Hello. I am James Halliday.

It's where Halliday and Morrow started Gregarious Games.

You know how Dyl, Vitamin D has his own t-shirt business?

What do they want now? Mr. Grady? I need you to come take a look at something.

Mr. Halliday. I. Anorak. It's such an honor. The honor is all mine.

James Halliday saw the future. And then he built it.

Everyone is looking for a way to escape, and that's why Halliday, that's why he was such a hero to us.

Mr. Grady, if you're not gonna help, there's no reason for you to be in here.

You're unhappy, Grady. Why? May I speak candidly? Sure, go ahead.

I'm not gonna fire you, Grady. Fuck you, Billy. Now I will.

That's not what you said the last time I saw you. I'm talking about the dinosaurs, Mr. Grady. Owen.

It's an invoice to Heather Sorrentino for my services. Your investigative services in connection with the Decatur Firearms case.

No, we're not. Of course we're not. But you meddled when you called Haley and told her that Andy liked her.

Each entry into Halliday's Journals is meticulously assembled from personal photographs, home video recordings, surveillance, and nanny cams.

As much as I love Brady and I do love him more than words, being a mother is not enough. I miss my job.

Also, Halliday archived every film, game, book, and television program he ever saw, located on the mezzanine.

Yeah, but Kira wasn't the key. It was you, Mr. Morrow. You were the Rosebud. And Halliday's biggest regret was losing his only friend.

I mean, Mr. Chairman. Miss Sharma, you conducted investigative work on Heather Sorrentino's suit against Decatur Firearms? Yes.

The bass drum. I don't know what this is called. But it's scrappy. That, Candy, is called a guiro.

There's an American Navy man here. Part of a research program one of my companies is running. Owen Grady. I know who he is.