Doc leaves the car to go for a walk around town. Although he's surrounded by people, he's essentially alone. He pauses outside the saloon, looking in at men drinking with their friends. Before long, he moves on -- and puts his foot right into a mud puddle. He makes a sound of disgust. Nearby, a woman laughs. He looks up and sees the tattooed lady, emptying a bucket of urine onto the ground. She laughs at him some more before going back into the brothel. Doc makes a mental note to burn his shoes later.
He wanders into the Tent of Magic Lamps and Irish Nostalgia. Mickey, not recognizing him, tells him they just finished their last show of the night. Doc, disappointed, starts to leave, but Sean calls him back in. Unlike his brother, Sean knows who Doc is and invites him to stay for a private showing. Mickey, the honest bastard that he is, is just about to charge Doc their usual five-cent admission when Sean asks for five dollars, instead. Doc is a bit taken aback, but pays up anyway. As has been established recently, Doc is inclined to give in to men with big balls. As he lights the lamp and gets the first slide into place, Sean gushes like a fanboy about Doc's capitalist exploits and pulling himself up by his bootstraps and so on. Doc looks at pictures of the Irish countryside, stunned as to why these men would leave it to come to the railroad. Or, as Doc puts it, "this filth and squalor and muck." I wonder if Phil Burke and Ben Esler got tips from Colm Meaney on their Irish accents? "You and thousands like you have followed me out here," Doc says, "and I'm genuinely curious why." Sean flounders for a bit, then comes up with, "It seemed a proper investment for our time and efforts." He's trying to speak in terms he think will impress Doc, but guileless Mickey has no such concerns. "That's not it at all," he says. Sean tries to hush him up, for fear of his brother saying something silly, no doubt, but Mickey goes on. He tells Doc about their youth on their father's farm, and the day when he and Sean heard the train whistle in Dublin and jumped on for a ride. The way he talks about it makes it sound like a magic carpet ride. "We never felt so free," Sean chimes in. Doc, raptly listening, latches onto this bit. "The railroad gave you freedom," he says with wonder. Such a thing never occurred to him, apparently. He's been framing the rail in terms of healing the nation and replacing savagery with civilization, but one of the most basic of human desires had thus far escaped him.