03x17 - / - Root Path

[bunniefuu]

(Finch and Root)

You are being watched.

(Finch) The government has a secret system--

(Root) A machine that spies on you every hour of every day.

(Reese)

Name's Root.

She's a hacker, extortionist, m*rder*r.

(Finch)

She hacks human beings as easily as she hacks computers.

(Root) I don't wanna control their machine.

I just want to set it free.

(Finch)

I already did.

(Root) The machine's given me a mission.

Things are evolving.

(Woman)

You say you're an interface, your eyes and your ears are your ports, we can put a stop to that.

(Root)

I wish you'd listened.

Then the drives would have never fallen into the wrong hands.

(Finch)

Decima Technologies.

(Greer)

My Samaritan, you are destined for great things.

Hey, new fish, you want a tip?

No, thanks.

That's too bad, 'cause you're getting the whole thing.

[Laughter]

Hey!

[Tires squeal]

Go check it out.

Ma'am, hello?

Are you okay?

I'm fine. Thanks for asking.

Aah!

Get out there. We've got a problem.

Go get 'em, biggie.

- Show 'em what you got. - [Tasering, man shouting]

(Officer) You, hands in the air-- Get down on the-- Aah!

[Screams, groans]

[Man whistling]

Oh, what have we here?

Hey, baby. I want a piece of that.

Hi, Billy.

Wanna get outta here?

Come on, sugar.

Why don't you take me with-- Aghh!

My name's Billy too!

So do we know each other?

All right, I have him. What's next?

Who are you talking to?

Who are you? Hello?

Hello!

Wrong side. I'm deaf in that ear.

Can you do a German accent?

Um...

Learn.

[German accent]

Yes, thank you for noticing.

Yes, thank you for noticing.

Look, thanks for busting me out and all, but what the hell is going on?

In your case, Billy, I haven't figured that out yet.

All I know is that the fate of the future hangs in the balance, and you have some role to play.

Shave.

[Razor buzzing]

Yeah, I don't mean to complain, but I'm probably gonna die soon.

The pants will be a bit long.

So what do you need me to boost?

You do know I'm a car thief, right?

I don't know, don't care.

My boss only gives me the information I need to do my job, and... right now I need you to learn this signature, fast.

Uh, I'm gonna need a--

Hai chiizu.

That's Daizo.

I saved him from the Tokyo Police last month.

He's been with me ever since.

We good?

[Radio chatter, siren chirps]

Where were you when I got busted?

Ridgestone Psychiatric Facility.

Here we are.

Where?

No idea.

Domo.

Oh, I love it when you do this.

Not you. Go inside now.

Dr. Schmitz?

Dr. Schmitz, got a package for you.

ID and signature, please.

Did you change your hair?

[German accent]

Yes, thank you for noticing.

We should go before he gets here.

Who?

So what was all this?

My boss and I are trying to stop something very bad from happening.

So what do you think?

3109 West 23rd Street.

Looks like that's where I'm headed next.

Why?

You'll find out when you get there.

Thanks for playing.

Now here's your lovely parting gift.

At the second lunch table on the left in cell block D, sit across from a 300-pound Chickasaw named Arnold.

He loves dinosaurs as much as you do.

Tell him that, and he'll have your back forever.

[Tires squeal]

[Sirens chirp]

(Man) There he is!

- Police! Police! - Don't move!

Stay right where you are.

Put your hands in the air.

So whom am I looking for this time?

Powerful CEO?

A rogue hacker?

A hit man posing as a delivery guy?

Hmm, fascinating.

Hello, Cyrus.

I'm supposed to take you to breakfast.

Just a PB&J, huh?

You sure you wouldn't rather have some eggs?

No, thanks. This is dinner for me.

Working nights is all about routine.

Gotta trick your body into going to sleep when the rest of the world is waking up.

Same meal, same place every day, or I don't sleep a wink.

But I do appreciate the meal and the hot cocoa.

Normally people ask more questions.

Such as?

"Who are you?"

"What do you want with me?"

"What the hell's going on?"

Que será, será.

Whatever will be, will be.

Took me a long time to see it, but there's an order to things, a plan.

And everything that happens is part of it, including you.

But if it makes you feel any better, what the hell is going on?

My boss wanted me to talk to you.

Which means you and I are supposed to do something together, something important.

Sounds like you got a weird job.

What's your boss want us to do?

She won't say.

She likes it better when I figure it out myself.

Sounds like you have a weird boss.

Well, now I go to the park for a walk, rain or shine.

Fresh air helps me have good dreams.

You're more than welcome to join if you like.

You should know better than to try to sneak up on me, Harold.

Did you come to welcome me back to New York?

Actually, we're here for Mr. Wells.

His number came at 7:04 this morning.

Your multifaceted machine sure does work in mysterious ways, doesn't she?

In this case perhaps not that mysterious.

When Mr. Reese and Ms. Shaw accessed the security system in the building where he works, they found you approaching him at precisely 7:04 AM.

I've prepared a preliminary study of his digital footprint, and in my estimation the most dangerous thing in Cyrus Wells's life is you.

Whatever your plan is, Ms. Groves, I believe you're gonna get him k*lled.

Relax, Harold.

Nobody's getting anybody k*lled.

Cyrus is perfectly safe with me.

If the machine sent us his number, it may mean that you are placing Mr. Wells at risk.

Or it could mean I'm here to protect him.

Honestly, Harold, keeping up with everything the machine whispers in my ear can be tricky, especially now that I'm down to one.

Oh, my.

Oh, did you not hear about my chat with Control?

She's fun... in an unnecessary stapedectomy kind of way.

But I do miss music in stereo.

I'm sorry.

The machine offered me a job.

She never said it would be easy.

And what job is that exactly?

Trying to save the world, of course.

By preventing the emergence of a second machine.

Samaritan.

Genetically programmed, fully targetable, and nearly complete.

Samaritan presents a serious thr*at to our machine, Harold.

And Decima's trying to bring it to life.

Do you really want to see what it looks like when two gods go to w*r?

Maybe you should be more worried about what happens when Samaritan comes online than about what happens to some janitor.

How much do you know about this janitor, Ms. Groves?

Well... he's got some interesting ideas about metaphysical determinism, and I think he's a Doris Day fan.

Do you know that he has an MBA in finance from Fordham?

Do you know he was a multimillionaire by the age of 35?

Do you know he hasn't worked on Wall Street since 2009?

Would you even care to know why?

Perhaps you should ask the machine for a bit more information about Cyrus Wells before you deem him insignificant.

He'll be fine, I promise.

I know it seems weird, but I'm one of the good guys now, Harold.

[Phone beeps]

Third from the bottom,

15th on the right, behind you.

Root wouldn't take "Go" for an answer?

No, I'm afraid not.

Seems that she thinks she has the situation well in hand.

Ms. Groves has never been particularly concerned about collateral damage, which may be precisely what Cyrus Wells is about to become.

Watch over them until we can figure out what's going on.

In the meantime, I'll try to determine what message this is meant to convey.

Seems pretty clear to me, Finch.

I think she likes you, Harold.

[Distorted chatter]

So I don't want to be rude or anything, but, yeah, look, thank you for the hot cocoa, and it was nice of you to walk me home.

But whatever it is you're doing right now is not--

Necessary. Trust me.

(Root) I heard you skipped breakfast.

And you and your Australopithecine coworker can just take the day off.

I've been doing just fine without a safety net.

Look, the only reason you're not stuck in a cage right now is me.

Don't make me look bad.

I couldn't make you look bad if I tried.

You should start packing your toiletries.

(Wells) Whoa, whoa, whoa.

No, no, no, okay?

Seriously, no.

I have to work again tonight.

I need to sleep, so it's time for you to leave.

Actually, it's time for us both to leave.

Things are about to get interesting.

What?

Why?

Is this about what happened at my old job?

What did happen?

None of your business. Give me that.

Who are these people, Cyrus?

Their names. It could be important.

It's not. You have to go.

Did they get hurt? Did you get hurt?

I-I need to know what happened.

[g*nsh*t]

(Shaw) Finch, I've got eyes on a sn*per.

And I might have a lead on who's doing the sh**ting.

(Finch) The solicitation Ms. Groves gave me is visually identical to an image commonly sent out as spam.

But digitally someone has hidden a message inside the image.

It's encrypted with a running key cipher.

But I can't decode it without--

"Behind you, third from the bottom, 15th from the right."

De Tocqueville.

I believe I know who we're dealing with.

Vigilance.

[g*nf*re]

[Groans]

We'll take her.

You four get the target.

It's happening again.

(Root) Do you think you could do that later?

'Cause we should probably go.

No, no, no. Please.

g*ns make me very, very nervous.

[g*nf*re, glass shatters]

Well... we've got a sn*per outside and four heavily-armed privacy t*rrorists coming up the north stairwell.

So a g*n would be nice, but...

You think of everything.

Tear gas. Hold your breath.

Wait. What about the sn*per?

Trust me.

[g*nsh*t]

Wanna see who's got better aim?

Aah!

[Coughing]

Got eyes on the target.

[Groans]

(Finch) I'm afraid Vigilance may not be our only thr*at, Mr. Reese.

I decrypted their spam message, and it seems that Vigilance is only targeting Mr. Wells because his name came up in a secret communique they intercepted from Decima.

I don't think Root's our biggest problem anymore.

Hey, who are those guys?

I told you things were gonna get interesting.

[Distorted chatter]

The target's in sight, sir. We're moving in.

Shouldn't we run?

Shh. I can't hear my boss.

Hi, here's $20.

Whoa, why are we stopping?

Because there are more where those four came from.

And this is the quickest way to get you out of here without sh**ting someone.

Keep your shoulders relaxed when they put the handcuffs on.

[Tires screech]

You!

Hands in the air.

What?

Hands in the air.

Ow.

Cyrus is safe, Finch.

But we'll need Fusco's help to keep it that way.

And Ms. Groves?

Gone.

So are the boys from Decima.

Do we have any idea what Cyrus did to piss off both them and Vigilance?

As far as I can tell, nothing.

But whatever's going on, I'm starting to suspect that it has more to do with his new job than his old one.

I hacked the computer system at the janitorial service that employs Cyrus and discovered they recently ran a background check on him.

Why?

What kind of janitor needs a background check?

Something to look into when we reconnect with Ms. Shaw.

I lost her signal when the sh**ting started.

She said she saw a sn*per.

But I don't see any sign of her here.

Between Shaw and Cyrus, I think I know who needs our help more.

Then I'm afraid we'll have to trust Ms. Shaw to take care of herself.

[Distorted chatter]

Now that you're not gonna die, we can have a little chat.

So you need a hospital, and I need to know why everyone's after the janitor.

[g*nsh*t]

(Collier) You owe me a sn*per.

This is Collier, right?

Or at least that's your alias?

(Collier) Can't say I know yours.

So I'll just call you a target of opportunity.

Vigilance came here to interrogate Cyrus Wells, but now we're here for you.

See, based on the way you fight, I think you were a clandestine operative for the good old US of A.

But based on the people you protect, I think you're not anymore.

And I'm guessing it's because they betrayed you.

Are you guys gonna sh**t again or just talk me to death?

Well, actually I'm more interested in what you have to say.

So I've taken the liberty of sealing off the exits.

Now in exchange for everything you know about the Samaritan system and the people that are trying to build it, I'm prepared to offer you something that no one else can--

Revenge on the government that betrayed you.

And if I refuse?

In the words of Benjamin Franklin, join or die.

[Distorted chatter]

(Finch) Have you secured Mr. Wells, Detective?

Yeah, I got him.

And I'm clearing up the charges too.

You're welcome very much.

A phrase which now makes my thanks seem less than sincere, Detective.

I'm sending you GPS coordinates for a rendezvous with Mr. Reese, who will henceforth protect Mr. Wells.

All right.

Okay, pal, let's get you out of here.

Come on, this way.

You forgot to transfer from savings again, Lionel.

Your rent check's gonna bounce.

Hi, Cyrus.

Hey.

Hey, nice try, Cocoa Puffs.

There's no way I'm letting him leave here with you.

I understand.

But there are things you don't know.

For starters, you don't know that Cyrus is currently wanted by not one, but two very dangerous organizations.

And you have no idea that there are currently 27 people en route to this location, the closest of whom is carrying two concealed firearms and a push dagger he used to k*ll three people in Dubai last month-- one of them just for fun.

I don't care how big your brain is.

Nobody's taking this guy from me without a big fat federal warrant, you got that?

Joined the Bureau last month to get access to a nuclear plant in Tulsa.

Long story.

Is there a problem here, Fusco?

Um, no Captain.

There's no problem.

Is there a back way out of here?

Yeah, it's, uh--

I wasn't asking you.

You let her what?

(Fusco) She had a warrant-- a real one.

What was I supposed to say?

"Sorry, boss, Agent King is actually a superpowered nutball.

Just ask my buddy, the urban legend."

[Pay phone ringing]

(Root) Relax, John.

Have a little faith.

You're making a mistake.

Cyrus is safer with me.

You don't really believe that, do you?

Have you and Harold even figured out why Decima is after him yet?

That power you have?

I've had it too.

I know just what it's like to have all those answers buzzing in your ear.

But at the end of the day, you still make choices.

And if the choice you're making now - gets Cyrus k*lled-- - Whatever happens, I'll be there to save him, just like I was there to save you.

After everything we've been through together, John, you really should trust me.

[Dial tone]

Are you sure it's safe here?

I can protect you anywhere.

I thought this place might help you relax.

Sorry I've kept you up past your bedtime.

Yeah, that's all right.

To tell the truth, I don't sleep very well anyway.

Yeah, about that--

I'd still like to know what happened.

Your boss seems to know everything.

Why don't you ask her?

I did.

She won't tell me.

Please, Cyrus, who are these people?

Sarah Lind and Alex Rice-- my best friends from college.

After graduation, they started a small financial services firm and brought me on to help 'em run it.

When everybody was betting big on the housing market, we played it safe.

So when the crash came, we went from a small start-up to a major player.

But somebody was jealous.

'Cause one day a guy walked into our office and started sh**ting.

Alex and Sarah were k*lled.

Five others were sh*t, including me.

The gunman was never identified.

And when was this, exactly?

April 4, 2009.

I'm sorry.

Don't be.

Ten weeks in ICU makes you take a long, hard look at things.

I realized I had wasted the first 30 years of my life putting zeros on my bank account.

So I gave all my money away to charity.

Now I get up every night and keep that building spic and span.

'Cause who doesn't like clean floors?

Que será, será.

What happened that day was part of a plan.

No. No, what-- whatever this was, believe me, it was not part of some grand cosmic plan.

[Indistinct radio chatter]

We need to go.

They're almost here.

(Man) We're at the coordinates you sent, sir.

But we can't get a visual on the targets.

You will.

Deploy the countermeasure.

[Overlapping chatter] _

Can you hear me?

What do we do now?

Run.

[Tense music]

♪

Get in the car!

Cyrus!

[g*nshots]

[Phone ringing]

I guess you better answer that.

[g*nshots]

[g*nsh*t]

Drop the w*apon!

Drop it now!

I don't like k*lling patriots, so I'm gonna give you one more chance.

That's funny, I was gonna say the same thing to you.

See, I knew we had something in common-- many things, I suspect.

You're not the only one the government has betrayed.

And that's why I want your help.

See, America's dying.

And everybody knows it.

It's not just about privacy, it's about principle.

Our nation is assassinating people with drones, holding them without due process, and, yes, spying on its own people without cause or limits and in direct violation of our constitution.

But we have a plan to stop it.

And if you join us, you will not only have your revenge, but you will help write a new chapter in American history.

You're right about all of it.

I did work for the government, and I do want revenge.

But if that work taught me anything, it's that how you do matters as much as what you do.

And by that metric, you're all just t*rrorists.

And I k*ll t*rrorists.

[g*nshots]

[All grunting]

I lost Decima's trail about a mile from the park.

Do we have any other way to find Cyrus?

Not at the moment.

But I may have discovered why Decima wants him.

(Finch) I've located the original communique that Vigilance intercepted from Decima.

The message that started all of this.

It lists Cyrus as 1 of 15 people with retinal access.

(Reese) As in retinal scanner?

So somewhere out there is a door, and Cyrus Wells' eye is the key.

I believe I might know where that door is.

After passing his background check at work, Cyrus became the only custodian allowed on the 19th floor.

What's on the 19th floor?

A company called Maxwell Limited.

All I know about them so far is that they take regular deliveries of liquid helium.

I'm guessing they're not blowing up balloons.

Maxwell could be using it to cool anything from biomedical reactors to--

The fastest computer ever built.

Maxwell's the corporate cover for an NSA lab.

And two days ago, somebody working in that lab sent this.

Oh, my.

Okay, Finch, what am I missing here?

It's a note from one computer scientist to another, detailing the specifications of a superconducting processor, three times faster than anything now available.

And since the government's not about to sell it to them, Decima plans to use Cyrus to steal it.

The original Samaritan crashed because a chip fast enough to run it hadn't been built yet.

Two days ago, somebody built it.

Decima has the software.

Now they want the hardware.

Right now, I'm more worried about Cyrus.

As soon as he opens that door, Decima's gonna k*ll him.

I suppose you'll be joining Mr. Reese.

Not just yet.

Decima's severed my link to the machine.

Temporarily, but she didn't like that.

So... she wants you to patch these into this.

The last time you didn't help us when you should have, people d*ed.

And once this device is installed, which will you save?

The chip or Cyrus Wells?

Since it was you who put him in danger.

Fine, Harold.

It's all my fault-- mine and the machine's. Happy?

Far from it, but I do believe that there's a lesson here about hubris.

Well, if anyone would know about hubris, it would be the man who built God.

She's worried about you, Harold.

We both are.

The past three months, you've slept an average of four hours per night.

My problems are no concern of yours, Ms. Groves.

Perhaps if you had 1/10 as much interest in Cyrus's welfare, he might not be about--

By your own definition, Cyrus is irrelevant.

Everyone is relevant to someone.

That man has spent every day of his life believing that there is actually some sort of higher plan.

That's the problem with humans-- they just sit around, hoping that someone will fix things.

But no one will. No one cares.

The universe is infinite and chaotic and cold.

And there has never been a plan.

At least not till now.

You wanna know what the plan was the day they d*ed?

The plan was for someone to make $15 million.

An executive at a big bank wanted them dead, so he wired the money to someone with the skills, resources, and moral depravity to make that happen.

And that someone was me.

And the punch line is that your machine keeps telling me to save Cyrus.

How badly did you have to break it to make it care about people so much?

That didn't break it. It's what made it work.

It was only after I taught the machine that people mattered, that it could begin to be able to help them.

I'd like to do the same thing for you, if you'd let me.

In the first 30 minutes after Samaritan comes online, a lot of people are gonna be k*lled.

But they're gonna start with four.

You, me, your helper monkey, and Shaw.

And there won't be a damn thing anyone, including your machine, can do to stop it.

You think I don't care about people, Harold?

I'm doing all of this to save you.

Sorry, Doctor.

I didn't have time to make an appointment.

But I know you'll make an exception for me.

Really?

And, uh, how do you know that?

The same way I know I can put a b*llet through your hand before you can dial 911.

The same way I know you're the best otolaryngologist in 250 miles.

Okay, uh, what do you want? dr*gs?

Not really.

Although a little lidocaine would be nice.

I didn't get any the last time.

You see, somebody broke my ear.

And you're gonna fix it.

Building security has been neutralized.

We're ready to take the chip.

Then let's begin, shall we?

Very good.

You may dispose of him now.

(Cyrus) Wait. What are you--

No, let me go!

Please. The minimum healing time is three weeks before--

Unfortunately, I'm on a bit of a schedule.

And I won't be needing that.

Okay, I'm turning it on.

Now you're going to hear a series of tones.

I can hear you.

I didn't start yet.

I wasn't talking to you.

We're in the lab.

(Greer) Take all the research, wipe the computers, and locate the chip.

Haste makes waste.

The chamber is cooled to within a few degrees of absolute zero.

(Greer) Opening now would k*ll you all.

And more importantly damage the chip.

Listen closely to the warm-up protocol and do exactly as I say.

No, no, please, don't.

Settle down. It'll all be over soon.

We got plenty of bleach.

Oh, no, no, no.

This is not the plan.

This can't be the plan.

[g*nsh*t]

[Grunts]

[g*nshots]

Oh, God!

What did you say to him?

[g*nshots]

[g*nshots]

(Greer) She is persistent.

Countermeasures.

[Buzzing]

[g*nf*re]

(Man) 233 Kelvin.

(Greer) The chamber is now safe.

Get the chip and go.

[Tense music]

[g*nf*re]

Fusco.

I'm gonna try to get to Cyrus.

Be ready to cover me.

(Root)

He'll just run away again.

He doesn't like g*ns.

You think the machine's gonna help you dodge b*ll*ts?

No.

[g*nshots]

It's okay. I'm coming to you.

[Grunts]

[g*nshots]

Hey, Cyrus, wanna get out of here?

[g*nf*re]

(Man) The Maxwell chip is in custody, sir.

We've cleared the perimeter.

Then our work here is done.

Do tidy up, please.

Cyrus is safe, Finch, but Decima got away with the chip.

That may not be our only loss.

I still haven't heard from Miss--

What happened to you guys?

You missed all the fun.

[Hisses in pain]

What are they saying?

I know you can't bluejack her anymore.

But do you expect us to believe you didn't bug that balcony?

I suppose I thought they deserved some privacy.

Looks like it's time to go.

I hope you don't mind starting a new life.

I was about due for one.

Besides, it's all part of the plan.

Keep 'em dry.

Change the dressings every 72 hours.

I love it when you play doctor.

[Door shuts]

Was it just a coincidence--

Cyrus and me?

Or was the machine trying to make some sort of point?

You'd have to ask the machine.

I did.

She's not telling.

Did you inform Mr. Wells about your role in his past?

I wanted to.

But that would've been for me.

What Cyrus believes, it-- it helps him.

And who am I to say he's wrong?

She wants me on a plane to Paraguay in 20 minutes.

About that-- you're not wrong about the thr*at Samaritan poses.

And though you and I may not see eye to eye on some things, perhaps we should collaborate a bit more.

Toward that end--

Detective Fusco is here to take me where I need to go.

[Door opens]

Hello, Lionel.

Hey, Cuckoo's Nest, the meter's running.

Your smoke alarm's gonna start beeping at 2:41 AM.

[Door shuts]