Intelligence (2014): Season 1, Episode 7 - Size Matters - full transcript

Is it programmable matter?
Technically, sure.

But then, so is a liquid crystal display.

Which was also a breakthrough

and also thought to be
as inconceivable as claytronics.

Olivia...

Your encouragement is much appreciated.

I think I'm gonna grab a coffee.

Yes.
Um... Of course.

I have a big day tomorrow.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Hello?



Professor Donovan?

Chris!

Chris.

25-year-old male,
shallow breath,

widespread internal hemorrhaging.

He hasn't stopped bleeding.

O2... 10 liters.

125 of methylprednisolone,
I.V. Push.

Let's get him on the table.

- What's his name?
- Dr. Chris Donovan.

What kind of doctor is he?

He works with artificial
intelligence... robotics.

What's wrong with him?

Oh, God!



Damn, Jenny.
Just plug it.

His blood...
It's moving.

This is a cellphone video taken
by an emergency-room technician

at a hospital in Pittsburgh last night.

- What am I looking at?
- Nanites.

Highly advanced robotics
on a microscopic scale.

Nanite technology
has not advanced this far.

This is a...
A scientific impossibility.

So is a microchip in the brain.

They somehow got into
this man's bloodstream

causing massive internal bleeding.

And who's the victim?

Dr. Chris Donovan, one of the
nation's premier experts on...

Artificial intelligence.

I knew Chris.

Shen, I'm so sorry.

It gets worse, unfortunately.

Dr. Ezby Grant
of Portland, Oregon,

Dr. Horatio Cameron
of Dallas, Texas...

Both dead in the past 24 hours.

There are two more
in Europe and South America

that seem to match...

Elian Vega and Susanna Delacroix.

Delacroix?

Scientists working
with bio-inspired robotics

is a really...
Small circle.

They're not just scientists, son.

They're giants.

Their loss is incalculable.

Is the CDC involved?

No, nanites are not a contagion.

What we are dealing with
are intelligent machines

programmed to kill.

Okay, look, the first thing we need to do

is find out how the nanites
are being distributed, right?

We need to trace them
to their original source.

Until that happens, we should isolate

any of the doctors,
the E.R. staffs...

Anyone who has been in potential
contact with these victims.

I'll institute a full quarantine.

You said the scientists work
in small circles.

Any chance they traveled
to the same location?

Maybe a conference or something?

Accessing
passports and e-mails.

No conferences, but I'm looking
through crime photos,

and I did find a link.

They each received identical packages...

Small yellow boxes, minimum postage,

which means they're nearly weightless.

Chris had an open one in his office.

No return address, I'm assuming.

No.

Without being able
to I.D. the sender,

it's impossible to know how many
more packages are in transit.

We should send a team out to
the doc's house, check his mail.

- My mail?
- Gabriel's right.

If they're targeting giants in the field,

you're certain to be on that list.

Which is why
you're not leaving this facility

until we find who's responsible

for slaughtering the great
scientists of our time.

Gabriel Vaughn.

One of our nation's
most decorated soldiers.

He's a hero, and now our
country's most secret weapon.

Gabriel possesses a rare genetic mutation

that allowed us to implant
a microchip in his brain.

We connected his mind directly
to the information grid.

It's something the chip does
that nobody expected.

I can create a virtual snapshot
of an event in my mind

and then walk through it.

It's like a virtual evidence wall.

At U.S. Cyber Command,

we created a highly specialized
unit around him...

Satellite in five.

And assigned an agent to protect him.

Gun!

He's the first of his kind...

the next evolution of intelligence.

- Sync and corrections by Zac -
- Web dl sync snarry -

Intelligence 1x07 Size Matters

Are we crowding you?

You just tell us if we're crowding you.

I could do with a tad less
heavy breathing.

- Thank you.
- Guys, stop breathing.

They look like... Bugs.

More like
a monster-truck rally.

I would love to browse the
patent portfolio behind all this.

You really think
whoever designed these nanites

applied for a patent?

If they didn't, they should have.

It'd be worth a fortune.

Why does every advancement in technology

end up being used
in anger or for violence?

I don't
mean you, obviously.

If the chip fits...

I searched the list of potential
targets you gave me, Nelson,

including your father,

and I put all the local
post offices on alert.

But...?

One box managed to slip through.

- Who's the recipient?
- Bryce Tyler.

Bryce? Oh, God.

He was one of my dad's prot?g?s.

He wrote the book "Warp Evolution"

about the merge of man and machine,

transhumanism, the singularity.

He was the most ambitious
student I ever had.

Please, you have got to reach him.

Don't worry, doc.
We'll get to it.

Nobody's answering the phone
in Bryce's office,

and he's still not picking up
his cellphone.

It's still early.
He might not be in yet.

He's got his cellphone
on "silent."

I'm changing the setting.

Making the call now.

Yes?

Bryce Tyler?

My name is Gabriel Vaughn.

I'm a friend of Shenandoah Cassidy's,

and I work
at U.S. Cyber Command.

I need you to listen carefully.

Cyber Command?
What's this about?

I'll explain more when we get there.

There's been a credible threat
to your life.

Do not open any packages that come to you.

Oh, no.

My assistant.

Hello? Dr. Tyler?

Mr. Tyler?
Why are you calling my cell?

Audrie, do not open any package
addressed to me. Understand?

Why not?

Just put them on.

We still don't know
how the nanites are spread.

No.

Wait.

She's dead.

Nanites are meant to cure world hunger,

attack cancer, create fuel.

But this is...

Someone with a different idea.

Which is why we need to
concentrate our efforts, Bryce.

To stop them.

Okay? That's why you're here.
Now, come on.

Now, the nanites were delivered in the box

in the form of a dust.

Open the box, and the dust is released.

So they're airborne.
Right.

But since we don't have a long list

of dead doctors, nurses, or mailmen,

we're assuming the nanites
were programmed somehow

to only attack their targets.

But we haven't caught one alive
long enough to study it.

How can they be alive?

Well, obviously,
they're not completely organic.

They seem to enjoy a capacity for growth.

Apparently, they have a purpose.

Combine that with the element
of intelligence,

artificial or not, and I defy
you to tell me the distinction

between a living organism
and these remarkable creatures.

Tell us what you see. It's more
your area than it is mine.

Encapsulated in polymer,
CMOS front end, piezo core.

But this particle size is leaps beyond

anything we're doing in my company.

Whoever did this knows their business.

Wait till you see the note.

It's a simple binary code.

Has anybody translated it?

"Welcome to the future."

Whoever had the ability to do this

knows how to hide himself.

Whoever had the ability to
do this does not want to hide.

What do you mean?

Someone with a mind this twisted

doesn't want to be
in the shadows for long.

They want to be famous.

They want us to know why.

Yes, of course.

Can I use your electron microscope?

Sure. Why?

We're not thinking small enough.

This is the letter the killer left us.

On the surface, it's binary code,

a series of 1s and 0s,
a single hidden message,

"Welcome to the future"...

At least, that's what we thought.

Right... now check out
what we see

when it's magnified by 200 nanometers.

There's text embedded
inside each typewritten number.

This is a manifesto.

Yeah. We see a lot of these
loon letters at secret service.

Angry guy with a lot to say.

"A lot" is right.
How about 300 pages of text?

I want to see the whole document.
Can you extract it?

Yeah.

What are you doing?

Reading.

35,000 words?

I'm skimming.

Look at the phraseology.
There should be a pattern.

Then locate documents

where certain word groupings
have been used before.

Nelson, can you run a program
like that or something?

I-I... yes.

I can... Do that...
Here.

"Evolution is earth's deepest breath.

Technolution,
its dying gasp."

Poetic.

He's repeated it on at least six

anti-government, anti-education,
and conspiracy websites.

There are other matches, too.

Do you have a name?

User name belongs to a Gordon Greyson.

Gordon Greyson?

Oh, yeah.
This guy's the real deal.

NSA watchlist, TSA no-fly.

He's corresponded with at least
four of the five victims.

How could you know that?

Well, 'cause he's looking at my screen.

I have all the e-mails
pulled up.

Do we have an address?

No.
This guy's careful.

He's I.P.-Ghosting
all over the place.

I got him.

He's in an industrial area in Baltimore.

What is he?

Excuse me?

You...

You finally did it, didn't you?

Did what?

You overcame your fear
of what might happen...

Or you were convinced.

Dr. Cassidy, would you please
escort Dr. Tyler out of here?

How much of him
is organic... human?

Sorry to disappoint you,
but I'm all human.

No, you're not...
Not all human.

Dr. Cassidy.

Bryce, please come with me.

Embrace what you are.

- Bryce, that's enough.
- And what am I?

The future.

Don't tell me you let that guy
get under your skin.

It's not skin.
It's more like... Leatherette.

I refuse to accept
that leatherette is the future.

You watched the title fight
on pay-per-view Saturday night.

And in the morning, you had
a soy latte after your run.

How do you know it was after
and not before?

'Cause you checked your e-mail
at 6:00 A.M. from your apartment

and again an hour later from your phone

on the other side of Rock Creek Park.

I'm just saying it'd be nice
to come in Monday morning

and not already know
what you did all weekend.

You knew I had a soy latte
because you know me.

It's not the chip.

This is the place.

I don't like this without a full tac team.

If we're ever gonna find out

what other packages are already out there,

we need this guy alive.

Sometimes tac teams
aren't so good at that.

Neither are you.

Greyson last accessed the
internet from here this morning.

The building's lined with wire mesh.

I can't chip any of the systems
inside... at least not clearly.

So he could have eyes on us
and we can't see him?

Great.

Any ideas on a way in?

That ladder activates in case of a fire.

Camera.

Can you chip it?

No.
It's heavily encrypted.

Guess we're gonna have to
do this like normal people.

Move.

Gabriel.

Check the handwriting.

Is this our guy?

Matches the manifesto.

He's our guy.

Greyson!

Stop right there!

Put the gun down now.

Now turn around slowly.

If you're really gonna take me in,

I'd at least like to know who you are.

U.S. Cyber Command.

I would have thought CIA or FBI.

But that actually makes more sense.

Meet and greet's over.
Now get on the ground.

Why? So you can put me
in some deep, dark hole?

Exactly.

That would be a little redundant.

What are you talking about?

Oh, I have a hole of my own.

No.

It's booby-trapped.

He just activated
some kind of I.E.D.

I'm pulling up diagrams of the warehouse

and the city's
underground rail road tunnels.

As in the underground railroad?

This place was built on the site
of an original slave market.

Looks like the tunnels lead
into the city's sewage system

about 200 yards from here.

- Turn here.
- You sure?

That tunnel back at the
warehouse leads to two others.

I think one of them's filled with water.

This will be his only way out.

There.

This area's wide open.
He couldn't have got far on foot.

He had a vehicle waiting.

Tire tracks lead that way.
He's got a head start on us.

He was definitely prepared.
I'll give him that.

I'm in the treadmaster national database.

It's a pickup, late model, bias ply,

O-8 tires,
probably American.

Wheelbase is pretty narrow.
I'd say it's a Ford.

My little brother's
a gearhead. Let's go.

I'm in the DMV database

checking late-model Ford pickups
in Baltimore.

Nothing registered
to the name Gordon Greyson.

I'm looking at known aliases
right now. There's nothing.

This guy's doing everything
to stay off the grid.

There's no way he's gonna fill
out a credit report to buy a car.

He'd pay cash.

Check with the I.R.S.

Cross-reference
with local dealers.

What am I looking for?

Form 83-100s
filed in connection

with the purchase of a Ford
pickup in the last 10 years.

Right...
Dealer would be required

to file an 83-100
with internal revenue.

It's a money-laundering
thing.

Got it.

2005 Ford F-150

registered in his mother's maiden name.

Jameson, we need eyes on that truck.

I got D.C. sat coverage
moving into position any second.

Checking a 2-mile radius
from the tunnel.

Hold on.

Found a match.
All right, do you see it?

It's on the move...
Heading northwest.

I'm gonna chip the traffic
lights just ahead of him.

Greyson! Don't move!

You people think you can
shut me up, but you can't.

Don't worry.

I'll let you talk all you want.

Can you tell me exactly what my crime is?

- You're a terrorist.
- A terrorist?

A term as lazy as it is overused.

"The architects of human
extinction must be struck down."

you are taking my words out of context.

I've never advocated
violence... never.

Funny, coming from a guy that
just shot at federal agents.

You...
You were trespassing.

The second amendment affords me
the right to shoot and kill...

I'm sorry...
Is it the right

to program nanites to kill
scientists you don't like?

Nanites?

Where are the other packages?
Who else did you send them to?

I don't send packages.

I send letters...

Warnings about the consequences
of their work.

Like this?

"Dormitories of mediocre minds

filled with insidious promises
and empty lies."

So, that's the great Gordon Greyson.

Incredible.

He was working
with nano-technology

when it was in its infancy.

You two talk as though he's to be admired.

Once upon a time, Lillian,
that man inspired a generation.

Right? Yeah.
'Till he got scared.

What do you mean, scared?

Greyson claimed
he'd developed an algorithm

which could conceivably

make artificial intelligence autonomous.

Now, in all our simulations
of the human mind,

what limits us is the ability of
the computer to program itself.

So if that were possible,
so the theory goes,

we... meaning people...

Well, we suddenly become unnecessary.

It's called transhumanism...

The biological synthesis
between man and technology.

And it's nothing to be afraid of.

Your... Creation
is certainly proof of that.

Gabriel is not what you think he is.

And he's certainly not
my "creation."

If you say so.

These scientists,
these people that you killed,

they had families.

They were mothers and they were fathers.

Look, if... if...
If nanites did this,

they are creating their own end.

You're blaming them?

I-I-I...

I-I want you to imagine
a machine devoid of humanity,

able to learn on its own,
create on its own.

But how do you control it?
How do you reason with it

when it's thinking in ways
that we can't even comprehend?

I blame them...
I blame them

for their insatiable hunger
for technology.

I blame the government.

The people that you work for...
They are the real terrorists.

You realize you're nuts, right?

No, the government...

The government is trying to plant chips

into our minds, into our heads.

It's true even if you don't believe it.

It's true. I swear it...

Trust me when I tell you this.

Frankenstein's monster will walk among us.

And when he does, the world will
be no more ready for him now

than they were then.

And this, this, this, and this
is proof of it.

We're not getting anywhere.

What the hell is he doing?

Did he just turn the cameras off?

Come on.

What did you just do?

Meet Frankenstein.

What?

What are you talking about?

There's a little red barn in
Alton, Kansas, with two silos.

You use it as your dead drop
ever since you went awol.

And your I.P. address
that ghosts your anonymity

is pinging off a serbian server right now.

But you never send
any e-mails, do you?

You just read the ones
from your sister, Emma...

The same ones over and over again

so you don't feel so alone.

Everything you predicted
in your little manifesto here

is standing right in front of you.

No.
I don't believe you.

"There will come a point

in which there will be so much data,

man will need to augment the
human mind just to process it."

The singularity.

You?

No.
It's not possible.

You're gonna tell us where
the rest of those packages are

in the next 30 seconds...

Or everything you've ever been
afraid of is about to happen.

I don't know.

I swear to you.
I don't know.

Gabriel?

Aah!

No.

Oh, God! I'm bleeding!
No. No.

- What's happening to him?
- I don't know.

Hang on.

What happened in that room
when you turned off the camera?

Nothing. I was just trying
to freak him out a little bit...

Shake something loose.

You shook something loose, all right.

Hey. I didn't make him
go all Niagara like that.

Gabriel, there is a reason

that we have surveillance in that room.

You're not so special

that you can disregard
standards and protocols.

Standards?

I just watched a guy implode

because microscopic robots ate his flesh.

That's not standard.
That's a freak show.

Consider yourself lucky.
You have your own freak.

Yes, I feel very lucky.

What?

I don't like you calling yourself a freak.

The youngest one's always a freak.

I was the only one my mother
forbid from joining the army.

Well, if she could see you now.

She'd probably have another breakdown.

I'll be lucky if I don't have a breakdown.

Probably millions of them
on this gauze alone.

Just think...
I could have gone my whole life

without seeing something
this... Disturbing.

Thank you for this, dad.

Yeah, I knew you wouldn't want
to miss a chance

to study the nanites up close.

I was employing sarcasm.

Never mind.

- Oh, what the...?
- Electron magnet.

We're gonna pull the little
bastards out of his arm.

Just think... Greyson develops
one of the most elegant,

undetectable microscopic weapons
of the century

and then dies of his own creation
the moment we catch him.

Well, that would be poetic,
except now he can't tell us

what the rest of his plan was,
now, can he?

True.

Would you like to take the
sample from his nasal cavity?

Oh, that sounds... awesome,
but I am gonna pass.

Dad, why are we wearing these
suits if the nanites are dead?

The ones in his body are dead.

Are you saying there are others?

Well, he must have been infected
at some point.

It stands to reason
he was carrying them around

on his person somewhere.

Or he was infected before he came in here.

No, because in the other cases,
the victim died quickly.

Greyson was here for,

About three hours before...

Before...

- Oh, hell. You're right.
- I am?

He wasn't infected here.

Well, then how could he poss...

No, we're thinking about this all wrong.

We're treating this like it is
an organic infection.

What we are dealing with
is a mechanical infection.

Viruses and bacteria are active
before they enter the body.

But a machine can be turned on
at any time.

All right, good.
Let's get out of here.

This is...

That's disgusting.

He was capable of it.

He was brilliant. He was crazy.
What if he isn't guilty?

What if Gordon is just a patsy
for somebody else?

Go on.

The nanites that killed Greyson,
they could have been

in his system for hours, days, even weeks.

The only reason he died when he did

is because at that exact moment,
someone else activated them.

- Remotely.
- Activated? How?

They're digital creatures.

They can communicate with each other,

and they can be made to communicate

with whatever controls them.

I never picked up a signal.

You also can't hear a dog whistle.

The signal the nanites are receiving

would be on a very special spectrum.

Your chip wasn't programmed to access it.

How was the signal sent?

It's called
an S.A.R. signal,

and you could piggyback it
on a cell signal.

The nanites take phone calls?

The call would have
to be cellphone to cellphone,

but the nanites, they just
have to be in the vicinity...

...To be triggered.

My cellphone buzzed
during the interrogation.

It was a blocked number.

Yes, yes. That must have been
when the nanites were activated.

But no cellphone from the outside

can penetrate our shielding.

Maybe he wasn't outside.

- Are you kidding me?
- You son of a bitch.

We gave him complete access
to this building.

No.
I gave him access.

Come on. Let's go.

Bryce selected Greyson
because he matched the profile

of what we'd be looking for...

Anti-government paranoia,
a history of violence.

He planted Greyson's manifesto
under each letter to seal the deal.

This man sent a package to his own office,

killed an innocent girl to throw us off.

So be cautious.

There's no telling what he's capable of.

It's over, Bryce.

- Your phone.
- I don't understand.

No more games.
Where's your phone?

Why do you need my phone?

This phone has never accessed
the deep net.

- He used a burner phone.
- Where is it?

Dad, your phone's ringing.

What?

Not my phone.

How did this happen?

Bryce infected my dad with nanites.

Then he planted a cellphone
in the lab to activate them.

- You got this?
- Are you in pain, Shen?

Yep.

Okay, this electron magnet
should slow down the nanites.

- Possibly.
- Probably!

Just... Probably.

- Okay, you ready, dad?
- Yeah.

Turn it on.

It appears to be working.

Nice job, Nelson.

Now, this will only delay them.

These nanites, t-they're smart.
They'll adapt.

Once they adapt, they'll pick up speed

and get right back to...

Killing me, yeah.

This is merely slowing down
the death process.

Well... At least I won't be
the first scientist

to be ironically felled by science?

Madame Curie died of radiation poisoning

shortly after discovering radium.

Dad!

Lighten up, Nelson.

You love a good joke when you're nervous.

Well, you need better material.

Someday you'll have a child of your own.

You'll see what it feels like to be as...

As proud as I am.

I just wish I could have met him.

Or... or her.

Okay, look, I like the jokes.
Let's just get back to the jokes.

- Gabriel?
- I'm here, doc.

I cannot imagine
what I will be missing with you,

what you'll become.

You can cut that out right now, doc.

The Cassidy I know doesn't give up.

Look at me.
This is not goodbye.

Just know that I could not have
chosen a better candidate...

A better man.

He's bleeding!

There's got to be some way
we can treat him!

This is not a disease, okay?

He's being attacked
by microscopic A.I.

He doesn't need a doctor!
He needs me!

He needs you!

Bryce is in holding.

I'm gonna make him fix this.

Hang on.

How do we deactivate the nanites?

Tell me... what do you see
when you look at me?

- Data streams?
- Just a murderer.

Tell us how to stop the nanites,

and we'll see to it
that you're tried in Maryland,

where there's no death penalty.

You know, any futurist will tell you

that the world doesn't advance
by a cacophony of voices

but evolves only through
a singular vision.

One man... Henry Ford,
Steve Jobs, Bill Gates.

Bin Laden.

This isn't about a vision of the future.

It's about a vision of your bank account.

You're eliminating competition.

Are you just guessing that?

Or is that your chip telling you?

It must be difficult
for you to reconcile the two.

Not really.

They're both telling me
to kick your ass right now.

You're quite a curiosity.

You are so average,

but your augmented mind is extraordinary.

We're not even the same species.

- No, you're not.
- Gabriel is warm-blooded.

Warm-blooded.

We got to get up to the lab.
I think I know what to do.

That's your plan...
To kill my dad?

The nanites just have to think he's dead.

You said they can
only live outside the body

for a few minutes, which is why
you couldn't catch them alive.

That has to be temperature.

Yes.
Yes, yes, yes.

When one dies, they all die.
It's called swarm intelligence.

So we lower his body temperature
to simulate a clinical death.

Make the nanites think their job is done.

You okay, doc?

He could really die from this.
I know.

His temperature dropped to 93 degrees.

Okay, he's gonna need
a fast active-core rewarm.

On my signal, you pump him with this.

How are we gonna know they're dead

if Gabriel can't access
the S.A.R. signal?

- Electron magnet.
- What about it?

It's hooked up to the computer,
which means you can chip it.

Okay, use it for imaging, like an MRI.

Hurry, Gabriel.
His body's shutting down.

At what point does he enter hypothermia?

We're past that already.

I can see them.

They're still alive.

- Nelson.
- Dad?

Dad. He's shutting down.
Gabriel!

Not yet.
They're slowing.

Do you want me to give him the adrenaline?

No! No.
I'll... I'll do it.

Just... just hold him down.
He's gonna seize.

Hey, hey.
Now?

Not yet.

We're gonna lose him.

Wait.

Now, Nelson!
Give him the shot now!

Go, go, go!

Come on, dad!
Come on!

Come on, dad!
Come on!

Come on!

Don't give up on us, doc!

Come on.

Okay.

Glad to see you're okay, old friend.

Are you?

I'm not the one you want.

You made a call to your
assistant right before she died.

I was trying to... Warn her
not to open the package.

Oddly, you called her cellphone,
not the office line.

So what?

Well, we examined the phone.

When you dial
a specific sequence of numbers

before the call, it sends
the required S.A.R. signal...

The one that triggers the nanites.

You're wrong.

Well, we're gonna find out.

The post office found another box.

A-a-are you crazy?

These nanites can kill you, too.

You programmed them
to make one lethal attack,

like a bee with one stinger.

Let's see who will get stung.

So...

Go ahead, Bryce.

Breathe it in.

And now, that sequence was...

7...

4...

...7...

...7...

4...

Don't!

Don't.

Powdered sugar.

You were one of
my favorite students, Bryce.

But you were never the brightest,

and you were certainly never a visionary.

I guess that's why you had to
murder all of your competition

in order to succeed.

Yes?

Hey.

We're way past
our nightly check-in.

The sun is almost coming up.

Did you want to...
Borrow a cup of sugar?

Maybe.

Well, actually, I was just...

Calling to say thank you.

What for?

You know what for.

You know, Lillian told me once that...

We were defined by the decisions we make.

Robots don't make decisions.

They execute code.

You make decisions, Gabriel.

And, from where I sit...
They're pretty good ones.

Okay, well...

I have a decision for you to make.

Shoot.

Paco's for bacon and waffles.

I need sleep.

And sleep would make sense if you're 90.

Come on.

Downstairs in 10.

Five.

- sync and corrections by Zac -
- web dl sync snarry -