The Peripheral (2022) s01e06 Episode Script

1
I can access anything here,
but the truly exciting stuff
comes from our
Behavioral Mod Department.
You can't do that.
I mean, they're people.
They're real people.
You're so frighteningly good.
Burton, I'm done being a sitting duck.
We don't even know if
that headset is safe.
The oddest thing I've ever encountered.
And how safe is it here,
sitting around, just waiting
for someone to come and get us?
Get down!
Pretty good with a shotgun, too.
Want to see?
'Cause the people who'll
be coming for me, well
they're not the sort to
leave loose ends untied.
There's a pretty easy fix for this.
I ain't gonna shoot it, Burton.
And if one of you idiots
goes ahead and tries,
I'll knock your fucking teeth out,
just so we're clear.
Someone's got to do something,
'cause I can't take
much more of that shit.
Intel says there's
chatter about the Tex-asses
using wounded dogs to
draw us into the open.
And now here we are.
With a fucked-up dog
parked right in front of us.
Seems pretty open-and-shut
to me, don't you think?
If there was somewhere for a Tex-ass
to be hunkered down around here,
waiting on a Good Samaritan.
Man, sniper three klicks
away'd take you out.
Be dead before you even
had a chance to realize
how fucking stupid you were.
Three klicks might
as well be to the moon
with this sandy shit
they call air around here.
Come on, baby boy.
We ain't taken fire in 19 days.
Just do something. Please?
Don't even think about it. Conner!
- Fuck.
- Twelve o'clock.
Son of a bitch.
Movement. Two o'clock.
That's a fucking crow, Leon.
Fuck's sake.
Hey.
Damn.
All this sniper fire sure
is making it rough, ain't it?
Just get it done, motherfucker.
Hey there, champ.
Let me just
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I'm here, man. I'm right here.
It's okay. It's okay.
You're good.
I'm here. I'm here, man.
Okay?
It's all right, man.
You do recall I don't
like to be interrupted
on my daily constitutional, Beatrice?
Yes, ma'am.
I assume this is about
the recent disturbance
at the Research Institute.
Indeed, ma'am.
In ten words or less, please.
There's been a murder
in Sackville Street
involving a Peripheral and a Koid.
That's 14 words, Beatrice.
Indeed, ma'am.
Clarity seemed to require the surfeit.
And yet so much remains unclear.
How would you utilize a
more generous allotment?
I'd inform you that the victim
is the Research Institute's
head of security, one Daniel Cook.
I know Daniel.
"Knew," ma'am, would be the
correct tense, I believe.
Killed by a Koid?
Indeed.
Throat slashed.
It's lovely, isn't it?
Almost like a picture, ma'am.
Don't be cheeky, Beatrice.
It's not an endearing trait.
Well, I suppose we best get busy.
I just don't see it, Tommy.
But I put it in the log myself.
Two days ago.
Requisitioned a couple SUVs.
With no plates and no color?
Cars were cloaked with
this chromatic tinting.
I'm supposed to know what that is?
It means they're invisible.
You're telling me, your
invisible cars are missing?
How hard did you hit
that pretty head of yours?
Look, can I just get the
keys and check the lot myself?
You know I can't do that.
Chain of custody.
You want a peek?
Take that up with Sheriff Jackman.
Sheriff.
Pretty damn certain I
sent you home, Tommy.
Oh, just tying up some loose ends, sir.
Merciful heavens.
Must've had a pretty
special guardian angel
looking after you, my friend.
I, uh, read your report.
Doesn't seem like you remember
much from the incident.
That change at all?
Working through it at the moment, sir.
It's all a bit foggy.
Mm-hmm.
Looky here, Tommy, I'm gonna
I'm gonna need you
to take some time off.
Paid leave.
You need to rest up,
get your head right.
Come back to us swinging
for the fences, my friend.
That man is loose on my watch, sir.
Oh, I'm well aware.
And all that's gonna get sorted.
I'm gonna see to it myself.
You know, something I always
admired about you, Thomas.
You got that fire in your belly.
You always have,
ever since you was a
teenager running wild.
Let me hit you with a
little bit of advice?
Learn how to control it.
Too much of a good thing
is gonna burn you out.
Like my granddaddy used to tell me,
if you walking on eggs don't hop.
You hear me, son?
Good man.
I got some business of
my own to take care of.
I'm embarrassed to
admit how anxious I was
when you vanished through
that door to confront Cherise.
You're just a normal guy, aren't you?
How do you mean?
I don't know, I look at you and
I look at all this
It's just so different
from where I live.
Or when, I guess.
And you think that
it'd be better, but
you're just as fucked-up as we are.
Rather more so, I'd say.
Maybe.
Hey, how come everybody here
just stays so distant from us?
Is that like a
a health thing or something?
What I mean is, they
never really wander close.
Because it's not real.
It's an augmentation.
Do this.
It's technology developed
by the Research Institute.
Holy shit.
Why?
Mood enhancer, I suppose you'd call it.
Makes the world a bit less bleak.
Honestly, one forgets
it's even happening.
It's just there, like the weather.
But everything else
is real, though, right?
Some of the buildings are filled in.
The ones they haven't gotten
around to re-fabricating as yet.
Look here.
Oh, my God.
If the R.I. is doing shit like
this right out in the open,
what are they doing in secret?
Cherise said that I copied
data from her that night.
That I stole it.
She's gonna keep trying to
kill me till she gets it back,
whatever the hell it is.
She made that pretty fucking clear.
The fabricator we're going
to see might be able to help.
He built Aelita's Peripherals for her.
So it's possible he'll
know where she is.
How are you so sure it's him?
Based on these.
I have one of these?
Mm-hmm.
That night,
when Aelita pressed my
eye up against that thing,
I felt something.
Is there any way that Aelita
could've downloaded data into the stub?
Theoretically.
But she would need to download
it into something in your world.
What kind of thing?
Honestly, only Aelita could tell us.
Hello.
What'll it be, then?
Uh, toad-in-the-hole, please.
We don't carry that.
There's a special on pork today.
- That'd be my pick.
- That's a shame.
I'm afraid we had our hearts
set on toad-in-the-hole.
We've been assured it's your specialty.
You two look like a lovely young couple.
You might want to be on your way
before anyone gets hurt.
Mm.
Now
what do you think of me, mister?
I don't know you from Eve, love.
Well, you see, the guy who built this,
he assured me that it was better than
anything you could ever do.
Even in your prime.
In my prime?
Yeah, before your
craftsmanship started to slip.
And who the fuck might this person be?
I'm not saying that I believe him.
Just repeating what he said to me.
Just to brighten up my day a little bit?
Well, you see, he promised
me my money back
if I could prove him wrong.
So I figured, hell,
why not give you a shot
to prove that you still got it?
I don't come cheap.
Money won't be an issue.
All right.
It's not terrible,
but I'll wager I'll get your money back
without much exertion.
Hmm.
Yeah, we have a new add-on
I'm rather tickled by.
Titanium fingernails. Retractable.
Scratch your way out of
a stone house if you want.
What about eyes?
Any fool can augment eyes.
What do you want? Night vision? Thermal?
What if I want to replace one?
With a human eye.
Get up.
Oh, for fuck's sake,
Abby, give it a rest
before you get us both killed.
Tell us about this woman.
You can start talking, Reggie,
or I can start cutting.
Choice is yours.
What do you think they'll do to me?
Who?
The Neoprims.
They don't muck around
with something like this.
Cut my tongue out, they would.
What do Neoprims have to do with this?
Oh, Jesus, lad.
She had me build it so someone could
carve out its eye, put in a human one.
Who else but a Neoprim
would know how to do that?
Old-time surgery and a scalpel?
Wait, wait.
You can't go out like that.
You didn't tell me that
Aelita was a Neoprim.
I didn't know.
Did you tell her what you did?
When they took over your school?
Hey.
Sorry, Wilf.
Fuck.
Piece of shit.
Aah!
Okay, just go
Oh, hey, man.
I didn't see you there.
You, um you coming or going?
Someone called you.
I-I'm just here to get a, uh,
you know.
A what, Macon?
Coffee, I guess.
Yeah, they, yeah, they called me.
Mm.
What I'm wondering is
why they don't just come out themselves!
Scared to, I think.
You ain't scared?
I don't know.
What? Yeah, a little bit.
Hmm.
There's a crescent wrench
somewhere under that tow truck.
You, uh, you want me to get it?
For you?
- All right, you got it?
- Okay, just here?
Yeah, right there.
- Just clamp it on.
- Here we go.
That's it.
Anything else?
Tell me about that tech
Flynne's been using.
Hey, uh, honestly, Conner, don't
don't take this the wrong way, but
I'm thinking I should
ask Flynne and Burton
what I can be be sharing.
I used it. The headset.
Burton knows.
It's real, right?
Flynne's piloting a real
body in a real place?
That's my understanding.
What's the limit, you figure?
How do you mean?
Is there a time limit to
how long you can go there?
I mean, you gotta
you gotta pee, right?
Drink, eat and all that.
So, uh
I was in a bed at Walter Reed,
more or less comatose for eight months.
Catheter for the peeing,
IV for the drinking,
tube for the eating.
You
Are you saying what
I think you're saying?
If someone would make me a body,
could you and Edward set
me up to live in that place?
Permanent-like?
Look, I'm not a doctor, Conner,
but I just don't think
your-your real body
your body here
would take too kindly to that, man.
Look, I'm-I'm sorry, I just
I don't know how long you'd
last is what I'm saying.
You're about as smart as
we make 'em around here,
ain't you, Macon?
Yeah.
- I I don't know about that.
- Yeah, you are.
Trust me.
So if you can't imagine
what it's like to wake up,
find yourself in a body like this
probably just 'cause you ain't tried.
So why don't you think
on that for a bit?
Then we'll have this conversation again.
Always a bit creepy, innit?
When the AI takes hold?
The Sistine Chapel moment.
Which is meant to mean
something, I'm sure.
God reaching toward Adam,
transmitting the spark of life.
I got it.
Just follow the stupid
little ball, right?
It's not a game, Tommy.
- Can you track it?
- Yeah.
We, uh we good?
There's a jitter in your eye movement.
Along with the dizziness, the ringing.
Oh, I'm fine.
You're concussed. Probable whiplash.
Gonna need a CT scan.
I took bigger hits going over
the middle in high school.
- I got to, uh, get back to it.
- That sounds smart.
Like someone thinking straight.
I gave the Fishers my word.
Told 'em that I'd handle this.
Given what just happened,
I think you need to let that go.
That was my arrest. In my custody.
I can't just let that go.
You didn't. You almost got killed.
Maybe that should be
the bigger concern here.
I'm very concerned.
And that's why I need
to get back out there,
find the son of a bitch who
did this and bring him in.
We both know who did this, Tommy.
You're acting like the frog
who gave the scorpion
a ride across the river.
Can't figure out why it
stung him as they both drown.
What do you want me to do?
Take the medical leave
from the department.
Lay low.
My two-year obligation
here is almost up.
I can find work anywhere.
Buy some time to pick up, move on.
This is my home, Dee.
I grew up in this town.
I worked here my whole life.
And so you know who controls it.
And he just told you
that he's a scorpion.
I can't have you getting stung again.
I ain't running from this.
Recipe says we still
got ten more minutes.
Well, I guess we're all
lucky that I don't need
a recipe to cook, then.
Because if I did,
this might taste like
Like what?
Trying to think of the right word.
Shoe leather is what they usually say.
Which is why I'm avoiding it.
Not wanting to traffic in clichés.
Taste.
- Okay.
- Okay what?
Okay, you were right.
I think you're forgetting
the last part of that.
- Which is?
- "As usual."
Huh, our guest has revived.
Well, sir, your timing is perfect.
Dig in while it's hot.
Oh, uh, we took some liberties
while you were asleep.
The state in which you were
delivered to us was, uh
What's that word you used?
Unsavory.
Ah. Well, fresh clothes, so forth.
Now, the collar is an accessory
you'll have to adapt to.
What does it do?
Well, there are two schools of
thought on that sort of thing.
There are folks that
fall into the camp of,
"Blessed are they that have not
seen, and yet still believe."
John 20:29.
And then there are folks
that follow the path of,
"No one respects the flame quite
like the fool who's badly burned."
Pete Townsend, I believe?
Which school do you belong to?
The rock and roll school, apparently.
Would have guessed as much.
Oh, yeah, I know.
Get on up there, big boy.
I know, I know, I know.
Yeah. Okay. Here, here.
Here. Here. There.
Here. There.
Oh, uh, it's adjustable.
One through ten. That was a four.
Three, actually.
Ooh. An unpleasant
experience either way.
Was it you hired me?
Try the roast. Please.
What do you think? Be honest.
It's good.
You know the best way to tenderize meat?
Hmm?
Well, most folks use a mallet.
It's, uh, quick, easy.
But messy, too.
And the results aren't guaranteed.
That's why I prefer a brine.
A slow, controlled process
that alters the very
nature of what you consume
so it suits your taste.
And when you find that perfect brine,
it's almost always guaranteed.
Now
recently, I have come to discover
someone is in my kitchen
fucking up my brine.
And I want to know who it is.
Burton said you had another flashback.
A bad one.
You taking anything?
No, it don't help. Still feel 'em.
Let me drain some off.
Oh, that's not your
problem no more, Leon.
How about I sing, then?
Everybody seems to think
my voice has a nice, healing lilt.
I'm just trying to help, Conner.
One way or the other, your choice how.
I'm a rolling stone ♪
All alone and lost ♪
For a life of sin ♪
I have paid the cost ♪
When I pass by ♪
Oh, for fuck's sakes, fine! Just
Just do it.
Get him up all the way.
Don't take my leg! Jesus!
Please
This is getting complicated.
Innit?
Not sure I like that look, luv.
The physician who's treating
the polt for her seizure,
she's been running searches on
"localized bacterial infections
of the occipital lobe."
You don't really think Aelita
I do, actually.
Is that even possible?
Through her eye?
Yes, theoretically.
Mr. Murphy.
Forgive me. We haven't been introduced.
Someone my age is all feeds, Mr. Murphy.
For my sins, I have continual
access to most things,
resulting in a terrible
habit of behaving as if
I already know everyone I meet.
Not in the least,
ma'am. No offense taken.
Which, in a sense, I suppose I do.
Yes, ma'am, I would say so.
Would you introduce me to Mr. Zubov
and Mr. Netherton, please?
It's Inspector Ainsley Lowbeer
of the Metropolitan Police.
The Metropolitan Police, sir.
- Policeman?
- An Inspector.
Call my father's solicitors.
- Immediately!
- The phones have been disabled.
Uh, perhaps it might be prudent
- for me to slip out the back.
- She knows you're here.
She mentioned you by name.
How should I proceed, sir?
Well, let her in, for fuck's sake.
It'll look incriminating
if you make her wait.
Whatever you do, don't lie to her.
You'll most likely find
it impossible anyway.
They have that ability,
the higher-level officers.
Best just to assume that
she already knows the answers
to whatever she might be asking.
Fuck.
Something happened.
Thought you should know.
Now, that old man that
I took into custody
from the bridge?
Yeah.
I don't quite know how
to say this, Burton,
but, um whole thing
just went sideways
And you fucking lost him?
Hey, now, hold on a second.
All right? It wasn't like that.
How was it, then, Tommy?
'Cause you had one fucking
job and you lost him.
I got T-boned, Burton.
And I'm trying to tell
you it wasn't an accident.
It was more like a an ambush.
An ambush?
Here's the thing about an ambush, Tommy,
having been on both
ends of 'em many a time.
You see, an ambush generally requires
specific intel about both the
target and the intended route.
Now, that's what I'm
telling you, Burton.
It's like I was targeted.
Like they already knew something.
Who? What are you talking about, Tommy?
Whoever it was, they
knew who I had in custody.
They knew I was on the way.
- To the Sheriff's Department?
- That's right.
Sheriff Jackman.
Which leads me to believe
that Corbell Pickett now has our guy.
That just about makes sense.
Well, I sure as hell don't get it.
Look, Burton, the way all this started,
with the-the cloaked cars, the shells.
And whatever the hell
went down here that day.
The lottery. Now this?
Come on, man, what the hell
is going on here, Burton?
You know what, Tommy, why don't you just
do yourself a favor and
get the fuck out of the way?
I've known your family
my whole damn life,
and that's all you got for me?
It ain't just Pickett. There's
other forces in play want us dead,
- and you just keep getting in the fucking way.
- Other forces?
The fuck am I supposed
to do with that, Burton?
I'm just saying that's
why you're all beat up,
broken down, lucky to be alive.
Next ambush
you might not be so lucky.
I'm just a little concerned, Sheriff,
that your deputy's becoming
a liability we can't afford.
Well, Corbell,
let's just say you
want to sit right there
and have a look at that little footage
of Tommy Constantine and
that prisoner that he lost.
You gonna need two damn passwords
just to dip in there and have a look.
Silly is what it is.
You want to guess
what passwords I chose?
Well, that's sort of the whole point
in passwords, isn't it, Sheriff?
So folks can't guess 'em?
"Fuck you" and "eat shit."
All caps.
Like you're shouting.
Are you gonna be all
right in here by yourself?
Oh, yes, sir, I believe I will.
Good deal. Make yourself at home.
Now
"Fuck you."
"Eat shit."
How old are you, son?
I'm guessing 28 or so?
I know you aren't inclined
to do much chatting.
And I guess I understand,
given your circumstances.
I certainly don't take offense,
but here's the thing.
Corbell bet me I
couldn't get you talking.
So he's offering to buy me a particular
baby-blue Mustang convertible I've
had my eye on over in Asheville.
Now, this might seem
like a technicality,
but Corbell didn't specify
you talking about what.
Just talking, plain and simple.
So I'm thinking maybe you and I could
put our heads together and come to
some sort of understanding.
You agree to do a little talking
when Corbell gets back,
and I offer something in exchange.
Don't get dirty-minded on me.
Please. I'm not that kind.
But there must be
something you're wanting
that I could get you.
Is that saltwater?
That was Corbell's inclination.
Must be a male thing.
Saltwater seem a little
more macho or something?
But know what? You can't bat an eyelash
without one of those
little fuckers getting sick,
and 24 hours later, the
whole lot'll follow suit,
and I mean all of them.
Bobbing around in there, belly up.
You have to empty the
tank, sterilize it,
start all over again.
We went through that three times.
Then I put my foot down. Firmly.
So that right there would be 200 gallons
of fresh water you're looking at.
And I don't feel any shame to say so.
May I?
You'll see some blue rams
in there, cherry barbs,
electric blue haps.
Those are my favorites.
Real subtle, I think.
And, of course, the fantail guppies.
Kind of a freshwater Hey!
The fuck are you thinking, old man?
You're a guest in our home.
And look what you did to my pedi.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no!
Do you play chess, Mr. Zubov?
Well it's not nearly as much fun
now that we all have our
AI crutches to lean on.
But it was once a rather
fascinating diversion.
There was a sense of
mastery one could feel
at a certain point, when
every move you made seemed
to dictate your opponent's response.
And then, such a thrill
when that illusion was
interrupted by the shock
of an unexpected countermove.
Can you surprise me, Mr. Zubov?
I'm very sorry, Inspector.
But I wonder if it might make sense
for my family's solicitors to join us?
Exactly as I feared.
The expected move.
It's your decision, of course.
But should you choose to
summon your solicitors,
here's how our encounter will unfold.
Your friend, Mr. Netherton,
has been geolocated
at the site of a crime.
A murder, to be precise,
of one Daniel Cook,
Head of Security of
the Research Institute.
Killed, it would appear, by a Koid.
Now, I could put Mr. Netherton
on trial as an accomplice,
which would mean that right here,
in your drawing room, seven
or so minutes from now,
we'd likely witness poor
Mr. Netherton's execution.
But of course, when you're fishing,
and you catch a minnow,
the wise angler simply
impales it on a hook
and uses it to catch a bigger fish.
I don't mean to belittle
you, Mr. Netherton,
but in my world,
you don't qualify as much of a trophy.
Which could most decidedly
work to your advantage here.
Because, as your trial
began, I'd make it quite clear
that you might save your own life
by diverting my attention
to a larger fish.
Should you happen to know one, that is.
You two are old friends, of course.
And that must exert
its pull upon the soul.
But it's always intriguing to me
how the power of sentiment
begins to slip away
when a sharp blade is at one's throat.
The salmon, thank you.
And just a splash of
milk in the tea, please.
You've done rather well
for yourself, Mr. Murphy,
considering the frequency
of your youthful
encounters with the law.
It's heartening to behold.
In my experience, Mr. Zubov,
at this point in the game,
it can grow a tad fraught
on your side of the board.
Your family's affairs are rather
elaborately woven together,
I assume, and I can't help but wonder
what sort of unraveling might occur
if I managed to get hold
of a tiny thread, and
I'm making a hash of my
metaphors again, aren't I?
Chess, fishing, tangled threads.
You're supposed to help
me with that, Beatrice.
You seemed to be
enjoying yourself, ma'am.
It felt rude to interrupt.
Regardless.
That's how I see our little
drama playing out here,
should you summon your solicitors.
How does that sound to you?
I quite agree. Tiresome.
Unbearably so.
And we'd likely lose
Mr. Netherton to boot.
How much more appealing
to set all of this aside for the moment,
and simply answer a few questions,
honestly, directly, thoroughly?
And who knows?
Could very well propel us into
a far more intriguing adventure.
What do you think? Hmm?
Shall we attempt it?
All right, then.
The Met has detected
three Peripherals on site,
running on AI.
Would you summon them, please?
I'd so enjoy a quick peek.
And
their operators, too?
I'm afraid that might prove
to be rather complicated, Inspector.
Well, I think you'll soon discover
I'm rather good at rather complicated.
And when would you like
Now, Mr. Zubov.
Or soonest.
Although as close to now as possible
would be my decided preference.
Bless us, O Heavenly Father,
and these thy gifts, which we are about
to receive from Thy bounty,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
It ain't my birthday, if
that's what you're thinking.
Nope. That flashback you woke up to,
it's been weighing on me a bit.
Seemed pretty fucking intense.
So I thought I'd stop by,
see how you're holding up.
And?
You tell me.
Fit as a fiddle, son.
Even got some French
toast, hot off the stove.
Might be inclined to spare you a slice,
if you promise to show
some table manners.
Well, you know that'd be a
steep climb for me, Conner.
And I already ate, but
thank you. You go at it.
You know, if you were
to fetch it for me,
I suppose I could just sit out here and
eat in this beautiful fucking weather.
Fucking A.
Conner Penske just asked me for help!
And there ain't a single fucking
witness around to prove it.
You gonna be an asshole and
let my breakfast get cold?
Chop-chop, buddy!
Will there be anything
else, Your Majesty?
Yeah.
What's in the box?
Present from our friends in the future.
Macon and Edward printed it up.
Check it out.
That's not as badass
as what Flynne fabs.
Flynne's printed you legs?
Got a whole collection of 'em inside.
She works at 'em, too.
They're like artwork.
- Got a good heart, that Flynne.
- How come you never wear 'em?
Sometimes I feel like
all this stuff is more
for y'all folks than me.
Makes people feel better
when they see me coming
without actually being of much use.
Yeah, I hear that,
but these are supposed
to be hella more functional than
anything we can do on our own.
Still fake, ain't they?
I hate to break it to you,
Conner, but I don't think
you're gonna grow
real ones anytime soon.
I got real ones.
Waiting for me off in the future.
Yeah, I've been hearing
something about that.
Going for the old IV and catheter, huh?
Got to be a little less subtle
with your disapproval, Burton,
if you want me to react.
Shit, man. When's the last
time you seen me this happy?
Mm.
You know, I've been wondering something.
Those first days in the
hospital after you got blown up,
you remember me coming to visit you?
Little bit.
That thing you asked me to do?
That fucked me up pretty good, Conner.
That I asked?
That I couldn't do it.
Well, what you did instead messed
me up so I guess we're even.
What'd I do instead?
Wrote that shit on the
wall across from my bed.
Oh. Yeah.
I figured if anything was
gonna get you up again,
it'd be a little Burton-Was-Here action.
I kept picturing you lying there,
desperate to go scrawl "MF" on it.
They shipped me off before I could.
This thing you're thinking of trying
with the catheter and the IV?
One way of looking at it is,
it's a lot like putting
a pillow over your face,
or eating a bullet.
Just a slowed-down version.
Shit, Burton.
One way of looking at life, period,
is it's a slowed-down
version of eating a bullet.
You're a trip, Conner.
I'm just saying, I got to
think on it before I help you
with this little relocation
plan of yours, all right?
- Fair enough.
- And in the meantime, how about
you give these fancy fellas a try?
Ah, fuck it.
Maybe tomorrow.
Hey, you want to know something funny?
We've still got these,
carved and scrawled, all over the house,
from when we were little.
And if you ask my mama what "MF" means,
she'll tell you it means "my friend."
- Don't it?
- Yeah.
I guess it does,
Motherfucker.
I hope you didn't eat too much.
Why?
London's calling.
They're wanting us back.
- Any idea what we're heading into?
- Nope.
All they said was to send
you three together. "Soonest,"
whatever the fuck that means.
No plan, no intel,
no recon.
And you know what that
calls for, don't you?
"Speed, intensity, and "?
- "Violence of action."
- Boom!
Oorah, motherfucker.
So this quantum tunnel, as you term it,
allows you to communicate with the past.
Or rather a past, since in
our actual past, you didn't.
That actually hurts my head, Mr. Zubov.
I gather it doesn't hurt yours?
It's actually quite simple.
The act of connection
produces a fork in causality,
the new branch causally unique.
A stub, as we call them.
But why do you? Call them that?
It sounds short, nasty, brutish.
Wouldn't one expect
the fork's new branch
- to continue to grow?
- We do assume exactly that.
- I'm not sure where the term might've
- Imperialism.
Calling it a stub makes it a bit easier
for us to third-world it.
And you facilitate Mr.
Zubov in this colonialism?
You and Mr. Murphy?
They're crowning.
And you, I presume, are the
formidable Flynne Fisher?
Inspector Ainsley Lowbeer
of the Metropolitan Police.
Quite pleased to make your acquaintance.
Ma'am.
What is this?
It's where the animals come to play.
Something of great value
has been stolen from me.
We can talk this thing through,
come to an understanding here.
- We got to go.
- I just need you to trust me to do it right.
- Execute.
- Lights out.