Blade Runner 2049 Page #2

didn't happen.

Yes Madam.

It is my job to keep order.

That's what we do here,

we keep order.

You want it gone?

Eraae everything.

- Even the child?

- All trace.

You have anything more to say?

I never retired something

that was born, before.

What's the difference?

To be born is to have a soul, I guess.

Are you telling me, no?

I wasn't aware that

was an option, Madam.

Attaboy.

Hey.

You've getting on fine, without one.

What's that, Madam?

A soul.

(...)

(...)

And you new models are happy

just cleaning the sh*t.

Because you've

never seen a miracle.

Wallace Corporation

Earth Headquarters

Just checking in

on an old serial number.

Confirmation DNA?

I have hair.

Oh!

An old one.

Pre-Blackout.

Ah, it's gonna be tough.

Not much from then,

and what's there is...

thick milky.

You can customize them

as much as you'd like.

As human as you want them to be.

But, your operation is strictly

a drill site, isn't it?

I wouldn't waste your money on

intelligence, attachment or appeal.

Unless you'd like to add some

pleasure models to your order.

Would it be possible to reschedule,

this call a ways?

Everyone remembers where they

were at the Blackout. You?

That was a little before before my time.

I was at home with my folks,

and ten days of darkness.

Every machine stopped cold.

When the lights came back,

we were wiped clean:

photos, files, every bit of data... gone.

Bank records, too.

Didn't mind that!

It's funny, it's only paper that lasted.

I mean, we had everything on drives.

Everything, everything, everything.

My mom still cries over

the lost baby pictures.

Well, it's a shame.

You must've been adorable.

Hm... Ah!

Pretty fractured, not much on it.

One of the last Gens, pre-prohibition.

Standard issue, made by Tyrell.

And?

- Unremarkable.

- Unremarkable?

There must be something

else we can find, right?

Another prodigal serial number

returned.

A 30 year old open case, finally closed.

Thank you, Officer.

I'm here for Mr. Wallace, I'm Luv.

He named you.

Must be special.

I'm here for Mr. Wallace. Follow me.

The ancient models give

the entire endeavour a bad name.

What a gift, don't you think,

from Mr. Wallace to the world?

The outer colonies would never have

flourished had he not bought Tyrell.

Revivified the technology.

To say the least of what we do.

I see you're also a customer.

Are you satisfied with

our product?

She's very realistic. Thank you.

Here. All the junk is in here.

Lucky for you, Mr Wallace

is a data hoarder.

No one's been down here in ages.

Sorry about that.

All our memory bearings from the time.

They were all damaged in the Blackout.

But there are, sometimes, fragments.

You've got a little boy.

He shows you his butterfly

collection, plus the kill jar.

I'd take him to the doctor.

- There's a wasp crawling on your arm.

- I'd kill it.

You're reading a magazine and you come

across a full page nude photo of a girl.

Is this testing whether I'm a replicant

or a lesbian, Mr. Deckard?

Just answer the question, please.

It was unclear what she was.

At least, to someone.

This was a test.

We were difficult to spot, then.

Was there anything unusual

about how you found her?

To warrant an official investigation?

You know how people are

about old serial numbers.

Everyone just sleeps better

when they know where they got to.

She likes him.

Who?

This is Officer Deckard.

She's trying to provoke him.

It is invigorating being

asked personal questions.

Makes one feel...

desired.

Do you enjoy your work, Officer?

Please thank Mr. Wallace for your time.

You worked with Officer Deckard,

back in the day.

What can you tell me about him?

He liked to work alone.

So did I.

So we worked together,

to keep it that way

That was it.

Anything else you can tell me?

He wasn't long for this world.

How, so?

Something in his eyes.

Any idea how I could contact him?

None.

He's nyugdiash.

Retired.

What happened?

Probably got what he wanted.

To be alone.

Welcome back, sir.

You wanted to review the

new model, sir, before shipment?

An angel should never

enter the Kingdom of Heaven

without a gift.

Can you at least pronounce

"a child is born"?

Hm...

Ahh.

New model.

Let us see her, then.

First thought

one tends to fear

to preserve the clay.

It's fascinating.

Before we even know

what we are,

we fear to lose it.

Happy Birthday.

Shh...

We make angels.

That is how I took us

to nine new worlds.

Nine...

A child can count

to nine on fingers.

We should own the stars!

Yes, sir.

Every leap of

civilization was built

off the back of a

disposable work force.

We lost our stomach for slaves,

unless engineered.

But I can only make so many.

That barren pasture,

empty and salted.

Right here.

The dead space between the stars.

And this, the seed that we

must change for heaven?

I cannot breed them,

so help me, I have tried.

We need more replicants

than can ever be assembled.

Millions, so we can be trillions more.

We could storm Eden and retake her.

Tyrell's final trick,

procreation.

Perfected and lost.

But there is a child.

Bring it to me.

Sir.

The best angel of all.

Aren't you, Luv?

The man with the green jacket,

the one who killed Sapper.

Find out what he knows.

Hi.

Hello, hello, A-boy.

You alone?

Wanna buy a lady a cigarette?

Aw, you don't even smile.

Didn't you hear your friends?

Don't you know what I am?

Yeah.

A guy eating rice.

What's that?

It's a tree.

Oh. Never seen a tree before.

It's pretty.

It's dead.

Now, who keeps a dead tree?

Mm...

You're not gonna kill me are you?

It depends.

What's your model number?

Why don't you look into my eye

and find out.

Oh!

You don't like real girls.

Well, I'm always here.

Hi.

You can't take those.

Of course not. Proper channels

and paperwork. It's all here.

Hold this for me?

Yup, here you go.

Coco is dead.

Bones are gone.

It's out. Already out.

How long did that take?

So, what you have for me?

And don't say, nothing.

I found that.

A sock?

- Where'd you find it?

- Sapper's.

- Anything else?

- I burned everything else.

Then what's this? What's that date?

Is that a birthday? Is that a death day?

I don't know yet.

Am I the only one that can

see the f***in' sun rise, here?

This breaks the world, K.

You know, I've known

a lot of your kind.

All useful but...

with you I, sometimes, forget.

We didn't have any of you

when I was a kid.

Do you remember anything?

Before you were under me, do you

have any memories from begore?

I have memories, but...

They're not real, they're just implants.

Tell me one,

from when you were a kid.

I feel a little strange

sharing a childhood story

considering I was never a child.

Would it help you to share,

if I told you it was an order?

I have one about a toy

that I had,

a wooden horse,

with an inscription underneath.

All I remember is, a group of boys

trying to take it away from me.

So, I run.

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