("Congregation" by Low playing)
♪ Sometimes ♪
♪ The congregation takes the other side ♪
♪ The implication ♪
♪ is its own device ♪
♪ In the middle ♪
♪ of a salient fight ♪
♪ Sometimes ♪
♪ Congregation can't be satisfied ♪
♪ Can't be bothered with the ways and whys ♪
♪ Generations like the ways and times ♪
(birds chirping)
The moment my daughter was taken from me...
it was as if I was instantly placed into two concurrent states.
In one... I had a full understanding...
that Amaya was gone.
There was no doubt. No... hope.
No holding onto anything. No going back.
Just the certainty of her death.
In the other,
I had no comprehension of her death.
It was an impossible thing.
An implausible thing. Absurd.
Vast.
Meaningless.
Untrue.
It wasn't just that they were contradictory states.
They were absolute states.
Each was complete in itself, leaving no room for the other.
But...
I held them both.
And still do.
There was nothing anyone could say to me.
There's nothing I can say to you.
What I can offer is my duty of care.
You can talk to me at any time.
You can call me at any time.
You have no professional obligations that you need to fulfill.
Your job and your income are secure,
and it will stay that way for as long as you need it to.
Thank you.
Can I go?
Can I go home?
Yeah. Of course.
(sighs)
‐(dog barking) ‐(bird crowing)
(front door closes)
No.
I spoke to his mother.
I think they're going to come out.
No, Mom. I...
I really don't want to come to Hong Kong.
Yes, obviously.
It's awful.
But...
Of course I have friends.
Mom, I haven't even spoken to those guys since high school.
Please don't start...
I have friends.
And they're taking care of me.
In fact, I'm with them right now.
Staying with me.
Yes.
Okay.
Bye.
Fuck!
(sighs)
Fuck.
(sighs)
(soft music playing)
(inhales)
(heavy breathing)
‐I died. ‐(knocking on door)
‐What the fuck? ‐LILY: Let me in.
‐Now, Jamie. ‐(Jamie sighs)
You need to not talk for a moment and just listen to me.
I'm sorry we broke up.
I'm sorry it hurt you.
It hurt me too.
And one day, we can talk it through.
But right now, right now, I need you to move past it.
Earlier today...
I watched Sergei burn himself to death.
What?
He walks off the Amaya campus two days ago...
and disappears.
Totally vanishes.
Twenty‐four hours later, he walks back on the campus,
covers himself in gasoline, and sets himself on fire.
‐He killed himself? ‐Yes.
And it makes no fucking sense.
On this phone, there is a Sudoku game.
Except, I think it's not a Sudoku game.
And it's password protected.
It is the one thing I have that might be able to give me
an explanation about what happened.
And I have one try left to break it.
Or it wipes.
(keyboard clacking)
(sighs)
Okay. Okay. You're right.
‐About what? ‐It's not a Sudoku game.
It's a messaging app.
And it's Russian.
And it's state.
In origin, anyway.
How do you know?
Because it's talking to a server in Kazakhstan
and I recognize sections of the code.
There are a few different versions out there,
but this one is pretty old.
But old is good.
Shit‐load easier for me to open up.
This is...
I don't know, three or four years out of date?
Which is weird,
because Sergei was a top‐level coder.
But... Well, I guess it's like
heart surgeons who smoke, or something.
I don't understand.
Uh... He didn't update.
Or his handlers didn't update.
‐And you've always got to update. ‐"His handlers"?
Lily, come on. If...
If this is Russian state, your guy was like...
Like what?
A spy or something.
Industrial espionage.
Can you open it?
I think so.
But there is a risk.
If it's more modern than I think,
there might be some embedded security
that I can't see,
which I might trigger and then lose everything.
Do it.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Just do it.
Okay, it worked. We're in.
Jesus.
Jamie, I need to read it alone.
Yeah. I understand.
‐(sighs) ‐(paper rustling)
I reset the password so you can get back in with this.
‐LILY: Thank you. ‐(chair scraping)
You can leave by the front door, if you like.
(tense music playing)
(crickets chirping)
(phone buzzes)
(door creaks open)
‐(grunts) ‐Really ought to quit.
I wouldn't bother.
It'll make no difference.
(laughs) Still.
So... (exhales)
The coroner's report will take a while, but... (exhales)
...the police are convinced that the kid was a suicide.
(snorts) They've got a body,
they've got documentary evidence of the act.
This is over.
Except for the girl.
It's not over for her.
Emotionally, you mean.
‐Yeah. ‐Yes.
But that will pass.
It just takes time.
Hasn't for you.
Sir, you've got more money than God.
You think I care about money?
‐You did once. ‐Yes.
But now I don't.
I was going to say, you've got more money than God,
and you live in dust.
Aspic.
So I should buy a bigger house?
Well, I'm not saying that, but... baby steps.
Do something.
Buy a new car.
That thing's a piece of shit.
You could get an electric.
Think of the environment.
But I don't think of the environment.
(sighs)
I understand what you're saying, Kenton.
But I'm not holding on to the past.
I'm actually letting go of it.
‐Your tram lines. ‐Ours.
Right.
Good night, sir.
Good night, Kenton.
(tense music playing)
Come on, baby.
Don't do that.
‐LYNDON: What did he do? ‐Called it "baby".
Oh, well, he can't help it.
He's the era that doesn't know.
Say what?
You're the era that doesn't know.
That one says stupid shit and gets stuff wrong.
You're the fucking era that doesn't know.
Your era doesn't know shit.
All so fucking political. All so woke.
But you don't know shit about history,
you don't know shit about art, you don't know shit about music.
So you don't know shit about politics.
So you aren't woke.
You're comatose.
(kid chuckles)
I don't know shit about music? Please.
Listen to a lot of Bach? A lot of Coltrane?
No.
Then shut the fuck up.
Stewart. Just don't call it baby.
Hey.
It's happening.
(soft music playing)
Yeah, baby.
(inhales)
(exhales)
(soft music intensifies)
(breathing heavily)
(sighs)
(breathing heavily)
(ominous music blares)
(breathing heavily)
(whistling wind in the trees)
(ominous music playing)
(foghorn from ship)
My name is Anton.
Sergei worked for you.
Since he was an undergraduate in Moscow.
‐And you work for Russian intelligence. ‐ANTON: Yes.
You are frightened and confused.
But at least where I am concerned, you should fear nothing.
I have no interest in hurting you.
In fact, my reason for meeting is to protect you.
I don't believe you. At all.
Even your name.
And his.
I understand.
You now doubt Sergei. Everything about him.
But he loved you.
And you loved him. You knew him.
The point here is that I didn't know him.
Don't be ridiculous. Of course you knew him.
Maybe not every single thing. Every secret.
But you knew him.
I'm married.
I have a wife and three children.
They know nothing about my work.
Does this mean I love them any less? No.
I want you to consider something.
I want you to consider that Sergei had a good reason
for doing what he did.
It might be a good reason for you too.
‐What does that mean? ‐Why are we standing here now?
Because you hacked Sergei's phone and contacted me.
Do you think anyone would do that? I don't.
You're very resourceful. Very brave.
I'm not going to work for you.
I just want to understand why Sergei killed himself.
Okay.
Then understand this.
In my profession, when a colleague commits suicide,
the first thing I say to myself is, they did not commit suicide.
I saw CCTV footage.
He covered himself in fuel.
Then lit it.
That's what you saw.
But hold on to what you know.
Did Sergei feel as if he was going to commit suicide?
Was your life together happy or sad?
Hold on to the fact that he loved you and you loved him.
‐You're telling me he was murdered. ‐I have no doubt.
‐The CCTV film... ‐Is fake.
You contacted me because you wanted an answer.
Here is an answer:
Sergei's job was to infiltrate Devs.
He did it. Something happened. He was killed.
If that answer is sufficient,
walk away. Continue with your life.
If that's not enough,
you are going to have to work with me.
Sergei's phone is wiped.
If you want to contact me again,
put a sign in your bedroom window.
The chair you have there. Where you put clothes.
Don't feel invaded. Nobody has a private life anymore.
If you move the chair away from the window, I will contact you.
You should.
That's just fucking great.
I don't fucking believe this.
Aren't we all missing the point?
The fact is, that our variances are now so small
that we can make a 2,000‐year backward projection.
‐No one's missing the point. ‐Yeah. Stewart is.
Jesus! Again: we made a 2,000‐year projection!
Where's the happy smiles? Where's the champagne?
We should be bathing in it.
It was a fuzzy projection. It's unreliable.
Holy shit. Listen to yourself.
‐It was a fucking miracle! ‐No, Stewart.
You want to talk about the point? That's the point.
It's not a miracle.
And it needs to be.
We're not chasing a Nobel Prize here.
The irony is that despite our quantum computing,
our problem is binary.
It either succeeds totally, or it doesn't.
Anything outside total is not total.
Well then the problem is not binary.
It's reality. (chuckles)
If you want total accuracy, zero variance,
then a heuristic approach is never going to work.
You're literally going to need a computer the size of the universe.
One qubit per particle. Good fucking luck with that.
That may actually be true.
No. It isn't true.
LYNDON: Why?
Because I know we're going to do better.
Would that be, "I know we're going do better?
Or "I know we're going to do better."
He's just saying, have a little faith, Stewart.
In ourselves. That's all.
Okay.
Hey, can you guys give me a moment?
You're right, you did great work. And yes,
you earned a bath in champagne, if that's what you want.
Tell accounting I okayed it.
But... Yeah. I need a moment alone.
Of course. Let's go.
(soft music playing)
‐Hey, man. You got a smoke? ‐Erm... No.
‐You waiting for someone? ‐Uh‐huh.
‐Is it Lily? Is it? ‐Jesus Christ.
Yes.
You're wasting your time, man. She's already got a guy.
‐A Russkie. ‐Yeah. Thanks...
I don't blame you for trying, though, man. She is cute.
I'm not trying, man.
Well...
I guess I'm gonna stretch my legs a little, you know.
‐Evening constitutional. ‐Sure.
Got to stay fit man, got to stay healthy.
(indistinct chatter)
(sighs)
(indistinct chatter)
‐Hey. ‐Hey.
Can we just talk? For a couple of minutes?
You want to come in?
(keys jingle)
‐The place has changed a bit. ‐Yeah.
It's nice.
You want to sit?
I'm going to get a drink.
‐Can I get you anything? ‐No. I'm good, thanks.
Was it that you wanted to know what was on the messaging app?
Err... No. I don't.
Really. That's something between you and him.
Obviously, I hope it was what you wanted to see.
It wasn't.
Okay.
So what was it you wanted to talk about?
Well... (sighs)
I had this crazy thought.
And it got me worried.
Then I couldn't stop thinking about it.
It's just... I know you.
You do stuff.
The stuff other people only think about,
you go right ahead and do it.
And I suddenly realized:
Lily won't just read the messages on the app.
She might actually use the app.
To contact whoever's on the other end.
Like I said, I know you.
Yeah. You know me.
So I wanted to talk you out of it.
I don't think that would be a good idea.
I agree. It wouldn't be a good idea.
‐Really? ‐Yeah.
‐So don't worry about it. ‐JAMIE: Okay.
I mean, I knew I was probably over‐thinking. But that...
That's good.
Are you okay, Lils?
Under the circumstances.
Yeah.
Under the circumstances.
All right.
Well, that was it, I guess.
Maybe I'll see you in another couple of years.
But so it's said,
if you need to, if you want help of any sort,
you can, you can contact me.
I'm not expecting anything back. I just...
It's just an offer to help.
‐Thank you, Jamie. ‐JAMIE: It's cool.
‐No. Jamie. I mean it. ‐And I mean cool.
See you.
Bye.
(door closes)
Aw, man...
You look glum, brother.
You struck out, huh? I tried to warn you.
If I give you 10 bucks, will you never speak to me again?
Okay.
I just have a 20. Here.
Oh, man! Thank you, brother.
This is like the best deal...
Oops.
I already broke the terms of our arrangement, man..
Exactly that kind of unprofessionalism
led me to a life on the streets.
Hey! My lips are sealed, man!
Silencio!
Okay? Silencio!
(car door slams)
Hey. Ivan.
‐Anton. ‐Okay.
I just wanted to have a...
no‐bullshit conversation with you. If that's okay.
‐Yes. That's okay. ‐Great.
So, I don't exactly know who you are,
but I know what you are.
I know you tried to get your boy
to pull off some industrial espionage.
It was a long game, but it didn't work.
I shut it down.
And now you're going to try again.
On the short game, with the girl.
But it's not going to work with her either.
I'll shut her down, too.
You know I will.
And she's just a kid. Just a bright kid.
Wrong place, wrong time, wrong boyfriend.
An innocent.
You remember what they are, right?
I remember.
So how about it?
I'm saying, one professional to another...
can you let this go?
Please.
This is a no‐bullshit conversation?
Have I bullshitted up till now?
Yes, you have.
You said I should back off my investigation
for the life of an innocent girl.
‐And? ‐You don't care about the girl.
You're just using her as leverage.
And then your strange private tech company
can continue its strange private project,
totally unobserved.
Standard American double‐speak.
You people so love to sound straightforward.
Straight‐talkers. Straight‐shooters.
Because it gives you the cover of virtue...
while you lie.
(chuckles)
How's that for no bullshit, Joe?
‐Kenton. ‐I know.
("Congregation" by Low playing)
♪ Sometimes ♪
♪ Congregation takes the other side ♪
♪ An inquisition of familiar lies ♪
♪ Grave distraction from a quiet rite ♪
♪ Sometimes ♪
♪ Congregation can't make up its mind ♪
♪ Incarceration creeps up from behind ♪
♪ The implication is its own device ♪
♪ In the middle of a salient fight ♪
♪ Sometimes ♪
♪ Congregation can't be satisfied ♪
♪ Can't be bothered with the ways and whys ♪
♪ Generations like the ways and times ♪