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and did this for nothing.
He doesn't fire?
-No. He didn't fire.
-He never fires?
-Not even when you rushed him?
-No. He didn't.
He didn't the time I was, when I rushed him.
And from what Robert tells you,
he didn't do it tonight.
He doesn't have the nerve.
We know everything.
Okay? We're prescient.
We can still be careful.
Maybe we can get to the gun
without him knowing.
We definitely can.
He leaves it in the truck
before he goes in. We don't even need to...
-but if it makes you feel better--
-What's wrong with our hands?
What do you mean?
Why can't we write like normal people?
I don't know. I can see the letters.
I know what they should look like.
I just can't get my hand to make them easily.
Try comparing it to your left hand.
Mine looks the same.
Guess what today is.
No, no. It's your friend Robert's birthday.
He says he likes records,
so I got him The Best of Bread.
No, real records, like vinyl.
I can tell you with certainty
what I did that night when it was my turn.
But I think it would do little good,
because what the world remembers...
the actuality,
the last revision is what counts, apparently.
So how many times did it take Aaron...
as he cycled
through the same conversations...
lip-synching trivia over and over?
How many times would it take
before he got it right?
Three? Four?
I've decided to believe
that only one more would have done it.
I can almost sleep at night
if there is only one more.
Slowly and methodically,
he reverse-engineered a perfect moment.
He took from his surroundings
what was needed...
and made of it something more.
And once the details had been
successfully navigated...
there would be nothing left to do
but wait for the conflict.
Maybe the obligatory
last-minute moral debate...
until the noise of the room
escalates into panic...
and background screams
as the gunman walks in.
And eventually he must have got it perfect
and it must have been beautiful...
with all the praise and adoration
he had coming.
He had probably saved lives, after all.
Who knows what would have happened
if he hadn't been there?
I know that things are bad, okay?
I know that you don't agree
with what I've done.
I know that you're upset.
And to be honest, I'm not too happy
with you, either, right now.
But you know that this is going to pass.
Let's just go.
Let's go somewhere
where we don't speak the language.
Aaron, we don't have the money back here...
and we'd have to steal our own passports.
Money? We'll make money.
They have sports betting in vegas.
March Madness.
We'll make enough in one night
to finance a thousand vacations.
Passports. You know
they're not using theirs, anyways.
Now, come on. I'm thinking Star City.
Check out the cosmonaut training grounds.
I'm staying here.
They'll be building their own boxes
in another day.
And yours already knows what they've built.
You're not going to be able
to watch them forever.
The box Abe is building won't work.
He's got it wired wrong.
And if they fix that...
I'll start actually taking pieces out of it.
It's just a gimmick.
It doesn't work anymore.
Your double will say
they have to move on to something else.
And mine will agree. They're friends.
You're staying? Why?
Why? Let's see, why would Abe stay?
What possible reason could there be
to be here?
I guess that
it just won't go back far enough, will it?
Tell you what, why don't you take Kara
and Lauren and put them in the box...
and then you and Aaron can each keep a set
and you can stop feeding off it.
-Don't come back.
-You can each keep a set and a hemisphere.
There hasn't been a reason
to show you what I'm capable of...
but I'm telling this you now. Go out there.
Do whatever the hell you want.
There's no way in the world I can stop you.
But don't come back here...
and don't come near them.
Any of them.
Now I have repaid any debt
I may have owed you.
You know all that I know.
My voice

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