All language subtitles for Anon.2018.1080p.BluRay.REMUX.AVC.DTS-HD.MA.5.1-FGT

Did you get lucky last night?

Of course. Did you?

I am an open window.

Over infinity.

A whole new world on your wrist.

I am Giguere de Corto.

It's my son.

He hasn't returned my calls.

It's not like him.

You know what happened?

Detected in the Ether an hour ago.

You sure you want to see?

Yes.

I want to.

Step back... Step ba...

I know where I left it.

You can see in my record.

I left it in the hotel bathroom.

Show me the maid.

Can't help you.

Well someone else came in.
It didn't just walk out on its own.

Wish I could.

We're leaving.

You didn't show her what happened
a minute earlier.

Or what happened four hours later

when she sold the bracelet
to pay rent.

There was just something

about that woman that
annoyed the fuck out of me.

At this moment,
my client feared for his life.

Don't do it.

I haven't done anything.

He had a split-second to defend himself.

There was no way to know
he wasn't reaching for a gun.

You can see from the infant's
point of view

my client cooperated fully
with authorities.

It's what he was doing an hour earlier
that concerns me,

and perhaps, a jury.

Your client's judgment was
severely impaired.

Let's discuss a plea agreement.

- Sir, there's...
- I see it.

Charlie, how are the girls?

Still spending money like I got it.

James Cray.

Shot between the eyes.

- An hour ago and change.
- Why is there a block on his record?

Charlie.

When do we know who shot him?

Take a look how it ends.

You're cleared.

He enters his apartment.

Five minutes later,
he's checking stock prices.

- That's when it gets interesting.
- Did I say I wasn't interested?

Shit.

Who are you?

He sees what the killer sees.

To hide himself.

The killers hacks
into Cray's Mind's Eye.

- Cray's point of view...
- What are you doing?

...now the killer's point of view.

He's looking at himself.

Before Cray could make sense of it...

Please, don't.

Please.

Who could hack a human being?

It gets better.

As in worse?

Look at the metadata time of death.

Timeline ends at 1810 and 24 seconds.

Jesus.

Not just the identity-theft
to hack the man's eye,

the victim's alone
when he's killed.

Or that's what it looks like.

Shooter has no signature.

No identifying meta trail.

What's the world coming to when
murderers won't tell us who they are?

Makes a change from picking up crazies
we already know are guilty.

We actually got ourselves a whodunit.

Two.

Matches another case.

Baltimore, July, also
got his POV hacked,

also by a shooter
who wasn't there.

What's happening?

What is this?

They thought it was an anomaly,
but now they want to reopen the case.

Last visitor
was of the female persuasion.

- The woman's ID?
- Scrubbed.

By the by, this doesn't get out.

Let the press gossip.
Officially, it's a suicide.

Charlie, this morning downtown...

I saw a ghost.

Face without a name?

Girl was a blank slate,
no digital footprint.

Thought maybe it was a glitch,
ran her again, nothing.

Another cipher.

Seeing too many.

Or not seeing.

- Send her to me.
- You got it.

You with me, Sal?

Yeah, of course we are.

Damn.

Oh, Jesus.

I'm out of here.

What were you watching?

Show me what you were
watching right now

or you're never going to see me again.

Show me, Sal.

I can't.

No.

I really can't.

So what are we looking at, Lester?

We analyzed the victim's record.

A week ago, an edit.

Technically, it's a duplication.

This footage has been rock and rolled.
To stretch it...

and if you analyze it carefully...

we'll see he spends too long on
several pages in the book.

Other anomalies with this footage...

you compare stock activity
in his Mind's Eye

with what actually happened
to the market on the day.

It's been elongated too, but...

unless you're looking for it,
you would never see it.

This is very good, so...

meticulous fucking work.

But it all masked deleted activity.

Illegal activity that the SEC missed.

A day later, he's cleared
of an insider trading charge.

Then there's this.

It's kind of hard to hear with the music
playing in his head, but...

that.

- That's a doorbell.
- Cray had a mystery guest.

They covered their tracks,
no evidence of the meeting.

There was nothing
in the victim's background

to suggest he had the ability
to launder his own record, so...

Hacker for hire.

Jordan Nees, has edits too.

Music producer with a history
of heroin addiction.

Had his latest relapse scrubbed.

So he wouldn't lose his job.

This is a nightmare.

The hypothetical... isn't.

Not only can they get into the house,

they're moving the furniture around.

Charlie, you know that girl I saw
yesterday on South William.

She matches the description of the last
person to see Nees alive.

Last night, she got deleted
from my history.

Thought it might be something in
the Ether, but nothing else is missing.

Now, I'm thinking that someone got
into my life record and erased her.

Send her back to me.

I was going to ask you the same thing.

Mine's gone.

The moment I saw her...

now just a black hole.

Not just me.

Ten other people in the street that day
now have edits in their record.

The moments they looked at her...

random strangers.

She must have built an algorithm.

Automatically searches for her
and erases any trace it finds.

Blacks her out and leaves a gap.

None of the people in the street

significant enough in their life
to warrant a proper cover-up.

And anyone who is significant
has a nasty habit of dying.

Hard to erase their memories
without erasing them.

Handful of people smart enough
to do this.

Generally too smart
to go on a killing spree.

Unless the gifted mind is a sick one.

They do a surveillance search?

With what? We don't have a face anymore.

Fuck.

We don't have a name, a face...

no idea where she is.

Yeah.

We got exactly nothing.

Hungry?

I'm good.

You have arrived.

Hey.

Hi, Sal.

- It's late.
- I know.

Tomorrow's his birthday.

You think I don't know that?

Ten.

Please stop. He's gone.

He would have been ten.

You got to stop doing this,
to yourself and to me.

Doing what?

I'm keeping his memory alive.
What's wrong with that?

The memory's not going anywhere.

By the looks of it, neither are you.

Sal.

Does he have to be on the call
every time we talk?

Conrad, I'm not going to keep her long,
it's just...

I know...

but you can't keep calling all hours.

She's not your wife anymore.

It's his fucking birthday.

Kristen.

Are you drunk?

You're swaying.

Not fucking drunk.

I'm tired. I've been working...
I haven't had a drink for days.

Show me the last ten minutes
of your record.

You know what?

I've got to go.

Help!

Please, kill me.

Don't hurt her, please.

Don't, please.

No!

Mind's Eye hijacked.

Both of them.

The thing is, sir, the perp's POV...

I can't identify it.
It's got no signature.

No shit.

First responder.

I was in the neighborhood, sir.

Where is everyone?

On their way.

Who else is here?

Housekeeper.

She was downstairs.

She's back in her room.

She's a mess.

I spoke to her.

Ma'am, can you describe the visitor?

Long, brown hair...

Twenty-five?

I only saw her for a second.

Just us and her in the house now?

That's one hell of a rat.

There's four of us in the house.

One of us is being shy.

Jam your transmitter.

Ah, fuck.

Please, kill me.

Don't hurt her, please.

Don't, please.

No!

Lesbian couple.

Neither was out.

One...

daughter of a prominent Christian right
senator up for re-election.

In the last week,

the women had themselves removed
from each other's lives.

For appearances,

no easy task.

Dating for a year.

We're starting to get a picture
of our hacker

even though we don't have
a fucking picture.

Lives in the Ether.

Makes her living covering up sub-crime

not detected automatically.
Secrets, affairs,

non-violent white-collar so-called
"victimless crime."

She's a master editor who cuts together
a believable alibi

to replace the unwanted act
in the record.

Most of all, she erases herself.

And now, her clients are getting erased.

Why bother to meet the client?

If she can do it remote.

She doesn't want a lot of back-and-forth
communication, leave a trail,

get intercepted.

Wants to be paid in the only
currency that can't be hacked. Cash.

Remember cash?

And here I was thinking
she was all about the personal touch.

She might be. Trace markers
are unregistered, but match.

Suggests she might have been intimate
with her victims.

Is that what this is?

No one gets to kiss and tell?

Wouldn't be the first.

Seems like every customer she takes
to bed ends up DOA.

And this girl has more than one way
to kill you.

Last night, when I was chasing her...

...that's where it starts.

She changes what I see.

The stairs...

the stretch.

They look normal.

Not to me. It's an optical illusion.

Which later disappears from my record.
And it doesn't end there.

At this moment...

I'm seeing...

a train at the platform.

A train that isn't there.

I swear to God.

Real one could have killed me.

Placing a moving image...

over a record in real time...

It's possible.

How the fuck do we stop this bitch?

We do what every one of the victims did
before they were killed.

We hire her.

I'll be the bait.

I go undercover.

The girl likes big shots.

I make it look like I work
in a brokerage house.

Get phony friends, family, fiancée,
profile history.

All my online activity looks like
I made a success of my life.

A month,
all to give us enough material

to stretch over my law
enforcement career.

My new life's just going to
look a little repetitive

to anyone who looks back.

Lester's got to be in on it.

He's a freelance contractor.
He should be safe.

Once I look legit, I do something
the new me wants to erase.

KRYSTAL 23, Escort

Thanks.

Drink?

I don't drink.

What do you do?

Yes.

Thank you.

Naturally, I do what any
guilty boyfriend does

after having sex with a hooker,

I call my fiancée.

Next day, I get scared my girlfriend
is going to ask to see my records

so I try to contact our hacker.

Same dark Ether bulletin boards
used by the other victims.

We know her M.O.

She'll come to me.

Of course, we rule out applicants
who don't match the description.

Sol Grayson?

Changed my mind.

By the way,
I'll need a boatload of cash.

She can see past our metadata, so
I don't want a cop within a mile of me.

Since we can't communicate without
blowing my cover,

we use a signal.

Don't look at me.

What can I do for you, Sol Grayson,
stockbroker?

I want to get rid of an affair.

- Well, not even an affair really. I...
- I don't care.

Cash only.

Let's go somewhere
we won't be disturbed.

Your apartment.

When she does show, all we've got to do
is get her close enough

for Lester to scan her frequency.

We trace her chain of proxies
to her record of the killings.

We got her.

Drink?

I'm in.

Just like that?

Here we go.

Here's how it works.

Believe it or not, I got a policy.

To respect your privacy,

I'm only going to look at
what you want me to see.

Nothing more.

That is, unless you cross me.

Do that,

and you will wish you were fucking dead.

Sounds reasonable.

Well?

A week ago...

Monday...

about 11-10-23-10.

I see her.

That the girl you want gone?

Yeah.

You want me to fix her side too?
I can leave a gap.

What if she looks back
and see it's gone?

Doesn't seem like the type of girl
who looks back.

Better not to leave it lying around.
She could use it against you.

Yes.

What do you want in its place
to fill the timeline?

Went to bed earlier than I did.

Problem is you called your girlfriend
after the hooker left.

Oh, yeah.

And I'm guessing it's the girlfriend
you don't want seeing the rendezvous.

If your girl looked back,
she'd see that the call isn't there.

A night at a bar?

Too many other people.

Complicates things.

I'll make it look like you were alone
in your apartment.

From another night that you were
alone in your apartment.

Luckily, there are a few to choose from.

No wonder you hired a hooker.

I'll show you what I'm doing.

It's all the media you consume
I got to fix.

How jealous is your girlfriend?

Anyone looking close,
especially another fixer...

they're gonna see the joins
unless I'm here 'til next week.

Worse things in the world?

You can't afford me.

Yes.

So business is good.

You'd be surprised what people want
to pretend never happened.

Any job you wouldn't take?

Help someone get away with murder.

Depends who they killed.

See ya next time.

I'm going to have to remove me
from your life, too.

This, tonight.

Where are you?

So strange to look at you
and see nothing.

No name.

No data, nothing.

You must get a lot of stares.

I don't go out much.

And when I do, I keep my head down.

People think it's a mistake.

Why not use an alias?

I don't want to exist as someone else.

I don't want to exist.

You have a name.

I do.

What, is that it?

I don't mean to be rude.
I got another customer.

What about people with memories of you?

Like me?

You can't get rid of memories.

I can think of a way.

I'm going to take a wild guess
that you don't have a permit for that.

Turn around.

Look away.

Don't worry.

I'll get rid of everything of me
in your record

up until the last time you
looked at me.

Just now.

Sal?

I got her fifth proxy.

I don't have her record.

Yet.

Why didn't she kill you?

Oh, sorry to disappoint you, Charlie.

Oh, that's right. She didn't fuck you.

Not her type, I guess.

What's to say she doesn't go
into your record

and see her stockbroker suddenly
become a cop?

I don't think so.

She said something.

She said,
"I only look at what you want me to see."

Principled serial killer.

I don't know why.

I believed her.

Reinforcements.

Tech specialist, CT unit.

Commissioner's personal recommendation.

My.

Sal, Cyrus Frear.

Hi.

Hi.

We're in.

What happens now?

- We watch.
- We can only see through her eyes,

what she's doing right now.

We can't go back in her record
until we trace her chain of proxies.

Concentrate. Find a clue.

Just 'cause she doesn't use the recog,
doesn't stop us.

Eclectic taste. A lot of
mid-century modern, high end.

- Any read on the building?
- Loft. Downtown.

Only way to locate her record is when
she's active in the Ether.

Find the last proxy, we find her.

Matches the perp's.

Generally reload a gun
'cause you fired it.

Mind's Eye's got nothing on it.

I've got a feeling this girl
doesn't network.

She's careful where she looks.

She's in the Ether.

How did she get past the protocols?

Doesn't seem to be an issue.

She's logging into a record.

Whose eyes is she looking through?

Jesper Nix, a stupid
money-leading art dealer.

Two galleries on the Upper East Side.

Who is he?

Max Keener, 45.

Known forger, priors.

Paintings?

I know what they're supposed to be.

Naughty Jesper.

She's getting rid of Jesper's meeting
with the forger.

Replaces it with Jesper acting like he's
discovered these priceless works of art.

My God, exquisite.

She logged out already.

You trace her?

Twelve proxies.

The last one's anonymous.

Proxies hackers used to hide.

Nice job, connecting the dots.

Not 'til the end.

- What's Nix doing now?
- "You live to tell the tale."

Setting up appointments
to sell the fakes.

- Keep tabs on him.
- Yes, sir.

Let me know if our agoraphobe
goes out on the town.

We watched her all night.

We still don't have her location.

Got to hand it to her.

She really is analog.

Wish she'd look out a window.

Finally.

Where'd she go?

We lost her.

The chain of proxies?

She broke the links.

Start a new chain.

Common practice.

Did she see us?

No.

At least we know she likes her eggs
sunny-side up.

Sir.

What's happened?
Nix sell one of his paintings?

We don't have to worry
about that anymore, sir.

Nix is dead.

Same M.O.?

Killer's POV.

What do you want?

Are you fucking crazy?!

What do you want?

What do you want?

What do you want?

They just posted from the crime scene.

This case...

it's become a priority for us.

We understand, Commissioner.

I don't know if you do, Detective.

Five murders.

It's not the murders.

Sorry, Mr. Kenik.
This is a homicide case.

This level of anonymizing

makes all crime possible.

It hinders our expansion to sub-crime.

- Those lowlifes got what was coming...
- Victims.

We're getting reports daily.

Ghosts, ciphers...

call them what you will.

The integrity of the system
is compromised.

The integrity?

We rely on transparency.

We can't control what we can't see.

We require persistent identity.

This isn't an isolated case.

We believe there's a ring of individuals

who may or may not know each other.

They, like her, anonymize themselves
and others.

I don't care

the victims no longer exist.

I care that she doesn't.

In my mind, she's murdered herself.

Oh, I see.

Taking a life,
that's not important.

Her not having one, that is?

Yes.

Now you understand.

We need the first proxy
in the new chain.

You're going back under cover.

Sitting in a police precinct
with the commissioner of police.

I think that's the definition
of blowing my cover.

It's only been three days.

We put a patch over it.

Make it look like you've been
in the brokerage house.

If, like you say, she doesn't look back,

she might go for it.

Loyal customer.

Maybe she does have a thing for you.

Yeah, she's also got a thing
for blowing people's brains out.

You heard what Kenik said.

There's a fuck of a lot of commercial
interests at work here.

Way above our pay grade.

Anonymity is the enemy.

We got to find out
how she does it and...

de-anonymize her.

Same deal.

We stay back, so she's not spooked.

Gentlemen...

when you make the patch...

try to make it half as good as hers.

You sure this isn't an excuse
to see me again?

You don't like repeat business?

Why haven't you done it?

Waiting for a special occasion.

Cut up some lines while I do this.

I can replace the dealer with a hooker.

- Dogs.
- I don't like dogs.

Or nothing at all.

You ever met anyone else
who can do what you do?

Who doesn't exist?

How could I?

No need to do the dealer's side.

He never laid eyes on you.

I love those guys who do it blind.

We close our eyes
to pray, cry, kiss, dream...

or break the law.

You can stay anonymous.

It's just really fucking hard.

You do this why? Pay the bills?

Why else?

You might have an agenda.

You got the wrong girl.

It's simple.

They try to look, I try not to be seen.

But if you're asking
if I think it's fucked up?

Yeah, I think it's fucked up.

They say it's for our safety.

Why don't I feel safe?

How long have you not existed?

You ask a lot of questions.

You don't answer them.

Eighteen.

Once in a lifetime chance.

Started erasing.
I didn't stop until I was gone.

In a lot of ways,
it's the analog evidence

that's harder to track down and destroy.

DFE.

Delete fucking everything.

I never was happy in the big room.

The big room?

Outside world.

Flesh space.

Part of the planet
that's not cyberspace.

You know that's illegal.

You sure you have a girlfriend, Sol?

You sure act like a single guy.

Is there something else
you'd like to do?

That I can erase?

Gotta make that disappear.

Delete fucking everything.

Especially the fucking.

You really don't like to look back,
do you?

Like you.

Hello, Sal Frieland,
Detective First Class.

What have you done?

It's not that you don't like to look back,
you can't.

Not without giving away
who you really are.

He's fucking dead.

You should've thought about that.

Don't try to find me.

Look and you are dead.

You let her escape.

And kill Lester on the way out.

I don't know
if you can walk that back, Sal.

She saw past our wall.

Her own records.

Go home.

Take some time.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I took my eyes off him for a second.

One second.

Yeah, that was him.

- Kristen.
- Hi, Sal.

Send me your memories of Salvador.

What?

No.

I don't want to go back there.
It hurts.

Look, please, just send me a picture.
Anything.

Why? What for?

Mine are gone.

Gone?

Okay.

Shit.

Sal, he's gone.

He's gone.

What the fuck is happening?

Sal?

Sal?

Sal.

Sal?

It's Thomas.

Thomas DeVry.

Intersection in 30 meters.
Apply brake.

Please, stop now.

Check your surroundings for safety.

All clear. Please proceed.

I told you to take some time, Sal.

Leave it alone.

She won't leave me alone.

She keeps jacking my eye.

I don't know what I'm looking at.

"I can't believe my eyes"...

is not an expression.

I'm scared to sleep.

Can't hide. She knows where I am.

Everything.

My son, Salvador...

all the good memories, gone.

What happened?

She makes me watch it over
and over again.

Sure you're not seeing things?

Of course I'm fucking seeing things.
That's the whole point.

We're hiring more hackers.

Like her.

What else are we going to do?

It's what you said.

Everything's connected,
everything's vulnerable.

Shit.

Stopped taking calls
from the commissioner.

We watch, they don't watch us.

We know where they are, we're invisible.

How do I stop it Charlie?

You find her...

it stops.

I wish Lester was here.

Alert in the Ether.

Warrant for Detective Frieland.

In the shooting of Thomas DeVry.

He lives in my building. My neighbor.

I fired the gun. I didn't shoot him.

It sure as hell looks like you did.

No one ever tells you that
looks can be deceiving?

Slug from your nine millimeter
found in the wall...

ballistics points to you.

Have you seen the autopsy?

A nine millimeter doesn't make a hole
in you like that.

Inconclusive, says here.

It's a construction manipulated,
made up. It's fake.

There's no evidence
that it's fraudulent.

And there's no evidence
to say it's real.

We can't assume
everything is counterfeit.

We have to believe our eyes

or the system doesn't work.

It's her.

She's trying to fuck with me.
She wants me off the case.

She got her wish.

You're suspended,
pending an investigation.

House arrest.

Surveillance around the clock.

Feels strange, sir.

Watching you.

Then don't.

You really are a cop.

When you all hacked my eye,
everyone was looking at me.

You can be distracting.

You remembered?

There was something else
in the reflection.

Stay where you are.

Put the gun down, Sal.

Won't do you any good.
I can see what you see.

I would show you around,
but you've already seen the place.

How was it?

Did you all like what you saw?

You're gonna show yourself?

Makes too much work for me.

Why?

Why are you doing this to me?

I can't take the credit.

Someone is killing my customers,
trying to make it look like it's me.

I can't tell.

I want to show you something.

My record.

Time of the murders.

Lester.

Someone made it look like I did it.

Are you saying the hacker got hacked?

They could be watching through
our eyes right now. Yours, mine.

I'm not safe anywhere.

Neither are you.

You're the last one I was with
who's alive.

How do I know you're not lying?

How do I know that what
you just showed me

is your actual record?

You don't.

What part of "suspended"
do you not understand?

You jammed your meta.

Assaulted a fellow officer.

Charlie, the other DNA
that we couldn't identify,

maybe it's not degraded.

Maybe it's unregistered.

Another cipher.

Or maybe it's degraded.

She showed me her record
when Lester was killed.

She's not there when the shot's fired.

Well, where is she now?

You've obviously held her
for questioning.

I don't think it's her.

Why?

'Cause you fucked her?

Her alibi could be fabricated
like all of her hacks.

Proves nothing.

That's the problem,
that nothing proves anything.

She's playing you, Sal.

You're officially relieved of all duty,
pending a departmental hearing.

All access privileges rescinded.

We're watching you.

You should thank us.

What's he doing?

Whole lot of nothing.

All units respond.

Damn it.

Why'd you do that?

I fell for it.

Looking through his eyes,
I forgot to look through yours.

Well, now you can both
look through mine.

Why?

Why'd you do this?

It was perfect.

We were never meant to meet.

Who are you?

I know who you are.

You found me in the Ether?

No. No, you found me.

You're the anonymous proxy?

The last one in the chain.

You kept me safe.

They hired me to lead them to you.

I led them away.

You've seen my record.

You know how I hide.

The algorithm is brilliant.

Really.

I know how bad you want to disappear.

You erase records...

but you can't erase memories.

I can.

No.

We can hack this out,
like it didn't happen.

You can disappear.

We can.

No.

It's different now.

Why did you make it look like it was me?

We're together.

His record's gone.

You have no idea
who this Cyrus Frear was?

He fucking worked for you.

You recommended him.

I did?

Yes.

He made it look like I did.

The girl?

Where is she?

Who is she?

Aren't you going to look?

Look at me.

I'm sorry.

No way to warn you without him knowing.

The only way to find him
was to let him find you.

You got to work on your timing.

Cut it close.

So we found you.

Your life.

That was the beginning.

Anyone I was with.

He didn't want me like that.

So no one else could have me either.

Don't suppose you're going to tell me
how you do it.

How you disappear.

It's there for anyone to see
if you know where to look.

You have my record already.

They do.

I gave it to all of you.

The algorithm.

Breaks my life up
into fractions of seconds

and randomly stores them
in the records of everyone else.

But if you try to find
that split second of me,

it would go by without you knowing.

You have to have the algorithm
to put my entire life back together.

If you want to look back.

Any charges, I'll make it all go away
before you do.

You invade my privacy, it's nothing.

I try to get it back, it's a crime.

Don't you get it?

The more you try to hide,
the more attention you attract.

Why is it so important
that nobody knows you?

You get rid of other people's secrets.
What's yours?

Does there have to be one?

Everyone has something to hide.

That's what you do.

What you look
for every day of your life.

Why you'll never understand.

It's not
that I have something to hide...

I have nothing I want you to see.