red-flagged him as a potential member of a terrorist cell.

I got the rest of the suspects covered,

but if you could watch this one--

Agent MacLaren, there's no way in hell this kid's a terrorist.

Yeah? What were the odds he was gonna win the lottery?

Okay.

Keep this number and check in with me later.

Tomorrow, he's all yours.

Mm! You like that, sweetie?

Yes?

Special Agent MacLaren of the FBI.

-Sorry to bother you. -"MacLaren"?

How can I help you?

Our computer spits stuff out, we have to follow it up.

-Do you live here alone? -With my son.

-How old is he? -Just over a year.

So, no criminal record?

Sorry.

I probably know the answer to this,

but do you have plans for later tonight downtown?

No. No plans.

You don't sound very sure.

I was trying to decide if you were asking me out.

Uh, no.

Me? I'm-- I'm busy tonight.

Thanks for your time.

Hey! Pearson!

I wonder how much smack you can buy with 90 grand.

The money's for something else.

Save me the trouble of following you and just tell me.

I'm financing a secret hideout.

Sorry, kid, you're gonna have to do better than that.

You're welcome to stay while I'm at work.

-There's nothing in the fridge-- -I'll be out before you're home.

I'd like to come back tonight, if that's all right.

It'll be late, though.

I could come with you.

No. No, you should stay home tonight.

The streets won't be safe.

Wh-- What? What's gonna happen?

Oh, come on, that's going too far.

-I shouldn't have said anything. -You can't expect me to--

I'll be back just after midnight.

You're Batgirl, aren't you?

Bye.

Shit!

Come here.

You're welcome.

Get in. Let's go. Come on.

Had to pay a kid to dare a kid to get Gower off your ass.

Watching your back's getting expensive, Philip.

-What do you want in return? -Today's bet.

I can't do it.

Yesterday, you gave me three. I'm only asking for one.

Yesterday was an emergency.

Today's kind of an emergency for me.

Then you are a very bad gambler.

Yeah, I'm a bad gambler...

Maybe you'd like to think about it.

Get out.

Pearson! Come here!

-Where are you going? -Out.

With that guy?

I don't have time for this.

Well, make time.

Okay! Damn it.

Last warning.

Okay.

Hey! Hey!

Pearson! Stop!

Come on! Stop!

It's a good thing you stopped, kiddo.

If I had to climb that fence, I was gonna have a heart attack.

You're having one right now.

Oh, shut up.

I just need to catch my breath, that's all.

Ooh!

Maybe you're right.

My phone-- it's in the car.

-Help me. -I can't, Mr. Gower.

Then find someone with a phone!

I can't, I'm sorry.

You can. I won't come after you, I promise.

You're supposed to die this afternoon.

No, you don't know--

I knew the moment that I heard your name.

-I just didn't know I'd be here. -Call 911 and go!

Because we considered you as a host.

The heart attack was inevitable within days.

No... I'm okay.

I think I'm okay.

Hello?

- David Mailer? - Yeah?

Special Agent Grant MacLaren with the FBI.

I came by earlier, left a card under your door.

Oh, sorry, I didn't, uh...

-I didn't see it. -Not a problem.

Just following up on a chatroom message

that was sent from your I.P. address last night.

You mean my computer?

Right. Tell me, do you have plans to meet anyone tonight

downtown, on the 12th floor

of an abandoned building, about 11:17?

No. Why-- Why would I do that?

I guess that means I won't be seeing you there.

I'm just thinking out loud,

but sometimes I let neighbors use my Wi-Fi. Maybe that's, um--

Well, that's a federal offense, Mr. Mailer.

Is it?

No. I'm kidding. Have a good evening.

No. I'm not pressing charges.

I just want to know where she took it.

Well, just check and keep your mouth shut.

All right. Thanks.

Hello?

I'm-- I'm trying to reach Detective Gower.

I thought this was his--

Jesus, I'm sorry to hear that.

No, it's-it's not important. Um, thank you.

Carly?

Carly?

Got you.

You're actually all here.

We've been waiting for you.

Uh-huh.

Where's the social worker?

-David isn't one of us. -One of--?

We're travelers from the future, Agent MacLaren.

In our time, many years from now,

humanity's been all but wiped out.

We've come back to change that.

There are thousands of travelers already here taking part.

Huh.

Okay, what do you say we, uh, travel downstairs

and talk about this somewhere else?

It's not safe here.

60 seconds.

Till what?

In the future, we've developed a technology

that allows a traveler to project his or her conscious mind into a host body

by knowing the precise time, elevation, latitude, and longitude of their death.

"T.E.L.L."

A Traveler's consciousness

arrives moments before that historical time of death,

overriding the original host's mind,

then resumes his or her life by using their knowledge

of historical records and social media.

Okay, that's enough bullshit for now--

-30 seconds. -Wait.

Who the hell is that?

That's the body of Jonas Walker.

We stopped him from going on a shooting rampage,

as you tried and failed to do, between 11:14 and 11:17.

20 seconds.

We know the events of tonight

because for us, they've already happened.

Just as we know during a blackout,

at 11:17, in pursuit of Jonas Walker,

Special Agent Grant MacLaren

fell 45 meters down an open elevator shaft

to his death.

Three seconds.

Aah!

I see we all made it.

Let's begin.