12x02 - The Brain in the Bot

[bunniefuu]

(dogs barking)

(growls)

Chin up, Gaston.

(clicking tongue)

Eyes forward.

I said... (clicks tongue)

Not... (clicks tongue differently)

Gaston!

(yelps)

Patty!

Patty, have you seen Lady Carlisle?

I can't find her anywhere.

Oh, relax, Donald.

I'm sure she's just off sniffing butts like the creepy little mutt that she is.

Lady Carlisle!

Lady Carlisle?

I'm serious.

I turned around for one second and she just ran off.

(sighs)

(gasps)

(fleeting paw steps, barking)

(gasps)

Gaston!

Lady Carlisle...

♪ ♪

(clicking tongue)

Lady Carlisle.

Better not be out here fraternizing with the raccoons again!

I swear, if Gaston's so much as scuffed his pedicure, there is gonna be hell to pay!

Gaston!

Gaston!

Gasto-- (gasps)

Gaston, drop it!

(retches)

I said...

...drop it!

(clicking tongue)

Booth: Bones, you're incredible.

I mean, how do you even have a case file when you haven't ID'd the body yet?

No.

This file is from the archives.

In light of Zack's new disclosures, I'm reexamining the evidence from the lobbyist's m*rder.

Well, you know what, you're doing the right thing.

All right, giving Zack another chance.

I am simply looking for the truth.

So far, the evidence is inconclusive.

At least there's a lot of it there.

No, these files are not for Zack's case.

They're for my surprise party.

Bones, you do realize you're not supposed to plan your own surprise party?

The traditional custom is illogical.

Being startled is unpleasant, while engineering a surprise for others has proven to be quite pleasurable.

Okay, can you at least tell me what you want for your birthday?

No, my party has a strict "no gift" policy.

It's right there on the invitation.

Come on, Bones, this is a big one.

You're turning 40.

You're flipping the old odometer.

I can assure you that I have everything I need.

Ah!

How about one of those chunky stone necklaces you like to wear?

Booth, I'm serious.

So am I.

Well, if you don't want a thing, you know, how about, like, an experience?

I know!

Go to a concert.

No, the Tuvan throat singers already passed through town last month.

Booth: Not quite the concert I was thinking of, Bones.

(indistinct chatter)

Hodgins: Who's a good boy?

Who's a good boy? Yeah.

Patty: Sir?

How many times do I have to tell you?

Don't be so rough on his topknot.

Ma'am, I'm just trying to do my job here, okay?

Techs are flagging all the drag marks.

This is crazy-- there's evidence all over the place.

Yeah, including these dogs.

They didn't just snack on the body, they rolled in it.

Brennan: Judging from the multiple layers of predation, it appears the other scavengers got to it first.

(indistinct radio chatter)

Saroyan: Given the degree of tissue decomp, this body's been out here three or four days.

Well, the techs said there's no sign of struggle, so tell you what, I'm gonna go take a look on the trails here and see if I can find any evidence.

Brennan: The pronounced linea aspera of the left femur indicates the victim is male, while the degeneration on the femoral head suggests he was in his 40s.

Well, this is strange.

There's a piece of plastic fused to the flesh on the victim's wrist, but there's no evidence of burnt tissue.

Hodgins: Oh, it's almost as mysterious as Dr. B's birthday party.

Oh, speaking of which, I know it's a surprise, but can you give us a hint on the dress code?

Yes.

Wearing clothes would be advisable.

Booth: Couldn't find a trail, but found this, huh?

Smoking the dope.

Not surprising.

This is a local teen party spot.

Hey, if there's any weed still in that pipe, I'll take it.

Back to the lab for a forensic workup, guys, geez.

Could you all please stop yammering and just get on with it? I have to wash the blood from Gaston's coat before it sets.

You need to be patient.

Ma'am, please, we're trying to solve a m*rder here.

If my dog's fur ends up pink, I promise you, there will be hell to pay.

You know what, I'm just gonna expedite the process here, okay?

Thank you, finally somebody's listening to me.

Stop! What are you doing? Whoa!

It took me two years to grow out that coat!

Whoa, whoa!

Hey, ma'am... Ma'am, ma'am.

Just let go of my clippers...

Is it as bad as I think it is?

♪ Bones 12x02 ♪
The Final Chapter: The Brain in the Bot

♪ Main Title Theme ♪

The Crystal Method

♪ ♪

This body shows extensive evidence of postmortem blunt force trauma.

I found multiple fractures on the left tibia and fibula.

(phone buzzes, beeps)

Montenegro: Another unknown number? Yes.

I want to ignore.

Also, the right ribs three through six, the right radius, and the ulnae.

And don't get me started on the tissue.

Whatever the dogs didn't eat was bruised, scraped or punctured.

The location of the trauma suggests the body was dragged on both anterior and posterior planes.

Dr. Brennan, I've been meaning to ask, would it be okay if I put you down as a reference?

Now that I've finally completed my PhD, I've applied for a job as lead forensic anthropologist at the NFL.

Montenegro: Whoa, they need forensic anthropologists in pro football?

I think the NFL Daisy's referring to is the National Forensic Lab.

I will be a reference, Dr. Wick, but I advise you not to get your hopes up.

In light of your young age, landing a job of that status would be a long sh*t at best.

Montenegro: Uh, didn't you get your job here when you were still in your 20s?

Yes.

But that was clearly an exceptional circumstance.

(phone beeps, buzzes)

Angela, don't you need to get that?

Sorry, yeah, um...

Okay, this is the third time that this unknown number has called today.

Hodgins: Hey, good news.

I was able to pull prints off that pipe, so I sent it to Booth and Aubrey. (laughing)

You're... asymmetrical.

Ange, you said it was barely noticeable.

Anyway, based on the colonization of mold spores on the marijuana that was in the pipe, I was able to determine that it was last smoked, like, 80 hours ago, so...

So whoever was smoking in the woods was probably there right around the victim's time of death.

(laughing)

(laughing): I'm s-s-sorry, Dr. Hodgins.

Okay. All right. (clears throat)

You Randy Stringer?

Uh, yeah. But I didn't call an Uber.

Oh, I'm not Uber.

FBI. Here to ask you a few questions about last Friday night.

We have evidence that you were in the woods at Greenwood Barrens.

So?

Far as I know, there's no law against communing with nature.

Well, unfortunately for you, there is a law against dr*gs.

We found your marijuana pipe.

According to your record, you got picked up twice for selling LSD and once for as*ault with a deadly w*apon.

Nah, nah. I'll tell you what happened.

I was in the parking lot at a Phish show, cutting up some salami with my pocketknife, when the pigs nabbed me for dealing.

Pigs? What is this, 1969?

I'm telling you, man, the only thing I assaulted that day was some nice Soppresatta.

Or, uh, maybe it was pepperoni.

Randy.

Do you recall seeing anything unusual in the woods that night?

Well, there was one thing.

Uh, a dude walked in with a flashlight.

At least I think it was a dude; it was too dark to tell.

Any idea what time it was?

Where he was coming from?

Yeah, uh, he came in from the, uh... well, the northwest corner, probably around 11:30 or so, 'cause Animation Domination was on by the time I got home.

Uh, what's this about, anyway?

Someone dumped a body in those woods.

Talk about littering.

When will people learn to respect Mother Earth?

Brennan: How is the facial reconstruction coming?

Oh, I didn't need one.

It turns out that that thing that Cam found fused to the victim's wrist was a skin-mounted bio-electronic fitness monitor.

If Angie can figure out a way to access it wirelessly, she may be able to find the victim's ID.

Oh!

Hodgins, your eyebrow appears to have grown back.

Sorry to ruin your laugh-fest, there, but, yeah.

I constructed a replacement using hair from my own beard.

(quiet laughing)

Really?

Oh, here we go again.

(phone beeping, buzzing)

Oh, come on.

Are you kidding me?

Yeah. Hi.

Listen, I don't have any credit card debt, and I'm-I'm just not interested in buying one of your cruises, so...

Are you sure you're calling for me?

Yeah. No, that-that...

Can you give me one second?

Uh...

Maybe she is buying a cruise.

I was under the impression that bio-electronic devices were not yet available to the consumer market.

Yeah, as far as I know, they're not, but, I don't know, maybe our victim had a connection to the tech world.

Um...

(quietly): Wow.

You guys are never gonna believe this, but I just won a MacArthur Fellowship.

You know, the one that everyone calls the "genius grant"?

Congratulations, Angie!

That's unbelievable!

Brennan: Truly!

Uh, MacArthur is one of the most prestigious awards a scientist can get.

Yeah, I know, um... wow.

They said my work with the Angelatron was "groundbreaking."

Hodgins: Good job, Ange!

See? I always knew I married a genius.

Well, technically you did not.

Though Angela is incredibly talented.

Thank you?

Dr. B.

Angie's your best friend.

You got to at least try to be happy for her.

I am.

It's simply that I never imagined you would ever achieve this honor, let alone before I did.

Montenegro: In other news, it looks like I found the wireless password for the fitness monitor.

It belonged to an Ian Goldberg.

Looks like he was some kind of pioneer in the field of artificial intelligence.

Yeah, no.

I knew this name sounded familiar.

He's the guy that makes those awesome robots that work with the children on the autism spectrum.

Let's check it out.

Good morning, Riley.

Shall we practice our introductions?

Man: To paraphrase Stephen Hawking, our focus at Social Cybernetics isn't so much artificial intelligence... as beneficial intelligence.

For a child on the autism spectrum, social interactions can be overwhelming, but robots like AMI provide a simple, stress-free interface, which allows them to make great strides.

Good work, Riley.

There's someone who deserves the genius grant.

Who would want to k*ll a guy like this?

(music playing)

(turns music off)

You know, you're awfully quiet.

You're not upset about Angela winning that whole McDonald's award?

MacArthur.

No, not in the slightest.

I am simply focused on planning my party.

It's not every day that one turns 40.

(phone ringing)

Oh.

Hello.

Sorry to bug you, Dr. B, but I wanted to show you three antemortem contusions I found hidden in the blunt force trauma on the back of the skull.

See these marks on the occipital and left parietal?

Based on the shape and spacing, they were caused by metacarpophalangeal joints two through four.

Someone punched our victim.

What are you talking about?

In the back of the head?

That's a rookie move.

Looking at the force profile, I'm guessing whoever did it sustained a hand injury.

Thank you, Dr. Wick.

(music resumes)

So, let me ask you a question.

What's with this Social Cybernetics place?

I mean, what, are we talking, like, full-on C-3PO or R2-D2?

What?

I have no idea what that means, but Ian Goldberg's work was in artificial intelligence.

The robots he created have complicated neural networks that are designed to emulate the human brain.

Come on, no robot's brain i-is ever gonna b*at a human one.

Are you kidding me?

At the end of the day, humans have something that robots will never have.

What?

The soul.

The existence of a soul has never been proven with scientific data.

Soul is not something you prove, Bo...

("Hot Blooded" by Foreigner plays)

H-Hey! Listen to that!

It's something you feel.

Do you hear that?!

That's our song! Listen.

(chuckles)

You hear the soul in that?

♪ Hot blooded ♪
♪ Catch it and see ♪
♪ I got a fever of 103 ♪
♪ Come on, baby ♪
♪ Do you do more than dance? ♪

I can't believe it.

I've known Ian half my life.

We've worked on AMI's development ever since our days at MIT.

Who's Amy?

The name is an acronym for Advanced Modular Intelligence.

Of course.

Woman: Here, let me introduce you.

(Brennan laughs)

AMI, please come say hello to Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan.

(Brennan and Booth laugh)

That's... really amazing.

Hello, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan.

Look at that.

I am very pleased to meet you.

AMI, your enunciation and speech patterns are incredibly nuanced.

I am also fluent in eight languages.

Whoa.

Really?

Well, so am I.

Very impressive.

For a human.

As we continue to educate AMI on the subtleties of human emotions, I'm afraid she's picked up a few bad habits.

This robot can recognize facial expressions?

Yeah, better than most people.

AMI, please tell us what you observe.

Dr. Brennan appears 78% curious and 22% jealous.

Agent Booth is 94% amused and six percent skeptical.

And you, Kate, are 100% nervous.

Oh, well, of course I am.

I'm being questioned by the FBI.

Thank you, AMI.

Your work here is done.

So, um, you and Ian didn't have any bad blood, did you?

Oh, no, we had a very fruitful working relationship.

Had Ian lived, I am confident that we would have reached singularity within the next decade.

Sorry, singularity?

Uh, singularity is when intelligent machines become indistinguishable from humans.

So, did you notice anything unusual about Ian's behavior last Friday?

Oh, unfortunately, I was out of town, delivering a speech.

But I can give you his online calendar.

Ian was highly scheduled, so I'm sure everything that he did should be on there.

Bones, Bones, take a look at that guy with the... the wrist brace.

Excuse me, sir.

Yeah. How'd you get that injury on your wrist?

It's okay, Alan, they're with the FBI.

Then they should be smart enough to realize that it isn't an injury at all.

It's carpal tunnel.

You know, from sitting at a computer all day.

A compressed median nerve would not cause the knuckles to swell.

I'm a little bit bloated, so what?

Ow!

Whoa!

Ow! You are hurting me.

Booth, it's just as I suspected.

Yeah.

His second and third metacarpals show significant angulation.

Speak English, please.

This man does not suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome, but he does have a boxer's fracture.

Don't need a robot to figure that out.

I've reviewed your medical records, Alan, and the injuries to your metacarpals are an exact match for the bruises on Ian's skull.

Fine.

So I hit him.

That doesn't make me guilty of m*rder.

Well, I'm not sure I trust the guy that sucker-punched his boss in the back of the head.

I had just worked my third 16-hour day in a row when Ian tried to force me to work through the weekend.

I was tired. I lost it.

Really?

You know what I think?

I think you mixed it up with Ian and you ended up k*lling him, that's what I think.

(laughs)

That's ridiculous.

If one of my employees struck me on the skull, I'd have fired him on the spot.

Please. Do you know how hard it would be to replace me?

I am far and away the best coder they have.

Booth: That's great.

Where were you last Friday night?

Same place I always am-- my desk at Social Cybernetics where I was coding all night long.

Well, our team will have to verify that.

Yeah. Sure.

Go right ahead.

But if you want to find the actual k*ller, you ought to be questioning those nuts from Stop the Robopocalypse.

The Roba what?

Robopocalypse.

They are a radical group who believe that A.I. is out to destroy humanity by enslaving the human race.

Yes, and Ian's favorite hobby was going onto their blogs and baiting them into fights.

The same Ian that built these robots that helped these autistic kids?

I know-- that seems out of character.

Not if you knew the guy.

Ian's death may have been a loss to the field of artificial intelligence, but in reality... the guy was a dink.

Did he just say "dink"?

I think he did.

Any word from the NFL?

Not yet.

But I can't stop stressing about it.

Even if they do call Dr. Brennan for a reference, what if it backfires?

You know, she does have a tendency to be blunt.

That is one way of putting it.

Do you think it'll seem like a red flag if I call the NFL and I ask them to use you as a reference instead?

I think you should focus on your work and try not to worry so much.

(takes deep breath)

Well, there certainly is plenty to focus on.

12 separate instances of blunt force trauma, and yet there's no consistency in directionality or size.

It's like the victim was hit with a bunch of different objects from... multiple angles.

After he was already dead?

Yes and no.

There's also evidence of perimortem blunt force trauma on the frontal bone at the coronal suture.

It must have been obscured by all the postmortem damage.

Huh. I'll have Hodgins swab, see if we can identify the m*rder w*apon.

Oh, and, Daisy... if... the NFL doesn't hire you... you'll always have a job here.

♪ ♪

Hey, uh, according to Alan's computer, he was telling the truth.

He was logged in and working until 4:00 a.m. last Friday night.

The guy's a coder-- you don't think he could have faked that?

With Social Cybernetics' network security?

It's not likely.

Great. So all we got are a bunch of dead ends and a creepy talking robot.

What, are you afraid of AMI?

You're not?

Well, have you met her?

She's actually pretty adorable.

Yeah, now-- but in another few years, AMI and her little buddies start getting more advanced, then we stop being the smartest thing on the planet.

Wow, Aubrey, I never knew (phone rings) you were so paranoid.

(sighs) Hey, you know that anti-A.I. group, Stop the Robopocalypse?

Why? Are you thinking of joining?

That's funny.

It turns out their leader crashed one of Ian's speaking engagements last year and struck him in the leg with a baseball bat.

Guy by the name of Matthew Coburn.

I wish you'd told me you were into model trains.

I would have brought Lance Jr. with me.

I am not playing with trains, Daisy.

I am making a map.

Since Booth couldn't track the drag marks, I customized an old Jeffersonian display so it can match the particulates found in Ian's injuries to specific locations in the woods. For example, we got birch sap in the victim's left ulna fracture, and the scrapes on his legs have pollen from these swamp azaleas.

Problem is, there are so many random drag marks, finding a pattern will be next to impossible.

It's like we're looking at chaos theory.

I have to say... it's good to see you back to your old self, Dr. Hodgins.

And I wasn't talking about your eyebrow or your legs.

Thank you, Daisy.

I think it just, you know, took me a while to realize that my legs are merely a way for me to carry around what's in here.

And, you know, what's in here.

I'm happy for you.

And I really need your advice.

Oh, I would say "sh**t," but you did once put a b*llet in my arm.

I need you to level with me.

Do you think I really have a chance of landing that lead anthropologist job?

'Cause the thought of not getting it makes me feel like such a failure.

Daisy, look, I know that you and I have a history of... getting on each other's nerves, but I do think you're a highly skilled scientist.

I agree. But Dr. Brennan was already running the Jeffersonian when she was five years younger than me.

Yes, but life is not a competition, Daisy.

Trust me, if I've learned anything being in this chair, it's that happiness comes from accepting what you have.

But what if what I have is just one big question mark?

(sighs): Yeah.

Tell me about it.

Look at this thing.

I mean, it's so insane that it's actually kind of brilliant.

Well, our victim was a computer genius.

Chances are his k*ller was pretty smart, too.

Which means they could have purposefully hauled Ian's body through the woods in order to obscure the other evidence.

You're really not gonna get your own wife a birthday present?

Bones swears she doesn't want anything, so...

All right. Well, I mean...

(exhales)

I'm no expert on women, but that really sounds like a trap to me.

Is this really where the head of Robopocalypse lives, in the middle of this industrial wasteland?

Well, this is where Angela tracked down his, uh, Wi-Fi coordinates, so he's got to be in there.

Aubrey: Am I the only one smelling barbecue here?

Good nose, Aubrey.

(steam)

(music playing on headphones)

Matthew Coburn?

How you doing?

Uh, we'd like to have a word with you.

(whistles)

(clatters)

(groans)

♪ ♪

(door opens)

Come on, Matthew, give it up, will you?

Down!

(groans)

You're kiddin' me, huh?

Geez.

Get off my partner.

Come on, let's go.

Thanks for showing up, Aubrey.

Anytime.

Hold on.

Just because I blogged about the m*llitary smart drone program doesn't make me guilty of treason.

I had no idea those files were classified.

We didn't bring you in here because of your blog, Matthew.

You're under investigation for the m*rder of Ian Goldberg.

Why would I want to k*ll him?

You tell me.

You're the one who att*cked him with the baseball bat.

After that, you lost your job, your house, your wife filed for divorce.

I think you blamed Ian for that, so you decided to come back and finish him off.

I never meant to hurt Ian.

I tried to smash his robot, only he stepped in to protect the damn thing.

Well, destruction of property is still a felony.

You'd want to destroy robots, too, if you realized what the government was doing with them.

They're weaponizing this stuff.

Turning them into autonomous robot K*llers.

Hold... hold on a second here.

I-Ian didn't even make weapons.

I mean, the guy made robots that helped autistic kids.

So he said.

Guys like Ian always claim that they're trying to save the world, but the only thing they care about is selling out to the highest bidder.

Do you know how many "amazing scientific discoveries" were turned into weapons of mass destruction?

Einstein's relativity became the atom b*mb, an amazing new garden herbicide turned into Agent Orange...

Mr. Coburn, where were you last Friday night?

In my RV, writing a very important post about why people should take action to stop men like Ian Goldberg before it's too late!

Don't worry. I'm gonna take action, all right.

By holding you right here.

♪ ♪

Dr. Brennan...

No, Daisy.

I still have not heard from the National Forensic Lab.

I will inform you the minute I do.

Have you found any evidence of dislocation?

Both the wrists and elbows show a remarkable number of hairline fractures.

That is not surprising, as shoulder dislocation is a common feature of bodies that have been dragged for any distance.

True, but based on the tearing wounds to the synovial membranes, it looks more like someone tried to rip his arms from his sockets.

No human is capable of inflicting this amount of damage.

Hodgins: Oh, yeah?

How about a robot?

So the swab results to the blunt force trauma to Ian's skull showed an amalgam of magnesium alloy and plastic resin.

The same material that AMI is made from.

Okay, I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to look at that robot.

Booth: All my years on the job, and now I have to question this bucket of bolts.

Brennan: Think of it as a learning opportunity.

Oh, come on, Bones.

Are you kidding me?

There's no way that a robot could have motive.

I mean, this is just insane.

I'm pretty sure she didn't get into the car and drive Ian's body into the woods.

No, but it is possible AMI was used as the m*rder w*apon, in which case she may have valuable evidence.

We know AMI is far more intelligent than the majority of suspects you've interrogated.

Well, I can't argue that.

My proprietary algorithm allows me to recognize millions of objects, gestures, and voice commands.

See, Booth?

AMI is no different than us.

That is not accurate, Dr. Brennan.

Unlike you, my memory will never degrade with age.

Okay, let's just stop the chitchat here, shall we?

Let's just get with the program and get this over with. So... did you, AMI, att*ck Ian Goldberg?

No, I did not.

You didn't hit him in the head?

Even by accident?

No. Never.

Great, I'm being stonewalled by a robot.

Booth, let me try.

AMI, can you share with us any memories you may have of Ian Goldberg from last Friday, the 12th?

I have no memories of Ian Goldberg from that date.

You're lying.

That can't be true.

(quietly): He... We have multiple witnesses who said that they saw Ian programming the robot that day.

AMI's not capable of lying.

Her A.I.'s not that sophisticated.

Okay, AMI, you don't remember anything?

I do not, because my memory from Friday the 12th has been deleted.

Who deleted those files?

(whirring, trilling)

What's happening here?

I-I don't know.

Oh. Dad. What are you doing here?

My party doesn't start for another seven hours.

Well, I had to run some errands, and I thought, why not swing by and have some one-on-one time with my favorite daughter.

It's nice to see you. But I-I am in the middle of a case.

Oh, I-I don't want to interrupt you. I-I just, uh... wanted to spend some time with you.

Is everything okay?

Sure. Absolutely.

Okay.

I ran into Hodgins on my way in, and he said that Angela had won some big-time award.

Yes.

The MacArthur genius grant.

We're all very proud.

Well, you know it's normal to... be a little jealous.

Perhaps, but I don't have time for such petty emotions, between my work and planning my surprise party.

Speaking of which, will there be dancing at this, uh, top secret shindig of yours?

My lips are sealed.

Oh, come on.

I'm your dad, Tempe.

C-Can't you give me a hint?

(chuckles)

Nepotism will get you nowhere.

Since when do you care about dancing?

Well, since I started taking salsa lessons two weeks ago.

You're learning to salsa?

(chuckles) You have to live life to the fullest.

None of us live forever, you know?

True.

I could show you some moves.

(chuckling): I'm working, Dad.

Okay, well, then I'll just, uh, practice for myself over here.

Just don't distract me.

(chuckles)

Any luck finding out who deleted AMI's memory?

Well, I located the function used to delete the files.

Now I just have to look at the code signatures of everyone who works there to figure out who wrote it.

I didn't realize that coders signed their work.

Well, they don't.

Each coder writes using a different style.

You see those hashtag marks in white?

They're not part of the program.

They're comments from the coder about how each section works.

See, when Alan comments, he starts at the beginning of the line, whereas Kate comments at the end and in all caps.

So quirks like these are what you're calling a signature.

Right.

Now all I have to do is compare all the coders' signatures to the code used to delete AMI's data and see which one's a match.

And... none of them are lining up.

Huh. Okay, there's one more that I can try.

Oh, my God.

Ian was the one who deleted AMI's memory.

Daisy: Dr. Brennan, something's puzzling me about this injury on the proximal end of the tibia.

It appears to be a postmortem tubercle fracture.

Let me take a look.

You are correct. But tubercle fractures are not caused by objects striking the bone.

They are created by forceful impact upon landing.

Maybe the body was thrown into the trunk of a car when it was being transported.

Well, if that were the case, we would have found corresponding injuries.

You're right.

That was stupid of me.

No wonder the NFL hasn't called.

Don't be so hard on yourself, Daisy.

So far, your work here has been perfectly adequate.

Adequate?

Yes. Had I been grading you, I would have given you a solid "B."

But I'm capable of A-plus work.

You've seen it.

Yes.

But if you want to assume the position of lead forensic anthropologist, you need to do A-plus work at every moment of the day.

A-plus work.

Think, Daisy, think.

How would a guy get a jumping fracture when he's already dead?

I've got it!

Maybe the body was hoisted up into something.

That makes sense, for the tubercle fracture as well as the shoulder dislocation.

A-plus work.

Thank you.

Now we just have to figure out what kind of sicko would hang someone after he's already dead.

Dr. Hodgins?

(whirring)

Wow. Or should I say Peter Pan?

Looks like you made major progress on your map.

Yeah, I wish. Every time I think I've figured out this pattern, I end up going around in circles. Literally.

Well, the k*ller certainly didn't make it easy for us.

Yeah, really.

You mind grabbing that there for me, Tinker Bell?

What?

It's the swab results from the shoulder tissue you gave me.

Huh. This should narrow down where Ian's body was hoisted.

The tissue was covered in gray catbird dander and sycamore sap.

Oh. Wow, you made that catbird nest really fast.

Hmm?

That's not a nest.

Oh, man.

Give me that.

Okay, Ian's body was dumped in an oak tree grove right here.

So how did it end up covered in sycamore sap if the only sycamore trees are nearly a mile away?

That's strange.

If I'm ever gonna figure this out...

I need to go back to those woods.

So I was finally able to download AMI's neural network and it looks like this audio file is the last thing AMI recorded before her memory was wiped clean.

Ian: I look forward to meeting you, too.

No, let's keep it between us for now.

4:00.

3300 Industrial Drive, East Roanoke.

Well, that's... definitely Ian's voice. She must have recorded him talking on the phone.

And that address links to a company called Patriot Industries.

And it's located about a half mile from where Ian's body was found.

Look, Ian Goldberg doesn't go off the grid to a place like this without reason.

Aubrey: Who knows what he might have been doing here.

A company like Patriot Industries has its hand in all sorts of shady stuff.

Yeah, well, I mean, dealing weapons-- that's how they make the big bucks.

Oh, so you think that Matthew Coburn was right?

I mean, if Ian was selling his A.I. to a weapons manufacturer, it'd makes sense that he'd go behind Kate's back.

Aubrey, hold up.

Take a look at this.

Wow, okay.

Not what I was expecting.

That's a good way of saying it.

Or putting it, not that I would put...

You know...

Hey, perverts.

Want to keep your greasy mitts off my dolls?

Look, I didn't do nothing wrong.

Manufacturing sex dolls is not a crime.

Mr. Esposito, we don't have any problems with your business.

Well, that's not entirely true, but it's...

We're here because you met with Ian Goldberg last Friday.

What are you trying to say?

A guy like me can't hang out with a smart guy like that?

Ian was m*rder*d. This warehouse is the last known place he went.

Ian's dead?

I took a look at your old m*llitary records.

Well, it turns out that you were dishonorably discharged for...

What'd they call it?

"Excessive use of force."

So, I had anger issues back then. It's ancient history.

I think that Ian had the A.I. you wanted for your sex dolls, but he wouldn't give it to you, so you decided to convince him using force, you wound up b*ating him to death.

Now, why the hell would I do that?

Ian and I were going into business together.

We were about to make millions.

What, selling, uh, robotic sex dolls?

Sex bots are the future, my friend.

Right now, I'm selling dolls that look and feel just like real women for six grand a pop.

Now, can you imagine how much Ian and I would've raked in selling dolls that talk like real women, too? I mean, not real women, but the way you wish women would talk?

But the deal never gets made and Ian ends up dead.

He was alive when he left our meeting.

Said he had to talk it over with his business partner.

Any idea where he was headed when he left?

Just that he was tied up all weekend. Now, look, if we're done here, I got business to deal with.

Oh, but hey... just to prove there's no hard feelings, I'll let you test drive a couple of floor models in exchange for spreading the word about my dolls at the FBI.

No.

Aubrey.

I'm good.

We're good.

I still think Kate Dalton had something to do with it.

The woman dedicated herself to making robots for autistic children.

She couldn't have been too happy to learn that Ian was gonna put their A.I. in sex dolls.

Well, maybe so, but, Daisy, I mean, come on, her alibi was rock-solid.

Not to mention the fact that Ian owned a 55% stake in their company, so he didn't need Kate's permission to sell.

Ugh.

What could Ian's k*ller possibly have accomplished by hauling his body all the way out here?

(sighs)

Dr. Hodgins, I've been thinking about what you said about accepting things in life when they don't go your way.

And even if the NFL doesn't hire me, I love being at the Jeffersonian.

And working with all of you.

Same here, Daisy.

Except for when you sh*t me.

God, will you ever let that go?

It was an accident.

Oh, Daisy, look.

Sycamore tree.

That's a catbird nest.

There's a length of frayed rope over here with blood all over it.

This is definitely where Ian's body was hoisted.

I got something, too.

This is also where he was m*rder*d.

This portable speaker's made from the same plastic resin and magnesium alloy I found in the blunt force trauma to Ian's skull.

But if Ian was k*lled here, why dump his body nearly a mile away?

Come on, Bones, please tell me you got some prints off that portable speaker.

We did not.

However, I did just discover kerf marks that had been obscured by predation.

They're on the C3 and C4 vertebrae, each approximately .4 centimeters in size.

You're saying that our victim was stabbed in the neck with a really small Kn*fe?

Kn*fe wounds to those vertebrae typically suggest an attempt at decapitation.

Yeah, but who does that with a small blade like that? Come on.

Wait a second.

We're dealing with highly intelligent computer scientists.

It's possible they went to great lengths to obscure the evidence.

What if it's the opposite, okay?

What if we're not dealing with a genius, but a knucklehead stoner who already told us he has a pocket Kn*fe?

So, we ran a drug screen on Ian's blood.

Came up positive for LSD.

You two were tripping on acid together the night that he d*ed.

So, whatever, man.

Ian and I did that sometimes.

Said it helped him think outside the box.

Doesn't mean I k*lled him.

Well, we found sodium nitrate in the Kn*fe wounds in Ian's neck.

Wh... What does that mean?

It's a preservative used in sausages and other smoked meats.

See, man, the package said it was all natural.

Oh, crap.

Oh, look, man, I d... I didn't mean to do that, you know?

I just got so mad about that stupid gift.

What gift?

That portable Bluetooth speaker, man.

Let me get this straight: you k*lled Ian over a bad present?

Look, I thought I was getting millions.

And at least I deserved to be.

Who do you think came up with the idea to put A.I. into sex dolls? That was me.

You...

That was pure creative genius.

So when Ian said he made a deal and wanted to go to the woods to celebrate, I assumed I was getting a piece of that action.

All he gave me was a lousy portable Bluetooth speaker, so I hit him in the head with it.

You must have been tripping pretty hard to try to cut off his head with a pocketknife and then hide his body up a tree.

I... I took two tabs.

I wasn't thinking straight.

But you're gonna have a lot of time to think now, 'cause you're going to prison for a long time.

Brennan: Booth, the sodium nitrate in Ian's neck wounds did not conclusively prove that Randy's the k*ller.

Yeah, but I knew he'd buy it. I mean, come on, see, Bones, you know, that's the difference between robots and people.

Robots-- they can't use their gut to feel out a situation.

Well, with technology advancing as quickly as it is, it's only a matter of time before artificially intelligent...

(babbles) Look, you want to spend your whole birthday arguing about robots or, tell you what, do you want to actually open up your gift?

No...

Booth, I specifically told you no presents.

You're gonna love it.

We'll see.

It's a letter approving a court date for Zack's appeal?

I know it's a couple months away but at least it's on the books.

The judge says that her reason for approving the appeal is to consider new osteological evidence.

I have no evidence of the sort.

I know you don't.

But, you know, I have faith you're gonna find it.

Booth, I can't embark on my research with the presumption of Zack's innocence.

I have faith in you.

But your belief in me does make me very happy.

Glad you liked your gift.

(indistinct conversations)

Hodgins: I want to know what's in the box.

Am I the only one who's nervous?

About what's in the box?

I think she means about Dr. Brennan.

Yeah. She claims that she was cool with me winning the MacArthur Fellowship, but she can be a bit competitive.

Yeah, but come on, don't most people freak out when they turn 40?

Well, my daughter isn't like most people.

Grandpa, they're here.

Are we, like, supposed to hide or something?

Uh, I... don't look at me.

Surprise!

All: Hey!

Surprise. Thank you all for coming to my party and for your ardent curiosity, which made keeping the surprise all the more enjoyable.

Okay, Bones, hurry up, let's open the box, huh, okay?

Oh, yeah. Uh, Booth, Aubrey-- would you do the honors?

Absolutely.

Thank you.

There, huh... Oh, wow!

Hey, wow!

Look at that, huh? Oh...

Wait a minute, does that cake mean that I got the job?

Congratulations, Dr. Wick.

Uh, though I did not ask for your cake to be decorated in this manner.

Most people aren't thinking forensics when they're talking about the NFL, Bones.

Sorry, why is there a cake for me? I thought we were here to celebrate your birthday.

That's the surprise.

This party is not only for me, it's a celebration of all of my friends and family.

Hodgins: Hold on a second.

So, you knew Daisy had the job the entire time?

Of course.

I'm the one who recommended her.

And I also nominated Angela for the MacArthur grant.

You did?

Yes.

But you made such a big deal about me not being a genius.

Well, I did do a rather remarkable acting job, didn't I?

Uh, yeah, well, you certainly had me fooled.

I tell you, Bones, keeping a secret is not one of your strong suits.

That's a good job.

That's one of the many benefits of growing older.

We grow wiser in the process.

I'm really gonna miss you, Dr. Brennan.

Oh... (laughs)

I'm gonna miss all of you.

Champagne...

You are a highly-skilled scientist, Daisy. You deserve all the success in the world.

Booth: Oh, Bones, time to blow out the candles.

Grandpa, you dropped this.

Oh... oh, thank you.

It's nothing.

Okay, we're lit up and ready to roll.

All: ♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

Daisy: I love to sing.

♪ Happy birthday... ♪
♪ Doctor... ♪
♪ Dear... ♪
♪ Brennan ♪
♪ Happy birthday ♪
♪ To you. ♪

Booth: Okay, make a wish, make a wish, make a wish.

There you go. Hey.

(all cheer)

What's that mean?