All language subtitles for Person of Interest - 4x22 - YHWH.HDTV.LOL.en

_

May 6th.

It's about to begin.

Whose name was on the account?

It was yours, Link.

You planted that message.

How does it feel to know
that you're responsible

for the death of your friend?

The Machine gave up its location
to save our lives.

They're going to kill her,
Harold.

An update now on our top story.

Utilities have yet to determine

what is behind
these power surges.

Although, speculation ranges
from aging infrastructure

to Chinese hackers.

- Samaritan.
- Indeed.

It appears to have located
the Machine.

Most likely on a data farm
out West.

But the surges are happening
all over, now headed East.

It's possible that the Machine
has distributed itself

in more than one place.

Samaritan's trying to
cut off Her power.

Starve Her.
And for all we know,

it's already succeeded.

Still no word from the Machine?

Not since Greer let us go.

She won't talk to me.
Or can't.

It's coming from
behind the wall.

Must have been walled in
during renovation decades ago.

0. 0. 0. 0.

What is it?

- Nine zeros.
- 0. 0. 0. 0. 0.

It's the Machine's
distress code.

I programmed it in to warn me
of an imminent system shutdown.

- 0. 0. 0. 0. 0.
- Shutdown?

- You mean--
- The Machine is dying,

Ms. Groves.

3. 1. 4.

- 3-1-4...
- Pi.

That's the code for the Case.
She needs our help.

How can we help the Machine
if we don't know where it is?

She needs us to pick up a few
more things, and fast.

We'll find Her on the way.

Mr. Reese isn't answering
his phone.

A mission this critical,
shouldn't we try to find him,

bring him along?

You want to stay here and wait
for the phone to ring, Harold?

Fine. But right now,
we have another calling.

Time to make a deal,
Detective Riley.

The Elias era is over.

New World Order.

I want the same arrangement
he had.

Your friend Harold
is gonna be my inside man.

I want the keys to the city.

There are no keys.

No arrangements.

- You think I'm stupid?
- No.

You're just smart enough
to get yourself killed.

Go get Detective Fusco.

Put a bullet in his head.

Here I thought you couldn't
look any worse.

You should see
the other guy's knuckles.

Yeah.

That was kind of hot.

Let's go, champ.

Zachary, how goes the hunt?

Nearly a quarter
of the nation's power supply

has been compromised.

Soon the Machine will lose
access to it entirely.

We've all but treed the fox,
Mr. Greer.

Splendid.

Then burn down the tree.

_

Shiffman, index these numbers
with addresses.

Coordinates.

We're looking for a target.

Threat reports for tomorrow,
May 6th.

New York, Chicago, DC.

Just the highlights.

Yankees game,
Empire State Building,

subway system, all low.

Willis Tower, Wrigley Field,
negligible.

DC...

_

No reports for DC.

None?

There they are.

All low.

Must have been a glitch.

Samaritan had a glitch?

I have reason to believe
an attack is gonna take place

in the next 24 hours.

It's called "the Correction."

May 6th, what have you heard?

Any operations in and around
the capital?

All quiet.

Except the address
in Columbia Heights.

The one in the memo.

What memo?

Operational quarantine.

Do not disturb.
Nobody in our out.

Columbia Heights?

Who wrote this memo?

Ma'am, you did.

Detective's gone.

Somebody sprung him.

And look who came back.

Why would I help some cop?

Because that's your game.

You play both
sides of the fence.

Just like you did with us
and the Cartel.

Didn't think I'd ever really
trust you, did you?

I came to get answers.

The only thing we're leaving
is bodies.

Lock down all the exits,
find Detective Fusco,

and shoot him on sight.

She's talking
to me again, Harry.

Surely, the Machine
isn't hiding itself

in a high-end
apartment building.

She led us here for a reason.

We just have to do what She says
when She says it.

Easy for you to say.
You're the one

the Machine says everything to.

I'm telling you,
there is no fire.

Our alarm didn't even go off.

The why did our system
say it did?

We got
confirmation from dispatch.

See, Harry?

The Machine has a plan.

The penthouse?

Look at these.

The bleeding edge
of night vision system.

Ultra HD, built-in
infrared illuminator,

and piezoelectric battery
that charges itself

whenever it's moved.

Never run out of juice.

Go ahead.

Turn off lights.

Sold.

We'll take 'em.

Got what we came for.

Come on, Harry.

Oh, dear.

Why aren't we moving?

New York's Bravest
down there must have disabled

the emergency override.

We'll have to hack the elevator,
reprogram the controls.

There's no time.

No more standing
on the sidelines.

You want us to save your skin?

Get in the game.

♪ _

_

Thank you. _

Get ready, Harry.

Something tells me this won't be
our last wild ride today.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.addic7ed.com

The Machine wants us
to break into Caleb's office

and borrow a few things.

Your employee ID got us
through the front door, Ms. Groves.

But accessing the company code
will be a whole other matter.

For a genius,
my boss keeps his code

locked behind a surprisingly
last-gen security structure.

The cameras are resisting loops,

so I've had to
disable them entirely.

Are you sure
that's such a good idea, Harry?

If the Machine can't see us,
She can't help us.

I found the code.

Now I just need to download it.

That was way too easy.

Which means...

Just relax guys.

I'm sure there's a good reason
why Shannon, here,

or whatever your name really is,

broke into a secure area

and tried to access
my compression algorithm.

Look, I know this sounds insane,

but I'm trying
to save the world,

and your compression algorithm

plays a small but crucial part
of doing that.

I just, I can't think
why I should trust you.

Then don't.

Trust him.

Hello, Caleb.

Mr. Swift.

What's going on here?

Let me just take a moment
to say how proud I am

of everything you've done
with your life

since I knew you as a student.

And I truly wish there were time
here for a more appropriate

and meaningful reunion,
but right now,

I have to try to explain
as best I can

why we need your algorithm.

Hold on, Mr. Swift.

_

Anything you need,
you can have.

No explanation necessary.

You saved my life.

Thank you.

Boys, there's no time.

Oh, and Caleb, we also borrowed

a few of the prototype 128 gig
multi-state RAM chips

from Project X.

You knew about Project X?

Really needed it.

Thanks again.

Huh.

Look what we have here.

A phone hooked up
to my mesh network.

Detective Riley and company
commandeered it for themselves.

Clearly, you owe me a big favor.

We got a soldier down,
south exit.

No radio response.

We got to move out.

That is quite a dilemma.

You stay and be caught,
or leave empty-handed.

Unlock it.

Get Harold down here,
or both their lives are on you.

I won't ask again.

Perhaps if we knew
the Machine's location,

we could determine how much time
we have to save it.

Clearly, the Machine
is experiencing

some kind of malfunction brought
on by these power surges.

So far,
all we've gathered to save it

is one algorithm,
a few RAM chips,

and a pair of
night-vision goggles.

Hardly a recipe for success.

Recipe? We're not baking
a cake here, Harold.

Trust the process.

Mr. Reese, what a relief
to finally hear from--

Mr. Reese?

Of course.

I figured Riley
wasn't his real name.

Nice to meet you, Harold.

Can't wait to
start working together.

Where is John?

Don't worry about John.

As long as you cooperate,
he gets to keep on breathing.

We'll send you a new location.

Be there in 15.

Alone.

The Machine will have to wait.
I have to go help John.

Harold, the Machine
is the priority here.

No, people are the priority
here, Ms. Groves.

The Machine's only reason
for existing is to save them.

I'm not gonna sacrifice John
to help rescue an AI

that on its best days is
cryptic and withholding,

and on its worst,
borderline homicidal.

She's not perfect, Harold.

But She's the only chance
we've got.

We let Sameen slip away.

So now we're supposed to
let John go, too?

I don't want to sacrifice
Sameen, either.

But if the Machine dies,
the world we wake up in tomorrow

is one none of us wants to see.

She needs John alive
as much as we do.

She won't let him down.

Come on.

Come on, jump in the car.

Are you out of your mind?

Since when is that relevant?

Get in, Harry.

_

Looks like we found our Harold.

Which means you
are no longer needed.

Nor you.

Put them down.

Let's get the hell out of here.

Mr. Reese comes with us.

What the hell is that?

Old fax machine.

What does it say?

"Sharp right leg.
Left knee, ACL.

Tactical blade.
Glass jaw."

Can. You. Hear. Me?

Hell yes.

10:00.

3:00.

1:00.

Drop the gun!

Get down!

I said down on the ground!

All clear.

We got him, Detective.

Detective Fusco.

You're under arrest, jackass.

Quarantined address.

Columbia Heights.

Get the ratchet.

Takes some balls
to run an off-the-books op

at a quarantined address.
So why'd you choose me?

You had Agent Shaw in your
sights and you let her go.

You value people over protocol.

And you're not afraid
to question authority.

Well then,
I have another question.

Why are we breaking into
this place?

That quarantine order
from Research?

Mm-hmm.

I never ordered it.

That's why.

That smell.

Ammonium nitrate.

Fertilizer.

From the smell, a lot of it
was here.

Just a few hours ago.

Blueprints, too.

But for what?

Ma'am, you need to see this.

Propane tank.

Why is the lid cut off?

To build a bomb.

There's at least
a half a dozen more.

Enough to blow an entire floor
of a federal building.

And whoever made it

is already on the move.

Take care of yourself, John.

I'm gonna enjoy watching you
get put away.

I wouldn't count those chickens
just yet.

I'm gonna go along for the ride.

Make sure the Feds
don't screw this one up.

Want to jump in the van?

I'll take a rain check.

I need to help Finch.

You did a nice job, Lionel.

I fail to see how
over a dozen bags of ice

plays into our larger mission.

It's Cinco De Mayo.

If She asks us to pick up
some salt and limes,

I'd say you have your answer.

Which brings me
to my next concern.

You've been in God Mode
since this morning.

Isn't such constant contact
with the Machine

likely to attract
Samaritan's attention?

When you're right, Harry,
you're right. Start the car.

Hey, you're five bucks short
on the ice.

Whoa!
We're cool, we're cool.

Appreciate your understanding.

Get in!

With the wave of
brownouts spreading across the US,

experts expect power surges
and outages of the East Coast

and into the greater
New York area.

Management's been redirecting
everyone.

There have been surges
all over the country.

We're gonna be banking
some serious OT tonight.

What the hell are you doing?

We've been replacing these
things for how many months now?

You've never been tempted
to see what's inside?

It's a line conditioning box.

That's all you need to know.
Now put it back.

But why aren't we allowed
to see what's inside?

I mean, what's
the worst that can happen?

The last guy who had your job,
he opened up one of those boxes.

Next day, he was gone.

That's all I know.

You're the boss.

Smart.
Now get in the cab.

_

- Senator.
- Why the urgent meeting?

Your phone.

_

Soundproofed.

Job finally getting to you?

Not the job.

Samaritan.

We need to pull the feeds,
blind the damn thing, now.

Why would we blind
the single greatest watchdog

America has ever had?

Greer used us.

He's making a power play.

And Samaritan is his weapon.

There's gonna be a bomb
that detonates here in DC

tomorrow.

Why would Greer allow an attack,
much less plan one?

It would make Samaritan
look inept.

Come on, Ross.

You know how the wheels spin
in this city.

A few pawns get fired,

but the person
who's really responsible

just gets a bigger checkbook.

After the Vigilance attack,
we handed the feeds to Greer

for Samaritan.

After this attack, we'll be
under their thumb completely.

All of us, even you.

What's the alternative?

Go back to the old Machine.

Ingram's Machine?

The black box so slippery it
moved itself to God knows where?

It never lied.

Never slaughtered.

This meeting is over.

And if you're lucky,
I won't tell anyone

about the insane rant
I just heard.

My phone.

Take my advice.

Get a firm grip.

_

Good advice, Senator.

That's exactly
what I'm gonna do.

_

Iris, we need to talk.

John, what's going on?

You need to go now.

Get out of town for a few days.

What?

You once said you were
pretty sure I wasn't a cop.

Well, if what I'm about to do
goes sideways,

the wrong people will figure
that out, too.

And anyone I care about
will be at risk.

What is it,
and organized crime thing?

Much worse than that.

Look, I don't know how
this is gonna shake out,

but you've got to trust me.

You want me to trust you?

Trust me.

Tell me what the hell's
going on.

All right.

I make it through this
in one piece, we'll talk.

I'll tell you everything.

No holding back.

Okay.

John, am I going to lose you?

Take care of yourself.

Senator Garrison,
I hope you haven't summoned me

for a tour of operations.

If we want to see
Samaritan at work,

there are more
appropriate times.

Where is everyone?

I gave them the night off.

Cinco De Mayo.

Good for morale.

I told them to get a
margarita, but stay on call.

Because an attack can happen
at any time.

Isn't that right?

She just gave me
our final destination.

She's in Brooklyn.

We're running out of time,
Harry.

We can only go just so fast,
Ms. Groves.

This thing has eight cylinders.

But I sincerely doubt
it can fly.

We'll never make it
under an hour.

Not in this traffic.

What we need is a little help.

_

I stand corrected.

Hang on.
We're coming.

What is this place?

I don't know, but the Machine
says we're here.

Let's go.

Heard you guys
could use some help.

John.

I'm so relieved to see you.

See? The Machine's taking care
of all of us.

Now we have to return the favor.

Harold?

- Harold Admin?
- That would be me.

Sweet. Thought I was gonna have
to take these back to the truck.

Sign.

15 laptops, huh?
Startup?

Trying to avoid a shutdown,
actually.

Let's get the ice
in before it melts.

- Get inside, Harold.
- Samaritan.

What's the hold up, Harold?

Some surprisingly
high-tech security.

Two, four, three,
star, seven, one--

I've got this.

Cozy.

An electrical substation.

Hidden in the heart
of residential Brooklyn.

You seem pretty relaxed
considering the circumstances.

The way I see it,
my case hangs on the credibility

of a one-time dirty cop
and a detective

with ties to
an organized crime boss.

Won't help you with the Feds.

They'll hit you with RICO.

Perhaps, but the Brotherhood
runs lock up now.

I've got protection.

You, on the other hand...

Do you plan to make my stay
inhospitable?

Something like that.
Be seeing you in Rikers.

I have to admit, I admire
your certainty, Dominic,

but I still have a few friends.

Unfortunately for you,
I am not going to Rikers.

Lock it down, Finch.

I've got a dozen bogies.

I'm guessing more
are on the way.

I can't hold off
an entire army.

Laptops and ice
aren't gonna help.

We need to find the Machine.

That may prove impossible.

This is one of any number
of city substations

devoted to the distribution
of electricity

across the southern half
of New York.

The Machine can't be here

because there's simply
not enough room.

If the Machine's not here,
then why are we?

That's what we have to find out.

Looks like a computer I made
as a teenager.

What is it for?

No idea.

Just following orders
as fast as I can.

That cable, first transformer.

Hurry.

You find it, Harry?

The one that steps
down to 7,200 volts.

Yes.
But why on earth

would we need to tap into
that much raw electricity?

Thornhill.

John, look out your window.

On the power lines,
do you see any boxes?

I see one.

It's marked with "T."
Why?

I believe I was mistaken.

The Machine is here.

It's here because
it's everywhere.

What do you mean, Harry?

Two years ago, when the Machine
moved itself,

it didn't go to a data farm.

It went into the wires.

It uploaded itself directly into
the nation's electrical grid.

But Finch, if the Machine
is everywhere,

then how the hell do we save it?

Good question.

And I think I have the answer.

I'm flattered
that you went to such trouble

for a private conversation.

Spoofing a message
from the Senator.

You could have just called.

I had a feeling
your schedule was booked.

Through May 6th.

Yes, I know about
the "Correction."

Ammonium Nitrate.

Easy enough to acquire that you
could frame anyone for it.

But the piece you're gonna
tell me is the target.

Right now.

Or you're going to shoot me.

You should be so lucky.

If you refuse, two men are gonna
walk through that door.

One will put a black bag
over your head,

and the other will zip-tie
your wrists.

You will be thrown into a hole

so dark and deep

that even
your precious Samaritan

can't see inside.

And the last thing you'll hear
is my voice saying,

"This is where you belong."

Even if your theory
about this attack were true,

think how much
you'd stand to benefit.

An even more generous
black budget.

Courts will rubber-stamp
any request for surveillance

you care to submit.

The courts.

That's it.

That number.

It's a docket number.

The Supreme Court is scheduled
to hear a case challenging

the federal government's
surveillance powers tomorrow.

But take out the justices,

and you could stack the court
in your favor

for generations to come.

Only, it's not gonna happen.

- Grice?
- Ma'am?

The target is the Supreme Court.

Evacuate the building.
Locate the bomb.

Roger that.

Looks like the Correction
has just been canceled.

Let me get this straight, Finch.

The Machine is using
the power grid as a giant brain?

Essentially.

There's a tremendous amount
of unused space

in copper power lines.

The boxes on the lines allow
the Machine's digital signals

to travel in that space.

A highly complex computational
system hiding in plain sight.

And now that system is being
flooded with energy.

Driving the Machine across
the country to this last corner

of the grid around New York.

Samaritan's trying to flatline
the Machine.

And we need to save Her.
Before it finishes the job.

Attention.

We'd tell you you're surrounded,
but your Machine has probably

filled you in on that score.

Evacuate the building
and maybe you'll live.

If you're still inside
when we come through that door,

that will no longer be
a possibility.

You decide.

What's the plan?

We save the Machine
by storing it.

Downloading it straight off
the power lines

into the Random Access Memory
in this briefcase.

The Machine's gonna fit
into that briefcase?

Not the entire Machine.

Just the core heuristics.

A strand of DNA.

We use Caleb's compression
algorithm to squeeze it all in.

Who says you can't put the genie
back in the bottle?

Be careful, Ms. Groves.

The process you're describing
is completely untested.

Even if it does work,
the Machine will be

so highly compressed
that it won't be able to

process information,
or send signals,

or communicate in any way.

And if it doesn't work?

Then the Machine
will be torn apart.

Core code shredded.

Irretrievable.
In short, John, we'll kill it.

And then they'll kill us
and the world as we know it.

At least we'll die trying.

We're the Machine's last hope,
Harold.

Then we'd better get to work.

_

At the Supreme Court searching
for the device now, Ma'am.

Check every room, Grice.

No stone left unturned.

My men will find your bomb.

You know me.

You're not making it
out of here alive.

But you could save yourself
some complications

if you tell me
who put you up to this.

What they offered you.

Don't you recognize an idealist
when you meet one?

An idealist who wants to make
the world a better place

by murdering
a few hundred people?

Oh, no.

The world has only ever been
made a better place by violence.

You know that.

Every leader
who ever preached peace

did so guarded by armed men.

One thing we can agree on,

kill a few people at random,
nothing changes.

But kill the right people...

We're gonna have to
hurry this up, Harold.

We got 20 or 30 of them
out there.

23 in the front, actually.

Ten more approaching
from the back.

Not to belabor the point,
but we're running out of time.

So, if this works,
the voltage gets stepped down,

passes through the demodulator,

where the Machine's signal is
separated from the white noise.

Compressed with Caleb's
algorithm and these laptops,

and then finally, into the RAM
in this briefcase,

powered by the piezoelectric
battery.

Not the whole Machine.

Just enough to rebuild it.

- If...
- If we make it out of here.

Sorry, Mr. Reese.
I know I was upfront

about the risk
that we'd be running, but--

Forget about it, Harold.

There's no place I'd rather be.

Hey, boss.

Time to get you out of here.

Yeah.

Come on.

What is it?

A breach in the back entrance.

Get back.

Reese, where the hell are you?

We're sitting ducks here.

I know.

I figured
I'd get some night air.

John?

Can you hear me?

- Yes.
- Good.

Now kill the lights.

Hold your positions.

Smoke grenade!

I can't see him.

1:00, 11:00.

Whatever you're gonna
do in there, Finch, do it now.

Here we go.

- Ma'am?
- Yes?

You're not gonna believe this.

I've been through every room,
every floor, there's nothing.

No explosives of any kind.

You're right.
I don't believe it.

Where is it?

Where's the bomb, Greer?

Do you really think Samaritan
would use such crude tactics?

You don't take over the world
with gaudy displays of violence.

Real control is surgical.

Invisible.

It interferes
only when necessary.

No one will question Samaritan
because no one will ever know

when it has acted.

All right.

Let's end this.

Put down the weapon.

Samaritan has watched
this world for a year.

It settled on a list
of corrections.

Corrections that were
long overdue.

Put it down, Dominic.
Now.

This doesn't involve you,
Detective.

That's where you're wrong.

Get down, Detective!

Most of humanity is docile.

Pliant.

It's only
over a few hundred people

who create all of the problems.

Samaritan has identified them.

The disruptors.

The outliers who have
problems with authority.

And then there's the disloyal.

The grit in the gears.

Thank you for leading us
directly to them.

We couldn't have done it
without you...

Control.

6:00

1:00.

11:00.

I'm gonna keep trying to
hold them off, Harold.

How much longer?

I don't have any idea.

Cover your eyes.

_

♪ welcome to the machine ♪

_

_

♪ where have you been ♪

We haven't failed yet.

_

_

You had an impossible challenge.

One I never programmed you for.

_

_

That's not true...

_

_

11:00.

Root, I don't think the Machine
can help us anymore.

She's dying.

Going offline.

_

You were my creation.

I can't let--

I can't let you die.

_

_

_

Power's surging across the city.

It's coming to the Machine.

Harold, no!

Men have gazed at the stars
for millennia

and wondered whether
there was a deity up there,

silently directing their fates.

Today, for the first time,
they'll be right.

And the world will be

an undeniably better place.

Pity you won't
be there to see it.

But the attack.

_

This was a test of loyalty.

Of which, I'm sorry to say,
you failed.

In Samaritan's view,

there is no room for outliers.

Which means there is
no room for you.

But don't worry.

You'll be taken to
a place where you belong.

♪ welcome my son ♪

♪ welcome ♪

Is it finished?

_

Oh, that hurt.

Did it work, Harold?

Is She in there?

♪ it's all right
we told you what to dream ♪

Yes.

Yes, I think so.

We have to move, Harold.

We're on our own now.

John?

Oh.

You're alive.

I got a few more years
on my pension, Harold.

What's our status?

Well, I've got one-and-a-half
clips, a metrocard,

and God's either dead

or running on double-As.

You always did like a challenge,
Mr. Reese.

Let's move.

♪ he always ate
in the steak bar ♪

♪ he loved to drive
in his Jaguar ♪

♪ so welcome ♪

♪ to the machine ♪

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.addic7ed.com