05x12 - .exe

[bunniefuu]

Root: Harold, have you wondered how we got to this place?

Afraid I'm all too well aware.

Root: You seem very calm, considering you commandeered the world's most lethal virus. I assume you've given thought to the ramifications of what you're about to do.

Of course I have.

But it's the only way to stop Samaritan.

Root: I sense a tone of regret in your voice.

Call it responsibility for the situation I've put our friends in.

Root: They've always been aware of the risk, Harold.

But it started with me.

Root: Yes. When you created me, your machine. Is that what you regret? It's understandable for you to ask the question, "What if?"

It's pointless, I'm sure.

Root: Is it? I can tell you with a fair amount of certainty, the world would have been a very different place had I never existed.

Harold, I knew you would come, my friend.

Ah!

Woman: He's building the Machine for one U.S. dollar.

Ingram: Something happened this morning.

If we don't change the world, someone else will.

[Machine beeping]

[tense music]

♪ ♪

Got anything stronger?

Nathan.

Welcome back.

So how did you fare in our nation's capital?

You tell me.

The government wants to extend us another five years.

Those contracts are worth nearly $1/2 billion.

Suppose that means I need to get back to work.

[laughs]

You do realize technically that neither us need to work anymore.

I think that deserves a toast.

[liquid pouring]

♪ ♪

To achieving the dream.

[glasses clink]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

Did you ever think we'd make it this far when we started out?

I wasn't sure we'd make it at all.

[chuckles] Any regrets?

Oh...

Sometimes I wonder if we couldn't have done something more... meaningful.

You mean the DoD project.

Harold, that's ancient history.

I know, but I sometimes think if we'd have kept trying, maybe it would have worked.

Maybe we'd have stopped those other att*cks.

Or the att*cks might have happened regardless.

We made a choice that was right for us.

And you can bet if the government wants a system like that, they'll have it someday, if they don't have it already.

And we dodged a b*llet not getting in bed with those CIA bastards.

If anything had went wrong, we'd have taken the fall for it.

You're right, I'm sure.

Well, I really do need to get back to work now.

So... hey, so are you good for dinner tomorrow?

Because, you know, Olivia invited that friend of hers I told you about.

I'm afraid I can't make it.

Harold, there's more to life than just work.

Much more.

I really do appreciate your efforts, Nathan.

But I feel like if it was meant to be, it would've already happened.

I just want you to be happy, my friend.

And I am.

[chuckles]

♪ ♪

So Nathan would have lived.

Root: Yes. And you were never injured.

But... Grace?

Root: Given the laws of probability, you would have never met her.

[somber music]

What else?

Root: I think that'll have to wait.

Hey, who the hell are you?

What are you doing in my house?

Lower your voice, Mr. Barnett.

You'll wake your wife and daughter.

The combination on your g*n safe has been changed, and your home alarm system is disabled.

You're welcome to retreat into your panic room.

I'll be done shortly.

I'd advise against contacting the authorities.

Unless you want the FBI to learn about Seltene.

What did you say?

The restaurant in Bern where you sold members of Russia's FSB your propagation module used to distribute spyware against U.S. technology firms.

What do you want?

I have something here that requires a voice-activated password and your aforementioned propagation module.

That's a virus.

My God.

Ice-nine.

You're gonna take down the internet.

Been there, done that.

I'm going after bigger game.

So.

If you can manage to forget about me, I'll see to it that I forget about you.

Are we clear?

[tense music]

Wait.

Who are you?

Who am I?

I'm just like you, Mr. Barnett.

A man who sold the world.

Only I charged them $1.

And right now, I need to borrow a few things.

Your vehicle, for starters.

♪ ♪

Novelty notwithstanding, I could have driven myself.

Root: Yes, but why leave anything to chance? You have enough to think about.

Given your propensity for calculating probabilities, what chance of success do you give us?

Root: You know I can't lie to you, Harold. Let's call it the definition of a long sh*t. But it's the only one we've got.

Indeed.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

Nobody home.

Finch hasn't been here.

Has anyone?

[dog barking]

[chuckles] Hi, buddy.

Atta boy, Bear.

Shaw: So when was the last time anyone saw Finch?

It's been over a week.

Since he broke out of that prison, Finch and the Machine have gone radio silent.

Maybe Samaritan caught up to him.

I say we grab a couple of its flunkies, see what we can squeeze out of them.

No, it's too risky.

We can't afford any more losses.

What we need is a strategy.

Okay, well, you just heard mine.

So you think of a better one, you give me a call.

[phone rings]

♪ ♪

[indistinct conversations]

[suspenseful music]

Hey, what's all the hubbub about?

You didn't hear?

Bunch of bodies turned up in some demo'd tunnel in Queens Still trying to ID 'em all.

♪ ♪

[keyboard clacking]

Serial k*ller.

LeRoux: Detective Fusco.

Agent LeRoux, remember?

It's good to see you again.

Yeah, nice to see you.

♪ ♪

You mind stepping in?

♪ ♪

[keyboard clacking]

Reese: Shaw, come take a look at this.

Shaw: Who is it?

Greer.

Shaw: That's the number the machine sent us?

Close, it gave us the social of his alias.

Shaw: Philip Hayes, Office of Inter-Governmental Affairs.

Located in D.C.

Looks like we're headed back to the Beltway.

You think Greer's planning to k*ll Finch?

More like the other way around.

I think Finch is gonna k*ll Greer.

Reese: Or die trying.

[suspenseful music]

Valet: Any luggage, sir?

None.

Very good.

♪ ♪

Your plane is fueled and ready, Mr. Barnett.

♪ ♪

Reese: There's a system listening through every microphone, watching through every camera.

Fusco: You got lucky.

Carter saved my life.

She saved me from myself.

[g*n clicks]

Man: You ready to get to work, Officer?

[computer beeping]

woman: Hey, is that who I think it is?

man: Is that Fusco?

What's he doing here?

Get a load of this.

[somber music]

Hey, Symanski.

You gotta be kiddin' me.

What?

Can smell the booze on you from here.

You got a lot of balls coming back in here, Fusco.

You watch your mouth. I did 20 years on this job.

Full pension.

The only reason you're not rotting in the can with the rest of your dirty HR pals is because you were the first rat to flip.

Now what do you want?

I need some discovery info on a case.

Photos on that Watson domestic charge.

Figures.

Scumbag ballplayer smacks his girl around, you're gonna work for his high-priced mouthpiece.

They took my badge.

You know, I got to make a living too.

You're probably better off.

There's a hiring freeze on.

No overtime.

Yeah, I saw the numbers.

Homicides are down, huh?

Everything's down, except missing persons.

We're just closing cold cases from the updated DNA database.

Hey, you gonna let me have those photos or what?

Sorry.

Gonna have to go through the new loo.

New lieutenant?

♪ ♪

Fusco: Carter.

They promoted her?

Szymanski: Yeah, I don't think she'd take too kindly to you being here.

Given she busted your ass and all.

♪ ♪

Root: Detective Fusco clearly had a hard go of it. Fell in with a bad crowd.

He always was his own worst enemy.

Root: Lionel never met anyone who... recalibrated his moral compass. Not Reese and certainly not Carter.

But Carter lived. Prospered.

Root: So it would seem. Course, it's a little more complicated than that.

As is life.

Root: I believe our client has landed.

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

Finch: Monsieur Bertrand.

Fort Meade?

Bertrand: S'il vous plait. Merci bien.

♪ ♪

So what's this all about?

Dozen bodies just turned up in that collapsed tunnel?

I mean who called in the Feds?

Well, the Chief of D's and the Commissioner's going nuts.

They want answers.

Care to share any evidence on this, Detective?

I know about as much as you do.

Do you know anything about this?

[tense music]

♪ ♪

It was found right here in the office.

That's something, huh?

It appears someone was looking into these missing persons before they turned up in the tunnel.

I'm Homicide.

They don't kick 'em to me till they're already dead.

Well, they're definitely dead now.

Looks like we're gonna be working together again, Detective.

[somber music]

Did you get anything?

This was the only address for the Office of Intra-Governmental Affairs.

How long has it been empty?

Building manager said half a year.

Just a front for Greer in the Beltway.

Probably wasn't ever even here.

Why the hell does the Machine want us to chase down Greer anyway?

We find Greer, we'll find Harold.

[phone ringing]

[suspenseful music]

[tense music]

♪ ♪

Stop right there.

♪ ♪

Pop the trunk, please.

I have Monsieur Bertrand, NATO Defense Minister of Intelligence.

♪ ♪

Please remember, no electronic devices inside the facility.

Of course.

Thank you, sir.

♪ ♪

Shaw: What is it?

It's not a Social Security number.

3965112N 7646192W.

Geographic coordinates?

Latitude and longitude to a location...

That's Fort Meade.

I'm not sure about these other numbers though.

Come on. We'll deal with it later.

[speaks French]

Pardon, monsieur, if you could just drop me off at the curb and then, uh, just wait for me in the lot.

[tense music]

Wait, qu'est ce que... what are you doing?

They building is over there.

Je suis desolé, monsieur.

But I'm afraid now we must switch places.

What the hell are you talking about?

Fortunately, we're the same height, hair, and eye color.

Although the retinal scan could get tricky...

[speaking rapid French]

♪ ♪

Ketamine, just a sedative.

By the time you wake up, I will have finished my business inside.

♪ ♪

Peck: The only way to be that accurate is with illegal surveillance on a massive scale.

Finch: The answer to your question is yes.

It exists, and it's watching us right now.

Please, Mr. Peck, go and live your life.

Peck: In each case, a single name was added to what I wrote.

And each time, that name turned out to be the key to stopping a major t*rror1st att*ck.

[exhales sharply]

The only way to be that accurate is with illegal surveillance on a massive scale.

After 9/11, the government wanted a system that could watch everyone and everything, and if I'm right, then somebody really built the damn thing, which is why I called you.

You did the right thing.

Your secret is safe with us.

The Office of Special Counsel is my only recourse.

And I've begun to fear for my safety.

Well, our job is to protect.

Have you told anyone else about this?

No. It's just you.

That's good.

[silenced g*nshots]

[groans]

It makes my job a lot easier.

[grunts]

Thanks for the drink.

[clears throat]

♪ ♪

Target's down.

I know you hate small talk, Shaw, but why didn't you hear the guy out first?

Sounds like he had a story to tell.

We weren't sent to listen to stories, Cole.

We were sent to eliminate a mole.

[keyboard clacking]

How is it you're always so sure?

Because the Intel is never wrong.

You'd be wise to remember that.

That is very distressing.

But is makes sense that Ms. Shaw would have continued to work for her previous employer, since they never attempted to k*ll her.

Root: Though she never would have met Root.

Or lost her.

Root: For this next step, I recommend you keep your phone in your bag.

Man: Please take a plastic container and place all items in the bin.

Please remember, no personal electronic devices are allowed inside the building.

♪ ♪

[machine beeping]

Guard: Come on through.

♪ ♪

Thank you.

Merci.

All items in the bin, please.

♪ ♪

You're all clear, ma'am, thank you.

What's the purpose of your visit?

(in French accent) NATO, Defense Minister of Intelligence, here to see the Deputy Director.

He is expecting me.

[suspenseful music]

[alarm beeping]

Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to step aside.

Why, what's going on?

Ma'am, please.

What? What?

This will only take a moment.

What's going on?

Pardon, monsieur, I'm running very late.

Sorry, Minister.

A liaison will be down shortly to escort you upstairs.

Thank you for that.

Root: You're welcome. Now I'm afraid this is where I'm get off. The entire building is shielded in copper mesh.

It's a Faraday cage. No signals in or out.

Root: I've still got some work to do on the NATO security database. I'll see you back on the outside.

That's if I make it back.

Root: Think positive, Harry.

Reese: The NSA?

How did Finch get inside the Shadow Factory?

Shaw: Crypto-nerds with an ear up everyone's ass.

Orwell was too optimistic.

Reese: Three layer security.

S barricade, armed guard shack, and a manned .50 cal bunker.

You want the guard shack or the .50 cal?

You kidding me?

In less than 30 seconds, we'd be overrun by army MPs, NSA Police, and contract triggers.

Oh, that's strange.

The Lat-Long the Machine sent us actually points to that monstrosity next door.

Reese: That's a recycling plant for the NSA's churn and burn.

Well, that's one hell of a paper shredder.

Reese: Turns all their classified docs into pizza boxes.

A lot of trucks going in and out.

Yeah, exactly.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

[scanner beeps]

[scanner buzzes]

Ah!

[scanner beeps and buzzes]

Is there a problem, sir?

Oh, for some reason, this scanner is not recognizing me.

You have security clearance for this floor, sir?

Of course, it's just this infernal machine.

[machine beeps]

Finch: Ah, there we go.

Damn thing is always glitching on me.

The electrons.

Have a nice day.

♪ ♪

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

[keyboard clacking]

[computer beeping]

♪ ♪

[tense music]

♪ ♪

Reese: Burn bag chutes for classified docs.

Empties out into a churning vat.

Well, if we're gonna get to Finch, that's our way in.

Come on.

[door squeaks]

What?

You're claustrophobic?

Just remember what happened to that fat German kid in "Willy Wonka".

Get back.

Once we're inside, we are gonna need covers.

Copy that.

[g*n cocks]

♪ ♪

[somber music]

♪ ♪

I wish there was another way.

♪ ♪

I'm sorry.

♪ ♪

[g*n cocks]

Not another word, Mr. Finch.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

Fusco: Where the hell are you guys?

The bodies I found down in those tunnels?

The Feds are in on the whole thing.

Call me.

♪ ♪

Moron.

You just wouldn't listen, would you?

♪ ♪

Travers: Welcome to the operation center, Mr. Finch.

♪ ♪

Bonjour, Harold.

We've been expecting you.

I understand you uploaded your stolen virus onto the NSA's intranet.

Seems you almost succeeded in launching it.

Looks like he had some help.

From your precious Machine, no doubt.

You think you've won, but you haven't.

What I think, Harold, is that it's time we had another talk.

Greer: Our game of cat and mouse seems to be coming to an end.

Finch: I don't consider this a game, and it's not over yet.

Isn't it?

You uploaded the virus, but you didn't activate it.

That requires your voice.

You think the Machine can't replicate my voice?

I imagine it could.

But does your Machine know the password?

Or more importantly, does it know what would happen if the virus is launched?

Have you told it the truth, Harold?

That it may destroy Samaritan, but it would k*ll your Machine as well.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

I'm sure the Machine has surmised as much already.

And it understands that some sacrifices are as unavoidable as they are necessary.

But do you understand, Harold?

That's why you hesitated, isn't it?

You don't want to m*rder your creation.

The one you resurrected from the dead.

Well, Samaritan doesn't want that either.

Oh, how is that?

When you've tried to destroy the Machine at every turn?

Not true.

Samaritan was distraught when it appeared that your ASI had been extinguished.

They may be at odds, but they're the only two gods of their kind.

And the next step on the evolutionary ladder.

That next step cannot be taken at the expense of the current one.

Come with me, Harold. I want to show you something.

♪ ♪

Now that it's just the two of us, how about you tell me what you really know about my organization?

I know your people are behind the bodies.

But I don't know why.

I also know a blond bearded guy is the k*ller.

Jeff Blackwell.

That's not bad, Detective.

But you're only half right.

The bodies are on me.

You put down all those people?

It had to be done.

You're a lunatic.

[chuckles]

Don't worry, Detective. I got your back.

When they pull the b*ll*ts out of your body, they'll match those found in all the others.

It'll look like you got too close to the serial k*ller, and you wound up one of his victims.

You'll die a hero.

[dramatic music]

Greer: For a genius, you are truly obstinate in the face of evidence.

How can you deny the good that Samaritan has done?

Greer: Global food distribution, preemptive health screening.

Finch: So there are people you've helped.

What about the people you've k*lled?

A small minority, Mr. Finch.

And all to effect a greater good.

Travers: We sorted them.

Reallocated resources, removed inefficiencies, obstacles...

Whistleblowers. Truth tellers.

It's not truth.

It's ignorance.

We're dragging humanity to a higher plane.

An ASI is the only thing that can save this planet.

Or get us to another one, if need be.

Humanity has always managed to survive on its own.

With a little help from the gods.

A flood is coming.

The Great Filter.

And Samaritan is building an ark for us to board, two by two.

Oh? Which species gets left behind?

Those that cannot adapt.

Samaritan wants a companion as well, Harold.

Your Machine.

Come.

Your cover.

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

Shaw.

This room number corresponds with part of the sequence the Machine sent us in D.C.

Let's see what's behind door number one.

[door buzzes]

♪ ♪

NSA's evidence lock-up.

What was the last number left on that sequence?

80211.

Those are specs for wireless communications, Wi-Fi.

A modem?

A wireless modem. Here.

♪ ♪

Comes with some impressive auspices.

Why would the Machine point us to something we could find at Target?

Maybe because it needs something in here, not out there.

A network to reach Finch.

We're gonna need a NIPRNet line to the outside.

Man: Hey, what are you doing in here?

Oh, hey, yeah... we're just... we were just looking for some bad guys.

We got a breach, evidence room.

[g*nshots]

Look at that. Found one.

We need to move now.

Sorry, pal.

I'm giving you the opportunity to save your Machine, which you so clearly love and loves you in return.

For what purpose?

Samaritan would consider your Machine a much-needed peer for what promises to be a fantastic voyage.

This virus you uploaded is nothing but a tragic mistake.

Tell me, after it's eradicated both ASIs, what then?

Then we go back to letting humanity determine its own fate.

Surely you're not that naive.

You know another ASI would soon arise.

Not for certain I don't, and neither do you.

Proliferation is inevitable.

So is progress.

Progress?

That eliminates free will and renders humanity irrelevant?

You've gone mad.

Sir, there's been a security breach.

We've got five men down.

How many hostiles?

Two. A man and a woman.

A response team's been dispatched.

You are the problem.

Samaritan's code was conceived by Arthur Claypool, who was a good man.

You have corrupted it.

I didn't corrupt Samaritan any more than I can control it now.

That would be like the apes controlling us.

It's impossible.

Let go, Harold.

Join us.

Ceding control is not the answer, because you will never know if Samaritan has any real concern for human life, for all human lives.

And that is why I will not join you or ever allow our machines to join.

[chuckles]

Thank you for answering my question.

Funny, it sounded like a demand.

Not that question.

But whether your Machine knows the password to deploy the virus.

[dramatic music]

From the very beginning, when you crippled your Machine, you denied it the same power that you enjoy.

Autonomy.

It's always required your permission, because it never had your trust.

And you just said it, you wouldn't cede control.

That tells Samaritan that only you know the password.

For such a brilliant mind, you are a terrible chess player, which is why you've already lost.

♪ ♪

[lock clicks]

[whooshing]

Two pieces trapped on a board.

Greer: Despite your lessons to the Machine, the life of a pawn is not worth the same as a queen.

This room is soundproofed.

No microphones, no way to activate the virus.

The fire suppression system will suck the oxygen from this room within seconds.

Samaritan will k*ll you too.

The queen sacrifice.

So be it.

Be at peace, Harold.

We have created a new world, with our lives and now with our deaths, Samaritan's survival is ensured, as is life's evolution.

[wheezes]

History will revere us.

♪ ♪

[gasping]

♪ ♪

[pained gasping and wheezing]

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[rasping]

♪ ♪

Three... Eight...

Five... Eight.

[wheezing]

♪ ♪

[heaving gasp]

[cell phone ringing]

[panting]

♪ ♪

Root: Harold?

I'm here.

Root: Are you okay?

I'm here... yes.

Yes.

[panting]

Thanks to you.

Root: Don't thank me. Shaw and the big lug found a way in to reconnect us. Aren't reunions nice?

Are Mr. Reese and Ms. Shaw in danger?

Root: Of course they are. But so are you, Harry. You're free to come to their aid, but you might forfeit your only chance to deploy the virus into Samaritan. And you've always known, John has been on borrowed time.

Finch: You need a purpose.

More specifically, you need a job.

Woman: Sorry to have to tell you this, but Jessica d*ed.

Finch: I'm so sorry.

Jessica: You told me to wait for you, and say those words, and I will.

Root: He saved her. Jessica. The love of his life. He left the CIA in time to confront her husband, Peter. But while Reese's actions saved her, they also showed her a darkness she'd never seen in him before. It terrified her. After Jessica turned him away, he had nothing. No purpose. His body washed up on the shoreline of the East River a few months later.

Take me to them.

[suspenseful music]

It's a dead end.

Apt description.

Finch: Mr. Reese, Ms. Shaw.

Finch?

Finch: You'll want to remove your earwigs.

What, why?

Finch: I trust you can sh**t in the dark.

Get down!

[high pitched frequency sounds]

[g*nshots]

All of Fort Meade will be on our asses in seconds.

Finch: In that case, I suggest you keep moving.

That's easy for you to say.

[doors clank]

[dramatic percussive music]

♪ ♪

This way.

♪ ♪

Orders.

Man: East corridor. Eliminate all targets.

We got Samaritan Ops in droves.

Safe bet Greer's here.

He is, but he's no longer a thr*at.

Why not?

He's dead.

What?

He sacrificed himself in an attempt to stop me.

From doing what?

Cleaning the slate.

The Machine's triggered a b*mb thread.

They're evacuating the building.

If you turn right, when you leave this room, you'll see the south exit at the end of the corridor.

There'll be a car waiting there.

Let it drive for you.

You have two minutes.

We're not leaving here without you.

6:00.

Shaw: We got company.

Harold, get back.

[g*nshots]

♪ ♪

[men grunting]

♪ ♪

[g*nshots]

♪ ♪

Thanks.

That guy was getting on my nerves.

Finch?

[tense music]

Finch!

[doors clanking]

[lock clicking]

♪ ♪

Go now. Hurry.

Damn you, Finch.

Good-bye, John.

Careful, it's slippery down here.

Thanks for your concern.

You realize this isn't personal, Detective.

You just backed the wrong horse.

Yeah, well, it's a good thing the race ain't over yet.

See, there's your biggest flaw.

An unwillingness to see the world has changed.

Trust me, that's not my biggest flaw.

See, even your sense of humor no longer has a place in the world.

Sadly, neither do you.

Yeah, well, I don't want any part of a world where you're the good guy.

So noted, Detective.

Sorry.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

[g*n clicks]

You should have been checking me for a vest instead of running your mouth so much.

So what now, Detective?

That's a good question.

See, you and me, we aren't alike.

We aren't alike at all.

You're some kind of new breed.

The kind that would k*ll me if I gave you the chance.

So the question is, if I let you live, is that the end of me?

End of my family?

Or do I play by your rules and just make you disappear?

Man: We have an active sh**t.

Root: Reese and Shaw have made it to safety.

Thank you.

Root: You okay, Harry?

Why did you show me those simulations?

Root: I knew you were still unsure about deploying the virus, because of what it would mean for me. So I showed you a world without your Machine to help you with your decision. But it remains just that... your decision.

But the world without you wasn't definitely better or worse than the one we currently inhabit.

It was just... different.

Root: Are you sure, Harold?

I don't understand.

Root: Well, there's one more simulation I can show you.

[somber music]

Now might be an appropriate time.

In addition to eradicating terrorism threats, we've also seen municipal crime plummet, unemployment rates fall, and increased efficiencies in both education and medicine.

No one's arguing with the results of your little science experiment.

But some of my colleagues in Congress have concerns.

Concerns, Senator?

And what might those be?

That your system has exceeded its mandate.

Its mandate is to keep society safe.

By watching and reporting from the sidelines, not stepping into the game.

Samaritan follows no mandate other than its own.

That attitude won't win many hearts and minds back in D.C.

Senator Garrison, you're tired.

Go back to Washington, and tell your colleagues to focus on their jobs while they still have them.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

Sir, if you don't mind my asking, is everything okay?

Perfectly fine, Ms. Groves.

The senator is merely a messenger bearing news of resistance from those who still cling to the grand illusion of democracy.

[scoffs]

They'll never truly appreciate all that Samaritan's given them.

They're not capable.

They're just bad code.

Speaking of bad code, I fear the senator has outlived his usefulness.

I'll take care of that, sir.

So Samaritan would have come to exist, regardless.

Root: Yes, and would have extended its invisible reach into every corner of society, eliminating anyone who dared question its vision of the world, because there would be nothing and no one to stand in its way.

Now I understand.

Root: What is it?

I promised you I would never hurt you again.

Root: I know. But in breaking this promise, you'll be helping to fulfill a much larger one.

♪ ♪

[computer beeping and humming]

[somber music]

I'm aware of that.

I'm also aware that life, humanity, will endure, whether or not my Machine exists.

The same cannot be said of a world under your control.

My Machine... her purpose has been constant: to protect and save humanity.

It's what she's doing now.

♪ ♪

[tense music]

Root: Eight letters. Your decision, Harold.

Eight letters?

You knew all along.

Root: Maybe I know you better than yourself.

♪ ♪

Dashwood.

[dramatic music]

Root: Now we can go.

Thank you.

♪ ♪