Westworld

Wake up, Dolores.

Do you remember?

We're about to arrive.

May I take your glass?

Now approaching arrival terminal.

Where we're going, she's a two.

You're being an asshole.

No, I am being myself,

which was the whole point of this trip.

Unless this uptight prick is who you really are,

in which case, feel free to be someone else.

Fuck you.

Hey, that's the spirit.

What'd I tell you?

Have fun.

Stay safe.

Give me a break.

What?

It's not like my sister didn't ride

her share of cowboys when she was here.

You must be William. Welcome to Westworld.

Thanks.

Given it's your first visit, I have a few personal questions.

Do you have any preexisting medical conditions?

No, not that I know of.

- Heart problems? - No.

Any history of mental illness, depression,

panic attacks?

Just a little fear of clowns.

I'm joking.

Do you often experience social anxiety?

What is this for, exactly?

To make sure we don't give you anything more than you can handle.

I thought that you couldn't get hurt here.

Only the right amount.

The only limit here is your imagination.

You start in the center of the park. It's simple, safe.

The further out you venture, the more intense the experience gets.

How far you want to go is entirely up to you.

So, how does this work? Is there an orientation?

No orientation,

no guidebook.

Figuring out how it works is half the fun.

All you do is make choices...

starting here.

Everything is bespoke and exactly your size.

You want to ask, so ask.

Are you real?

Well, if you can't tell, does it matter?

Are those real?

Real enough.

But you can't kill anyone you're not supposed to.

Anything you like?

Is there a changing room?

Or a robe?

Of course. I can help you.

Or if you prefer, I could step outside.

What do most people do?

You don't have to worry about what most people would do.

I understand.

Do you really understand, William?

All our hosts are here for you.

Myself included.

We could stay here a while if you like.

Take as long as you want.

Thank you.

I don't want to keep my friend waiting.

Of course.

Take your time.

How are the builds for the new narrative coming along?

I'll get around to it.

Look, we assumed that Abernathy's breach

was triggered by the photograph that he found.

I've reviewed every dissonant episode I could find.

The reaction is immediate every time.

This guy makes it all the way back home.

It's like he's mulling it over.

You think he had an existential crisis?

I think there's something fucked up going on with his cognition.

And I think you feel exactly the same way that I do.

Do we know where the error originated?

We do.

And you covered for him.

Let me rebuild Abernathy.

I'll make sure this is not something more serious.

You know the policy. Let it lie.

Then let me at least pull the hosts who had contact with him,

like the daughter Dolores.

What for?

Because if this is not a dissonant episode,

then whatever Abernathy had could be contagious.

So to speak.

Dolores was examined and cleared.

And the stories are best left to the guests.

Remember.

Ahem. Can you stand somewhere else?

I don't want anyone thinking that you're representative of the goods inside.

These violent delights

have violent ends.

Hello, cowboy.

There's one final touch.

Which would you prefer?

I mean, can you believe this place?

So, how do we get into the park?

I know that you think you have a handle on what this is gonna be.

Guns and tits and all that.

Mindless shit that I usually enjoy.

You have no idea.

This place seduces everybody eventually.

By the end, you're gonna be begging me to stay

because this place is the answer

to that question that you've been asking yourself.

What question?

Who you really are.

And I can't fucking wait to meet that guy.

Bottoms up, cowboy.

Further to that,

the ruthless murder of Donald Pardue

and his brother.

For these crimes, you will be hung from the neck

until your diseased soul has found its measure

in the flames below it.

And may God have mercy on your soul.

Morning, Lawrence.

You helping them straighten out their rope again?

I was hoping to have a word with my friend here.

You can have as many words with him as you like

soon as his neck is broke.

Well, I'm afraid that's not gonna work for me.

How about I tell my man there to dig that grave a couple feet deeper?

Well, it's gonna be an awful tight fit for all of you.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Oh, shit!

Ah!

Motherfucker.

That's the best thanks you can muster, Lawrence?

You used to be a little more eloquent.

Do I... do I know you?

Your pal Kissy sent me your way.

Sends his regards.

What... what is this?

You know exactly what it is.

It's the maze,

the deepest level of this game.

You're gonna help me find the entrance.

No.

You can hear it, can't you?

That little voice.

The one that's telling you "don't."

Don't stare too long.

Don't touch.

Don't do anything you might regret.

I used to be the same.

Whenever I wanted something, I could hear that voice

telling me to stop, to be careful,

to leave most of my life unlived.

You know the only place that voice left me alone?

In my dreams.

I was free. I could be as good

or as bad as I felt like being.

And if I wanted something,

I could just reach out and take it.

But then I would wake up

and the voice would start all over again.

So I ran away.

Crossed the shining sea.

And when I finally set foot back on solid ground,

the first thing I heard was that goddamn voice.

Do you know what it said?

It said...

I'm sorry, will you please excuse me?

All right, Maeve, what did it say?

It said, "This is the new world.

And in this world,

you can be whoever the fuck you want."

Pupillary response is good. Smile is good.

I'd fuck her. What's the problem?

The guests wouldn't.

Sizemore is launching some huge new storyline

and he wants us to clear out the deadweight.

If we don't get her numbers back up, she'll be decommissioned.

Let's bump her aggression.

- 10%? - Double it.

She's a hooker. No point in playing coy.

If this doesn't work, we'll punt her to behavior.

Let them deal with it.

We retired the two hosts in question.

You taught me how to make them,

but not how hard it is to turn them off.

You can't play God without being acquainted with the devil.

There's something else bothering you, Bernard.

I know how that head of yours works.

The photograph alone

couldn't have caused that level of damage to Abernathy,

not without some other outside interference.

You think it's sabotage?

Imagine someone's been diddling with our creations?

It's the simplest solution.

Ah, Mr. Occam's razor.

The problem, Bernard, is that what you and I do