Solar Opposites (2020–…): Season 3, Episode 1 - Episode #3.1 - full transcript
‐ Dale, you've been staring
at that Rolo lava cake
for 20 minutes.
This isn't a library.
‐ I got it.
Three packets,
Sugar in the Raw.
‐ That's how I like my sugar... raw.
‐ This has been a wonderful
platonic exchange.
I will see you next week.
Come on.
‐ Hey, where are we going?
Only weirdos live down here.
‐ Just a little further.
Last one in's a rotten Skittle!
‐ Wait, is it safe down here?
‐ Why, are you afraid of tiny sharks?
‐ Mark!
Oh god, you jerk.
Don't do tha‐‐ ow.
‐ You okay?
‐ Yeah, I just felt a ‐‐ Ow!
‐ Allie!
Oh my god, Allie!
No, no, noooo!
Everybody buckled in?
‐ You bet!
‐ Shut the fuck up real quick.
I have a brief kick‐ass speech
to make.
Ahem.
The ship is repaired again,
and we are finally able to leave
this M‐class hellhole for good!
Thank you.
‐ We did this last year.
‐ "Blah blah blah, Earth sucks,
sci‐fi sci‐fi, we're leaving."
‐ Boo! Change the channel! This sucks!
‐ Who did this? Who did that?
‐ Oh, this shit's happening.
AISHA,
Activate pre‐launch sequence now!
First off, who do you think
you talking to with that tone?
Second: Activated.
Pssh, talkin' 'bout "now," bitch.
‐ This truly is a momentous day
for all of us,
but mostly for me
because I am mission leader
and I did all the work
while you guys totally shat the bed.
Launch aborted.
Some crew are not on board.
‐ What are you talking about,
we're all buckled in and‐‐ Oh!
‐ Yay, Korvo!
‐ Dammit, I always fall for the Talkboy.
Ha! You got Shawshanked,
Ferris Bueller'd, and Gallaghered!
‐ Infinite slip and slide?
Come on! You know I can't launch the ship
unless you guys are on‐‐
Gah! Oh, my foot!
It's dissolved into goo!
Why don't you care? Look at me!
Stop having fun! I'm melting!
This is what we're doing today,
figuring this out! Stop that!
Planet Shlorp was the perfect utopia
until the asteroid hit.
One hundred adults and their replicants
were issued a pupa
and escaped into... the space
searching for new homes
on uninhabited worlds.
We crashed on Earth, stranding us
on an already overpopulated planet.
That's right. I've been talking
this whole time.
I'm the one holding the pupa.
My name's Korvo.
This is‐‐ this is my show.
I just dropped the pupa. Do you see me?
This is ridiculous.
I hate Earth.
It's a horrible home.
People are stupid and confusing.
They're always ordering
these complicated coffee drinks.
Why would you ever have coffee
when you can just ingest
a room temperature,
tan‐colored Energon cone?
Don't talk to me
until I've had my tan cone.
‐ You want me
to drain your bucket?
‐ No. That's still me in there.
And yes, I know it smells like shit.
‐ Hi, folks. Sorry for the wait.
Prom season, tons of abortions today.
Busy, busy, busy.
Now before I give you our diagnosis,
are you certain
you don't have any alien technology
that you'd rather use to evaluate this?
‐ We decided to change it up
for once.
We go to the ship
with problems a lot.
‐ A lot!
‐ Well, they don't exactly teach
"alien goo" in medical school,
but I found some articles about dog herpes
that seemed to line up.
Korvo, you have what we call
"Alpha DNA."
The building blocks of your cells
have receptors that are only activated
if the pack are fulfilling their roles.
‐ Wait, are we the pack?
‐ That doesn't sound right.
‐ Pack of smokeshows, baby!
‐ Once your team's failure
continues long enough,
the receptors decay,
triggering a "goo sequence"
designed to kill you so the next dog,
or alien in line, can take over.
Isn't that funny?
‐ You lazy idiots
are literally killing me!
‐ Well, luckily it's reversible,
but only if these dummies
do their respective jobs
in a serious way.
‐ What? I can't rely on them!
Fuck that, fill me with chemo.
I want the chemo.
‐ They really don't like us
to throw chemo at family issues.
‐ Okay, I got you set up on the couch here
with plenty of fluids:
root beer, Sunny D, and piss.
‐ Is the piss hot?
I want hot piss.
‐ Gonna get this good and tight
so none of your stinky goo drips out.
Don't think of it as a trash bag,
it's more of a whole‐body diaper.
‐ I know why you fucks
are being nice to me.
You feel bad.
Well, shove it.
Your guilty feelings
can't solidify my legs!
‐ Okay, I know this is very unlike me,
but I'm feeling guilty
over melting Korvo with my laziness.
‐ Yeah, me too.
Maybe we should just do
some mission stuff,
just like enough so he can get better.
‐ To piggyback off your pitch
with a slight twist,
what if we let Korvo melt
but also did whatever we wanted?
‐ See, what I like about that
is then we wouldn't have
to do our jobs.
Great collab, Terry.
‐ Guys! We are not letting Korvo
turn to goo.
We should at least put him
out of his misery.
‐ Can someone please refill my piss?
‐ We can't kill Korvo!
Who would wash my t‐shirts?
‐ He does buy all the groceries
and hide all the bodies.
‐ Crap, without him,
we'd have to do the chores.
‐ Okay, let's just do
our mission roles more,
but only enough to not have
to take out the trash.
‐ Easy‐peasy.
‐ We've got this!
‐ Do you two even know
what your mission roles are?
‐ Zero fucking clue.
‐ I cannot say that I do.
‐ AISHA, please explain to the replicants
what their mission roles are.
And you know what? Let's, um,
let's just run through mine, too, for fun.
In detail, por favor.
Should I just play
the orientation crystals?
‐ Orientation crystals?
Oh, that sounds like some shit
we should have watched already.
They were meant to be viewed daily.
Dumbass.
‐ In these first moments of your mission,
remember what is at stake.
Shlorp is depending on your‐‐
‐ Ugh. Boring, boring, boring.
‐ Yumyulack,
protector and head of security.
You ward off any threats to the mission.
Strong and fierce, willing to die
so the team can live.
‐ Let's put "willing to die" down
as a maybe.
‐ Jesse, the chronicler.
Be observant.
Record your adventures with clarity,
both in triumph and defeat
so future Shlorpians
learn from your mistakes.
‐ Whoa! I'm like the J. K. Rowling
of this pack! Crucio!
Terry, your job is most important.
Because the Pupa will grow up
to terraform your new planet,
you must nurture him.
For as the Pupa specialist,
he is your responsibility‐‐
‐ Hold the fuck on. I'm supposed
to be taking care of the Pupa?
‐ Korvo says that all the time, Terry!
‐ Yeah, this isn't news.
‐ I'm not ready to raise a Pupa!
I'm still finding myself!
I wanna go to Cabo, dammit!
‐ You want some crackers to go
with your wine, Terry?
Being responsible is scary.
But it's time to grow up
and start working on the mission.
For Korvo!
For Korvo!
‐ What the hell are you doing?
‐ Oh shit, we forgot
about the Korvo thing!
‐ Earth is too distracting for us.
‐ We can't do our jobs here,
not with all the trap queens
in need of hyping.
I gotta park that big Mack truck
right in that little garage.
‐ Well, if we're going to focus,
we gotta do it on a new planet.
‐ Good. AISHA, initiate the pre‐launch
before these idiots change their minds.
Fine. The shit is initiated.
‐ Launch time, baby!
Not all the crew is accounted for.
‐ Fuckers!
Wait, but everyone's here.
Un‐unh.
All crew means all body parts
that got severed
and left around town.
‐ Wait, what?
Go get your dick.
‐ Has anyone been leaving
body parts around?
‐ I mean, yeah.
I live a full and rich life.
‐ You think my calendar's so open
that I can just pick up
my own body parts all day?
Wrong!
‐ Don't look at me.
I keep my shit toight!
‐ Activate the Shlorpian
Extremity Triangulater.
It scans the planet for Shlorpian flesh.
Creepy, but perfect for this moment.
I'm clean, all my pieces are on the ship.
Oh! You've been dropping your limbs
all over the place!
‐ Five at Home Depot?
That must have been from the summer
I tried to be a Mythbuster.
Those two ginger mummies
didn't leave any myths for the rest of us.
‐ You're supposed to be chronicling,
not busting popular myths!
Ugh, my favorite hand!
‐ We gotta get these body parts
before Korvo is goo for good
or we'll have to learn how to do taxes!
‐ It's hella complicated!
Good luck figuring out
the depreciation value
of time traveling sneakers
you only use for business!
‐ Uh, are we just gonna leave
the Pupa behind, Terry?
‐ He can't get out of the Pupa seat.
And even if he could,
he'd never stray from his puffs.
‐ Ahh!
The cow says‐‐
‐ Eddie!
Ooh! You're home early!
‐ Katie! Baby! Kiss me!
‐ Get in here.
‐ I still can't believe
it was one year ago to the day
you got down on your knee
and gave this to me.
Remember? It was our second date.
I thought you were crazy.
‐ I am. Crazy. For you.
‐ I swore I would never go out
with someone who worked for my dad.
But you're not like his other employees,
you're... you're different.
Oh, how'd the sales trip go?
‐ Crushed it. Crushed it.
‐ Daddy will love that.
Means he won't see it coming
when we rob him blind.
‐ Ha ha. Ha ha.
Ha ha. Ha ha.
‐ Alright, people,
I'm gooing pretty bad,
so let's get these limbs
and get back to the business
of leaving this shithole planet.
‐ Bad ice!
Don't ask me how it got there!
Ask them why they never cleaned it!
‐ Hey, my ball‐‐ back scratcher!
Ahh!
‐ Suck it, Cooke!
You did the right thing.
‐ So everyone got their body parts?
‐ Eh, almost.
We just have to go to the Windy City
to pick up the last two.
‐ You went to Chicago
and didn't invite me?
You know how much I like
the Schaumburg Outlets!
‐ Last time we wasted all our time
waiting for you
at the Hammacher Schlemmer.
Me and Yumyulack
have been commuting to Chi‐town
to practice with
the Chicago Pro Tumblers.
‐ They're a legendary
acrobatic halftime show.
I do it to help me stay agile,
plus we get to hang with Pippin
when he's around.
‐ We took a tough tumble
into each other last practice
and knocked our tushes clean off.
Ooh, there they are!
‐ Guys, Jesse and Yumyulack are back!
‐ 'Sup, Emily?
Alyssa, how you been?
Oh no, Josh and Sophia,
what happened?
‐ We snapped our ankles warming up
for the semi‐regional
halftime show championships!
‐ What.
‐ But that's today!
‐ You and Yummy have to sub in
to do the final team tumble.
‐ No, thanks,
we're in a time crunch.
Chicago Pro Tumblers to the floor.
‐ What are you‐‐
Don't you put that‐‐
Don't you put on
that sweet tumbling gear.
Drop those knee socks right now, mister.
Hey, I can see you.
‐ When tumbling calls,
you accept the charges.
‐ Hey, ge‐ge‐get back here!
‐ I kinda wanna see it.
‐ This stupid bullshit really meant
a lot to you two, didn't it?
‐ It's the most satisfying thing
I've done in my life.
‐ Okay, well, then I'm glad
we did it, I guess.
Still wish I wasn't turning into goo.
Terry. Your turn.
‐ What turn?
Like I said, I keep my shit toight.
Don't insult me.
I'm not a replicant.
Wow, yes, that's a lot of arms.
‐ Dozens tightly clustered
over the ocean.
Terry, you stinky shit.
Did you feed your arms to a whale?
‐ No!
No. What did I do?
Gladwell!
‐ What's a Gladwell?
‐ Pop sociologist Malcolm Gladwell.
We've been ripping and tearing ass
on the reg for a while now
and every morning, I would chew my arm off
rather than wake him up.
'Cause if he did, we would be chatting
about the human condition all morning.
The guy won't shut up.
My arms are somewhere aboard his private
non‐fiction yacht, The Shipping Point.
It's an intellectual cruise experience
he runs for his fans.
‐ How would we ever have gotten all that
from you just saying "Gladwell"?
‐ Don't be jealous, Korvo.
It doesn't look good.
‐ I‐I'm not!
A sexual relationship with
an award‐winning author? I'm impressed!
Best I could swing was a hand job
from the two guys
who keep track of all the horse names
for George R. R. Martin.
Baby, but what about the plan?
We were gonna wait
until that prick promotes you
and then fleece him.
‐ Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
No argue!
‐ The last flight to Mexico.
So you have to talk to Daddy today.
Be careful.
He has powerful friends, baby.
You gotta play this perfectly.
‐ Relax. Relax. It's me.
‐ Oh god, it'll all be worth it
once we're in Zihuatanejo.
Oh, take me again.
Oh god, I love your body so much.
‐ Excuse us.
We're G‐O‐G, Guests of Gladwell.
Terry. Should be on your book there.
Terrance! You look great.
Love the shirt.
Is that lambswool?
‐ Glady.
You're looking observant as always.
‐ I see you've brought your family!
How lovely.
‐ Mr. Gladwell‐‐
‐ Stop. Just Gladwell.
‐ Gladwell, would you sign
my 10,000 hours ray?
It simulates studying
for 10,000 hours.
Your Outliers book inspired me.
‐ My key insight was that if you spend
a lot of time on something,
you can get good at it.
Seems like common knowledge now,
but at the time it was unheard of.
‐ Yeah, genius, Gladwell.
So listen, there's a reason we're here.
‐ Let me guess,
Terrance needs his arms back.
‐ Damn, he's good.
‐ Let's run up to my penthouse
and get them.
In the meantime, do the rest
of you want VIP tickets
to see our in‐cruise show,
Malcolm Dragwell?
It's drag queens lip syncing
to audio recordings of my books.
‐ Uh, cool. Y‐y‐you guys do that.
And I‐I'll be right back with my arms.
‐ Enjoy the show.
Do you remember that hot air balloon
over Portugal?
We made that basket so hot that
the balloon rose an extra hundred feet.
‐ Ah yes. The summer we screwed
in every type of dirigible.
Remember when you had me
on that zeppelin?
Hmm.
‐ I'm so nervous to meet
a Malcolm Dragwell Queen.
Ah. I'm not dressed for royalty.
‐ I find it hard to believe
there's enough Gladwell demand
to justify a whole Stan culture.
‐ I hope there's stuff from Blink
in the show.
I love that book.
It's about how sometimes
we just know stuff
without having to think or learn.
I feel that way constantly.
‐ Pour me a drink
while I look for your arms.
Make one for yourself, too.
‐ Ugh. Been a hell of a day.
I don't know if you could tell,
but Korvo is melting.
He's sensitive about it.
‐ My god. Come, tell me.
‐ Whoa, hey, hey, hey.
No traps!
I'm not having a drink
or sitting on the bed. Just give me my‐‐
Your hair is looking zanier than normal.
Are you styling it different?
S'cute.
‐ Still just rubbing a balloon
on it after showering.
‐ Wha‐‐ That's not hair!
Those are... my arms!
What did you do?
‐ You left them to rot.
I gave them purpose. I gave them life!
They've been writing my books.
Sadly, I've had them so busy scribbling,
they've fused into some kind of rat king.
‐ That's straight‐up gross.
‐ Now they're more creative
than ever before!
My latest bestseller,
Thou Who Smelt It, Dealt It,
was their idea.
‐ You can't force my arms
to write their own fart ideas.
‐ I already have.
David Remnick interviewed me
an hour ago!
Grab him!
Is this the way to the VIP room?
I'll have a rum and Diet to start, please.
‐ Oh shit! They're going
to throw us into the ocean.
I'm going to get diluted and excreted
through a million disgusting squids!
‐ Did Gladwell sign off on this?
‐ This is how we do it in Chi‐raq, biatch!
‐ Yeah, bitch! Slip on my stinking goo
and drop to your death.
Now scoop me up into the backpack.
‐ Sales! Always!
Big, big growth!
Profits... up!
Money... yes, yes!
‐ Damn, Eddie.
How is it that you're never in the office
and you just crushed
my Q2 sales record?
‐ Get on my level. Bro.
‐ Alright, boys, back to work.
Eddie, stick around for a sec.
Now, you listen to me, you son of a bitch.
You might have everyone else fooled,
but I have been on to you
since day one.
I knew there was
something off about you.
I couldn't put my finger on it.
But you messed up when you made
a move on my daughter.
I did a background check
on you, "Eddie."
And you know what I found?
Nothing.
You are who you say you are.
But that doesn't change
how I feel in my gut.
And the only thing
I love more than profits
is that little girl of mine.
So I'm writing you a check
for ten million dollars.
It's a bribe.
Get out of Katie's life.
Then what do you want?
What's your price?
Are you out
of your fuckin' mind?
‐ Stop hitting yourself, Terrance.
‐ Ah! Cheap joke, Gladwell.
‐ Yes, but it was right there,
and I think I made my point.
Your arms obey me now.
I say hit you, they hit.
‐ Ow!
‐ I say write a book, they type up
cherry‐picked anecdotes
to support my nursery school wisdom.
I'll give you one last chance.
Live with me on the open seas.
We'll make love
while your arms write my TED Talks.
A perfect life!
‐ If it were up to me,
I'd tap that curly shit all day.
But I've already got a team.
‐ Pity.
Consider your point... tipped.
‐ Oh no! Terry's arms formed a rat king,
and they've sided with Gladwell!
‐ How did you gather that so fast?
‐ Because I'm young, and adulthood
hasn't atrophied my imagination!
‐ Holy shit!
‐ Stop it! Stop it!
Stop it, Terry's arms!
‐ Korvo, his arms,
they're listening to you!
‐ I'm their mission leader,
it's their biological imperative.
Terry's arms!
Stop being dicks!
‐ No, Terry's arms!
I'm your leader now.
I'm the one who lets you
grease me up before bedtime.
‐ You've never done anything right
in your shoulder‐girdled lives.
You're worthless!
But you can change that right now.
Come home with us, Terry's arms.
Come home.
‐ No! My career will be over!
Without Terry's arms,
all I'll be able to write
is the erotic Luigi's Mansion fanfic
that comes to me so naturally.
I can't go back to that!
I won't go back to that!
‐ Hey, Gladwell. I'm Yumyulack.
‐ So?
‐ I'm head of mission security,
so consider your dumb ass secured.
‐ What did you do to him?
‐ He's 10,000 hours stupider.
‐ I'm going to go write a novel
about video games and '80s movies!
‐ He'll land on his feet.
Oh man, I wish I had feet.
I'm feeling pretty shitty.
‐ Korvo!
Almost home, buddy.
Think solid, stay solid.
‐ Who was that psycho?
‐ Hey.
Ah.
‐ AISHA! Launch the ship!
All crew members present.
Launch activated.
We're doing it!
We're actually leaving.
No, no, no, no. No, no, fuck!
No, no, no, no. Noooo!
No! What happened?
All ship systems have been compromised
by the heavy levels
of iron in these puffs.
‐ Where did they all come from?
‐ I... I guess it was me?
I only remember packing a couple
so the Pupa could have
favorite snacks for the trip.
‐ You were trying to be
a better Pupa specialist.
‐ We can clean this up, Korvo.
You can talk us through the repairs.
Please, I just started chronicling,
and I don't want this to be how
my first journal entry ends.
‐ Yeah, we can still save you.
‐ No, the puffs
have destroyed the circuits.
The damage is too severe.
You'll have to stay on Earth permanently.
‐ But what about you?
‐ I'm afraid it's time for me to goo.
I'm sorry I failed you all as leader.
Today, I realized that each of you
has been fulfilling your mission roles
in convoluted ways
because I hadn't created an environment
where my team could thrive.
I should have set down roots on Earth,
found a work/life balance
instead of repairing the doggone ship
all the time.
‐ Ohh‐‐
‐ Korvo‐‐
‐ Goodbye, big guy.
‐ Alright, go enjoy your slip and slide
and leave me to turn into goo.
That's my final order as mission leader.
Damn, Korvo,
that's a lot of emotional growth.
And you know I could vacuum up
this puff dust in, like, two minutes.
‐ Yes, I am well aware.
‐ So why you lie?
‐ Being on Earth is
what's best for my team.
Even if it's what's worst for me.
Eww.
‐ Did you see that?
I grew a leg.
Holy shit, another‐‐ another leg!
My sacrifice!
I was team leader,
and my team worked together!
I'm regaining my form!
‐ It's fucking gross.
Can you do it somewhere else?
‐ Guys! Guys, get up here and help me!
I'm getting my body back!
Little help up here!
Hello?
Stop leaving me to die.
I'm not dying anymore!
I'm thirsty for piss!
Hah, finally back to normal.
Feels good to not be goo anymore.
‐ And did you mean it, Korvo?
That you're going to put down
some roots this year?
‐ Yes. If the options are turning
into a sack of slime
or learning how to like Earth,
then I guess I'll have to give it a try.
‐ Sounds like the Solar Opposites
are going to be having
some fun this year!
‐ And the fun will begin right now
as we watch
all the Tom Clancy movies in order
starting with
The Hunt For Red October!
‐ What? No, those are grownup movies.
Can't we watch John Wick?
‐ No! I'm setting down roots
the way I want,
and that means Jack Ryan
and courtroom dramas.
‐ Sorry, back up.
Which Jack Wick movie are we watching?
‐ It's Jack Ryan, dummy.
Keep up.
‐ Is this gonna be happening
all the time now, Jesse?
‐ You know I hate repeating myself!
‐ My hand's cramping!
‐ Well, why don't you use that Talkboy
you're so keen on tricking me with
and transcribe it later?
‐ Mmm, I must say, Pupa.
Nothing like a purple puff.
So her old man went for the bargain,
just like we thought.
‐ Mmm, yummy!
‐ You're a cold‐hearted
son of a bitch, Pupa.
Who's our next target?
The heir to the Popchips fortune?
Hell yes, let's fucking go.
‐ Ooh, ma'am, that was final boarding.
I have to close the door.
‐ No! You can't!
My fiancé's coming.
I know he is.
‐ Mmm, yeah.
Let me take you to our section for people
who were stood up by their loved ones.
at that Rolo lava cake
for 20 minutes.
This isn't a library.
‐ I got it.
Three packets,
Sugar in the Raw.
‐ That's how I like my sugar... raw.
‐ This has been a wonderful
platonic exchange.
I will see you next week.
Come on.
‐ Hey, where are we going?
Only weirdos live down here.
‐ Just a little further.
Last one in's a rotten Skittle!
‐ Wait, is it safe down here?
‐ Why, are you afraid of tiny sharks?
‐ Mark!
Oh god, you jerk.
Don't do tha‐‐ ow.
‐ You okay?
‐ Yeah, I just felt a ‐‐ Ow!
‐ Allie!
Oh my god, Allie!
No, no, noooo!
Everybody buckled in?
‐ You bet!
‐ Shut the fuck up real quick.
I have a brief kick‐ass speech
to make.
Ahem.
The ship is repaired again,
and we are finally able to leave
this M‐class hellhole for good!
Thank you.
‐ We did this last year.
‐ "Blah blah blah, Earth sucks,
sci‐fi sci‐fi, we're leaving."
‐ Boo! Change the channel! This sucks!
‐ Who did this? Who did that?
‐ Oh, this shit's happening.
AISHA,
Activate pre‐launch sequence now!
First off, who do you think
you talking to with that tone?
Second: Activated.
Pssh, talkin' 'bout "now," bitch.
‐ This truly is a momentous day
for all of us,
but mostly for me
because I am mission leader
and I did all the work
while you guys totally shat the bed.
Launch aborted.
Some crew are not on board.
‐ What are you talking about,
we're all buckled in and‐‐ Oh!
‐ Yay, Korvo!
‐ Dammit, I always fall for the Talkboy.
Ha! You got Shawshanked,
Ferris Bueller'd, and Gallaghered!
‐ Infinite slip and slide?
Come on! You know I can't launch the ship
unless you guys are on‐‐
Gah! Oh, my foot!
It's dissolved into goo!
Why don't you care? Look at me!
Stop having fun! I'm melting!
This is what we're doing today,
figuring this out! Stop that!
Planet Shlorp was the perfect utopia
until the asteroid hit.
One hundred adults and their replicants
were issued a pupa
and escaped into... the space
searching for new homes
on uninhabited worlds.
We crashed on Earth, stranding us
on an already overpopulated planet.
That's right. I've been talking
this whole time.
I'm the one holding the pupa.
My name's Korvo.
This is‐‐ this is my show.
I just dropped the pupa. Do you see me?
This is ridiculous.
I hate Earth.
It's a horrible home.
People are stupid and confusing.
They're always ordering
these complicated coffee drinks.
Why would you ever have coffee
when you can just ingest
a room temperature,
tan‐colored Energon cone?
Don't talk to me
until I've had my tan cone.
‐ You want me
to drain your bucket?
‐ No. That's still me in there.
And yes, I know it smells like shit.
‐ Hi, folks. Sorry for the wait.
Prom season, tons of abortions today.
Busy, busy, busy.
Now before I give you our diagnosis,
are you certain
you don't have any alien technology
that you'd rather use to evaluate this?
‐ We decided to change it up
for once.
We go to the ship
with problems a lot.
‐ A lot!
‐ Well, they don't exactly teach
"alien goo" in medical school,
but I found some articles about dog herpes
that seemed to line up.
Korvo, you have what we call
"Alpha DNA."
The building blocks of your cells
have receptors that are only activated
if the pack are fulfilling their roles.
‐ Wait, are we the pack?
‐ That doesn't sound right.
‐ Pack of smokeshows, baby!
‐ Once your team's failure
continues long enough,
the receptors decay,
triggering a "goo sequence"
designed to kill you so the next dog,
or alien in line, can take over.
Isn't that funny?
‐ You lazy idiots
are literally killing me!
‐ Well, luckily it's reversible,
but only if these dummies
do their respective jobs
in a serious way.
‐ What? I can't rely on them!
Fuck that, fill me with chemo.
I want the chemo.
‐ They really don't like us
to throw chemo at family issues.
‐ Okay, I got you set up on the couch here
with plenty of fluids:
root beer, Sunny D, and piss.
‐ Is the piss hot?
I want hot piss.
‐ Gonna get this good and tight
so none of your stinky goo drips out.
Don't think of it as a trash bag,
it's more of a whole‐body diaper.
‐ I know why you fucks
are being nice to me.
You feel bad.
Well, shove it.
Your guilty feelings
can't solidify my legs!
‐ Okay, I know this is very unlike me,
but I'm feeling guilty
over melting Korvo with my laziness.
‐ Yeah, me too.
Maybe we should just do
some mission stuff,
just like enough so he can get better.
‐ To piggyback off your pitch
with a slight twist,
what if we let Korvo melt
but also did whatever we wanted?
‐ See, what I like about that
is then we wouldn't have
to do our jobs.
Great collab, Terry.
‐ Guys! We are not letting Korvo
turn to goo.
We should at least put him
out of his misery.
‐ Can someone please refill my piss?
‐ We can't kill Korvo!
Who would wash my t‐shirts?
‐ He does buy all the groceries
and hide all the bodies.
‐ Crap, without him,
we'd have to do the chores.
‐ Okay, let's just do
our mission roles more,
but only enough to not have
to take out the trash.
‐ Easy‐peasy.
‐ We've got this!
‐ Do you two even know
what your mission roles are?
‐ Zero fucking clue.
‐ I cannot say that I do.
‐ AISHA, please explain to the replicants
what their mission roles are.
And you know what? Let's, um,
let's just run through mine, too, for fun.
In detail, por favor.
Should I just play
the orientation crystals?
‐ Orientation crystals?
Oh, that sounds like some shit
we should have watched already.
They were meant to be viewed daily.
Dumbass.
‐ In these first moments of your mission,
remember what is at stake.
Shlorp is depending on your‐‐
‐ Ugh. Boring, boring, boring.
‐ Yumyulack,
protector and head of security.
You ward off any threats to the mission.
Strong and fierce, willing to die
so the team can live.
‐ Let's put "willing to die" down
as a maybe.
‐ Jesse, the chronicler.
Be observant.
Record your adventures with clarity,
both in triumph and defeat
so future Shlorpians
learn from your mistakes.
‐ Whoa! I'm like the J. K. Rowling
of this pack! Crucio!
Terry, your job is most important.
Because the Pupa will grow up
to terraform your new planet,
you must nurture him.
For as the Pupa specialist,
he is your responsibility‐‐
‐ Hold the fuck on. I'm supposed
to be taking care of the Pupa?
‐ Korvo says that all the time, Terry!
‐ Yeah, this isn't news.
‐ I'm not ready to raise a Pupa!
I'm still finding myself!
I wanna go to Cabo, dammit!
‐ You want some crackers to go
with your wine, Terry?
Being responsible is scary.
But it's time to grow up
and start working on the mission.
For Korvo!
For Korvo!
‐ What the hell are you doing?
‐ Oh shit, we forgot
about the Korvo thing!
‐ Earth is too distracting for us.
‐ We can't do our jobs here,
not with all the trap queens
in need of hyping.
I gotta park that big Mack truck
right in that little garage.
‐ Well, if we're going to focus,
we gotta do it on a new planet.
‐ Good. AISHA, initiate the pre‐launch
before these idiots change their minds.
Fine. The shit is initiated.
‐ Launch time, baby!
Not all the crew is accounted for.
‐ Fuckers!
Wait, but everyone's here.
Un‐unh.
All crew means all body parts
that got severed
and left around town.
‐ Wait, what?
Go get your dick.
‐ Has anyone been leaving
body parts around?
‐ I mean, yeah.
I live a full and rich life.
‐ You think my calendar's so open
that I can just pick up
my own body parts all day?
Wrong!
‐ Don't look at me.
I keep my shit toight!
‐ Activate the Shlorpian
Extremity Triangulater.
It scans the planet for Shlorpian flesh.
Creepy, but perfect for this moment.
I'm clean, all my pieces are on the ship.
Oh! You've been dropping your limbs
all over the place!
‐ Five at Home Depot?
That must have been from the summer
I tried to be a Mythbuster.
Those two ginger mummies
didn't leave any myths for the rest of us.
‐ You're supposed to be chronicling,
not busting popular myths!
Ugh, my favorite hand!
‐ We gotta get these body parts
before Korvo is goo for good
or we'll have to learn how to do taxes!
‐ It's hella complicated!
Good luck figuring out
the depreciation value
of time traveling sneakers
you only use for business!
‐ Uh, are we just gonna leave
the Pupa behind, Terry?
‐ He can't get out of the Pupa seat.
And even if he could,
he'd never stray from his puffs.
‐ Ahh!
The cow says‐‐
‐ Eddie!
Ooh! You're home early!
‐ Katie! Baby! Kiss me!
‐ Get in here.
‐ I still can't believe
it was one year ago to the day
you got down on your knee
and gave this to me.
Remember? It was our second date.
I thought you were crazy.
‐ I am. Crazy. For you.
‐ I swore I would never go out
with someone who worked for my dad.
But you're not like his other employees,
you're... you're different.
Oh, how'd the sales trip go?
‐ Crushed it. Crushed it.
‐ Daddy will love that.
Means he won't see it coming
when we rob him blind.
‐ Ha ha. Ha ha.
Ha ha. Ha ha.
‐ Alright, people,
I'm gooing pretty bad,
so let's get these limbs
and get back to the business
of leaving this shithole planet.
‐ Bad ice!
Don't ask me how it got there!
Ask them why they never cleaned it!
‐ Hey, my ball‐‐ back scratcher!
Ahh!
‐ Suck it, Cooke!
You did the right thing.
‐ So everyone got their body parts?
‐ Eh, almost.
We just have to go to the Windy City
to pick up the last two.
‐ You went to Chicago
and didn't invite me?
You know how much I like
the Schaumburg Outlets!
‐ Last time we wasted all our time
waiting for you
at the Hammacher Schlemmer.
Me and Yumyulack
have been commuting to Chi‐town
to practice with
the Chicago Pro Tumblers.
‐ They're a legendary
acrobatic halftime show.
I do it to help me stay agile,
plus we get to hang with Pippin
when he's around.
‐ We took a tough tumble
into each other last practice
and knocked our tushes clean off.
Ooh, there they are!
‐ Guys, Jesse and Yumyulack are back!
‐ 'Sup, Emily?
Alyssa, how you been?
Oh no, Josh and Sophia,
what happened?
‐ We snapped our ankles warming up
for the semi‐regional
halftime show championships!
‐ What.
‐ But that's today!
‐ You and Yummy have to sub in
to do the final team tumble.
‐ No, thanks,
we're in a time crunch.
Chicago Pro Tumblers to the floor.
‐ What are you‐‐
Don't you put that‐‐
Don't you put on
that sweet tumbling gear.
Drop those knee socks right now, mister.
Hey, I can see you.
‐ When tumbling calls,
you accept the charges.
‐ Hey, ge‐ge‐get back here!
‐ I kinda wanna see it.
‐ This stupid bullshit really meant
a lot to you two, didn't it?
‐ It's the most satisfying thing
I've done in my life.
‐ Okay, well, then I'm glad
we did it, I guess.
Still wish I wasn't turning into goo.
Terry. Your turn.
‐ What turn?
Like I said, I keep my shit toight.
Don't insult me.
I'm not a replicant.
Wow, yes, that's a lot of arms.
‐ Dozens tightly clustered
over the ocean.
Terry, you stinky shit.
Did you feed your arms to a whale?
‐ No!
No. What did I do?
Gladwell!
‐ What's a Gladwell?
‐ Pop sociologist Malcolm Gladwell.
We've been ripping and tearing ass
on the reg for a while now
and every morning, I would chew my arm off
rather than wake him up.
'Cause if he did, we would be chatting
about the human condition all morning.
The guy won't shut up.
My arms are somewhere aboard his private
non‐fiction yacht, The Shipping Point.
It's an intellectual cruise experience
he runs for his fans.
‐ How would we ever have gotten all that
from you just saying "Gladwell"?
‐ Don't be jealous, Korvo.
It doesn't look good.
‐ I‐I'm not!
A sexual relationship with
an award‐winning author? I'm impressed!
Best I could swing was a hand job
from the two guys
who keep track of all the horse names
for George R. R. Martin.
Baby, but what about the plan?
We were gonna wait
until that prick promotes you
and then fleece him.
‐ Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
No argue!
‐ The last flight to Mexico.
So you have to talk to Daddy today.
Be careful.
He has powerful friends, baby.
You gotta play this perfectly.
‐ Relax. Relax. It's me.
‐ Oh god, it'll all be worth it
once we're in Zihuatanejo.
Oh, take me again.
Oh god, I love your body so much.
‐ Excuse us.
We're G‐O‐G, Guests of Gladwell.
Terry. Should be on your book there.
Terrance! You look great.
Love the shirt.
Is that lambswool?
‐ Glady.
You're looking observant as always.
‐ I see you've brought your family!
How lovely.
‐ Mr. Gladwell‐‐
‐ Stop. Just Gladwell.
‐ Gladwell, would you sign
my 10,000 hours ray?
It simulates studying
for 10,000 hours.
Your Outliers book inspired me.
‐ My key insight was that if you spend
a lot of time on something,
you can get good at it.
Seems like common knowledge now,
but at the time it was unheard of.
‐ Yeah, genius, Gladwell.
So listen, there's a reason we're here.
‐ Let me guess,
Terrance needs his arms back.
‐ Damn, he's good.
‐ Let's run up to my penthouse
and get them.
In the meantime, do the rest
of you want VIP tickets
to see our in‐cruise show,
Malcolm Dragwell?
It's drag queens lip syncing
to audio recordings of my books.
‐ Uh, cool. Y‐y‐you guys do that.
And I‐I'll be right back with my arms.
‐ Enjoy the show.
Do you remember that hot air balloon
over Portugal?
We made that basket so hot that
the balloon rose an extra hundred feet.
‐ Ah yes. The summer we screwed
in every type of dirigible.
Remember when you had me
on that zeppelin?
Hmm.
‐ I'm so nervous to meet
a Malcolm Dragwell Queen.
Ah. I'm not dressed for royalty.
‐ I find it hard to believe
there's enough Gladwell demand
to justify a whole Stan culture.
‐ I hope there's stuff from Blink
in the show.
I love that book.
It's about how sometimes
we just know stuff
without having to think or learn.
I feel that way constantly.
‐ Pour me a drink
while I look for your arms.
Make one for yourself, too.
‐ Ugh. Been a hell of a day.
I don't know if you could tell,
but Korvo is melting.
He's sensitive about it.
‐ My god. Come, tell me.
‐ Whoa, hey, hey, hey.
No traps!
I'm not having a drink
or sitting on the bed. Just give me my‐‐
Your hair is looking zanier than normal.
Are you styling it different?
S'cute.
‐ Still just rubbing a balloon
on it after showering.
‐ Wha‐‐ That's not hair!
Those are... my arms!
What did you do?
‐ You left them to rot.
I gave them purpose. I gave them life!
They've been writing my books.
Sadly, I've had them so busy scribbling,
they've fused into some kind of rat king.
‐ That's straight‐up gross.
‐ Now they're more creative
than ever before!
My latest bestseller,
Thou Who Smelt It, Dealt It,
was their idea.
‐ You can't force my arms
to write their own fart ideas.
‐ I already have.
David Remnick interviewed me
an hour ago!
Grab him!
Is this the way to the VIP room?
I'll have a rum and Diet to start, please.
‐ Oh shit! They're going
to throw us into the ocean.
I'm going to get diluted and excreted
through a million disgusting squids!
‐ Did Gladwell sign off on this?
‐ This is how we do it in Chi‐raq, biatch!
‐ Yeah, bitch! Slip on my stinking goo
and drop to your death.
Now scoop me up into the backpack.
‐ Sales! Always!
Big, big growth!
Profits... up!
Money... yes, yes!
‐ Damn, Eddie.
How is it that you're never in the office
and you just crushed
my Q2 sales record?
‐ Get on my level. Bro.
‐ Alright, boys, back to work.
Eddie, stick around for a sec.
Now, you listen to me, you son of a bitch.
You might have everyone else fooled,
but I have been on to you
since day one.
I knew there was
something off about you.
I couldn't put my finger on it.
But you messed up when you made
a move on my daughter.
I did a background check
on you, "Eddie."
And you know what I found?
Nothing.
You are who you say you are.
But that doesn't change
how I feel in my gut.
And the only thing
I love more than profits
is that little girl of mine.
So I'm writing you a check
for ten million dollars.
It's a bribe.
Get out of Katie's life.
Then what do you want?
What's your price?
Are you out
of your fuckin' mind?
‐ Stop hitting yourself, Terrance.
‐ Ah! Cheap joke, Gladwell.
‐ Yes, but it was right there,
and I think I made my point.
Your arms obey me now.
I say hit you, they hit.
‐ Ow!
‐ I say write a book, they type up
cherry‐picked anecdotes
to support my nursery school wisdom.
I'll give you one last chance.
Live with me on the open seas.
We'll make love
while your arms write my TED Talks.
A perfect life!
‐ If it were up to me,
I'd tap that curly shit all day.
But I've already got a team.
‐ Pity.
Consider your point... tipped.
‐ Oh no! Terry's arms formed a rat king,
and they've sided with Gladwell!
‐ How did you gather that so fast?
‐ Because I'm young, and adulthood
hasn't atrophied my imagination!
‐ Holy shit!
‐ Stop it! Stop it!
Stop it, Terry's arms!
‐ Korvo, his arms,
they're listening to you!
‐ I'm their mission leader,
it's their biological imperative.
Terry's arms!
Stop being dicks!
‐ No, Terry's arms!
I'm your leader now.
I'm the one who lets you
grease me up before bedtime.
‐ You've never done anything right
in your shoulder‐girdled lives.
You're worthless!
But you can change that right now.
Come home with us, Terry's arms.
Come home.
‐ No! My career will be over!
Without Terry's arms,
all I'll be able to write
is the erotic Luigi's Mansion fanfic
that comes to me so naturally.
I can't go back to that!
I won't go back to that!
‐ Hey, Gladwell. I'm Yumyulack.
‐ So?
‐ I'm head of mission security,
so consider your dumb ass secured.
‐ What did you do to him?
‐ He's 10,000 hours stupider.
‐ I'm going to go write a novel
about video games and '80s movies!
‐ He'll land on his feet.
Oh man, I wish I had feet.
I'm feeling pretty shitty.
‐ Korvo!
Almost home, buddy.
Think solid, stay solid.
‐ Who was that psycho?
‐ Hey.
Ah.
‐ AISHA! Launch the ship!
All crew members present.
Launch activated.
We're doing it!
We're actually leaving.
No, no, no, no. No, no, fuck!
No, no, no, no. Noooo!
No! What happened?
All ship systems have been compromised
by the heavy levels
of iron in these puffs.
‐ Where did they all come from?
‐ I... I guess it was me?
I only remember packing a couple
so the Pupa could have
favorite snacks for the trip.
‐ You were trying to be
a better Pupa specialist.
‐ We can clean this up, Korvo.
You can talk us through the repairs.
Please, I just started chronicling,
and I don't want this to be how
my first journal entry ends.
‐ Yeah, we can still save you.
‐ No, the puffs
have destroyed the circuits.
The damage is too severe.
You'll have to stay on Earth permanently.
‐ But what about you?
‐ I'm afraid it's time for me to goo.
I'm sorry I failed you all as leader.
Today, I realized that each of you
has been fulfilling your mission roles
in convoluted ways
because I hadn't created an environment
where my team could thrive.
I should have set down roots on Earth,
found a work/life balance
instead of repairing the doggone ship
all the time.
‐ Ohh‐‐
‐ Korvo‐‐
‐ Goodbye, big guy.
‐ Alright, go enjoy your slip and slide
and leave me to turn into goo.
That's my final order as mission leader.
Damn, Korvo,
that's a lot of emotional growth.
And you know I could vacuum up
this puff dust in, like, two minutes.
‐ Yes, I am well aware.
‐ So why you lie?
‐ Being on Earth is
what's best for my team.
Even if it's what's worst for me.
Eww.
‐ Did you see that?
I grew a leg.
Holy shit, another‐‐ another leg!
My sacrifice!
I was team leader,
and my team worked together!
I'm regaining my form!
‐ It's fucking gross.
Can you do it somewhere else?
‐ Guys! Guys, get up here and help me!
I'm getting my body back!
Little help up here!
Hello?
Stop leaving me to die.
I'm not dying anymore!
I'm thirsty for piss!
Hah, finally back to normal.
Feels good to not be goo anymore.
‐ And did you mean it, Korvo?
That you're going to put down
some roots this year?
‐ Yes. If the options are turning
into a sack of slime
or learning how to like Earth,
then I guess I'll have to give it a try.
‐ Sounds like the Solar Opposites
are going to be having
some fun this year!
‐ And the fun will begin right now
as we watch
all the Tom Clancy movies in order
starting with
The Hunt For Red October!
‐ What? No, those are grownup movies.
Can't we watch John Wick?
‐ No! I'm setting down roots
the way I want,
and that means Jack Ryan
and courtroom dramas.
‐ Sorry, back up.
Which Jack Wick movie are we watching?
‐ It's Jack Ryan, dummy.
Keep up.
‐ Is this gonna be happening
all the time now, Jesse?
‐ You know I hate repeating myself!
‐ My hand's cramping!
‐ Well, why don't you use that Talkboy
you're so keen on tricking me with
and transcribe it later?
‐ Mmm, I must say, Pupa.
Nothing like a purple puff.
So her old man went for the bargain,
just like we thought.
‐ Mmm, yummy!
‐ You're a cold‐hearted
son of a bitch, Pupa.
Who's our next target?
The heir to the Popchips fortune?
Hell yes, let's fucking go.
‐ Ooh, ma'am, that was final boarding.
I have to close the door.
‐ No! You can't!
My fiancé's coming.
I know he is.
‐ Mmm, yeah.
Let me take you to our section for people
who were stood up by their loved ones.