04x02 - Nautilus

[bunniefuu]

(Finch) We are being watched.

The government has a secret system-- a machine that spies on you every hour of every day.

I designed the machine to detect acts of terror, but it sees everything...

Violent crimes involving ordinary people.

The government considers these people irrelevant.

We don't.

Hunted by the authorities, we work in secret.

You will never find us.

But victim or perpetrator, if your number's up, we'll find you.

[Sizzling]

[Phone ringing]

[Cell phone vibrating]

I hope you like your eggs room temperature, and mildly congealed.

(Reese) Sorry, Harold. Got to cancel.

The job may be a cover, but the last-minute paperwork's real.

Understood, though it seems a shame to waste decent food.

Why don't you ask your new number to keep you company?

New what?

(Reese) Claire Mahoney, sophomore at Oberlin College in Ohio.

Checked into the motel next door two nights ago, and according to her credit card, eats most of her meals at that diner, including the one she just charged.

You lured me here to assign me your latest number?

When I gave you a secure phone network, this wasn't what I had in mind.

We're no longer coworkers, John.

But Claire Mahoney's not just another number.

In fact, she's right up your alley.

(Reese) Math major, 4.0 GPA.

Lots of mathematics majors are studious enough to achieve perfect grade point averages.

But how many of them become chess grand masters at the age of 16?

She played three different computer systems at the same time and won.

But in the last 48 hours, she's trespassed, broken into cars.

Sometimes teens act out in the big city, John.

And sometimes they buy a 9 millimeter from a g*n show on their way here.

I don't know why a college student needs a firearm, but I think Professor Whistler can figure it out.

The fact that I am a professor is exactly why I should not intervene.

How many times do I have to remind you our covers come first?

Well, at least your cover doesn't come with a partner.

All the open homicides in our docket.

Captain wants you brought up to speed by morning.

Welcome aboard, Detective Riley.

[Chuckles]

I make no promises, John.

There are other matters I'm attending to.

Why don't you enlist Miss Shaw?

'Cause she has a complicated cover of her own.

[Man over comm] 30 seconds, tops. Keep the engine running.

[Car door opens]

Kiss kiss to you too.

Whatever this is, you have 29 seconds.

Just checking in. New job and all.

Skip the orientation, all right?

I've got this.

No burning questions?

Just one-- Why?

These covers are supposed to make us look ordinary, so why would the machine make me--

A criminal?

Criminals are ordinary, Sameen.

Every city's got them.

13 seconds.

Only two mistakes you can make that'll put you on anyone's radar.

Number one, getting caught.

Getting caught?

If I apply even half of my skills and training--

You'll be making mistake number two--

Drawing too much attention.

You can be a good thief, just not too good.

sh**t for a B-plus.

[Alarm blaring]

Thanks for the rousing pep talk.

That's what I'm here for.

[Alarm continues blaring]

(Romeo) Response time's under two minutes-- let's move.

All right, let's see how fast you are.

My pleasure.

[Quietly] Ordinary my ass.

[Tires screeching]

Gotcha.

A nautilus shell?

(Female student) So that's the problem-- all the classes I want are full.

Professor, are you listening to me?

Can I see your current class schedule?

(Automated female voice) We're sorry, the number that you dialed is not a working number.

Um, not sure who you'd be calling when one of your students needs you.

Oh, it's nothing... An issue with a math major.

Ugh, math is the worst.

Manipulating numbers?

If I want to add, subtract, or multiply, I'll let my phone do it.

It's not a phone number.

It's multiplication.

What are you doing now?

Manipulating numbers.

GPS coordinates.

Uh--

Oh.

Um...

Suppose I speak to the dean on your behalf?

That... would work.

Thank you.

[Camera shutter clicks]

Another nautilus.

[g*n cocking]

You playing too?

"Playing"?

You're cheating off me.

Is that it?

It's not gonna work.

You can't b*at me. I'm going to win.

Win what? I have no idea what you're talking about.

Then what are you doing here?

You've been tracking me, haven't you?

This ends now, understand?

Yes, but I'm not tracking you. I'm here to help.

No, you're not.

You're here to sabotage me and leave me behind.

I won't leave you behind.

Fine.

You're welcome to keep playing, but I'm gonna have a head start.

[Rap music blaring]

[Tires screech]

Help! This man's got a g*n! Please don't hurt me!

You're making a mistake.

NYPD, Detective Riley.

This man I wanted in conjunction with a case of mine.

I'll take him into custody.

Like hell you will.

What about my window?

I'm sure this gentleman will be happy to pay for it.

Won't he?

We'll take that.

That should cover it.

Book him, Detective.

Need I remind you that under our newfound oversight, my income is no longer unlimited.

[Car driving away]

But I do appreciate your timing.

For what it's worth, Claire seems to think she's playing a game.

I can't tell if it's real or if it's just in her mind.

Sounds like you're working this number after all.

I'm working a puzzle, John.

That's all she is, a puzzle?

A puzzle that doesn't want my help, or anyone else's for that matter.

I suggest that we heed her advice and leave this one alone.

What are you doing?

Detective Riley promised those guys he'd arrest you.

Don't want to get flagged for suspicious behavior.

Our covers come first, remember?

Oh, dear.

No, I assure you that our conversation will remain confidential.

Thank you for your time.

Could we dispense with the formalities, do you think?

I'm just protecting our covers.

You sure it was okay to make a call to Claire's professor on that cell?

Even if I weren't inside a car with the windows rolled up, all Samaritan would have heard just now was two fellow professors discussing a student.

Suffice it to say, Claire's history of instability is longer than 48 hours.

How much longer?

A year since she stopped playing chess and started skipping class, and though her advisor couldn't legally say, I gathered that her erratic behavior culminated in a su1c1de attempt.

Whatever triggered it resulted in Claire taking the semester off.

She's just returned to school this fall.

I'll put in a request for her personal information, try to find out what might have caused it, but NYPD research isn't known for their speed.

Well, that's unfortunate, because I believe that you may have received Claire's number because she's a danger to herself.

She pulled a g*n on you, Harold.

Seems more likely she's a thr*at to others.

Well, whichever theory is correct, you need to find Claire before she does more damage.

I could use your help tracking her down.

I have an errand to run.

You'll have to bring your partner.

If I get called out, Fusco goes too, you know.

I wasn't referring to him.

[Dog whines]

Claire's a math major.

Either she has a thing for Soviet theater, or she needs a place to hide a backup hard drive.

Excuse me, what are you doing here?

Detective John Riley, NYPD.

Did something happen to my daughter?

You're Claire's father?

Douglas Mahoney.

The school told me Claire left campus two days ago.

The credit card company said she booked a room here, so I flew in from Ohio.

Did your daughter mention why she was coming to New York?

No, she won't return my calls.

Then I get here and find a detective and a police dog.

Um... please tell me she's okay.

Claire was a witness to an act of vandalism this morning.

No one was hurt.

[Sighs] Oh, thank goodness.

Please, Detective, if you find Claire--

You'll be the first to know.

[Phone ringing]

My captain calling.

Yes, Captain?

(Finch) - Nice to hear that I've been promoted.

I found something I need to show you, in person.

Meet you at your office in 20 minutes.

Claire has a backup hard drive?

Which she was keeping hidden.

Whatever's on her laptop, she doesn't want to lose it.

Now, what do you see when you look at this picture of Claire?

An unstable college student staring at street art.

I thought as much myself until I realized that the graffiti isn't graffiti at all.

It's a variation on a Bongard puzzle.

This particular type of puzzle presents two sets of diagrams.

The diagrams in the first set share a common feature.

The blocks never overlap with the curved lines.

Conversely, in the second set, the blocks do touch the curves, but there's an additional common element.

There's a different number of blocks in each diagram.

Code cracking.

Sometimes you forget I was an international spy.

Fair enough.

Now, using this pattern, I can fill in the blank space with the only number of blocks left out, which is three, thus solving the puzzle, creating a sort of three-pronged arch.

May I?

There's your three-pronged arch, Harold.

Glen Span Arch in Central Park.

If you want to talk to Claire about this game she thinks she's playing, you'll find her there, and perhaps the next puzzle.

You still don't want to tag along?

No, I'm more useful here.

If Miss Mahoney is half as smart as she seems, this hard drive is gonna be difficult to cr*ck.

Careful, Finch, you might have to admit you're actually working this number.

Claire's an exception.

Exceptions become the rule, especially when you start using their first names.

No sign of Claire at the arch.

Well, perhaps her hard drive will be more forthcoming.

Just about managed to cr*ck the encryption code that she wrote.

You know, you were right, John. She is exceptional.

You've just received an email from NYPD Research regarding your request for personal information on Claire Mahoney.

What does it say?

It's quite a lot of information.

It'll take some time to sift through it.

[Car horn honking]

Finch, I found Claire.

Where?

In the middle of the street.

[Car horn honking]

[Tires screeching]

[Car horn honking]

Looks like you were right, Harold, she does have a death wish.

[Car horns honking]

Why did you do that?

It's my job.

So is finding out why you were standing in traffic.

You wouldn't understand.

Well, maybe your father will.

I called him in case we found you here.

Claire, I'm so glad they found you.

That man is not my father.

John, I've scanned the NYPD Research records on Claire.

Her parents d*ed in a car accident last year.

She's telling the truth.

Run.

(Man) Come on, let's go!

(Finch) John, are you okay?

Where's Claire?

I told her to run.

(Reese) Looks like the game she's playing isn't just real.

It's deadly.

John, I'm at the arch. Where are you?

(Reese) Looking for Claire.

She may still be in the woods, hiding from dad.

Who would pose as Claire's dead father?

From their tactics, I'm guessing Blackwater-type private m*llitary contractors.

Why would a private m*llitary contractor go after a college student, unless it has something to do with a game that she's playing.

I'm sending notes from Claire's backup drive to your phone.

The game started with a post on an obscure message board.

"If you seek enlightenment, be the first to walk through the chambers."

What's the spiral shell?

Chambered nautilus.

Claire realized there was data hidden in the image and managed to extract it--

Instructions to hack an encrypted network and steal a particular file.

Whatever's on it is required to win the game.

Setting a pretty high bar.

Indeed, and this isn't the game's first iteration.

There have been at least 2 others, 27 days apart, in cities as far-flung as Tokyo and Paris.

You know who's behind it?

Could be one of any number of powerful and potentially dangerous entities--

CIA, rogue hackers.

Whoever's behind it is secretive.

And no one seems to know what happens when you get to the end.

(Man) Stop. This is it. Wait here.

I think I may have found one of Claire's fellow competitors.

[Camera shutter clicks]

[Cell phone vibrates]

Nice glasses.

Optical head-mounted display.

Among other things, it takes pictures.

Excuse me. I think I'm lost. I wonder if you--

Stay back!

Not exactly an altruist, but he gave me one thing...

The spot where I would have to be to find the next puzzle.

This must be where you found Claire.

You see anything interesting?

Trees, lampposts, banners.

Oh, wait.

It's a nautilus, and the street lights are more than just a border.

It's braille.

The lights are the equivalent of the tactile dots.

The message reads "184th and 3rd."

Claire is very likely making her way there.

(Reese) I'm on my way.

Let me know when you find her.

Still want to pretend you're not playing?

I saw you in the park.

Trust me, Claire, I have no desire to cheat off your work or sabotage your chances of winning.

That why you stole my hard drive?

Hand it over, or do I have to take it?

Pretty pathetic.

If you can't solve the puzzles on your own, you shouldn't be here.

I wasn't going to be... as much as a friend of mine hoped otherwise.

But something on the drive helped change my mind.

My notes?

A eulogy for your parents.

The young woman who wrote those words would never sh**t me over a game.

She values life too much.

If that's what you think... then you don't know me at all.

What's the status?

Alarm system disabled throughout the bank.

You cut through the vault, you're home free.

Let's go.

Have fun, boys.

[Cell phone vibrates]

[Cell phone beeps]

Speaking of boys...

I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Miss Shaw, but I could use some help with a new number.

New number?

This particular number is involved in activities, the implications of which are extraordinary, perhaps global.

Can you meet me?

Sure. I'm clocking out anyway.

[Car door opens]

New computer?

Isn't that a week's salary for you?

Small price to pay for safety from Samaritan, especially when hacking security-camera feeds.

Security feeds? You want to fill me in?

A dangerous game is being played throughout the city.

I'm trying to find the game master.

I've accessed the feeds from a security camera whose field includes a lamppost where one of the game's puzzles was posted.

By scrolling back through the archived footage, I hope to identify who put it up.

There.

Toby's Estate Coffee. Game master is a barista?

Right across the street.

(Shaw) So this guy likes to play games, huh?

Well, so do I.

Need I remind you, I'm not a proponent of v*olence.

We imply it. We may not have to use it.

Soy milk? I can't stand the stuff.

Go cow, or go home.

Now, someone's got a few questions for you.

Someone?

First, I'd like to inform you that I've disabled the video streams back here, so no one can see or hear or help.

Surprisingly lax security for someone of your interests.

Who are you?

He's the guy who tells me when to let go.

This game of yours-- what's its ultimate purpose?

You work alone or with a team?

I don't know what you're talking about.

How many fingers does it take to make an espresso?

You see this okay, or do you need me to staple it to your eyeball?

The poster? It's not mine. It came in an email.

Sent by whom?

It was anonymous.

Please!

It told me when and where to put up the poster.

I did it. 1,000 bucks was wired to my account.

That's all I know, I swear.

I'm going to need to see that email.

And I'm gonna need you to make yourself useful.

Tall latte, and you better not give me decaf.

(Reese) Harold, I'm at 184th and 3rd. Only place open is a biker bar.

[Rock music]

♪

Beer.

John, have you managed to find Claire?

I found her.

Brave girl, walking into a place like this.

As usual, she's staring at something, and I have no idea what.

(Finch) That makes two of us.

I've been trying to trace the source of an email that I believe was sent by the creator of the game.

The results are nothing short of baffling.

The email appears to have no point of origin.

It simply materialized in the recipient's inbox.

Excuse me.

[Camera shutter clicks]

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

No way you're leaving till I get you a drink.

Nice offer.

Too bad that guy's about to steal your wallet.

What?

No, I wasn't.

Oh.

Now I'm gonna do the same thing to your arms.

Excuse me. Does this thing work?

Oh!

Hey!

Yep, works just fine.

Don't move!

Really?

That's a good choice.

Now, I'm gonna give you another one.

You're not equipped to be here, not in this place and not in this game you're playing, so either you choose to quit playing, or I arrest you to keep you safe.

So what's it gonna be?

Quit.

Glad we could have this talk.

Nautilus eyes.

Found the next puzzle, Finch.

Heading after Claire.

Harold, I got two guys across the street wearing comms.

Claire's got a welcoming party.

(Finch) Oh, dear.

What's going on?

I'm tracing this email, but something just hacked back with incredible force.

My hard drive's being torn apart.

They're tracing our location!

What are you gonna do?

Drive.

The PMCs are making their move. I'm heading in.

(Finch) No, John, you can't interfere.

I just lost control of my computer to a brute-force att*ck so swift and surgical, there can only be one source behind it, and I have no doubt the same entity created the game.

So? We've gone up against hackers before.

You don't understand, Mr. Reese.

The creator of the game isn't a hacker.

It isn't even human.

It's Samaritan.

Claire's in danger, Harold.

She may be playing Samaritan's game, but we still got to help her.

(Finch) No, Claire's every move is being watched by 1,000 digital eyes.

These guys aren't Samaritan operatives-- they're m*llitary.

It doesn't matter, John.

Until I can understand Samaritan's intent with the game and what it wants with Claire, I won't have you risking your life and Sameen's.

Damn it, Harold, it is still my job to save people.

Don't let your frustration with me affect your judgment.

He's gonna let his frustration with you affect his judgment.

I'll take it from here.

Oh!

You're under arrest, pal.

Ah!

[Switchblade clicks]

[Gasps]

[Grunts]

You're no cop.

I am, just not a very good one.

[Groans]

I've got some questions for you.

What's wrong, Harold?

You and the big lug have another little spat?

We need to concentrate on a larger problem.

Do you recognize this?

A nautilus shell, one of nature's many examples of a logarithmic spiral.

And a symbol for a very dangerous competition going on across the globe every 27 days.

Competition? Sounds invigorating.

Samaritan is behind it.

I need to know why.

She's not saying.

But I can guess. Samaritan's recruiting.

Recruiting?

What kind of person would pique its interest?

What kind of person are you worried it might take?

Her name is Claire.

And what's so special about this Claire?

She's a chess grand master who's defeated three separate AIs.

She'll walk right out in traffic to break a code.

She's fearless, and she has nothing left to lose.

Funny, take away the chess, I could've sworn you were describing someone else.

You.

You want to know why Samaritan wants Claire?

Because she'll do anything it asks, no questions.

Frightening thought.

And now you're trying to figure out if you can risk compromising your carefully crafted cover identity to help save poor Claire.

Or step aside so that we stay alive to help others.

You really want me to ask the machine, Harold?

You know what she's gonna say.

No, what's that?

What you taught her...

That humans must make their own choices.

You have to figure it out yourself.

[Man pounding on trunk, grunting]

Larry, I told you, stay calm, and I'll grant you back-seat privileges.

Are you abducting someone?

It's a long story.

You're a flight attendant?

Just for today. Larry's my pilot.

Where are you going?

She hasn't told me yet.

I'm hoping somewhere tropical.

[Gasps]

You can t*rture me all you want, you won't get answers.

I know.

So what are you gonna do to us?

Nothing. You don't talk, I book you.

Cushy holding cell your idea of punishment?

No. The punishment comes later.

Private m*llitary corporations aren't authorized to conduct missions on US soil.

So I'll arrest you, and when your employers find out, they'll send someone to silence you for good.

So I'm gonna ask you once...

Why are you after Claire Mahoney?

[Sighs]

She hacked Silverpool's network.

And Silverpool's the name of the private m*llitary corporation that you work for?

And a college student hacked your network?

Was it part of the game?

What game?

You hack a private m*llitary corporation's network, trust me, it's no game.

What did Claire take?

It's above my pay grade.

If Silverpool's conducting an illegal mission to k*ll a college student, she must have taken something that could shut down the company, maybe even get you all thrown in prison for w*r crimes.

I told you, I don't know.

I'll take a guess.

Documentation of what you guys did in Tikrit, possibly numbers of civilian casualties.

Yeah, you caught the three of us, fine, but we're just the first wave.

Silverpool's not gonna stop attacking till they find out how much that girl knows.

And then they'll k*ll her.

Hey, where you going?

To work.

Hey!

I hope you're getting a jump on that domestic.

3-0-R-C? Never heard of that g*ng.

That's because they've only existed for 48 hours.

(Fusco) What is that, some kind of puzzle, like a jumble?

I'm not half bad at those.

"Half bad" doesn't mean good.

Well, here's your problem.

It's not a word.

Haven't you noticed, none of the letters go past "G."

That means they're not letters. They're musical notes.

[Humming New York, New York]

New York, New York.

(Fusco) Nobody compares to Frank.

Whoever made that puzzle's got good taste.

"3-0-R-C, New York, New York."

Kind of a weird theme song for a biker g*ng, though.

That's because it's not a theme song, it's an address.

It's the Top Of The Rock.

It's the Observation Deck. That's where Claire's going.

Target has arrived. I've got her in sight.

I've got a clear sh*t.

(Man) Copy that. Fire when ready.

[Can clatters]

Nice r*fle.

Shame you left it unattended.

[Female voice on pa] Ladies and gentlemen, the next elevator to the Top Of The Rock Observation Deck

will be leaving momentarily.

[Elevator bell dings]

Going up?

I just got to wait for my friend.

Room for one more?

[Indistinct chatter]

The code to the Silverpool documents.

[Keys clacking]

Silverpool is willing to k*ll you for stealing those documents, and you're not even looking at them.

To you, they're just a key to the code that's etched in this rail.

I don't need to read their reports to know what they say--

Civilian casualties, meaningless suffering.

And nothing any of them can do to stop it.

Claire, I came here for a reason-- to try to convince you to make the right decision.

And what decision is that?

Forfeit the game, because it's not worth winning and because it's not just a game.

Then what is it?

It's a recruiting tool for a very dangerous force.

Believe me when I tell you, if you win this game, you will be walking into grave danger.

Aren't we all in grave danger all the time?

Last Thanksgiving, I got a phone call telling me both my parents were dead...

That some old man had t-boned them in an intersection.

No way to tell whose fault it was...

Not that it would have brought them back.

Your parents' death is a random accident.

You have no reason, no explanation, no one to blame.

Okay, don't say you're sorry, 'cause that's what everyone said, that and if I needed something, give them a call.

In that case, you needn't worry, because I have no intention of giving you my phone number.

At least you're honest.

Everyone else...

There was no meaning behind what anyone said, because there was no meaning behind my parents' death.

It was just something that happened for no reason.

Is that what you're looking for, Miss Mahoney-- meaning?

Well, it's the only thing worth looking for.

Now I've found it.

Or it found me.

Either way, I reached out and took a chance, and I'm going to win.

The Octagon Building.

I know what it's like to look for a definitive answer, even when you know that none exists.

You're trying to make sense of this tragedy.

You're reaching out for meaning, but the wrong thing is reaching back.

This force can certainly give your life structure, order... meaning...

But it wouldn't be the meaning you want.

It's the only thing I've got.

Please, Claire.

If you leave here, I can't protect you.

The men from Silverpool will track you down, or the force that runs the game will, which will be worse, but if you come with me now, I might be able to help you.

Why would you want to help me?

Because...

I'd like to think there's meaning too.

[Elevator bell dings]

(Shaw) Harold? You okay?

John... I wasn't expecting you.

Would've been here sooner. Had a little elevator trouble.

Where's Claire?

She no longer wanted our protection.

We did everything we could to save her.

I suppose we could have locked her up and thrown away the key.

Eh, maybe we should have.

She would have found her way out.

So we just let her go, alone?

I've given her all the facts I can.

It's up to her to make her own decision.

Claire will figure it out for herself.

[Portishead's Roads]

♪
♪ oh, can't anybody see ♪
♪

♪ we've got a w*r to fight? ♪
♪ never found our way ♪

The whole building's a nautilus.

♪ regardless of what they say ♪
♪ how can it feel this wrong? ♪

W-T-C-H-Y-S.

♪ from this moment ♪

"Swytch."

♪ how can it feel ♪
♪ this wrong? ♪
♪

Hello?

♪ storm ♪
♪ in the morning light ♪

Switch.

♪

What?

♪

It doesn't work.

♪ can't anybody see ♪

Give us the file.

♪ we've got a w*r to fight? ♪
♪ never found our way ♪

If I do, will you let me go?

If I said yes, would you believe me?

♪ how can it feel ♪

♪ this wrong? ♪

It doesn't matter.

This whole thing...

I guess it didn't mean anything after all.

♪

[g*nshots]

[Gasps]

♪

[Cell phone vibrating]

♪
♪ how can it feel this wrong? ♪

[Sighs]

Looks like Silverpool's gonna have to answer for their crimes after all.

Wonder who could've leaked those documents Claire stole to the press so quickly?

In this case, I'm afraid I can take no credit, although there is a wrinkle.

It appears that Silverpool was developing a new thr*at-identification network--

A secret system to spy on Americans in the name of keeping us safe, but with this leak, that network is a good as dead, along with any chance it had to compete with any other such system, including the one that created the nautilus puzzles.

Claire wasn't just being drawn into a game.

She was being used to get hold of a file only a human agent could access, all to take down Silverpool.

And eliminate a potential rival.

Not that Claire was ever going to question her mission.

I checked this morning.

She hasn't turned up at her dorm room or any of her classes.

Whatever fate was waiting for her at the end of the game, it must have found her.

I'm sorry, Harold.

I never should have dragged you back into this.

I appreciate your concern, John, but just as Claire has made her choice, I've made mine.

Follow me.

(Finch) Forgive me, I've only just finished wiring it for power.

(Reese) - Power?

Power, indeed.

The third rail is a remarkably potent source and nearly impossible for the city to trace.

A subway repair line.

Built in the '30s and used until it was cut off by the city's new main water line.

Abandoned for decades.

Antiques.

Like us, Harold?

I suppose they are a bit like us-- living underground, resisting the new age that's trying to make us irrelevant.

And like us, they still work.

How did you find this place?

We may have underestimated Samaritan, but Samaritan has underestimated the machine.

It led me here to help us fight back.

And by tapping into underground fibers and spoofing half of the web addresses on the West Side, I created--

A secure way to get online?

This is a new base of operations.

A safe haven.

I'd originally intended it for you and Miss Shaw, but in light of recent developments--

Finch, are you telling me you're--

(Shaw) Back?

I see you deciphered my byzantine directions.

You are back, aren't you, Harold?

Or did you invite us down here for decorating tips?

The truth is, I couldn't stand by and watch my friends risking everything doing work that I myself began.

We're not just fighting for people's lives anymore.

If we lose and Samaritan wins, the world as we know it will vanish, and no one will even notice it until it's far too late.

So we push back.

Indeed, and we do it together.

Glad to know that you have our backs, Harold.

Many thanks, John.

But we haven't time for pleasantries.

We have to get to work.