Elizabeth: That would be your gunsmith. Who sent this you to find this person?
Booker: Daisy Fitzroy.
Elizabeth: She's either a great hero or the worst of scoundrels, depending on who's doing the telling.
Booker: if she's good for an airship, I don't care if she's the Queen of Holland.
Jeremiah: The truth is, I don't have a lot of time for all that prophecy nonsense. I tell you, belief is just a commodity. And old Comstock, well, he does produce. But like any tradesman, he's obliged to barter his product for the earthly ores. You see, one does not raise a barn on song alone, no sir! Why, that's Fink timber, a Fink hammer, and Fink's hand to swing it. He needs me, lest he soil his own.
Automaton: Welcome to Fink Industries recruitment! We are not looking for any help. You hear that? No help!
Elizabeth: How are we going to get into Finkton?
Booker: Illegally. Let's look for another way in.
Elizabeth: Well I'll be?
Booker: Need some help with this.
Elizabeth" All yours. Over there, a service elevator. Should take us down to Finkton.
Booker: And get ourselves killed in the bargain.
Enemy 1: We got to lookout and fire.
Enemy 2: Vengeance is mine!
Elizabeth: Sorry! Salts! Catch!
Enemy 2: Mercy belongs to the lord! Rejoice, for death has no sting!
Enemy 3: There they are!
Elizabeth: I'll see what else I can find! Salts! Here!
Slate: I hold in my hand the private journal of Comstock's wife. It puts the lie to this "Miracle Child" nonsense. She loved the child not. It seems the sainted lady would have preferred to let the "seed of the Prophet" just dry out on the bedsheets.
Booker: Help me out with this lock.
Elizabeth: The Gunsmith Chen Lin, wanted for known connections to the outlaw Daisy Fitzroy.
Booker: Looks like our guy's drawn attention.
Elizabeth: That's not good, is it?
Booker: Could you take a look at this lock?
Elizabeth: Give me a second. Grab that lockpick. Need money? Okay.
Fink Propaganda: The hyena is a trickster. They live to stir up trouble. So, you beware the hyena. They will leave you with naught but the sound of their laughter!
Elizabeth: Booker, it's Slate's locker. He must have worked here. What? I.. This is my mother's diary. Why would Slate have it? "My husband claims the child was created from the whole cloth by divine will. I am a believer but I am not a fool. His bastard shall not be raised under this roof." My mother, she had me locked in that tower.
Elizabeth: I just want to get out of this city, please.
Fink Propaganda: Greetings! My name is Jeremiah Fink. And I want to share with you my personal creed. What is the most admirable creature in God's green earth? Why, it's the bee! Have you ever seen a bee on vacation? Have you even seen a bee take a sick day? Well, my friends, the answer is no! So I say, be the bee! Be the bee!
Elizabeth: Maybe you should...
Secretary: Mr. DeWitt?
Secretary: Hold for Mr. Fink, please.
Elizabeth: What's going on?
Fink: DeWitt? Fink here. Listen, my boy. We've had our eye on you and I can tell you right now, you are our top candidate! Top! Now, my associate, Mr. Flambeau, will help you with anything you need.
Elizabeth: What the hell was that?
Booker: I have no idea.
Elizabeth: He seems oddly pleased to make your acquaintance. Well, the man's got an ego.
Fink Propaganda: Now, some say to me, "Fink, why is it that we get paid in tokens that are only good at the company store?" Well, I'll tell you what, I'll be damned if I'd let any of you poor folk get robbed at some shady establishment. You see, the Fink Company Store brings you Fink products! At a price designed specifically for the Fink worker.
Flambeau: Mr. DeWitt, welcome to Finkton. You'll find a variety of supplies here that should see you through your visit.
Elizabeth: What does Mr. Fink want with us?
Flambeau: Excuse me Miss, but Mr. Fink's interest is strictly in the gentleman.
Elizabeth: But why...
Flambeau: So sorry, young miss. But any questions regarding the gentleman's application should be taken up with Mr. Fink directly.
Elizabeth: Does this strike you as good news? It doesn't strike me as good news.
Auctioneer: WE need a coalporter here to haul ton of coal from Fink Manufacturing to Shanlytown.
Elizabeth: What do you think? Head to the gunsmith or scavenge supplies by that clock shop?
Auctioneer: Starting bid, 20 minutes.
Worker 1: Fifteen minutes!
Auctioneer: Fifteen minutes bid now fourteen, will you give me fourteen?
Worker 2: Ten!
Auctioneer: Ten minutes, now ten, will you give me nine?
Worker 1: Nine! I bid nine!
Auctioneer: Nine minutes, now nine, will you give me eight? Nine minutes bid. Now nine.
Fink Propaganda: Not happy with your pay? Well, be a good cheer. History tells us the painter Seurat would take no money for his art! Why, that George Washington would only accept the presidency if he were paid a single dollar a year! So don't let money come between you and your craft!
Elizabeth: Booker, a lockpick. Grab it.
Booker: Need some help with this.
Elizabeth: Looks simple enough. That poster, there's another cipher on it.
Booker: Huh. So we need to find the code book?
Elizabeth: Yes. Looks like everything's been impounded at the Good Time Club. Maybe that's where we'll find it. What to hold on to this?
Booker: Doesn't look like we can enter now.
Enemy 4: Negative, negative!
Fink Propaganda: The most common complaint I hear from the working man is that they are unhappy with their lot. "Why torment yourself?" I ask. The ox cannot become a lion. And why would you want to? Who wants all those responsibilities and worry? You do your job, you eat your food, you go to sleep.
Elizabeth: I need more time to look!
Fink Propaganda: Simplicity is beauty.
Elizabeth: Sure thing! Well, I'll be? Lockpicks. We can always use more of them. You hear that? Music. It's coming from that tear.
Booker: I never heard that song before.
Elizabeth: I don't suspect anyone's heard that song.
Fink Propaganda: Now, some folks just aren't satisfied with their place here at Fink Industries.
Automaton: Come back at showtime!
Elizabeth: When's showtime?
Automaton: Come back at showtime.
Elizabeth: Guess we should come back later.
Automaton: Come back at showtime!
Booker: Can you get this open?
Elizabeth: I've never seen a lock like this. Anti-pressure device, a spring loaded wiper, a re-locker. You'd need a battering ram to open it. Here it is, Booker. Chen Lin, Gunsmith.
Daisy: I have a pressing need to speak to this so-called "False Shepherd" stirring up so much trouble. We got enough problems without this damn fool shooting up the city and blaming it all on the Vox. Though, if he's amiable, yeah, yeah, he might be just the fella we need for our immediate concerns.
Elizabeth: I've read about this. That's Gautama Buddha.
Elizabeth: The founder of Buddhism. He spent 49 days under a Bodhi tree until he achieved enlightenment.
Booker: Something tells me Comstock doesn't cater to idols getting worshipped that ain't him. Hello? Hello! Mr. Lin? Chen Lin? Is anybody here?
Elizabeth: What happened here? Someone worked this place over. Local constabulary, no doubt.
Elizabeth? You hear that? There's someone downstairs.
Booker: Excuse me. ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. We're looking for Mr. Lin? Mr. Chen Lin?
May: Mr. Lin is not here. He... gone.
May: They take. Flying Squad. I pray Gautama Buddha. Pray give husband back. Give back to May Lin.
Elizabeth: Where did they take him?
May: Club. Everyone take to Good Time Club.
Booker: Where is this club? Ma'am, please, where is this club?
Elizabeth: Booker, we'll find it. Just leave her be.
Booker: Why not Vox Populi help Chen Lin? Why not Daisy Fitzroy help Chen Lin?
Elizabeth: Who are the Flying Squad?
Booker: Cops. The kind who probably got their boot on Lin's throat asking him how well he knows Daisy Fitzroy.
Elizabeth: Isn't she the one we're working for?
Booker: As a matter of fact, it is. All right now, let's figure out where this Good Time Club is.