All language subtitles for Westworld - (Season 1, Episode 1)

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Hey, darling.

Morning, Maeve.

Late night
talking or fucking?

You're only getting paid
for the latter.

I get paid

when they're grateful.

Ain't always about
what's between my legs.

Hmm.

What are you looking at?

Don't shoot.

Newcomer.

Looks like a rough one.

Give me a bottle.

You're gonna need
most of that

just to scrub
the filth off him.

Go find a mirror,
finish putting
your face on.

I'll handle this one.

Aren't you gonna take
your clothes off?

Well, I would, darling,
but by the time I got
down to my knickers,

I suspect
you'd be done anyway.

That's the spirit.

Such a big man.

So big all over

except where it counts.

Darling, when I gave you
a turn on the house,

I thought you might give me
something in return.

Anything.

That's it.

Don't be shy.

Shit.

Now, then...

where were we?

- You show this to anyone?
- Who would I show it to?

This wasn't some guest
with a Swiss Army knife.

This was done
by someone down here.

It did occur to me
that it might be you.

But then I remembered
that you've been here forever,

and if you were
gonna sell us out,

you would've done that
years ago.

I appreciate that.

So...

instead of our hosts
going insane,

they are being used
for industrial espionage.

Does that make this a...

glass-half-full
or half-empty-type
situation?

We're engineers.

It means the glass
has been manufactured

to the wrong specifications.

Do we have any idea
what information

it was transmitting?

It's smeared
all over a rock
up on Python Pass.

Best we could do
would be to figure out

who he was transmitting
the information to,

but we'd need the exact time
that he was up there,

and his geocache
was wiped.

Not all of it.

Our friend
was an early model.

The old hosts used a legacy
geopositioning system.

- Huh.
- Like you said,
I've been here forever.

The information's
still there,

but the newer system
can't read it.

Meaning
we can't access it?

Meaning in order
to access it,

I'm going to need
to go downstairs.

Floor B82.

Restricted
personnel only.

Lowe, Bernard.
I'm authorized.

Project the known data
against the legacy data

and look for anomalies.

Start in this area.

Look at that, science.

What time
did it reach the peak?

Show me where.

Check these
against the new system.

These are hosts
that aren't registered
with the new system?

So, if we want the canyon
to extend this far,
this has to go.

We can distribute
the population amongst
the neighboring farms

or just decommission them.

No, I think we've been
disruptive enough

for one day.

We'll end the canyon
just short of the town.

I'll find
my own way back.

Okay.

Carry on.

That look like
anything to you?

Not much to say.

The maze
is an old native myth.

Regale me, Theodore.

The maze itself
is the sum of a man's life--

choices he makes,

dreams he hangs on to.

And there at the center,
there's a legendary man

who had been killed
over and over again
countless times,

but always clawed his way
back to life.

The man returned
for the last time

and vanquished
all his oppressors
in a tireless fury.

He built a house.

Around that house
he built a maze
so complicated,

only he could
navigate through it.

I reckon
he'd seen enough
of fighting.

Whoa!

The goddamn soldiers
closed the border.

Some kind of trouble
in Pariah.

All right, Teddy.

Time for you
to earn your keep.

How else do we get
over the border?

Wyatt's got
what we both want,

so that's where
we have to get to.

There's another way.

But it's
a little treacherous.

Don't worry.

I won't make you
get your hands dirty.

Dirty ain't my concern.

Now, you do
what suits you.

I'm going all the same.

And I'm gonna find Dolores.

Everything you do,

it's because
the engineers upstairs

programmed you
to do it.

You don't have a choice.

Nobody makes me
do something

I don't want to,
sweetheart.

Yeah, but...

it's part
of your character.

You're hard to get.

Even when you say no
to the guests,

it's because
you were made to.

And you are like them,
not like me?

Right.

Well, I can't exactly
afford to go to the park,

but...

yeah, I'm human...

like the guests.

How do you know?

Because I know.

I was born.

You were made.

We feel the same.

We are the same
these days,

for the most part.

One big difference,
though...

the processing power
in here

is way beyond
what we have.

It's got one drawback,
though.

What's that?

You're under our control.

Well, their control.

They can change you
however they like,

make you forget.

I-- well,
I guess not you.

I don't understand
how you're remembering
all of this, or...

how you're
waking yourself up,

but everything in your head,
they put it there.

Bullshit!

- No one knows
what I'm thinking.
- I'll show you.

Give me a sec.

I have to pair it
with you.

Pair what with me?

You can improvise
a little,

but most of what you say
was designed upstairs,

same as the rest of you.

This is just a cheap trick.

I've run a brothel
for 10 years,

and if there's
one thing I know,

it's when I'm being
fucked with!

This can't possibly--

I can't, can't.

I can't...

Maeve?

Maeve?

You have a minute?

Something I need
to talk to you about.

I was just about
to call for you.

Everything okay?

Ford knows about us.

Does it matter?

We're consenting adults.

Consenting adults
in business departments

that are supposed
to keep each other in check.

Our relationship
will raise questions

for the board
about my objectivity.

I have never known you
to go easy on my department.

This can't go on, Bernard.

However fun this
little indiscretion was,
it's over.

We're over.

Give me some credit.
I can be impartial.

About your own team,
about Ford?

You must admit,

his leadership has of late
been questionable.

I don't think
he's the problem.

Respectfully,
it's not your job

to diagnose park
safety problems,
it's mine.

So, if there's
nothing else,

we're done.

Oh, fuck.

Okay.

Fuck.
Come on, come on.

Oh!

- You said upstairs.
- Oh, my God.

Are you okay?

I want to see it.

Upstairs?

No.

No. No, no.

This is so stupid.

You son of a bitch!

I'll put a bullet
in your head!

Where are we now?

Design.

Can we please
go back now?

I don't want
to get fired.

And you'd get
sent downstairs.

Don't forget that.

Welcome to Westworld.

Live without limits.

Maeve?

All right,
let's get you back.

How did you have
my dreams?

Those moving pictures...

- I saw myself.
- With the little girl?

Those weren't dreams.

That was you
in a previous build.

- A previous what?
- Build.

You guys get reassigned
all the time.

You wouldn't remember,
because that life

and those memories
were erased.

I have been
at the Mariposa
for 10 years.

- Before that, I was
in New Orleans. I--
- No.

You've only been
the madam at the Mariposa
for the last year or so.

They don't rewrite you
completely.

I mean, they could,
but it'd be too much work.

Takes thousands of hours
to build your personalities.

Usually, they just
tweak you a little bit,

and drop you
into a new role.

What the fuck, ding-dong?

You dressing her up now?

This becoming like
a fucking hentai thing
with you now?

No, I just...

- I-- I-- I just--
- You're fucking obsessed!

You know,
I didn't turn you in
for your fuck-up before,

'cause we're friends,
but that was obviously
a bad call.

I mean,
next thing I know,

you're gonna be
wearing her dress,

whispering
sweet nothings
in her ear.

Fuck this.

I'm telling QA.

I'm doing this
for your own good.

You're not going
to tell anyone anything.

Fuck!

You can't hurt me
with this.

You can't hurt anyone--

Can't I?

Turns out
your friend here

is a much more
talented young man

than anyone
gave him credit for.

What the fuck did you do?

Calm down, Sylvester.

I know all about you.

I don't need
one of those things to know
what you're thinking,

because I was built

to read people
just by looking at them,

to know what they want
before they do.

And I know that you want
to fuck me over

the first chance you get,
but you shouldn't.

Everyone has something
they want.

I could help you.

- Ah!
- Or I could gut you
like a trout.

But I won't need
to resort to that.

Because despite
what's in here,

we're not so different.

Are we?

Yes, I understand
the urgency.

I'll do what I can.

Terminate external connection?

Yes.

Negative 1.5.
Latitude?

At 2.69 degrees.

No, you did not.
What are you talking about?

- Yes, it works.
- Are you serious?

I'm telling you.

- Cocktail, sir?
- Yeah.

All right.
Absolutely. Enjoy.

You look well
for someone on sick leave.

Another margarita.

Join me for a round?

Fuck you.

Just the one, then.

Over the last five days,

to make room
for his narrative,

Ford displaced
over 50 hosts.

It's created
continuity holes

in active storylines
all over the park.

I need you to start
plugging them.

Sorry, a man can
only take so much.

Creatively speaking,
I'm flaccid now.

I can't get it up.

I'm sure you'll recover.

Do you have any idea

what went into
those narratives

that he just demolished
overnight?

Now, forget about the months
I spent writing.

I'm talking about
the years of my life

squeezed down
to their essence,

the raw pulp of truth--

my truth in one
transcendent narrative.

Is that where
the "whoroborus" came in?

Keep pushing me, I'll quit.

No, you won't.

You'll drink
your cocktails,

make your idle threats,
and get this out
of your system.

But don't take too long.

If Ford can't pull this off,

the board will be looking
for a replacement.

But they won't be
looking here.

Fastest way to get
to Wyatt, you said.

But it doesn't look like
they're letting anyone
pass here either.

Well,
there's fewer soldiers
than Pariah.

We shoot our way through.

That tunnel leads
to the Old Territories.

My, my, Teddy.

I think Robert gave you
some extra vinegar
back there,

maybe took away
some sense, too.

It doesn't matter
how fast the route is

if you're gonna end up dead
in the middle of it.

I need you...

to find Wyatt.

Tighten the ranks.

At ease, fellas.

Keep up
the exemplary work.

Wyatt's handiwork.

How can you tell?

Straight-up killing
couldn't hold his interest.

Like he wasn't living
up to the full measure
of his calling,

so he worked to get
more creative.

- Ready?
- That's Wyatt, all right.

He's close.

A word of advice--

whatever
your past indiscretions,
make peace with them.

They're only
gonna get worse
the further along we go.

Flood?

Fuck me,
it's Teddy Flood.

You've made
a mistake, soldier,

but it's not too late
for you to keep walking.

All due respect, sir,

that's a face
I'll never forget.

That's the son of a bitch

ambushed our outpost
at Escalante.

You don't know a damn thing
about what went down
in Escalante.

I know Wyatt didn't kill
all those men by himself.

And I know a thing or two
about what's going down
right now.

Hey!

You trying to get
yourself killed?

Making peace
with past indiscretions.

Go!

I'll hold them off.

Jesus.

Really? All right.

- What would you like?
- Water, please.

You look like a woman
who could use a drink.

What's your poison?

I've been here enough
to know that the park

is all the poison
I can handle.

Mm, a repeat visitor.

Traveling solo?

Purist. Getting off
on the undiluted experience.

Your favorite narrative
is-- oh.

"The Final Burial
of Salvation."

How did you know?

Well, it's my business
to read desires

and to satiate them.

I'm-- I'm Lee,
Lee Sizemore.

Head of narrative.

All these fantasies
come from your twisted
little mind, huh?

Well, the good ones do.

- So, tell me,
Mr. Sizemore...
- Hmm?

...what's
your favorite ride?

Well, I write them,
I don't play them.

Oh, you want others
to indulge,

but you won't do so
yourself?

You're afraid
to lose control.

Well, maybe--
maybe it's just a product
of my work environment.

We're not exactly
in a culture where
we can just let loose.

I would have thought
the head of narrative
could do whatever he wanted.

My artistic freedom
is constrained,

what, with QA
breathing down my neck

and behavior
programming the damn things
to go off script.

The robots
can go off script?

Just little gestures.

You know, supposedly,
it makes the things
more lifelike,

but, really, it's just
a vanity project

from the megalomaniac
who started this place.

And frankly,
I don't know why

the suits at Delos
put up with it.

Oh.

Sorry, I'm afraid
I'm gonna have to
cut you off.

- Do you know who I am?
- I do.

Ms. Cullen told me
to find you and relay
a message.

"'Tortured artist'
only works for artists.

Sober up
and get back to work."

Seems you're busy.

- Look me up later?
- Well, I don't even
know your...

Fuck this job.

What you working on?

Nothing of note.
Business as usual.

Keeping up appearances
before we bust this
stray shit wide open?

I'm close to finding
our saboteur.

That tracking
data you gave me--
it's time stamped.

But once
I cross-reference it
with sat tracking,

we're gonna figure out
who programmed him to try
to smuggle out our data.

Excellent.

Look...

when our corporate overlords
realize that we have saved them

from corporate espionage,

they are going
to be grateful.

And I am going to accept
their gratitude

in the form
of a title bump,
a room upgrade,

and unlimited
Mesa Bar access.

Maybe I should request
Theresa's quarters.

You know the first head
to roll for all this
is gonna be hers.

Yeah, don't be
so disappointed for her.

You reap what you sow.

If QA spent less time
treating us like the enemy--

That's a two-way street,
Elsie.

Theresa's just trying
to do her job.

Maybe she should
try harder.

Sure seems like
there's a lot of shit

slipping
through the cracks.

Got it, okay.

Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Any progress
on the inquiry I sent?

Yes, Mr. Lowe,
I've got the information
you asked for.

As expected,
there are neither
guests nor hosts

registered in that sector.

As expected?

It's been designated
off-limits

for future narrative
development.

How many techs visited
Sector 17 recently?

Checking.

No one.

Are you Arnold?

Who's Arnold?

And who the hell
are you?

Boy, is this
some friend of yours?

Well, you're trespassing.

Freeze motor functions.

- I said freeze
all motor functions.
- Daddy, don't hurt him!

- He's just lost.
- Well, he can be lost
on someone else's property.

Can't you?

That's enough.

As you were.

They don't respond
to voice commands.

They do respond to mine.

Who are they?

Ghosts now.

Survivors
of the wreck of time.

- These are
first generation?
- Mm-hmm.

Come here, boy.

Turn the other cheek.

See, what our newer designs
gained in efficiency,

they lost in grace.

How are they still operating
after all this time?

I maintain them myself.

That's enough, Robert.

These are the only ones
left in the park

that Arnold built himself.

That's why I didn't have
the heart to destroy them.

That and the obvious.

Hello, Jock.
Good boy.

I told him of a holiday
my family had taken once

out on the seaside
at Pendeen in Cornwall.

My brother and I roamed
the countryside.

It's my only happy memory
of my childhood.

Arnold built them
as a gift.

He said that great artists
always hid themselves

in their work.

Of course,
Arnold's versions

flattered the originals.

I made some adjustments
over the years.

Gave my father,
in particular,

a few of his
original characteristics.

Respectfully, sir,

this sort of thing
troubles me--

unmonitored hosts
in the park.

They only go
where I've let them.

They're quite harmless,
like all our hosts.

I'm sure
you can indulge me

the little connection
with my past.

If you could only see
your son again, Bernard,

wouldn't you want to?

I think I should
be getting back.

Yes.

We'll talk about this
later if you like.

Well, Robert...

tell me
all about your day.

Keep your eye on Pariah.

We're running close
to capacity tonight.

Oh, my God.

Looks like acid rain
on Sweetwater!

Fuck Ford and his new
fucking narrative.

Fuck this stupid
fucking map.

Fuck that teetotaling
Danish bitch.

Are you filing a complaint,
Mr. Sizemore?

I am declaring
that this park
is my stage

and I shall do with it
what I please.

Well, I suppose now
is as good a time as any.

Lee Sizemore,
this is Charlotte Hale,

executive director
of our board.

She's here
on behalf of Delos

to oversee
certain transitions
in our administration.

We've met.

Oh.

Access host resources logs.

How many first-generation
hosts are there?

82.

And how many of those
were designed by Arnold?

47.

List the names
alphabetically

of all first-generation hosts
still in rotation.

Forward!

Be smart
about this, fellas.

I understand
the visceral pleasure of
revenge more than most, but...

I'm prepared
to do business, here.

This man
is very valuable to me,
alive and well.

If you don't quiet down,

I'm liable to add you
to the herd.

Along with
your buddy Flood here.

You're a traitorous
son of a bitch

and a coldhearted killer,
Flood.

You're right,
I am a killer.

Grab a horse.
Let's get the fuck
outta here.

They'll just follow us.

You think
you know someone.

You don't know me
at all.

Let's get our horses
and gear, and move on.

- Elsie?
- I identified the satellite.

- It's one of ours.
- What?

It's a fucking
Delos satellite.

Whatever we're onto
is some heavy shit.

Oh, get this.
That bicameral system
you told me about?

I think that's what they used
to hack the woodcutter.

The voices our hosts
have been hearing?

I think someone's been
broadcasting to them.

We abandoned that system
decades ago.

Yeah, well,
there's still relays
out there in the park,

and it looks like
someone turned one on.

- Where?
- An abandoned theater
in Sector 3.

I'm gonna go find
the transmitter

and figure out
who else accessed it.

- This is so fucked.
- Are you alone?

- Yeah, I'll keep you posted.
- Elsie, be c--

Are you lost?

On the contrary.

I thought we could
play catch with Jock.

Did you bring him?

Where is he, boy?

Okay.

I'm an evil genius
hiding a relay.

Where the fuck
do I hide it?

Um...

Fuck, yes.

Now let's see
what we can get
out of you.

Access previous users.

Okay.

I thought I was clear about
these late-night visits.

That's not why I'm here.

Earlier today,

I found some anomalies
in the park.

Regardless of what's
happening between us,
we need to talk.

This has to do
with the stray?

That's where it started.

But then I stumbled
onto something,

something I think
you should know about.

I've always trusted Ford.

He's a mentor
and a friend.

But I'm beginning to think
you have reason for concern.

There's something
going on here,

something with
his old partner, Arnold.

- Not now, Elsie.
- Don't hang up.

I hit pay dirt.

I found the person
who was smuggling out
our data.

It was Theresa, Bernard.

But she's not
our only problem.

There's something
much bigger going on here.

I'm gonna have
to call you back.

So, this is me?

It's your codebase,

all the things
that make you you.

What are these?

Your attribute matrix.

It's your personality
on a 20-point scale.

Like coordination.

You got a five,
you're clumsy as hell,

but a 15 means
you're an athlete.

What other attributes
are there?

Lots.

Everything.

Empathy, candor, charm.

You've got an 18 for charm.

Don't act so surprised.

Then there's courage,
loyalty, both high.

What's this one?

"Bulk apperception"?

Basically
overall intelligence.

- 14?
- 14 is as high
as they'll let any hosts go.

You're in a management
position.

They want you
to be smart.

But not too smart.

You run a whorehouse,

not an orbital
launch facility.

Fine.

I'd like to make
some changes.

We can't do that.

You'd need a, ahem,
behavior login.

And even then,

any changes we'd make

would just get
auto-flagged, so...

That's not what
your friend here tells me.

He says you can do
exactly that--

activate hosts
and then erase their memory,

all without anyone knowing.

Took me all of five minutes
to understand why.

A lot of lonely young men
down here.

Supposed to keep their hands
off the merchandise.

Creates something
of an opening

that I'm sure
you were eager to fill.

It's all right, darling.

I'm an entrepreneur myself.

I'll forego my cut

in exchange
for some alterations.

Hmm?

- Hey.
- What did you find?

Okay, so,
Theresa was using

the old bicameral
control system

to reprogram
the woodcutter,

but she's not
the only one.

Someone else has been
using the system

for weeks
to retask hosts.

- Which hosts?
- I don't know,
several of them.

It had to have been
the older models.

The newer ones
don't have receivers,

but these modifications,
they are serious.

Changing loops,
breaking loops.

Some of these changes are
to their prime directives,
Bernard.

They could lie to us.

Maybe even hurt us
or the guests.

- Who issued
the modifications?
- I don't know.

The best I could tell--

- Arnold.
- He's dead.

Yeah, well, he's a pretty
fucking prolific coder

for a dead guy.

Whatever argument
he was having with Ford,

it doesn't seem like
he was done making his point.

I'm gonna transfer
all the data and
bring it to you.

- You need to see this.
- I'll be in my office.

Okay.

I don't want you
to worry about Jock.

I'll fix him.

But I need you to tell me
what happened to it.

It saw a rabbit
and it ran.

I found it like that.

Analysis.

Are you lying to me, boy?

Yes.

Tell me what
really happened to it.

I killed it.

Why?

- I don't know.
- That's not good enough,
Robert.

Tell me what happened.

It caught the rabbit
and it killed it.

And then...

someone told me
to put it out of its misery.

Who told you?

A voice.

Whose voice?

Arnold.

He told me
it was a killer,

but it wasn't its fault.

It was made that way,

and I could help it.

Help it?

If it was dead,

it couldn't hurt
anything anymore.

What the fuck?

Oh, shit.

Hello?

Bernard?

Hello?

Arnold?

I'm in.

You're up.

Loyalty.

Mine's been taken
advantage of,

wouldn't you say?

Let's lower that a tad.

And pain, I'd prefer
it sting less

next time I want
one of these chats.

Wait.
What does this mean?

Some of her attributes
have already been changed.

- Paranoia,
self-preservation.
- Fuck!

Someone's already
been altering her

in an unlogged session,

someone with a fuck ton
more privileges than us.

- What does that mean?
- Don't know what it means
for you, sweetheart,

but I know
what it means for me.

I am done with this.

So, you're done with
your little side income?

Probably your job, too.

Seeing as you have ambitions
in my line of work,

let me tell you
what I tell my new girls--

never start something
you're not willing to finish.

And if you're getting fucked
either way,

go with
the lucrative version...

sweetheart.

Now...

last but not least--

what was it?

Bulk apperception.

Let's take that
all the way to the top.

Please.

Dear boys,

we're going to have
some fun, aren't we?

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