GORDON: It sounds ridiculous when I tell you like this, but every day is full of these micro aggressions and he's being put through this insane physical ordeal over and over again—he's been in and out of hypersleep, what, like seven times now?

PAMELA: Let me shake my hair out. CLIVE: Ah no, do it inside. They'll be putty in your hands. PAMELA: Dinosaurs.

GORDON: I'm archiving like Bryony wanted me to."

WARREN: Yep… I just want to take a moment to say that this is the most Gordon Porlock thing that has ever happened.

PAUSE. WARREN: Would you rather have arms as long as your pubes, or pubes as long as your arms?

GORDON: (CLOSE) Look Warren. If they're sending the butter-wouldn't-melt 'uh, um, uh' new boy looking for Red Valley, it'll be for a reason. Not a happy touchy-feely smiley reason, a creepy, suspicious, nasty one. Trust me.

EMILY: Why are you wearing a suit? Are you going to court? WARREN: It's what I wear for work. EMILY: Well it doesn't look right on you.

GORDON PULLS CLOSER. GORDON: We could try. We could try and make a run for it.

CLIVE: Shut the fuck up and stay where you are you little dungeons and dragons little fucker, I told you, I told you to stay out of this and leave him alone and here you are.

GORDON: But that was it. No more contact. No response to any messages. I even called him. Nothing. Just like the job, Oscar had dropped me.

GORDON: It's obviously affecting you. You've lost weight, you're pale as milk, you're coughing up blood. Bryony treats you worse than a lab rat. I don't understand. Do you want...do you want to not make it out? Is that it?

GORD: Just because there may or not be a Premier League anymore doesn't mean a nuclear holocaust wiped out the Football Association. WARREN: You know the more I talk to you the more you remind me of actual Gordon. GORD: I'll take that as a compliment. WARREN: You shouldn't

WARREN: Just wanted to go home.

KAREN: You took your pills this morning?

GORD: These recordings are taken from cassette tape. There are no timestamps. WARREN IS THINKING. WARREN: He cares very much about presentation.

PAMELA: I thought we had a reservation for another liquid lunch, not a meeting with the directors of Overhead Industries! CLIVE: It'll be fine. Like I said you're just back up. Look pretty and agree with me.

CLIVE: Rebecca, you seem stressed. REBECCA: The world's on fire, Clive, everyone is stressed. CLIVE: I mean... that's just objectively not true. Sophia, you stressed? SOPHIA: Too blessed to be stressed, boss!

PAMELA: What is this meeting about? Oh, tell me it's not the Aloha Eternity. CLIVE: It's the Aloha Eternity.

WARREN: You control me by getting these rises out of me, you... you stop me from thinking clearly, I need to stop... I need to gather myself—

GORDON: We got out of the tunnel. We'd had a falling out. I'm just trying to look out for him, Aubrey, he was coughing up blood. I should have never taken him down there, it was just because I was too bloody frightened to do it on my own...

GORDON: Yes, I care about him. I know it might seem this way because we're alone out here, but we're the only person the other one has.

GORDON: There's not a lot of seeds in the Red Valley Seed Vault, Warren. Listen to the tape. Don't tell Doug Holder. And record everything you do.

GORDON: Ah. You're very special, Warren. WARREN: Well, thank you.

AUBREY: Bit of a soft ending.

PAMELA: I’d like to ask her if it was worth it. CLIVE: What? PAMELA: Aubrey Wood. Look what she’s created. She wants to hurt people like you and me, fine. But what about all of them? How does doing this make anything better for them?

GORDON: Some of them, they don’t even want to wait till they die. That’s much more grizzly and complicated. They’d like to be frozen right now while they’re fit and healthy ready to see the future, but they're not interested in the cost. And I don't mean money, Warren.

WARREN: Yeah. Because death can be fun. GORDON: It really can! And in a sense, isn't it slightly reassuring? These guys are dead. And we're not! WARREN: I can't even begin to unpack that statement.

AS GORDON'S STORY RETURNS TO OSCAR, HE BECOMES A LITTLE AWKWARD, NOT QUITE SO SURE HOW TO ARTICULATE THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

WARREN: Send more snacks, please. GORDON: Warren? Warren! WARREN SNORES. GORDON: Rude.

AUBREY: Halbech? Dr Halbech? Bryony, answer your fucking comm! DR THOMAS: She's gone, you're in charge of this fucker's airway. Come on.

GORDON: I could see it in your eyes, this stuff speaks to you. You give a shit. WARREN: A long time ago, maybe...Not now. GORDON: A long time ago? You're not Gandalf the fucking Grey!

AUBREY: We want to watch it burn, Rebecca. REBECCA: W-Who is that? AUBREY: We want everyone to watch it burn.

CLIVE: Bit like Titanic this, isn't it? When Rose's mum is sat on the lifeboat watching everyone, well you know... Watching it all happen. PAMELA: Watching the boat sink and all the poor people drown? AWKWARD SILENCE. CLIVE: Eleven Oscars. Good movie.

GORDON: But Warren can't let her win the fight, so he never refuses her, like he never wants to show weakness. As if he's almost daring Bryony to go further. It's crazy.

CLIVE: Oh, there she is. She looks terrible in blue. PAMELA: What? CLIVE: Francesca Jones. Sat there like she owns the place. Drinking her fizzy fucking water.

GORDON: We were called Pus Crank.

GORDON: It wasn't much of an interview. Clive was very mean to Warren and he threatened to kill me a couple of times.

WARREN: Yep… I just want to take a moment to say that this is the most Gordon Porlock thing that has ever happened.

GORDON: I never felt like I had any control in this, not since the night we got here. But at least I had a fairly good idea of who wore the good hats and who wore the bad hats. I don't even know which hat I'm wearing any more. I don't even own a hat.

GORDON: I never felt like I had any control in this, not since the night we got here. But at least I had a fairly good idea of who wore the good hats and who wore the bad hats. I don't even know which hat I'm wearing any more. I don't even own a hat.

KAREN: Is this because of that guy you were talking to? Graham- WARREN: Gordon Porlock. KAREN: He sounds like a herbal remedy.

AMONGST THE CHAOS, MUSIC CAN BE HEARD BLASTING FROM SPEAKERS IN THE STREETS. REBECCA: Wha… What's that noise? CLIVE: It's music... metal.

CLIVE: Pam. We don't need your scuzzy little mates to build us a Blue Peter cryopod out of toilet roll holders and sticky back plastic, right?

GORDON: Overhead Industries Presents: Dead Top Trumps.

CLIVE: Everyone's going on about frogs. I don't know. I slept the whole way here. REBECCA: You didn't see the bridge? Giant frog statues. Like 10 feet tall statues of frogs.

WARREN: The reality is, Gord, that I have largely lost respect and appreciation for the passage of time.

GORDON: They're a gang. They call themselves the Headlice.

AUBREY: But she just couldn't help herself. Under all the cloaks and daggers and bluster and putdowns. she wouldn't hide her excitement about the work. It was magnetic. I wanted to be like her.

GORDON: They're hooked up to every bit of monitoring going, like a super intensive care unit, they're fully anaesthetised, tubes in their mouths, in their arms, in their cocks, the lot.

AUBREY: His arm just came off. In Ben’s hand. The shock killed Grizzly in less than a minute. We're done, it's all over. I told Halbech to go fuck herself and I'm locked in my bathroom with half a packed bag and my coat on like I'm a bloody teenager.