All language subtitles for The.Peripheral.S01E03.HDR.2160p.WEB.H265-GLHF

They have no idea who
they just picked a fight with.

This is London...

...but London 70 years
from what you think of

as the present.

You're inside
what we call a Peripheral.

Telepresent.

Piloting that body
as if it were your own.

I'm thinking you should
probably tell me why people

are trying to come
and kill me and my family.

Let me show you.

Burton, get up here right now.

- I can see, Flynne.
- Mama.

I can see you.

Two-inch polymer
on those windows.

Kevlar plates
in the door panels.

Run-flat tires.
Thermal night vision.

Electrified door handles.

Spike and smoke deployment
from the rear.

Explosive-proof gas tanks.

All I need is a quick
scribble right here,

and we are done...

and done.

You go and get
religion on us, Corbell?

Yeah, sometimes, Tut,

a man reaches a point, realizes
he's got to make a change.

I mean, to his core.

And it appears I've arrived
at that frightful juncture.

Know those billboards I got,
road into town?

Taking 'em down.

Putting up these crosses
in their place.

Promoting a...

a different sort of venture.

You stop selling cars,

how do we get these serviced?

I'm gonna give you
a lifetime guarantee, CJ.

For the rest of your lives.

Something goes wrong?

I'll fix these for free.

You know I'm true to my word.

Let's shake on it.

Here.

Hop on in.
See how they feel.

There you go, boys.

Here. Allow me.

Step right on in.

Feels pretty good, doesn't it?

You good?

See how that feels.

It's not working?

What's he saying?

Well, it appears
that these vehicles

aren't starting up
for our friends.

Windows and doors
aren't opening either.

Which is unfortunate.

Locked car, day like today.

Any idea how hot it can get?

No, sir.

Hundred and forty degrees.

- Takes about an hour.
- Come here!

- I looked it up.
- Let us out!

- Should I let them out?
- - You know what I love best

about the U.S. military?

The way they coin phrases.

When the leadership of an enemy

makes the mistake of
gathering in one place,

we drop a bomb on them.

- Open the door!
- Call it a...

"decapitation strike."

Has a real poetic ring,

doesn't it?

What the fuck?!

Tut had his doubts, I guess,

about that glass
being bulletproof.

Come on, man,
I can't fuckin' breathe!

- Spray some water on 'em.
- Piece of shit!

Remind them
how thirsty they're gonna get.

This is fuckin' bullshit, man!

Come on! Let us out!

I'm gonna fucking kill you!

Now, you won't get
anywhere in life, Jasper,

if you don't have the courage
to be cruel now and then...

...just for the pure
animal joy of it.

Kick it out, man!

It's hot in here!

It's hot in here!

You're fucking dead!

Once you're done here,

drag those crosses over

and lay 'em out on the pavement.

Uncle Corbell?

I'm gonna kill you!

You leaving?

I'll be back.

Just got to fetch a hammer.

Are you peeing
in that pool, Corbell?

It's my pool, ain't it?

You'll grow up one
of these days.

- Then what?
- Probably have to divorce you.

But I'll have
a clean pool, at least.

So... been thinking
on that deposit.

Way I see it,
we got a few choices.

Safest route?
Refuse the money.

Let the Fishers live out
their natural lives.

Stop visiting Old Havana.

Riskiest?

Take the money.
Kill the Fishers.

And if it's some sort of

boneheaded
Homeland Security setup,

you can spend
the rest of your days

in the Red Onion supermax,
feeling like an idiot.

Or...

Take the money.
Then do nothing.

Problem being,
maybe it isn't a sting.

And we've crossed
someone who has

some resources at their disposal

along with an inclination
to solve disagreements

in a rather vigorous manner.

Can't say I'm liking
any of these, hon.

Sure you can't do better?

Jasper.

His wife, Billy Ann?

Best friends with Flynne Fisher.

You really want to
put something like this

in the hands of
our half-wit nephew?

Let the money sit.

Get Jasper to poke around.

Find out if anything unusual
is happening with the Fishers,

and then, revisit the matter.

And my new friend in Old Havana?

Tell him you're busy prepping.

Might take a minute.

That makes me
look weak, don't it?

Does a lion look weak
crouching before it pounces?

Damn, Flynne.
Trips to the future.

Dead bodies behind your house.

Magic medicine.

I feel like my head's
about to explode.

Yeah.

What are we looking at, anyway?

Stupid app Burton
put on my phone.

It lets me see the drones.

I don't know, I guess I...

find it kind of soothing.

Are they up at your house?

No, ma'am.

Yeah.

They followed us
all the way here?

Leon followed us
all the way here.

He must've put 'em up.

That's supposed
to make us feel safer?

So, if they can tell you
about your mama,

they must know about you, too.

Or-or their version of you?

I asked them.
And they stonewalled me.

I don't know why, but...

kind of makes me start to think
that I ought to stop asking.

Because?

Must be pretty hard news,
don't you think?

Them not wanting to
tell me this badly?

One thing I know for sure.

There's a lot
less people in 70 years.

Whole lot.

- Oh, shit.
- Yeah.

I know.

You really believe, don't you?

Yeah.

- What are you doing?
- Gearing up.

What're you doing?

You can't print this here.

They won't let you.

- Who?
- Forever Fab, Burton.

Well, uh, that's us now.
So we can do whatever we want.

What are you talking about?

We bought it this morning.

Or Milagros Coldiron did.

I put Macon and Edward
in charge.

I need to talk to you.

You need to be in that headset

- is what you need.
- Outside.

Now.

You made Macon
and Edward my bosses?

They're not your bosses.

- You just said they were...
- They can't be your bosses

if you own the place, nitwit.

And you don't have time
to work here anyway.

- They need you in London.
- Why are you going

and acting like you're
in charge all of a sudden?

There's a lot of
moving parts right now.

And it seemed like
you needed the rest.

We got to be a team here,
you understand that?

Otherwise, none of
this shit's gonna work.

Agreed.

What's up with your hand?

Nothing.
It's just stiff.

I don't know.

Hang your bike on that.

I'll drive you home.

Dri...?

You bought a car?

It's a rental.
I'll be right there.

So I woke up from a drunken
stupor this morning.

And guess what I found?

Some dumbfuck said you might
have a job for me?

Get inside.
They'll get you sorted out.

You want a hand?

Sorry, man.
Wrong word.

Shit, man.

You really hurt my feelings.

Hey, there it go.

All right, fuck off then.
Head on in.

Put your best foot forward.

Now you're just
being an asshole.

I'm serious, dude.

I'd give an arm and a leg
for a rig like this.

- You cut me deep.
- I mean it.

You got a leg up on all of us.

- Hands down.
- This one's for you.

Motherfucker.

Listen, Flynne,

we need to talk contingencies.

Okay?

What people need to know.
When they need to know it.

I told Reece and them
that you were playing a sim.

And that you saw something
you weren't supposed to,

and that now somebody
wants you dead for it.

Which I guess has enough
truth in it for my comfort.

For now, at least.

You?

Yeah.

Which brings us to Mama.

Where does she think
those drugs came from?

Hasn't asked yet.

Well, if she shows them
to her doc,

we're gonna have
some explaining to do.

Yeah, I think we're gonna have
a lot more explaining to do

when she shows up to
her next appointment seeing.

I mean, I'd tell her the truth,

if I could find a way to make it
sound halfway convincing.

You gonna share
what's going on there?

I keep losing control of it.

It just starts squeezing
without me meaning it to.

- Headset?
- Maybe.

I don't know.

I told Billy Ann this morning.

Told her what?

Everything.

Why the fuck did you do that?

Answer me.

Goddamn it, Burton, don't take
that fucking tone with me.

I'm not a child.

Then maybe you should stop
fucking acting like one.

Goddamn it, pull the car over.

Pull it over now!

I'm not pulling
the fucking car over.

Goddamn it.
You know what, Burton?

You got your whole little posse

in front of that fire outside
your fucking camper, but me?

Billy Ann is the only
friend that I've got.

- Okay.
- Obviously, it ain't okay.

Clearly you've got some other
shit that you're brewing on

that you want to say
to piss me off.

You might just want to remember

that when you tell
Billy Ann something,

- you're telling Jasper, too.
- Yeah, okay.

And I told her to keep it
a fucking secret.

That's not how it works, Flynne.

- You can't expect a married couple...
- You don't know

the first fucking thing about
a married fucking couple

- and how it works.
- Who's Jasper's uncle?

Fuck.

- They're waiting on you.
- Great.

Oh.

For some reason, I assumed
it would be stored on a bed.

That's because
you're a romantic, Wilf.

It's just a thing until
our polt arrives.

And where else
would you keep a thing

but in a box?

Mm.

Ash just now asked...

...if I'd ever killed a man.

Awake and rise.

Why would she ask that, Lev?

I was simply reassuring her

that you're the right
person to find Aelita.

As you most certainly are.

There's no shame
in what you did.

Quite the contrary.

My family, the Klept
oligarchy at large,

it's why we took you in.

Protected you.

Treated you as one of our own.

Well, almost.

You've never told
anyone, have you?

What you did to those neoprims?

Not even Aelita?

You will never be fully yourself

until you embrace
that part of your soul.

Lay claim to its power.

Otherwise, you're just
as empty as this thing.

Do you feel like a thing?

A thing is an insensate
material object.

Technically, I qualify as such.

But I'm afraid
your question lacks...

And welcome back.

Please tell me you do not

keep me in a box
when I'm not here.

No, no, no.

Of course not.

We're in the kitchen again.

Seems simple enough to me

when it's laid out like that.

We kidnapped the Mariel woman.

Stole her eyeball.

Used that to get into
the underground place.

Got caught.

Your Aelita woman ran away

while I got myself killed.

I'm not really a detective,

but I feel like that's more
than enough to get going on.

Start with the party.
Find out

who the Mariel woman is
and go from there.

Mariel Raphael.

Assistant security manager
at The Research Institute.

Which is also Aelita's
place of employment.

It would seem logical

to surmise that you used
her iris to gain access

to one of the institute's
restricted facilities.

Which immediately makes
everything that follows

far more complex than
it might otherwise be.

More dangerous, too.

Y'all are afraid of
that place, huh?

Let's just say that minimizing

our exposure to the RI

would be in our
collective self-interest.

Weren't y'all stealing
from it, though?

Using Aelita to sneak
into my world?

Stealing seems a strong word.
Sneaking, too.

Then, what would you call it?

I believe you had something you
wanted to ask this young lady.

What connection do you have
to a man named Corbell Pickett?

None. And I'd like
to keep it that way.

- Why?
- - He's a narcotics manufacturer in your region.

Quite violent.

A grisly discovery in Clanton,

North Carolina this morning.

Twelve bodies found hanging
from crosses on Siltwell Road...

I know who Corbell
fucking Pickett is.

...reportedly
members of the Mad Dogs cartel.

What he is, too.

Just turn that shit off, please.

...or the
perpetrators behind it,

- please call...
- We've been monitoring

your stub's web traffic.

We've detected

a considerable spike in interest
from his IP address.

Interest in what?

You and your family.

Which would lead us to believe

that someone from here
might have contacted him.

In the hopes of
recruiting him to harm you.

Then you need to send me back.

Now, I mean.

You keep looking for Aelita,

and I'll be back in an hour.

Wolfgang.

Uh, have they been immunized?

In full compliance with
state guidelines.

How old are you, darling?

I'll be ten in 27 days.

Wolf is eight.

Open.

Needs a bit of work,
but not terrible.

The stipend from the state
ought to cover such expenses.

We won't require any charity.

We've been called upon
by our country

to assist with the reformation.

It's our duty to do so.

Would you like to come
and live with us in Oxfordshire?

Can Wolf come?

They were reclaimed
together from the streets.

A bonded pair.

We were only planning
to adopt one.

Well, perhaps
in that case we could...

I'm not going without Wolf.

Wolf is the boy's name?

Short for Wolfgang.

DNA reveals German
and North African heritage.

Do you like your name?

Yes, sir.

But say we wanted
to call you by a different name,

something a little
more traditional.

Like, um... Wilfred.

Would that be okay?

I can be Wilfred.

Good boy.

Aelita?

Wilfred?

Hello, Mum.

When was she last here?

It's been years.

Like you.

Prior to your father's death,
I'm certain of that.

I still haven't forgiven you...

you know, both of you...
for not attending his funeral.

- We don't have to do this, do we?
- It was quite embarrassing.

Not that I'm
expecting an apology.

But as usual, you're asking
the wrong question

and therefore,
getting the wrong answer.

What I suspect
you meant to ask is,

when was the last time
I saw Aelita?

- And?
- A month ago.

Perhaps not even quite that.

I was in St. James's.
I came out of Wiltons.

Practically ran right into her.

And did you speak?

I attempted a conversation.

But Aelita being Aelita,

the effort proved to be
rather one-sided.

I asked her
where she was staying.

She took on that rather
unattractive haughty air

that she can sometimes
assume and said,

"Where snow last fell
in London."

"Where snow last fell
in London."

After all these years,

I can't quite understand

why she needs to play
at such riddles.

She grew affronted
when I expressed confusion.

Said that if I'd ever bothered

to pay the slightest
degree of attention,

I'd know precisely
what she meant.

But you paid attention, Wilfred.

And do you know what she meant?

You see?

Oh, do sit, Wilfred.
Even for a moment.

It's so tiresome to have you
looming over me like that.

Sometimes, when I can't sleep,

I lie there trying
to solve the riddle

of your sister and you.

I suppose your father
and I had our failings.

Or perhaps our standards
were simply too high,

given the particularities
of your origin.

But you can't deny we gave you

the absolute
top shelf of everything.

Schooling.

Opportunity. A...

Thank you, dear.

My pleasure, ma'am.

I wouldn't
expect you to understand.

Try me.

A soul grows lonely, Wilfred.

Living without companionship.

A generic model
wouldn't suffice?

Well, yes, yes.

I suppose it is all
very sentimental of me.

But there was
something about Aelita...

something in the way
she carried herself...

that I always found

- deeply comforting.
- Hmm.

Untainted by any unattractive
quirks of personality, you mean?

As I said, I wouldn't
expect you to understand.

I've said all I know
about her whereabouts.

And our tea has grown
unpalatably tepid.

So it might be time
for you to be on your way,

don't you think?

I'll take care of Pickett.

What do you mean
"take care" of him?

Burton, you can't go and kill
Corbell Pickett in cold blood.

You said he was
planning to kill us.

There's nothing too
hot-blooded about that.

But that's the kind of
person that he is.

- That ain't who we are.
- I don't know if you know this,

but the Corps actually
spent a lot of money

making me exactly
that kind of person.

Come on, Burton, you're not
in the Marine Corps anymore.

- You know what semper means?
- I do.

I also know what fidelis means.

So I think you got to
ask yourself...

loyal to what?

All right, how about this?

You find me a workable plan...

...or we go with mine.

You'll talk to me first?
Before you make any decisions?

Agreed.

Say it.

We'll talk about it first.

I promise.

Shit.

And that goes for Conner, too!

Welcome back.

I've programmed the car
to move in a grid

with Buckingham Palace
at its center.

If you see anything
familiar from that night,

we can try to trace
your route back to Aelita's.

What happened to her?

Mariel? Afterward, I mean?

Assemblers can work miracles.

I'm sure she's fine.

I'm not asking you that so you
can make me feel better, Wilf.

She appears to have vanished.

Assemblers can do that, too.

Aelita killed her?

Either Aelita or the RI.

They don't take fondly
to security lapses there,

I'm afraid.

I thought I was playing a sim.

Yes, well.

It turns out if you prick us,

we bleed.

Wait, go back.

I think we turned there.

I don't know.

Why don't we take a walk
for a bit then?

See if anything jumps out.

You go that way.
I'll go here.

We can link up so you can see
what I'm seeing.

- Link up?
- You'll hear a ringing.

When you do, swipe,
tap your thumb and forefinger.

Holy shit.

It's set to full sensory.

- Not just visual and aural.
- Ah...

So it might take
a moment to acclimate.

Ah, fuck, I feel sick.

Ah, yes.
My hangover, I imagine.

You should be able
to calibrate it here.

Better?

Yeah.

This is the weirdest
fucking thing I've ever felt.

I mean, it's like I'm...
I'm part of you?

Does that make sense?

Does it work both ways?

What do I feel like?

What?

You're all rainbows
and unicorns, Ms. Fisher.

Fuck off.

With a bluesy sort of
soundtrack underneath.

Heavy bass.

Up or down.
To pull me in or out.

Jasper.

I think Mr. Pickett and I
are overdue for a discussion.

How can I be of assistance?

I've got a carrot

and I've got a stick,
Mr. Pickett.

You want the carrot first?

How much did they promise

for you to make me
and my sister dead?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Going rate a few nights
ago was nine million dollars.

So if they told you
any less than that...

...they obviously don't
think too highly of you.

What're you mixed up in?

Nothing that'll encroach

on your line
of business, I promise.

But I can offer you
200 grand a week

just to leave us the fuck alone.

So, why don't we shake on it

and I'll be on my way.

I'm curious about the stick.

- You know what these are?
- Heard about them.

What, exactly?

How they
messed you up pretty good.

And I thank you
for your service.

Can I tell you a story?

The Corps targets rural towns
for haptic recruitment.

Kids who grew up together offer
ready-made small-unit cohesion.

Plug the haptics in
and you got a unified organism.

Speed, intensity,
violence of action.

Honestly,
when it got hot enough,

generally, I wasn't even
aware of what I was doing.

Like a hand wouldn't be,
if you get my meaning.

Anyway, when the war was over,
I was at Quantico.

Walked into a bar.

Saw a guy sitting on a stool...

...and I just blacked out.

Gone.

When I came to,
I was standing over that guy.

Found that I'd beaten him
'bout a half inch shy of death.

I'd never even seen him before.

But a sergeant in my unit...

he'd gotten jumped
by that motherfucker

when he was 16 years old.

And because of the haptics,
I had that in me.

Along with a visceral imperative

to destroy that son of a bitch,
without even knowing why.

That is quite a tale.

But if there's a moral in it,
I believe I missed it.

If anything happens
to me or my sister,

and you're behind it,

you ought to have
your affairs in order.

'Cause I'm not just me now.

I'm all the men I served with.

That's your best stick?

You feel safe here, Mr. Pickett?

You're too young
to remember, maybe.

But this town was
a real shithole once.

Run by the lowest sort of trash.

I changed that.

Pretty much overnight.

Made it a nice place
to live again.

Clean, quiet.

My town.

So, yeah.

Yeah, I guess I do feel
pretty safe here.

The next one's
in your fucking ear.

That's my fucking stick.

Two hundred a week sound good?

Appreciate it, man.

- Acrophobic?
- Not particularly.

Good.
Walk with me.

I need some air.

The R.I. Headquarters was
the first of our air scrubbers.

Built long before you joined us.

Do you know how they work?

Only in the broader sense.

Tell me.

They capture carbon
from the atmosphere.

But beyond that,
the specific technology?

It would be like
asking me how a bird flies.

Hmm.

You're taking too much time.

We can't afford it.

- The stub...
- Yes.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

It presents unique challenges.

I'm well aware.

Maybe you have
too many moving parts.

Teams of mercenaries.

Impenetrable
small-town alliances.

It seems there ought to be
a simpler way to kill a girl,

doesn't it?

Just one person.

With the appropriate weapon?

And what about our problems
in the here and now?

It appears that Aelita West

went to school
with Grace Hogart.

They were roommates for a year.

Well, that's distressing.

I've always been
quite fond of Grace.

I can address it, if you'd like.

No.

I will.

Have you discovered
the source of Aelita's funding?

We're still struggling
to untangle that.

You were right, though.
There's a Klept feel to it.

Which specific family
remains murky,

but if I had to guess...

I don't want you
to guess, Daniel.

I want you to
find out for certain.

And then I want a body count.

I'm sure you're aware that
I could easily eliminate you.

In any number of ways,
with the simple wave of my hand.

But...

I value you, Daniel.

And I wouldn't want you serving
the needs of the Institute

simply out of fear,

which is the weakest
type of motivation.

Powerful only in the short term.

Doctor!

They flap their wings.

- Ma'am?
- Birds.

That's how they fly.

Kiss, kiss, Daniel.

Get it done.

Aelita says I'm likely
not to exist in ten years.

What'd she mean by that?

Hello? You there?

Wilf?

When we find Aelita,
you can ask her

because I have no idea.

She called me a polt.
What's that mean?

Short for poltergeist.

That's how we refer to people

from the stub.

Like a ghost.
Here but not here.

Perfect accomplice, you mean.

Speaking of which,
is there any reason

I should be worried
about the police?

Turn right at the corner.

Walk in an unhurried manner.

I'll approach from
the opposite direction.

- Yes?
- Please tell me

the Peripheral is registered.

It is.

With a few frowned-upon
augmentations.

Okay, right, and you
couldn't tell me that

- before I stepped out with it?
- What's the problem?

We separated
to cover more ground.

Now a Met koid is following her.

Well, catch up to her,
and for Christ's sake,

don't let her talk
to the damn thing.

If the Met finds out
Flynne is from the stub,

you're on your own.

We'll scrub all connection.

I'll be sure to post
a care package to you

in Wakefield prison, though.

- For fuck's sake, Ash.
- I could just send her home now.

No, it'll look dodgy.

- Just wait for my prompt.
- I'll be listening.

Follow my lead.

And when you see me
touch my chin,

ask if you can go home.

May we be of assistance,
Constable?

This Peripheral

has been moving
about the neighborhood

in a manner that violates
algorithmic predictions,

by several degrees of certainty.

I was dispatched to investigate.

Identity, sir?

- Wilf Netherton.
- Confirmed.

And this is Rainey Portis,
in the Peripheral.

A citizen of Canada.

If you check, I think you'll see

I applied for a
remote-visit visa in her name.

Ten trips.

Two of which have been used.
This being the third.

A third visit was neither
requested nor approved.

Well, Rainey was
feeling spontaneous.

Your remote visit is revoked.

Please surrender
the Peripheral immediately

- for inspection and deconstruction.
- You'll be wondering why

we exited the vehicle,
I suppose.

Bit of an argument, actually.

I'd really value your opinion,
if you wouldn't mind.

On Rainey's first two visits,

she mentioned how the Peripheral
didn't look much like her.

Wanted me to rent
a different model

next time she came to London.

But...

what she didn't know is

the peri isn't a rental.

I own it.

It was modeled
on an ex-girlfriend.

And it seemed easier
to just keep using it

which was lazy of me and wrong

because when Rainey
arrived this time

and found herself
in the same peri,

she grew angry.

Said I must not respect her

if I ignored her requests
so cavalierly.

She jumped out of the car.

Which led us here
to this present moment.

But here's the thing, Constable.

I believe I'm starting to have
feelings for this woman.

Or at least I'm feeling
the possibility of feelings,

if you follow my drift.

I find you extremely alluring.

Intelligent.

Intriguing.

Intrepid.

Can't you fucking see that?

May I go home now, Constable?

Yes, ma'am.

I'd advise you to register
her visit as soon as possible,

Mr. Netherton.

Yes, of course, Constable.
Good day.

Follow me.

Dr. Nuland?

Grace.

Thank you for popping by
on such short notice.

Of course.

Feels like...

we never really have much
of a chance to chat, do we?

Feels like
a dereliction on my part.

Well, we all know
how terribly busy you are.

Do you have a favorite spot?

- Ma'am?
- A place you go to, to revive your spirits?

This is mine.

It's the view
that nourishes you?

The bees.

Their ignorance, I mean.

I find it cautionary,
in a bracing way.

They go about their business
so assiduously

without any awareness
of how vulnerable they are.

All the things
that killed them off

in the first place,
they're still out there.

We do our best
to keep them at bay, of course.

But one momentary lapse

in vigilance, and a whole
cascade of crisis descends.

Do you know they've had
two extinction events,

just in the past five years?

And then, well, you know...

that long climb back up
from nothingness.

Well, they're lucky
they have you.

We're no different, really.

People.

We look out on all this
and we imagine

that the Jackpot,
with all its horrors,

is safely buried in the past.

But the labor
involved to keep it so.

The care...

You'd be the first
to understand, though,

wouldn't you?

That's the whole point
of the work you're doing.

The data you're bringing
back from the stub

may save us all one day.

From ourselves.

I'm honored to be
in a position to help, Doctor.

Do you have many friends, Grace?

Some.

Aelita West.
Does she count as one?

I suppose.

We boarded together in school.

Then you're
aware she was employed

in our Biodiversity Department.

Was?

How do you suppose
someone in Grains and Legumes

might become aware of
our Stub Research Division?

She was curious, so I...

It's not as if I shared
anything of substance, Doctor.

I-I would never...

There was a country
called Paraguay once,

before the Jackpot.

Do you know it?

No.

People there had a saying.

If you feel compelled
to share a secret,

I mean, a really
important secret...

an existentially important one...

then you should dig
a grave first.

For who?

For whom, dear.

Either for the person
you're telling...

...or for yourself.

I'm so sorry, Doctor.

I've let you down.
I can see that.

There's a chemical in the tea.

As your body processes it,

your sweat begins to mimic
a pheromone hornets release.

It's gotten our little friends
a tad agitated, I'm afraid.

You understand, don't you?

How you've left me no choice?

I have two small children.

That's it. Exactly.

Think of them.

Think of the lengths
you'd go to, to protect them.

Dr. Nuland, please.

Please.
Please don't, I beg you.

Please. Please don't.
I'll do anything.

- Ask you a question?
- Mm-hmm.

Using a urinal,

how hard is it to get
the pee in the right spot?

And by right spot,
I mean anywhere but the floor.

It ain't me doing it.

Well, I mean, you could get
your friends to stop, too.

Start a trend.

I could try, if you want, but...

to be fair,
women do have it easier.

Sitting down and all.
Which was a joke.

- It was a joke.
- Mm-hmm. Super funny, too.

Thanks.

This is home, Jasper.
Time to shut off the truck.

I got to drop
something at my uncle's.

What?

I don't know.
It's a bag.

- Better not be any drugs in there.
- There ain't.

How do you know?

'Cause my uncle understands
how you feel about that.

Also, it's from Forever Fab.

Flynne gave it to you?

Macon and Edward.

Billy Ann...

don't.

I'll get dinner started
if you do me a favor.

- Hmm?
- Find out what this is about.

- How am I supposed to do that?
- Figure it out.

I'm not asking you how
to get dinner going, am I?

And don't even think about

taking any of that,
Jasper Baker.

Jesus, Billy Ann.
I'm not an idiot.

Okay.

Hey.

Here you go.

- Any trouble with that?
- No, sir.

I told them what I was after,
and they handed it over.

Have a peek inside?

No.

You know I wouldn't feel right
doing that, Uncle Corbell.

I mean, I can kind of
tell what's in it.

I think. Just by the feel.

And what's your guess?

Money.

Mm.

Oh...

From the Fisher family.

Neighbors of yours, aren't they?

Yeah.

You, uh,
find it at all surprising?

Them paying me 200 grand?

Little bit,
I'll be honest, yeah.

What if I told you

they were planning to
keep doing it, once a week

for the foreseeable future?

I don't know,
I suppose I'd wonder

where all the money
was coming from.

You are
a smart young man, Jasper.

For that is indeed
the million dollar question.

You want one?

No, I wouldn't, uh...

- I mean...
- Go ahead, take it.

- Go ahead.
- All right.

Thanks.

Now, I'm gonna offer you
a valuable life lesson here.

- Hmm?
- Before you accept

any cash from someone,

always ask what they
might want in exchange.

No, no, no, no. Too late.

You've taken it.

What do you, uh...

What do you want in exchange?

For you to find the answer to
that million dollar question.

You mean, like...

Look, tell you straight up.

I'm a little concerned
about the Fishers.

I think they've gotten
themselves involved

in something that's maybe a tad
bigger than they can handle.

You remember the Mad Dogs?

That's the sort of wickedness
we're talking about.

Coming back to our town.

Now, the more I know,

the more I can
watch out for the Fishers.

'Cause, uh, they seem
like nice folks.

They are.

So you wouldn't want anything
bad to happen to them...

would you?

Mm-mm.

Well.

Right.

Okay.

Hey, what's it feel like

when you link up
with your haptics?

Uh...

It's hard to describe.

Why you asking?

Well, I think I did it.

Or I guess something
similar to it.

With Wilf.

You know?

You better be careful, now.

Why?

It takes training
to handle a merge.

Folks can get lost in it.

Lost how?

Well, two souls
coming together as one

can kind of feel
a lot like love,

if you don't know any better.

Haptic drift,
that's what they call it.

Right.

Welcome back.

It ain't real, is it?

No, I'm afraid.

Aelita left a clue as to her
potential whereabouts.

A riddle.

She was always fond of riddles.

I was trying to get
into her frame of mind.

What was it?

The clue.

"Where snow last fell
in London."

My mother had a painting over
her bureau. It said, um...

"Battle of the Abbey.
The Spot Where Harold Fell."

You don't think that...

I mean, Snow could be a person,

do you?

John Snow.

Who's that?

One of Aelita's
intellectual heroes.

An English doctor.

He discovered
how cholera spread.

Where did John Snow die?

In London.
On June 16, 1858.

Where precisely?

18 Sackville Street.

Let's go.

To where Snow
last fell in London.

I've arrived.

Someone got here before us.

We have one of those
back at home.

The exact same?

Yeah.

Ours is broken, too.

It stopped after my dad died.

What time is your clock set to?

2:15.

Well done.

What happened to them?

Peripherals.

Abandoned for days
without a nutrient bath.

Ash and Ossian should be
able to trace the connections

back to their operators.

What?

Burton.

What is it?

It's an implant.

Aelita's?

She must have
removed it after the attack

so she couldn't be traced.

We should go.

Welcome back, Ms. Fisher.

And Wilfred Netherton, is it?

Remember this?

I assume you're thinking,

"Kill me,
then game over," right?

But I assure you,

the trauma leaves a mark.

Hurts a little, don't it?

What do you want with me?

Huh? Answer me!

She won't stop.
Not till you're dead.

You're only delaying
the inevitable.

Drawing out the pain.

You took something.

What?

I wanna go back, Burton.

I'm worried you're not
thinking clearly.

How long
do you think it's gonna be

till someone else comes around
wanting to kill us?

Your constant slipping away

is as if you
couldn't be trusted.

So this is what's coming
in my world.