Up at Graystone, Serge is happy to see Amanda, insofar as his programming dictates, but she tells him not to worry about pinging her husband just yet. She's got a lot of mooning about, sitting places and smoking cigarettes and staring into space, to catch up on.
Nestor brings Lacy her food and when she won't eat he gets all Sweet Cop on her, but she has definitely answered the question: Yes, she is very hungry. No, she's not frakking eating anything from him. "Next time I eat, it's because Clarice brings me food herself. And tells me what she wants." The point of brainwashing being to make a new person in the place of the old person, Nestor is of course delighted with this version: "I'll tell her!" he says, and skips off down the stairs.
Zoë starts explaining about the bombs and God and everything, but Tammy's high on the energy of her crowd and just keeps interrupting: "Explain! Why you deliberately slaughtered hundreds of innocent people! All for your meaningless fictional God!" Leaving the latter point for another time -- and the whole God + Zoë = Sittin' In A Tree thing just got a lot more interesting, now that we know she's been talking to Her this whole time for realsies -- Zoë tries to point out on that selfsame newspaper article how that girl totally died.
Which seems logical, but plays into Tammy's continuity in a way anybody but an AI would have immediately red-flagged, because what Zoë is basically saying is that neither she nor Tamara is a real girl: Not even ghosts, just things. Never having been confused about her existence or its properties, she can be forgiven for her tardiness on the uptake here, but of course Tammy goes off real bad on her: "I am not a copy!"
Of course, once Zoë the apparent Caprican gets all John Kerry on her ass about how it's more complicated than that, Tamara goes full Teabagger. "You know, there were a lot of people in NCC who had friends and family on that train." She's willing to bet that Zoë will talk a blue streak about her autonomous existence and all, but even more willing to bet on the madness of crowds. "Tell it to them, but I don't think they care." Zoë reminds one of the advancing droogs that beating her won't bring his father back -- in fact, won't even really do permanent damage to her either -- but he shrugs: "Might feel pretty good, though." The first stab is the only one that surprises her.
The thing about the Matrix is that it removes all context and continuity: It's all pretend, just bits and bytes, yesses and nos. But that's where the real-world analogue falls apart, into obsolete over-forty paradigms about the dangers of the internet -- even Tipper Gore will one day give up on how killin' imaginary hookers makes us bad people -- there's a higher point that is quite true. Namely, that guy just looked in her face and offered to cause her pain, which proves her point and not his; i.e., the old You Can't Rape A Robot thing that Battlestar was always mostly about. It wouldn't feel "good" if he didn't acknowledge her real, subjective existence on some level. This is when they stop playing a video game and start scapegoating actual people and their actual suffering.