01x06 - The Adversary

(theme music playing)

(chatter)

(horse whinnies)

(music playing)

Hey, darling.

(music continues)

(sighs) Morning, Maeve.

Late night talking or f*cking?

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.

Man: What are you looking at?

Don't shoot.

Newcomer.

Looks like a rough one.

Give me a bottle.

Bartender: You're gonna need most of that just to scrub the filth off him.

(chuckles)

Go find a mirror, finish putting your face on.

I'll handle this one.

(door opens)

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.

(gasps)

That's the spirit.

Such a big man.

So big all over except where it counts.

(grunts)

Darling, when I gave you a turn on the house, I thought you might give me something in return.

Anything.

(grunts)

That's it.

Don't be shy.

(gasps)

(gasps)

(sighs) sh1t.

Now, then... where were we?

You show this to anyone?

Elsie: 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.

(chuckles)

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.

(beeping)

Male voice: Floor B82. Restricted personnel only.

Lowe, Bernard. I'm authorized.

(water dripping)

(electricity crackling)

(electricity crackling)

(distant clattering)

(beeping)

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?

(computer screeching)

Show me where.

Check these against the new system.

(screeching)

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

(bell tolling)

(chatter)

(clucking)

(bell continues tolling)

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.

(bell tolling)

(chatter)

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.

(whinnies)

Man: Whoa!

The goddamn soldiers closed the border.

Some kind of trouble in Pariah.

(reins crack)

(horse whinnies)

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.

Lutz: 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 f*cked with!

This can't possibly...

I can't, can't.

I can't...

(stuttering)

(gasps)

Maeve?

(beeping)

Maeve?

(knocking)

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.

(chuckles) 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.

(tablet beeping)

(sighs)

(whispers) Oh, f*ck.

Okay.

(beeping continues)

(gasps)

f*ck. Come on, come on.

(whirs)

(gasps) Oh!

You said upstairs.

Oh, my God.

Are you okay?

I want to see it.

Upstairs?

No.

No. No, no.

(sighs)

This is so stupid.

(heart beating)

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.

Woman's voice: Welcome to Westworld.

Live without limits.

Maeve?

(gasps)

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.

Sylvester: What the f*ck, ding-dong?

You dressing her up now?

This becoming like a f*cking hentai thing with you now?

No, I just...

I... I... I just...

You're f*cking 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.

f*ck this.

I'm telling QA.

I'm doing this for your own good.

(gasps)

You're not going to tell anyone anything.

f*ck!

You can't hurt me with this.

You can't hurt anyone... (grunts)

Can't I?

Turns out your friend here is a much more talented young man than anyone gave him credit for.

What the f*ck 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 f*ck 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?

(man speaking Chinese)

Yes, I understand the urgency.

I'll do what I can.

Female voice: Terminate external connection?

Yes.

Woman: Negative 1.5. Latitude?

Man: At 2.69 degrees.

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

Woman #2: Yes, it works.

Are you serious?

I'm telling you.

(splash)

(piano music playing)

Waiter: Cocktail, sir?

Man: Yeah.

Waiter: All right. Absolutely. Enjoy.

(explosion booms)

Theresa: You look well for someone on sick leave.

Another margarita.

Join me for a round?

f*ck 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.

(whinnies, nickers)

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.

(chuckles) 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.

Man: Tighten the ranks.

At ease, fellas.

Keep up the exemplary work.

(chatter)

Wyatt's handiwork.

Man in Black: 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?

Teddy: 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?

f*ck me, it's Teddy Flood.

(hammers click)

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.

(grunting)

Jesus.

Man: Really? All right.

Bartender: What would you like?

Woman: 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.

(both laugh)

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.

(chuckles)

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.

(sighs) 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. (snaps fingers)

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...

(groans)

f*ck this job.

What you working on?

Nothing of note. Business as usual.

Keeping up appearances before we bust this stray sh1t 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 sh1t slipping through the cracks.

(quiet chatter)

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.

(doors hissing)

(birds chirping)

(door opens)

(door closes)

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.

Dr. Ford: 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.

(dog whining)

Dr. Ford: 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.

Dr. Ford: Well, Robert... tell me all about your day.

Stubbs: Keep your eye on Pariah.

We're running close to capacity tonight.

Woman: Oh, my God.

(Lee laughs)

Looks like acid rain on Sweetwater!

f*ck Ford and his new f*cking narrative.

f*ck this stupid f*cking map.

f*ck 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.

(zipper zips)

(clears throat)

(electronic chirping)

Bernard: Access host resources logs.

(computer beeps)

How many first-generation hosts are there?

Female voice: 82.

And how many of those were designed by Arnold?

47.

List the names alphabetically of all first-generation hosts still in rotation.

(electronic chirping)

(chatter)

(distant horse whinnies)

Man: Forward!

(horse whinnies)

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.

(rifle cocks, gunshots)

(gasps)

You're right, I am a killer.

(grunts)

(groans)

(sizzles)

(screams)

(gunshot)

(gunshots)

Grab a horse. Let's get the f*ck outta here.

They'll just follow us.

(Gatling gun clicking)

(man groans)

(flames crackling)

You think you know someone.

You don't know me at all.

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

(beeping)

Elsie?

I identified the satellite.

It's one of ours.

What?

It's a f*cking Delos satellite.

Whatever we're onto is some heavy sh1t.

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 f*cked.

Are you alone?

Yeah, I'll keep you posted.

Elsie, be c...

(birds chirping)

Robert: 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 f*ck do I hide it?

Um...

(thudding)

(objects clatter)

f*ck, yes.

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

Access previous users.

Okay.

(knocking on door)

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.

(phone chirping)

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.

(phone chirping)

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?

Lutz: 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?

Sylvester: 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?

(phone chirping)

(line ringing)

Elsie: 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 f*cking 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.

Dr. Ford: 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.

(screeching)

What the f*ck?

Oh, sh1t.

(floorboard creaks)

Hello?

Bernard?

Hello?

Arnold?

(gasps)

I'm in.

(tablet clatters)

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.

f*ck!

Someone's already been altering her in an unlogged session, someone with a f*ck 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 f*cked 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.

(gasps)

(chuckles)

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

(music playing)