Carol (Rhea Seehorn) and Zosia (Karolina Wydra) in episode 4 of Vince Gilligan’s ‘Pluribus’
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Episode 4 of Pluribus might be the most brutal moment for Carol (Rhea Seehorn) that we’ve seen yet, as she probes the knowledge of the hivemind, and hears an uncomfortable truth.
What Happens In ‘Pluribus’ Episode 4?
The episode begins by introducing Manousos (Carlos-Manuel Vesga), the immune man from Paraguay who has isolated himself away from the hivemind, the one who Carol yelled at over the phone in the previous episode.
Manousos is deeply unsettled by Earth’s new overlords, maybe even more than Carol, to the point where he is locked inside his house listening to the radio and surviving on dog food, refusing to engage with them.
It’s a miserable life, and when he answers the phone and hears Carol’s stuttering attempt to speak Spanish, he hangs up, assuming it’s the hivemind playing tricks.
When Carol calls back and loses her temper, he’s struck by a realization—the hivemind can’t get mad. That was a real human.
No doubt, Carol and Manousos are going to find a way to connect and bond over their shared hatred of the new world order, but for now, Carol is experimenting.
In episode 3, Carol realized that the hivemind will give her literally anything she asks for—even a nuclear bomb, having handed her a hand grenade after misunderstanding her sarcasm.
The grenade injured Zosia (Karolina Wydra), the body that has been assigned to chaperone Carol.
Zosia was specifically chosen as an appealing figure for Carol, and despite knowing that Zosia has no real individuality, Carol can’t help but feel affection for her.
Carol wants o know if the melding of all humans into a hivemind can be reversed, but Zosia grows uncomfortable and refuses to answer. Carol reckons that her silence speaks volumes.
One would think that there would be, at the very least, strange side-effects, even if Carol does manage to cure the world—would remnants of other people’s personalities still remain?
Can individuality really be reconstructed after being blended into billions of minds?
Still, Carol reckons it’s worth pursuing. She writes down what she knows about the hivemind on a white board, but she only has a few scraps of information.
She knows they are pacifist, eager to please, and seek to absorb her into their blob, despite the fact that she clearly does not want to. “They” seem to genuinely believe that leaving Carol out of the unified mind would be doing her a disservice.
Carol concludes with her last observation, writing that they are “weirdly honest.” She wonders—can they lie?
Carol goes outside to fetch one—any will do, they’re all flesh puppets to the unity—and chooses a guy dressed in a cycling outfit (Jeff Hiller), who confirms that his body was once known as “Lawrence.”
Carol sits down with Lawrence and asks him careful questions about her fantasy romance novels. Amusingly, Lawrence has nothing but flattery for Carol, suggesting that her books rival the work of William Shakespeare—they love her books, and love all of the words.
It sounds a bit like Elon Musk talking to his alarmingly sycophantic bot, Grok, empty flattery with no substance.
But when Carol pushes for details, she realizes that Lawrence and the others have “read” her books many times through all of her fans, and can quote them by memory.
They’re not lying, exactly, but channeling the feelings of her biggest fans. Lawrence even mentions a reader from Kansas, Moira McAllister, who credits Carol’s books with saving her life during a depressive episode.
Carol seems secretly flattered to hear this, and the sentiment echoes the words of her late lover, Helen (Miriam Shor), who always assured Carol that her work is more valuable than she believes.
Carol digs deeper, and asks what Helen really thought of her best-selling romance series. Before dying, Helen was absorbed into the hivemind, meaning that talking to “them” is the only way Carol can still communicate with Helen, or rather, an echo of who Helen used to be.
Lawrence reluctantly tells her that Helen thought the books were “harmless,” comparing them to cotton candy. Sugary fluff, basically.
Carol always knew this, of course, but she seems slightly hurt to hear Helen’s true thoughts. So she asks what Helen really thought of her unpublished novel, Bitter Chrysalis, the only story that Carol is proud of, the book that Helen encouraged her to release to the public.
The answer is devastating—Lawrence reveals that Helen “didn’t hate it,” and didn’t even bother to finish it. Learning that her prized piece of writing is just “meh” seems to deeply wound Carol, and she asks why Helen encouraged her to publish it.
Lawrence tells her that “it wouldn’t hurt your career, and it would make you happy.”
The revelation seems to shatter something, challenging Carol’s perspective of herself as a gifted writer trapped in a trashy genre, revealing that Helen was only trying to please her—almost like the hivemind.
Carol has heard enough and dismisses Lawrence, writing on her white board that “they” cannot lie to her. Zosia wouldn’t reveal the truth of how to reverse the joining, but Carol reckons that she just needs a bit of chemical encouragement.
Asking the hivemind for heroin (which they reluctantly provide), Carol secretly steals Pentothal from a lab, which functions almost as a truth serum, and injects it.
Carol records herself, knowing the drug will wipe her memory, watching it the next morning after sobering up.
Carol watching her intoxicated self spill all her secrets on camera is surprisingly compelling—one gets the sense that Carol is, on some level, trying to understand herself, listening to repressed feelings that she can’t admit to anyone, even herself.
Under the influence, Carol allows herself to grieve, wailing and crying for Helen. Eventually, she cheers up and even reads aloud from her trashy romance series, proposing that her book would make a great movie (clearly, Carol isn’t quite as ashamed of them as she makes out).
Finally, she hears herself admitting that she is sexually attracted to Zosia, and turns the camera off. She’s heard enough—the truth serum works.
Carol heads to the hospital where Zosia is recovering and sneakily doses her with serum, taking her to an isolated spot outside where they can talk privately. The Pentothal enters Zosia’s veins and she becomes confused and drowsy, while Carol questions her frantically about a cure.
Of course, the hivemind can feel the disruption. In a particularly unsettling scene, a group of “them” slowly surround Carol, unable to force her to stop, but merely repeating “Please, Carol.”
It’s a moment that highlights the zombie-like takeover of Earth, underlining the fact that Zosia has no individuality within. But she has a body that is affected by the drug, and while Carol grills her with questions, Zosia collapses, entering cardiac arrest.
One of the hivemind passively asks if they can save her, and Carol quickly confirms—the attempt to resuscitate Zosia begins.
The episode ends without revealing what happens to Zosia, with Carol panicking at the thought of losing another companion.
Is Zosia Dead?
We’ll have to wait until episode 5 to find out, but it seems likely that Zosia might survive the ordeal.
After learning that Carol is attracted to Zosia, it would be something of a narrative dead end to let the only human connection Carol has with the hivemind just slip away.
It’s not a “real” connection—Carol is being manipulated with Zosia’s body, tricking her into letting down her guard slightly. Zosia is just a mouthpiece for the hivemind, but after losing Helen, she’s the only romantic interest left in Carol’s life.
While Carol being a dedicated hater is important to the series, her “connection” to Zosia is just as vital.
Even a hardened cynic like Carol will allow themselves to be fooled under the right circumstances, even if she hates the illusion.
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Source: https://www.forbes.com/sites/danidiplacido/2025/11/23/pluribus-episode-4-please-carol-explained/
