Original subtitles

From humble beginnings

fraught with persecution in Nazi Germany,

to the shores of New York,

one small boy in a huddled mass yearning to breathe free,

Jon Osterman transcended pain, suffering, and even death itself

to create a life the likes of which history has never seen.

To some, the immigrant son of a poor clockmaker

was the fulfillment of the American dream.

To others, the world's first superman was a toxic nightmare.

Jon Osterman stepped into an intrinsic field chamber

to recover his girlfriend's watch.

But what emerged was an immortal god, impervious to the passage of time.

This victim of an atomic mishap would forever alter the history

of humankind by developing miraculous new wonders.

And then, Vietnam.

Was he the liberating hero who single-handedly ended the war

and delivered his country its 51st state?

Or was he the cold blue conqueror

who decimated an entire way of life?

And so, like the Viet Cong he vanquished a decade earlier, he retreated.

For the next ten hours, we'll explore the legacy

of this literally self-made man,

in hopes of understanding why he was here and why he left.

From humble beginnings fraught with persecution in Nazi Germany...

to the shores of New York...

Are you gonna take my money or not?

Show me.

I told you she was gonna try.

That you did.

Please let me see it?

What did we tell you last week, and the week before that?

I have to wait till I'm grown up.

People who wear masks are dangerous, Angela.

- And we should be scared of them. - Why?

Well, they're hiding something.

It's just pretend, Dad.

Well, it's only pretend until it's real.

And when you're a little older, you'll be able to tell the difference.

Until then,

take this on back, and Mom and me will get you mooncakes for the fireworks.

- Deal? - Deal.

Go ahead.

It's gonna be okay, baby. All right?

We're gonna be right behind you.

Did you fall out of bed again?

What happened?

I'm guessing you don't remember

asking me that five times already.

I'm happy to go over it again.

Your memory's a bit... broken.

You took an entire bottle of Nostalgia pills that weren't yours.

And now is when you usually ask me

how you got from locked up in a jail cell to here with me.

Well, since you OD'd on my drug,

Agent Blake called me up and asked if I could save your life.

So, here you are, getting your life saved.

Don't touch. It's your treatment.

And now is when you ask, "What treatment?"

And then I give you the tutorial injection.

Wait. What the hell are you...

So, you've taken someone else's Nostalgia.

Don't panic. We can help.

Introducing pneumodialysis, a treatment by Trieu Pharmaceuticals.

At this moment, foreign memories have invaded your brain.

Those memories have embedded by consolidating into neural networks,

clogging existing pathways and threatening higher cognitive function.

We call this process "recollective infestation."

The only remedy for infestation is to call a good exterminator,

so let's get in there and spray.

Pneumodialysis saturates the brain with cerebrospinal fluid

provided by a natural host, and literally flushes Nostalgia

from the cortex.

The procedure is delicate and somewhat tedious.

Consider keeping yourself occupied by meditating or reading a good book.

Thank you for trusting Trieu Pharmaceuticals

with the most precious of possessions. Your mind.

Goodbye, and have a pleasant return to consciousness.

Was that informative?

Don't ever fucking do that to me again.

That's what you said last time.

This tube...

It's connected to a natural host?

That's right.

My grandfather?

What...

What's happening?

It's a side effect of the treatment.

Your grandfather had very painful memories.

They're coming out of you now.

I need to talk to him.

You just spent the last two days being him.

Contact right now is a bad idea. I'm sorry, Detective...

but you wouldn't know where he ends and you begin.

As the treatment clears out your grandfather's memories,

you may re-experience your own vividly and without warning.

Do you mind if I ask what knocked you out of bed?

It was my...

tenth birthday party.

My mom and dad gave me a pony.

Good morning. It is now 12 hours

until the Millennium Clock is activated.

All personnel, please report to your assigned stations.

Hey, she still in there?

We wouldn't be here if she wasn't.

- Why don't you go in? - Go home, Cal. Huh?

Excuse me. Hi. Uh...

I need to see my wife.

I've been calling,

but no one's answering the phones.

Yes. Of course.

Please step aside, sir.

Good morning, Mr. Abar. I'm Bian.

Can you see and hear me okay?

Yeah.

I understand you want to see your wife.

Unfortunately, the timing couldn't be worse.

We're preparing to activate the Millennium Clock...

and for your own safety, we can't grant access to unauthorized personnel.

Is she okay?

Absolutely. She's resting right now.

And she's responding incredibly well

to the treatment my mother is administering.

Can I talk to her?

Sadly, you cannot.

Hey!

Where the hell is Agent Blake?

I've joined the enemy.

The police in this city smother our people under their shoes.

Beware the Cyclops.

Film projectors.

Cyclops is using some kind of mesmerism.

You can hang yourself now.

Agent Blake, you there?

- Agent Blake, come in. - What is it, Petey?

Remember when you told me to drive over to Detective Tillman's house

because you... Or, you know, Looking Glass,

because you thought it was really unusual that he ratted out

Detective Abar, and you were worried

that maybe he was working with the Seventh Kavalry?

Yes, Petey.

I remember it as if I said all of that to you verbatim.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's not working with them.

Because, uh...

five of them are here, and they're extremely dead.

Are you sure they're Kavalry?

Yeah. Yeah, they're all wearing Rorschach masks.

Well, actually, hold on. One of them isn't.

Mirror Guy, where is he?

Not here.

Kinda strange, considering he's a cop, that he didn't call this in, huh?

Should I call this in?

Uh, no, you should not call it in. You should stay exactly where you are.

I'll be there as soon as I'm done with my thing here.

What thing?

Agent Blake?

Hello?

- Agent Blake. - Mrs. Crawford.

Howdy.

- May I get you some tea? - Oh. Thanks. No, I'm fine.

You sure? Here. Please, have a seat.

- I can make some coffee. - Mrs. Crawford...

I know who killed your husband.

What?

His name is Will Reeves.

He was a policeman in New York back in the 1940s.

And he has history here in Tulsa.

He's Angela Abar's grandfather.

Oh... I don't understand. Angela said she doesn't have any family.

Well, we all have family, Mrs. Crawford.

Some of them we just don't talk about.

Well, why would this man want to kill Judd?

Well, this is the part that gets weird.

Angela OD'd on her grandpa's Nostalgia.

And while she was under, she talked a lot.

It's as if she was channeling the old man, reliving his life.

I've got it all on tape if you want to listen.

Like I said, weird.

It turns out that...

Will Reeves was Hooded Justice.

The very first masked vigilante.

And he was black.

I mean, this is a guy who inspired two generations of heroes,

my folks and myself included, but he had to hide who he was.

Because white men in masks are heroes, but black men in masks...

are scary.

- Thank God times have changed. - Yeah, thank God.

But the point is...

when she was walking a mile in Grandpa's memories,

Angela kept saying one word over and over and over.

"Cyclops."

Am I supposed to know what that is?

Back in the day, it was a racist cult, hot for mind control.

- Reeves made it his life's work... - Whoa, whoa, whoa, mind control?

Yes. I know. I know. Now, this may come as a bit of a shock...

but I think that Reeves believed your husband

was a part of this whole Cyclops thing.

And that's why he killed him.

And what do you believe?

Well, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't at least...

entertain the idea that the chief of police of Tulsa

wasn't a secret white supremacist.

Which has to make you wonder about his friends.

Like Joe Keene.

What if the Seventh Kavalry is just Cyclops by another name?

And what if Senator Joe used them to kill a bunch of police

so that he could put all the cops in masks?

And pretty soon, no one can tell the good guys from the bad guys,

because everybody's covering their fucking faces

and pledging loyalty to their newly-elected leader...

President Joe.

Well, that was the original idea.

But something extraordinary happened, and suddenly,

"president" seemed a bit small potatoes.

What?

I'm sorry. Was I not supposed to confess yet?

You've just been going on and on and on.

- Shit. - What the fuck are you doing?

Hey, it's me.

Laurie Blake just stopped by. You want me to kill her or what?

Good afternoon. It is now nine hours

until the Millennium Clock is activated.

All personnel designated green, please report to the medical wing

for the removal of any remaining metal implants.

Which man looks more trustworthy?

- What? - First instinct.

Which is more trustworthy?

- The candy man. - Why?

People don't fly kites alone.

Which woman looks more scared?

The one who's about to jump.

What makes you think she's going to jump?

Why else would she be on a ledge?

Which woman is the angriest?

They're exactly the same.

Are you sure?

I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with my treatment?

Oh. Nothing. It's research for my dissertation.

It's on the adaptive function of empathy

and the role of rage suppression in social cohesion.

I have a son that's about your age, and I can barely get him to open a book.

Is it hard lying to him?

What?

About being a police detective.

My understanding is you're not allowed to tell your children.

It's for their own protection.

Not yours?

They lost their parents.

If they knew what I did, they would worry.

If you don't want your kids to worry you're a cop...

then why are you a cop?

Detective Abar? Detective Abar?

Are you okay?

Okay.

I'm not scared.

That's him.

I'm sure.

Can I listen?

If you don't want your kids to worry you're a cop...

then why are you a cop?

You ain't gonna get justice with a badge, Will Reeves.

You're gonna get it with that hood.

Detective Abar.

Detective Abar?

Whose was it?

What?

Whose memory did you just experience?

Yours or your grandfather's?

Mine.

Well, that's progress. It means the treatment is working.

I have these dreams sometimes.

They feel so real.

I'm an old woman.

I'm scared...

and it hurts.

What was it like for you?

When you saw what he saw...

felt what he felt.

It hurt, too.

Hear ye! Hear ye!

So begins day 365 of The People v. Adrian Veidt,

alias Ozymandias, alias Master.

All rise for His Honor, the Game Warden.

Be seated.

Very well. Let's get this over with.

Madam Prosecutor, you may offer your closing argument.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, honorable Warden...

Master.

From the moment the accused pulls us from the water...

to the moment he inevitably slaughters us...

we are governed by one law.

A law imbued in us by our creator when he gifted us with life...

and this glorious paradise in which to live it.

"Thou shalt not leave."

Is the accused guilty of murder?

The evidence is indisputable.

Even from the time before he came to us, he freely admits

he not only took the lives of fellow costumed adventurers...

but those of three million innocent people.

Does he apologize for manufacturing an enormous alien being

and using it to perpetrate mass genocide?

Does he show a shred of remorse?

No.

He tells us such wanton carnage was

"a necessary sacrifice to achieve utopia."

And so for years, he hurled our lifeless bodies into the great beyond.

Lives we offered unto him without questioning his intent.

An intent he made ever more clear

in a series of self-aggrandizing monologues

espousing his own superiority and his true purpose.

Escape.

"Thou shalt not leave."

Ladies and gentlemen, the choice is simple.

Resign yourself to our Master's cruel whim...

or find him...

guilty.

The prosecution rests.

Master Veidt, you've chosen to represent yourself, and yet...

over the course of this past year, you've offered no testimony

nor evidence to contradict the prosecution's case.

If you have anything to say in your defense, say it now.

The defense...

rests.

Ladies and gentlemen, I owe you an apology.

Not for the foul disregard for decency

that just emanated from the bowels of the accused...

but for placing upon you the burden of judging... him.

For it is the foundation of a fair trial that every man

be judged by a jury of his peers.

You are not his peers.

As such, I have taken the liberty of assembling an alternative jury...

much more suited to the task.

Go!

What say you, madam?

How do you find the defendant?

Guilty!

Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

Hey. You hungry?

Then why did you come here?

I have a secret plan to save humanity,

and it starts in Oklahoma.

Can't tell if you're kidding.

Sure you can.

Why did you come here?

My husband and I were tired of Saigon.

Tulsa PD was hiring. Seemed as good a place as any.

And you were looking to start over after his accident.

It was a car crash, right?

I've done a lot of research on memory.

Total amnesia is extremely rare.

Unless you're in a soap opera. In real life, it almost never happens.

It happened.

Of course it did.

I can't imagine what it was like.

No sense of who he was or who you were.

His whole life up to that moment just...

gone.

- How do you know about Cal? - Your grandfather told me.

I spent all of 20 minutes with that man. He doesn't know shit about my husband.

- Well, he knows shit about you. - Yeah?

Let's follow my tube and see what he knows about me.

It would be a bad idea to see him right now.

Then why did he want me to take his fucking pills?

He didn't think you'd take them all at once.

Nostalgia is more tolerable in small doses.

And whose Nostalgia is your daughter tolerating?

I'm sorry?

She told me about her dreams, where she's some sick old lady.

And I'm just wondering, whose memories are you slipping to her?

Her own.

- What? - I'm slipping her own memories to her.

Bian's not my daughter. She's my mother.

Before she died, I harvested her memories, and then I cloned her.

Of course, she wouldn't be my mother

unless she had my mother's experiences...

so over time, I've been reintegrating her memories

while she sleeps via IV drip.

You're a fucking crazy person.

I'm on the verge of completing my life's work.

Is it wrong to want my parents with me when I do?

Your dad's here, too?

He will be.

And your life's work is turning on your big fancy gizmo

so that you can save humanity?

You make it sound ridiculous when you say it like that.

So then tell me what it fucking does.

Your clock.

No.

Good afternoon. It is now four hours

until the Millennium Clock is activated.

All personnel, please report to the viewing platform.

Lady Trieu's invocation is for our ears only.

The future thanks you for your service.

Agent Blake.

I hear you cracked the case.

Hooded Justice. I didn't see that coming.

Not a lot of 100-year-old vigilantes rolling around.

A trapdoor?

I'm sorry?

Who has a fucking trapdoor installed in their living room?

Ah.

Jane told me I was tempting fate by sending you down to Tulsa.

But for reasons that will soon become obvious, I couldn't...

Oh, Jesus. Please don't.

- What? - Talk me through your fucking plan.

Let me guess.

When you were just a boy, your father put you on his knee

and told you that you'd been born into the Order of the Cyclops,

and that it was your legacy to grow up and be

the most powerful racist fuck in the nation.

That's not at all what happened.

I'm tired, Joe.

I'm tired of all the silliness.

You want me to ask you why I'm strapped to a chair

in an abandoned JCPenney, or what that cage is for?

Fine.

Just know that I don't give a shit.

Oh, you'll give a shit about this, Laurie.

You of all people.

You're wrong about Cyclops. We're not racist.

We're about restoring balance in those times

when our country forgets the principles upon which it was founded.

Because the scales have tipped way too far...

and it is extremely difficult to be a white man in America right now.

So, I'm thinking...

I might try being a blue one.

When I was 15 years old, I graduated from MIT.

Four years later, I bought it.

By 24, I had revolutionized the fields of medicine,

energy, nanotech.

And at 30, I designed and launched the first micro-fusion spacecraft.

But there were failures, too.

My greatest was Nostalgia.

I gave people the means to visit the past so they could learn from it.

So they could evolve and transform, and better themselves.

Instead, they became fixated...

on their most painful memories...

choosing to experience the worst moments of their lives...

over and over again. And why?

Because they were afraid.

Afraid that once unburdened by the trauma of the past...

they would have no excuse not to move gloriously into the future.

This Millennium Clock is a monument to the new.

Countless generations will gaze upon our mighty work...

and without despair, acknowledge the miracle it set in motion.

I know you're in there.

I took your pills. You showed me your life.

Why?

I know why you killed Crawford.

What do you want from me?

Will!

Open the fucking door!

What the fuck?

Subject disconnected.

This lady yell at you like that all the time?

Yeah.

You can go now.

Well, hello there, Angela.

I... I'm June.

I'm your grandma.

Hi.

I'm here to take you home.

Your daddy ever mention me?

Mmm-mmm.

Figures.

- You're his mom? - Yeah. I was his mom.

Ways back, he told me he wanted to put on a uniform

and come here to Vietnam and fight.

I said if he did, I'd never talk to him again.

He came anyway. He was stubborn, your daddy.

But he forgot where he got stubborn from.

War ended, he met your mom.

Lots of opportunity in a brand-new state...

so he stayed.

Couple years went by. Couple more.

Then I had a heart attack.

Mmm-mmm, I was fine. It was just a little bitty one.

But such things tend to have sentimental effects...

so I wrote your daddy a letter.

Had to send it to the army here because I had no address for him.

It came back unopened, with a big stamp on it.

"Deceased."

Turns out, he never listed me as next of kin.

As far as he was concerned...

I didn't exist.

That's when I found out he had a wife...

and she was gone also.

And then they told me he had a little girl.

A little girl who was all alone, with no next of kin.

So, I bought me a plane ticket and I came here to get you.

Tell me something about yourself, Angela. Anything.

I'm gonna be a police officer.

Of course you are.

What else you got in there?

Oh! I remember this one.

You do not wanna fuck with Sister Night.

- This your favorite? - I'm not allowed to watch it.

Why not?

My dad said we should be scared of people in masks.

Well, that's because someone in a mask scared him...

when he was about your age...

and he never really got over it.

Do I have a grandpa?

Lots of movies out there. Um, why you carrying around this one?

She looks like me.

Know what? She does look like you.

I reckon there's not a lot of people here in Vietnam who do.

No, ma'am.

Tell you what.

I have a VCR in Tulsa. We'll watch this first thing.

- Where's Tulsa? - Tulsa's in Oklahoma, honey.

It's where we're from.

Precious cargo. Can't be too safe.

There.

Subject disconnected.

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Subject disconnected.

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Subject disconnected.

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Subject disconnected.

I don't know why I keep coming to these stupid phone booths

and telling you jokes.

It's not like you ever had a sense of humor.

I know you're probably never gonna hear this anyway.

Sometimes it's...

Sometimes it's nice to pretend.

So many prayers unanswered.

I own and operate thousands of Manhattan booths around the world.

You wouldn't believe what people ask him for.

They beg and beg and beg for his help.

Beg for him to come down from the heavens and make things better.

But he ignores them, every single one.

Do you know why?

- I give up. - Because Dr. Manhattan isn't listening.

He's not even on Mars.

Where is he?

Right here in Tulsa.

Pretending to be human.

Are you the one who put that idea in my grandfather's head?

Actually, he put it in mine.

Angela...

are we going to keep fucking around here?

Or are we going to be honest with each other?

Tell me how you know my grandfather

and tell me what the fuck you're doing here,

and don't say it's saving fucking humanity.

Your grandfather came to me because he needed someone with my resources

to help him stop the Seventh Kavalry.

Stop them from doing what?

In less than an hour, they're going to capture Dr. Manhattan...

and they're going to destroy him.

And then they're going to become him.

Can you imagine that kind of power in the hands of white supremacists?

I'm sorry, Angela. I know you asked me not to say it,

but I am saving fucking humanity.

I'm leaving now.

'Cause that's the craziest shit I've ever heard.

Okay.

You didn't ask me who he is.

- What? - I know you think I'm crazy, but...

I just told you Dr. Manhattan is here in Tulsa,

walking amongst us as a human being, and you never asked me who he is.

Why are you always hungry?

Fast metabolism.

I'm gonna go check this out.

- Tell Scare to move. - He's not gonna move.

And you're under arrest.

Jen, tell Scare to move. I don't wanna hurt him.

It's Abar. She wants you to move. She says she doesn't wanna hurt you.

Fuck her!

You tell her she's under arrest?

You crazy fucking bitch!

Fuck you!

Angela.

Are the kids asleep?

Yeah. You okay?

I'm fine.

I don't understand. What happened?

I came to see you, but they wouldn't let me...

Cal, I need you to stop talking and listen to me, okay?

Okay.

You're a great husband...

an amazing father.

You're the best friend I've ever had.

I love you.

I love you, too.

Time to come out of the tunnel.

What, uh...

- "Tunnel"? - Don't be scared.

We talked about this.

And we always knew that this day would come.

What day, Angela?

- I don't know what you're talking about. - You do know.

You just don't remember.

Did we talk about this before my accident?

There was no accident.

- What? - It was a lie.

A lie so that we could be together.

At least for a while.

If it's any consolation, it was your idea.

Honey, I don't know what they did to you,

but I think the drug you took is messing you up.

You're not yourself.

No, Jon.

You're not yourself.

My name is not Jon.

I'm so sorry.

Hey, baby.

We're in fucking trouble.