01x01 - A Stitch in Time

[bunniefuu]

(Squeaking)

(Dial tones beeping)

I'm in.

(Beeping continues)

(Gasps)

(Beeping resumes)

(Beeping)

Oh, no.

Kirsten Clark, this is a very serious accusation against you.

You do understand that?

I understood the first three times you told me, Doctor Hardwyck.

Do you mind not doing that while I talk with you?

Thank you.

Do you have a response for Camille?

Yes.

Why would I sabotage her research when she's perfectly capable of screwing it up by herself?

See?

This is the crap I've been getting from her all year.

Kirsten: I don't say this maliciously.

It's just that Camille's work is often shoddy.

I believe her grades reflect that.

We share a house, so she had access to my optogenetics harness. Plus she wants to publish first, so she has a motive.

I demand a full investigation, and I want Kirsten placed on academic suspension while it's taking place.

This is about the dishes I left in the sink, isn't it?

What? No. You think I want you suspended because you left dishes in the sink?

Would it k*ll you to clean up the kitchen after you're done in there?

I don't know. Would it k*ll you to close your door when you have a guy over?

That was one time.

Kirsten, Camille, I need you ladies to focus, all right?

Academic suspension is the nuclear option.

There must be some way Kristen can prove she didn't do it.

We also can't rule out that Camille did this to herself to sabotage me.

I'll take a polygraph right now... right now. How about you?

I'd fail.

That sounds like an admission of guilt to me.

Polygraphs don't work on me. I fail them.

Because of this condition of yours... temporal...

Dysplasia, yes.

That's convenient.

Kirsten, we run a strict code of conduct here in the PhD program. Till further notice, I'm gonna place you on academic suspension.

Sorry.

There, it's fixed. You're welcome.

Okay?

Kirsten Clark?

Yes.

Detective Fisher, L.A.P.D.

I'm sorry, Miss Clark, I have some bad news.

That's him.

Would you like a moment?

To do what?

To be alone with your father.

Turn around.

Turn around.

No, I'm good.

The police department has a grief counselor available if you'd like to speak to someone.

Are you sure he k*lled himself?

Yes.

I think you're wrong.

When someone sh**t themselves, compared to when they're sh*t by someone else, there are certain... are you sure you want to hear this?

Certain what?

Indicators... powder residue on the su1c1de's hand, location of the wound, number of sh*ts fired, angle of the sh*t.

Every indicator about your father points to su1c1de.

He sh*t himself in the chest.

The head is favored by 75% of suicides.

Which means the chest is favored by 25%.

He obviously falls in that percentile.

What about the g*n?

It fell on the floor next to him.

Near which hand?

His right.

He was left-handed.

Doesn't matter.

Why not?

He sh*t himself in the heart.

It's easier to do that with your right hand than your left.

We photographed the entire room, over 400 pictures.

I want copies.

It doesn't work that way.

Why weren't you and your father close?

What makes you think that?

Because the usual reaction I see when someone's parent is k*lled is different than yours.

You've seen a lot of that?

Yes.

My heart weeps for you.

Why weren't you close?

I didn't k*ll him.

I wasn't implying you did.

Good, because I was in class this morning when he was m*rder*d.

Check with the university.

I already did.

And it was a su1c1de.

Man: Fisher, you're up.

Excuse me.

Man on TV: ... At least three seriously.

A spokesman for Applied Holographics says that the company will issue a statement later today... (Phone camera clicks) ... and that their main concern right now is the safety of their staff. The cause of the expl*si*n...

Same device used yesterday at the Elmwood apartments?

We'll talk about it later.

Don't stress. I'm finished.

Why weren't you and your father close?

You're the detective.

Detect.

What was that about?

I don't know.

What are you doing?

Kicking you out.

This is my house.

Not after I sue you for academic sabotage.

(Scoffs)

It's not your room anymore.

Can I get you anything?

A cold drink? Restraining order?

I'm locked out of the university's computer system.

Yes, you're on academic suspension, so Hardwyck revoked your account.

You know it wasn't me. Maybe it was that horny T.A. you screwed for an "A." He seemed threatened by how smart you are.

Okay, I know you don't get relationships, like, at all, but I don't need to screw anyone for an "A."

Maybe not, but it wouldn't hurt your G.P.A. if you did Hardwyck once or twice.

Look, I'm not striking the right tone here.

I need to use your laptop.

What? Are you... what?

No. No way.

You probably didn't hear, but someone close to me d*ed today.

What? Who?

Doesn't matter. But I want to look at the police files, and the only way to access them is with an exploit I wrote last semester.

The face recognition one?

No, a back door probe.

It's behind the university's firewall.

Okay, you want to use my laptop to hack into the L.A.P.D.'s data server?

Yes.

Well, that's... help me, what is the word I'm looking for? Illegal.

So that's a no on the laptop?

You would have a better chance breaking into Hardwyck's office and using his computer than borrowing mine.

Okay.

(Door opens, closes)

I'm pretty sure I was kidding.

No?

(Beeps, whirs)

Good night, Vanessa.

Good night, professor.

Worn-down keys.

(Beeping)

(Chirps, whirs)

Stay where you are.

(Radio chatter)

You guys are a little over-dressed for campus security, don't you think?

Don't I at least get to make a phone call?

Woman: To whom? Everyone you know is either dead or hates you.

I could call a lawyer.

Lawyers aren't really my thing.

Tell me about your father.

Why did he k*ll himself?

He didn't. And he wasn't my father.

I know, but I don't know what else to call him.

My real father parked me with him when I was eight.

What do you know about your real father?

Nothing.

Not true.

I know he didn't want a kid. Does that count?

Why did your father place you with Ed?

Place me?

I wasn't placed. When my mother d*ed, daddy saw no benefit in me.

We had no family. He and Ed were friends.

Ed agreed to take me in. I wasn't placed. I was abandoned.

But Ed never formally adopted you.

That was something neither he nor I wanted.

Why not?

Because it would have implied a closeness that didn't exist. Where am I?

Is that why you didn't feel anything when you saw him dead?

How do you know that?

I have access to certain police records.

Why didn't you feel anything when you saw Ed?

You wouldn't understand.

Try me. I'm a very understanding person.

You can ask anyone.

How long have I been in this room?

Answer my question.

I'm trying to.

How long have I been in this room?

Guess.

An hour.

One minute.

You really don't know, do you?

I have this condition.

It's called "temporal dysplasia."

I have no time perception.

I've read about the condition. I thought it was made up.

I wish, 'cause then you can unmake it up. It really sucks.

I use memory, logic, and math to approximate a time difference, but I don't know what time feels like.

Memory, math, and logic?

Tell me where I am.

Downtown L.A.

Fine.

You say I've been in this room for one minute.

Let's work backwards. Try to follow.

It's a 22-minute car trip from Caltech to downtown.

I didn't have to pee, and I wasn't hungry, so I know I wasn't in Hardwyck's office for more than an hour.

The Uber ride to Caltech from my place is 44 minutes on average.

Let's add 10 minutes at home with my roommate, because that's what I think I can tolerate of her.

It's 47 minutes from my house to the police station.

And I know I spent 73 minutes viewing dead Ed and talking with Detective Tight-Ass, because I checked the time. So, doing the math, that's four hours and eight minutes.

But that's just numbers.

I don't know what four hours and eight minutes feels like.

I don't even know how long I just spoke for.

46 seconds.

My time perception is spot on.

The reason I didn't react when I saw Ed in the morgue is because the moment I saw him, it was as if he had been dead forever.

The moment I saw him, the knowledge of him being dead was instantly familiar.

That's temporal dysplasia.

May I go now?

You have been on my radar a long time.

Really? Then why am I now off your radar and in your Chinese restaurant?

My name is Maggie Baptiste, and I'm working on a project that needs someone with your particular aptitude.

There are projects that need someone with temporal dysplasia?

One. Mine.

I represent a federal agency that's investigating a very serious crime.

FBI?

Don't waste your time guessing.

That's good, Maggie Baptiste, because I'm already not interested.

This crime is extremely time-sensitive, life and death.

I already have a crime to solve.

Don't get up. I'll show myself out.

(Sighs)

Kirsten, you have two choices.

One... you come work with me.

At your unguessable agency?

Two... I let you leave.

Your roommate just kicked you out, so you have nowhere to live, and you're on academic suspension, so your doctoral plans are officially crap.

And the only person who may or may not have cared about you may or may not have k*lled himself, you have no money and nowhere to go.

I know a horny T.A.

I could swap sex with for a place to stay.

I know that's not who you are, and so do you.

Someone with temporal dysplasia can work at your unguessable agency?

Let's find out.

(Beeping)

(Whirring)

(Computers beeping)

(People chattering)

Welcome to the Stitchers program.

What is that?

We call it the fish t*nk.

Is that because it looks like a fish t*nk?

I hope you people are smarter than you are creative.

I thought we were gonna wait till she had her psych evaluation.

There's no time. Interview her if you feel the need, but I want her prepped in 20.

Prepped for what?

What's your problem that makes it that you don't have any friends?

Why do you smell like meat?

I had beef fry for breakfast.

Beef fry? Is that a quantum computer?

It's like bacon, but made with beef.

What are you, Muslim?

No, I'm an atheist.

Atheists don't eat pig?

Not if it makes their grandmother sad.

She Muslim?

Jew-ish.

You gonna stalk her on koshermatchmaker.com?

I'm just asking.

No, you're just jabbering.

You ever been diagnosed? You may be clinical.

You're like Gollum. You've been living in your cave so long, you've forgotten how to talk to the rest of us hobbits.

A simple Tolkien reference, and I'm supposed to be impressed?

Name all the actors who played Doctor Who since 1963, and maybe you'll get a reaction out of me.

I'm the smartest person in my program.

Oh, so in your little circle you're the smartest?

So what does that make you? Queen of the Estupidos ?

You're quite the tool.

Thanks for making my point for me.

Okay, that concludes our interview.

Has anyone actually explained to you what we do here?

This is the second corpse I've seen today.

Probably not your fault. Probably.

What did he die of?

He d*ed of expl*si*n... expl*sive concussion, if you want to get all technical, and I know you do.

Who is he?

You heard about the two bombs... one yesterday and one from today?

This gent's our bomber... Peter Brandt.

28 years old, recently graduated from the chemical engineering program at U.C. Santa Monica with a master's in... wait for it... energetic molecular studies. expl*sives.

Why is he here? Are you guys coroners?

No, he's here to share his memories with us.

But he's dead.

Fun fact... after death, consciousness lingers for 30 seconds.

After 10 minutes, the brain starts to degrade.

If we get a sample in here fast enough, we can start a protocol that will slow down further deterioration for days.

Sample? You mean corpse?

Tomato, to-mah-to.

You're getting this guy's dead, degrading brain to talk to you? How?

By inserting a living consciousness into those memories.

We call it "stitching."

That's impossible.

Is that so, Dr. I've-never-studied- neuroscience-unlike-Cameron?

The brain is a bioelectrical device, emphasis on "electrical."

Even after death, the wiring, the synapses... they're all still in there...

For a while anyways.

And that means, so are the memories.

But it takes a living consciousness to access and interpret them.

And that's where you come in.

You want to insert my consciousness into this guy's dead brain?

It sounds icky when you put it like that.

Has anyone ever done this before?

Gone in? One person.

Her name's Marta. She's no longer with the program.

Why not?

She couldn't handle it.

So what do you want me to do once I'm inside his memories?

We think yesterday's b*mb was an accident.

Brandt blew up his apartment while prepping it.

The second b*mb, the one from this morning... that one took out a high-tech firm in Santa Monica.

If Brandt d*ed yesterday, how did he set off a b*mb today?

That, Sparky, is the question.

We traced some shady Bitcoin transactions Brandt made.

Past month, he purchased enough expl*sives, timers, circuit boards, pressure switches to make four bombs.

And you think he planted the other bombs before he d*ed?

Well, that's the nightmare scenario.

The b*mb that took out Brandt's apartment downtown... that was just big enough for one device.

That means there are two devices unaccounted for.

We need you to go back into Brandt's memory and find out where those other two bombs are.

There are a whack of lives at stake.

This really works?

Mm-hmm.

Show me.

All right.

Let's get those clothes off you and get busy.

When you're inside someone else's memory, your mind projects an image of yourself as if you were actually there.

Dressed like this?

Yep. That material is a mesh polyester fiber coated in zinc-blackened nickel over copper.

Makes for a better connection between your skin and our sensors.

Whose idea was that?

That would be me.

Cameron: This is Linus. He handles bioelectrical engineering and communications.

Originally you were supposed to be completely naked, but there was some pushback, so we compromised.

By dressing me up as Catwoman?

Oh, it's cool.

We're men of science.

Comm links.

We'll be able to talk to each other through these.

I'll be driving Brandt's memory for you, but I'll be driving blindfolded, so you gotta lead me.

How do I choose which memory to go to?

When we get a new sample, the first thing we do is map their memories.

Some have incredibly strong synaptic connections, which means those are more emotionally charged.

Those memories will pull you like a magnet.

Oh, this is Ayo. She's here to make sure you don't get dead.

Nice.

Kirsten, are you ready?

Let's find out.

Okay, Stretch, into the drink.

Stations, everyone.

Keep your feet in contact with the pads.

Why?

Anchor points. You'll need them.

For what?

You'll see.

Lights to 20%, please.

Okay, everyone, the mission clock is running.

Captain's log, Stardate 2015.

Seriously?

Look, I don't tell you how to be an emotionally vacant, relationshiply void young woman; you don't tell me how to run my lab.

Fair enough.

Stardate... you know what? Never mind. Forget it. You ruined it.

All right, I need a go, no-go for stitch neurosync.

Life-sci.

Good to go.

Sub-bio.

Go.

Engineering.

All systems online. Go.

Communications.

Go for the stitch, mon capitaine !

Medical.

She's looking good. Go.

Comm check. One-two, one-two.

I hear you.

See those keyboards under your hand?

You're going to use those to bounce yourself out of the memory.

When the time comes, you're going to type in your username "Kirsten," followed by your exit pin code.

What's my pin code?

"iheartlinus," lowercase, no spaces.

I can change that, right?

Absolutely not.

Comm check complete. Okay, we are go.

Induce stitch neurosync on my mark.

You're on, princess.

Close your eyes. Try to relax and don't forget, whatever you see in there, you're not alone.

I'm with you.

Trust me.

Aye-aye, mon capitaine.

Stitch neurosync in three, two, one.

Mark.

(Gasps, breathing hard)

Cameron: Slow your breathing down.

Where am I?

In Brandt's apartment. There must be some clue to where he planted those bombs.

I'm cold. I'm cold. I'm really cold.

Ayo?

Body temp is 98.6, steady.

(Panting)

You're not cold.

She's going into shock.

This is why we do psychological testing.

Yes, that worked so well for Marta.

I'm bouncing her.

We need to know where the other two bombs are.

Kirsten, slow your breathing down.

Really try. Otherwise we have to bounce you.

Kirsten: I thought I had to do that.

But after that, you're gonna have to make the bounce yourself.

And if I can't?

We can still do it for you, but your consciousness won't like being yanked out when it's not ready.

It leaves a mark, a bad one.

Slow your breathing down.

Linus: We should bounce her.

Is that Linus?

Yeah, he thinks we should bounce you.

Just tell him to shut the hell up.

Hey, I think she likes you.

Fine, we won't bounce you as long as you calm yourself down. Can you do that for me?

She's stabilizing.

Hey, much better.

Much better.

Am I really still back in the lab, in the fish t*nk?

Yep.

Dressed like Catwoman?

Without the cat ears and stilettos, but for the most part, yeah.

Brandt: I told you... time is my point.

Woman: You wouldn't understand. This is my life's work.

Brandt: I do understand.

Julie!

Okay.

What do you want me to do?

Take a walk around the apartment. Check it out.

And what am I looking for?

Scraps of paper with addresses on them, pictures of buildings or places... something that's gotta tell us where those other two bombs are.

(Dial tones beeping)

I hear something.

Follow it.

Uh, there's a door, but I can't open it.

You're a consciousness now, not physical matter.

You have to will it to open.

I'm in.

(Dial tones beeping)

Man: Signal is failing. Signal is failing.

Cameron.

I see it.

I don't understand it, but I see it.

What is happening?

Her E.E.G. is off the chart.

It's like her brain's in freakin' overdrive.

Julie: This is it.

This is it.

You made this?

Brandt: You're gonna save so many lives.

Julie Malarek.

Linus.

Checking.

They're taking it from me.

No, they can't.

They did.

They're stealing it from me, and nobody is stopping them!

(Heart monitor beeping rapidly)

Linus.

Julie Malarek.

She d*ed three months ago, a traffic accident of some kind.

It's all your fault.

She's gone, pal.

Somebody help me.

It's all your fault.

(Gasps)

(Dial tones beeping)

(Beeping)

Oh, no.

(People exclaim)

Man: Whoa, come on.

Hey, are you okay, Rocky?

You were wrong. The b*mb in his apartment... it wasn't an accident.

My head's beginning to hurt.

Her cerebral temp is rising.

Linus: Brandt's memory is beginning to collapse.

Sub-bio, boost the A.T.P.

We're at maximum.

Not to alarm you, Princess, but Brandt's brain is collapsing, which is a very bad thing.

Yeah, I can see it happening.

You gotta bounce now.

Cerebral temperature is 103.

Total memory collapse in 14 seconds.

First name.

10 seconds.

And now your exit pin code. iheartlinus.

Yeah, you do.

Make the bounce!

Okay, just relax while we take off the restrai...

Ayo: Okay, hold up.

Cameron, that anomaly just shocked...

Yeah, yeah, I saw it.

Kristen, are you okay?

Blue door.

Sepulveda.

I'm so sorry, Julie.

* get in mind *

* now often you won't let it up *

* feeling tired *

* gets in my bones through the night *

* while I'm awake... *

Oh my god.

* I cannot say, it's odd to be nervous *

* to leave my love at your gate *

* so don't hold back *

* and I'll get to greeting you... *

(coffee grinder buzzing)

Oh. You're up.

How are you feeling?

Like I got hit by a bus.

Fantastic. You hungry?

I made us some kale, tarragon breakfast smoothies.

Whose bed did I just wake up in?

Mine.

And where did you sleep?

Right next to you.

Ow!

Ow!

I was unconscious, you pig.

Get over yourself.

For the record, I slept on top of the sheets.

I was babysitting you to make sure you were okay.

So how did I get into these pajamas?

Ayo from the lab changed you. She helped bring you here.

I don't remember any of that.

Do you remember anything from after the stitch, like... kissing me?

I kissed you?

You don't have to say it like that.

I don't know what happened.

I was just very... affected by being in Brandt's memory.

Yeah, apparently.

Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't feel like kissing you now.

Mm-hmm, much better.

Drink your sludge and get dressed.

We're wanted back at the lab.

Mm, it's good.

Good morning.

While the two of you were having a little sleepover, I decided to search all the social media sites.

Julie Malarek and Peter Brandt met while they were grad students at U.C. Santa Monica.

Now by all accounts, they were a happy couple.

But then three months ago she d*ed when she got hit by a bus.

I saw it happen. She walked away from Peter upset.

She said something about someone stealing something from her.

Julie majored in electrical engineering with an emphasis on holography.

You guys see where I'm going with this?

Applied holographics. The second b*mb.

Bingo.

That's the building she came from right before she d*ed.

She was furious, out of her mind.

If Applied Holographics stole Julie's research, maybe Brandt blamed them for her death and was getting revenge.

There are two more bombs. Where are they?

Stitch me back into Brandt's memory and I'll find them.

That's no longer an option. Brandt's brain has hit its "best by" date.

Yeah, he's done.

Sepulveda, a blue door...

I saw both during the stitch.

It meant something to Peter.

What was the emotion?

I don't know, but it was strong.

I've had two teams searching all of Sepulveda Boulevard since last night looking for blue doors. So far... nothing.

Well, then they're doing it wrong.

Sepulveda boulevard is 43 miles long.

You think you can search faster?

Actually, I wouldn't mind doing some field work.

The agency has people who handle the field work.

Unsocialized nerds and girls in cat suits need not apply.

Okay, I was just saying.

Cameron: Look, we don't even know how accurate this memory is.

Brandt's brain was so degraded and concussed, it could have been a mixture of thoughts and ideas from anywhere... a book he read, a cartoon he watched when he was five.

No, the memory was real and emotionally charged.

I'll do it myself.

Kirsten.

Told you.

(Sighs) Smartass.

Kirsten, Kirsten.

The Stitchers program is as clandestine as they come.

We don't stray outside our mandate, ever.

If you get caught someplace you don't belong, the agency will swoop in and disappear all of us.

And I'm too old to do a stint in Gitmo.

I'm not.

Still not a fan of psychological testing?

Deal with this.

Kirsten, wait.

We have to find that blue door.

Okay, you heard Maggie. There's two teams on it already.

Yeah, two ineffectual teams. There are two more bombs to find.

I can do this so much faster.

Oh, come on, Cameron. You asked me to trust you and I did.

Now I'm asking you to trust me.

Lives are at stake. You said so yourself.

All right, ace, what's your plan?

Good, you're here.

It's about time you came back for your stuff.

I was just about to burn it in the backyard.

Oh my god, this is all part of your delusional whatever, isn't it?

Listen, I don't know you, but I know her.

Get out of here before I tase both of you.

We work for a secret government agency that hacks into the brains of corpses and reads their memories.

(Whispers) You have no filter at all, do you?

You know that bomber on the news?

He d*ed in an expl*si*n, and I read his memories.

He's planted two more bombs, but the trained monkeys at the agency can't find them.

Trained monkeys? That's hurtful.

But I can find them, if you help me.

You guys don't really hack into dead people's brains and read their memories.

(Scoffs) Yeah.

Look, we don't have a lot of time.

I need to get into the Caltech computer system.

I need to run an image search for buildings on Sepulveda with a blue door.

Do you know how long Sepulveda is?

Apparently 43 miles.

But you know that face recognition exploit I wrote?

If I change four lines of code, I can make it search for blue doors instead of faces.

You still think I'm the queen of Estupidos?

You said that?

I haven't seen either of you do anything smart yet, so... yeah.

Please be seated.

Damn it.

Okay, are you sure you rewrote the code correctly?

Yes.

You ran it three times. There's no building with a blue door on Sepulveda Boulevard.

(Kirsten clears throat)

There has to be. I saw it. It was in Brandt's memory.

What if the blue door in Brandt's memory was a visual placeholder for non-visual information?

Double major in data retrieval systems.

May I?

Let's try Occam's razor.

The simplest solution is most often correct.

So let's try a simple Boolean search... "blue door" plus "Sepulveda."

What's that picture?

It's all your fault.

She's gone, pal.

Help me.

It's all your fault!

"Jane Pica, Dean of the electrical engineering program at U.C. Santa Monica and president of Blue Door Consulting... "

On Sepulveda Boulevard.

"... Announcing the purchase of her holographic projection technology by Applied Holographics."

Pica's the one who sold Julie's research to Applied Holographics.

And with the school's tech transfer rules, there's nothing Julie or Peter could do to stop her.

True, but Peter could get revenge.

Where does this Jane Pica live?

At 3:30. Can you do that?

There she is.

I'm still not convinced this is a good idea.

I am.

For the love of Zod.

Excuse me.

Jane Pica?

Yeah.

(Car alarms blaring)

Man: Someone call 911.

You okay?

Yeah.

Please tell me there wasn't anyone in there.

No, nobody.

There was a skinny guy at Julie Malarek's funeral, short and thinning hair. We need a name.

My house.

A word of advice... next time you steal someone's technology, make sure their boyfriend wasn't a b*mb-making genius.

What are you talking about?

You stole Julie Malarek's research and sold it.

You k*lled her.

That wasn't my fault.

Yeah, tell that to your unique fixer-upper here.

The skinny guy at the funeral.

Fred. Fred Castellano.

Where can we find him?

U.C. Santa Monica, the science building.

Who are you people?

Friends of Julie.

So Castellano funnels Julie's research to Pica, who sells it to applied holographics for a small fortune.

Pica got rich, Castellano got a finder's fee, and Julie got screwed.

And Brandt gets revenge.

We've got to clear this building.

If a b*mb goes off in here, it's gonna be a disaster.

(Alarm ringing)

Check out the testicles on Cameron.

Thank you.

Fred Castellano.

Room 230.

Wait.

Forget Castellano. The b*mb's in the basement.

It's down here.

(Fred yelling, muffled) Help! Help!

Help!

Holy big freakin' b*mb, Batman.

(Muffled screams)

(Timer beeping)

Thank god.

We're gonna get you out of here, okay?

No!

It's a mercury tumbler switch.

If it moves even a little, it will detonate the b*mb.

Okay, this officially sucks.

I've been up for two days, staying so still.

I can't do this anymore.

Sure you can. We're gonna help you.

I don't deserve to live. I'm sorry.

Julie, I'm so sorry.

The man with the motion-sensitive detonator is sobbing.

Get out of here, Cameron.

Sorry, cupcake, not without you.

Please.

Cameron, you're smart.

You can figure out how do defuse this.

I harvest the memories of the dead.

This requires a completely different skill set.

In the stitch, you said you heard cell phone tones?

Yes.

Yes, five... five of them.

What are you doing?

Being someone with temporal dysplasia.

(Dial tones beeping rapidly)

Listen.

(Dial tones beeping)

Cell phone.

Here.

Okay.

It's 5-8-5-4-3.

Of course.

No!

Oh.

It spelled "Julie."

Police!

Easy, Detective.

We're the good guys.

I was... there was... I was holding the thing...

Looks like it's all clear.

Okay, Miss Clark, what the hell really happened in there?

I told you. We were studying.

We heard a noise in the basement and we checked it out.

And then defused a b*mb?

It's actually not that hard to do once you figure out a few ba...

Shut up.

Fine, you two want to play?

That's fine. We'll play.

You're under arrest.

Maggie: No, they're not.

N.S.A.?

Ish.

We did everything we were supposed to do.

We found the bombs, saved who knows how many people?

The agency probably thinks we're superstars.

The agency is considering yanking our funding because of you two.

Maybe that's not such a bad idea.

Unfortunately for that point of view, I have convinced them to give us another chance.

I assured them that this is a rookie error and from now on we're going to stick to our mandate... inside work only, very inside.

Am I clear?

Clear?

I didn't want to be here in the first place.

What, I suppose you want me to... ?

Fine.

Wait. Kirsten.

The thing about being stitched... it made me feel things I've never felt before.

When I was a little girl, I had to learn how to identify emotions by flash cards of human faces.

But this time I felt them, and they were real.

Now I know what grief feels like.

Now I know what anger feels like.

I might even know what love feels like.

I'm not a fan. I'm out.

That's too bad. We've been asked to look into the death of a research scientist, and we've only got 48 hours before his memories collapse.

He and his partner developed the Stitchers technology.

His name was Ed Clark.

The agency isn't convinced that he k*lled himself.

I know he didn't.

Who was his partner?

Dr. Daniel Stinger.

Your father.

I'm in.