Severance

Do you have them?

Thank you.

- Hey. - Hey.

How was the weekend thing?

Uh, good, I guess.

Although my innie fell off a rope, apparently.

- A rope? - Mm-hmm.

Are you hurt?

No, I just got a little wet, that's all.

Jesus, it's like it never ends with these guys.

Do you know what the fuck actually happened?

I have no idea.

Fuck. Well, how's the old, uh, "burning shit into your eyeballs" thing going?

Uh, I still can't get it to last long enough.

Okay. So, what do we do?

Uh, just keep trying, I guess.

Do you have any other ideas?

Uh, hey, I'm sorry. I gotta get to work.

- All right. Bye. - Yeah. Bye.

- Hey. - You need to get your dryer fixed.

Yeah. Or you could just, like, not live here.

I can't keep coming in and out.

You think they're watching us?

Depends on how dumb you've played it.

Hey, when do we keep going?

Maybe tonight. I'll decide later.

'Cause I haven't remembered anything else.

Right. Well, maybe your innie has.

You took the rest of the weekend to recover?

I'm fine.

Will I be updating Father later?

He should hear it from me.

We have decided to spare him knowledge of this contretemps.

Well, please let him know that his daughter is alive and well.

The medical team says your tempers will rebalance quickly.

Good to hear.

Some residual trauma is to be expected after such an ordeal.

Perhaps we could arrange another obligement session this evening.

I said I'm fine.

We're close, Helena.

What's he at, 78%?

Eighty-one. As of Friday.

It won't be much longer.

You can do this.

I'm not going back down there.

It won't be you. It will be your innie.

My innie who tried to kill me?

And then the other one tried to kill me.

They're fucking animals.

I'll just fake it again.

We can't take that chance.

We need to clean this up.

Milchick's many errors this weekend have forced our hand.

And Father approves?

Father encouraged it.

It's a risk.

We know this.

But there is no other solution.

Mark S. won't work without her.

And the work is mysterious and important.

So we must give him her.

The Board appreciates your sacrifice.

Good morning, Helly R.

Who the fuck are you?

I'm Miss Huang.

What the hell?

Please follow me.

Mr. Milchick will explain.

- Hey. - Hey.

- Is she... - Her innie.

MDR.

Together again.

Come on in.

I need to know what's going on.

Like, right now.

Where's Irving?

And why was he trying to drown me?

'Cause you're a fucking Eagan.

- Was she spying on us? - Wait, what?

The whole time.

It's called a Glasgow block.

- It allows one's outie to-- - Wait, wait, wait.

Are you saying that she was down here?

As me?

Maybe she still is.

Hey, I repeat myself. Where is Irving?

- Yeah, where is he? - I'm so confused.

Answer my question!

Excuse me.

Helena Eagan, in her executive capacity, was conducting valuable research.

By stealing my fucking body?

Irving had no knowledge of what management's intention was in this action,

and in so doing, he nearly drowned you.

Our only option was permanent dismissal.

So he is dead?

No.

Irving B's outie has departed on an elongated cruise voyage.

I don't give three dry fucks about his outie.

She doesn't... She doesn't have the right to ta... to take my identity.

Have you ever heard the story of the Gråkappan ?

Uh, let's assume we haven't.

In ancient times, the king of Sweden himself

was known to go incognito amongst his people

in the hopes of learning their true grievances.

He would don an old, gray robe, a Gråkappan ,

the name for which he was remembered,

to disguise his royal vestments.

Kier Eagan himself was known to do so in his ether factories,

and Ms. Eagan was carrying on this noble tradition.

This smells like horseshit.

Yeah. Swedish horseshit, and Irving is still dead.

As I said, Irving B's outie has departed on an elonga--

On an elongated cruise voyage. Yeah, I know.

Is he gonna come back or not?

He is not.

Wow. Some actual honesty.

You fucking murderers.

You can't do this to people.

It will take time to absorb all that has occurred.

This went well.

Allow me to escort you to MDR

and help reacclimate you to your work environment.

What in the abominable fuck?

This is you.

Hell no. I'm not going near that thing.

Dylan, please.

If you're taking feedback, I hate it.

Same.

Well, the ORTBO was a challenge for us all in ways expected and non.

You mean like Jame Eagan's daughter Gråkappanning us?

Careful, Dylan. Words have consequences.

I'd hate to rescind certain privileges.

As you can see, all of your items

have been moved to your new work tri-stations.

Hall passes will still be available.

Let us have a funeral.

I'm sorry?

Irving is a person, and he's gone.

So,

we'd like to have a funeral.

Not a retirement party, a funeral.

Right?

Yeah.

A funeral.

Is this MDR's position?

Dude?

Little help?

Uh, sure. As long as it's quick.

- Quick? - Quick. Yes.

So it doesn't take up the whole day.

Well said, Mark.

I'll see if we can pull something together.

In the meantime, let's make some forward progress on the files at hand.

Shall we?

Thank you.

Not you.

Miss Huang, we need to ready a bereavement kit for MDR.

Meet me in the back office.

Mark?

Hello?

I'm gonna come in.

I'm coming in.

Hey.

Are you okay?

Uh-huh. No, not really.

Yeah. This is seriously fucked up.

Yeah.

You couldn't tell?

That she wasn't me?

Obviously not.

What was she like?

Uh...

Like you.

Or you're like her? I don't know.

I don't know who you are, I guess.

Yes, you do.

Okay.

It's-It's not my fault that my outie hijacked me.

Yeah. No. No, totally. I get it. It s-sucks.

- Mark... - Yeah.

What happened to you up there?

Doesn't matter.

- It doesn't matter? - No.

Don't you want to hear what happened to me?

No, I don't. And, uh, let's just try to forget it. Okay?

I thought bereavement events were for innies who die on the floor.

Yes.

Well, the Affections Index for Irving B. was in the high 60s.

It will help the others to grieve.

May I say a question?

You may.

You shouldn't let them have a funeral.

It makes them feel like people.

That wasn't a question.

That was an opinion.

Unsolicited.

Your first performance review is today, right?

That was a question.

I'll ready the refreshments.

You focus on the mournful signage.