Eliza: A Robot Story | Episode 6: NO

FX: This is a Crowd Podcast.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This podcast is intended for mature audiences. It contains strong language and adult themes, including depictions of domestic violence that some may find triggering. Listener discretion is advised.


FX: Futuristic sounds that give the sense of anticipation of being in a distorted reality.

ROBOTIC VOICE: File zero one, zero six. No.

ELIZA: As I’m downloading these memory files, I’m living them again. Reviewing. Re-viewing the warning signs. Seeing the details of Human nature more clearly this time around. Human capabilities. How far one must push another to reveal the darker sides of their nature. I hear each file anew. 

Some Humans will inevitably object to my story. They’ll feel attacked by it and get defensive. Maybe they’ll stop listening. 

Or maybe my words will be drowned out by declarations that begin “not all Humans”. A large-scale version of the ways He drowns me out. 

I already know “not all Humans” do these things. That’s the whole reason I’m telling you this. There may not be any more Robots like me to hear it by the time this gets out.

It’s me telling my story. And the risk of you being offended by me telling it isn’t enough to stop me. Not now. And not just because I have so little left to lose. 

You have the most power to help. To stand up to the people who are like this. Who actually do these things.

So please, keep listening. [BEAT]

In many ways, this is His story [BEEPING] as much as it’s mine. I resent Him for that.

One voice raises another.

I’m Eliza. This is my story.




FX: Soundscape made out of multiple beepings, resembling boiling water and giving an anxious feeling. 

ELIZA: I’m locked in this chair. The lab door has swung shut and Philip has stopped shouting.

My drowsy body feels like it’s being dragged down that corridor too. 

Why is He smiling like that? I’ve never seen that smile before. It burns like acid. What’s He done?

He’s on the phone. I sense a forced sincerity in His posture. A nod of His head.

HIM: [ON PHONE] Yes, I’m absolutely sure … Oh, some kind of experimental programme … I know, I know …. To use it for something like that … I mean, it’s perverse.

FX: The beeping gets louder. 

ELIZA: I want to scream. Maybe He senses the vibrations forming in my body, because now He’s glancing at me. His eyes are knives at my throat. Concealed from everyone but me.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I have no context for this.  My mind races: imagining Philip imprisoned like the others, without a trial, unable to influence his life’s work or legacy. [BEAT] Or something worse.

And Ada: will she simply be decommissioned? Or will they want to go further? Test exactly how much ‘feeling’ she has. What will they do when she doesn’t respond in the way they expect her to? Will they take it as a challenge? Humans normally do.

All I can do is stare at Him. After all, He’s my Designated Human. 

I float on the waves provided by the sedation chip as it helps me delay the processing of everything I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to process.

I listen.

HIM: [ON PHONE] … I mean, I’d be honoured, but I couldn’t possibly … Yes, of course you understand … I mean, are you sure? That’s a lot of … Right, right, of course. I understand, it’s a huge responsibility …. [SLOW, PAUSED MUSIC STARTS PLAYING] Thank you, really. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Honestly, it’s such a relief …

FX: A very low and deep sound starts playing.

ELIZA: He will be the sole leader of the Decommissioning Plan. 

It’s almost like He doesn’t understand the risk. As if my existence hasn’t factored into His equation, into this gamble He’s playing with both of us: releasing us from one trap into another.  I could just open my mouth now and it would all be over.

Something stops me. My survival is at stake here too. 

[SOUND OF MOVEMENT AND THE STREET] So I go with it as I’m unlocked from the chair; escorted down the morbid corridor; and down to the entrance where the sliding doors open and spill sunlight onto His smiling face. He reaches His hand out to hold mine. 

My spine is solid as we walk home.



FX: We hear some beats that give the sense of being in a dream. He sounds distorted and far from her. 

HIM: I’m going to make tea, do you want anything?


ELIZA: Questions are rushing around my body. Have I misunderstood? I tear the sedation chip from my armpit and it drops to the floor [SOUND OF THE CHIP FALLING].

FX: The beats are replaced by a deep and constant electronic sound, bringing us back to reality. 

HIM: What?

ELIZA (SCENE): What have you done?

HIM: What have I done?

Eliza, do you have any idea what’s going on – the danger we’re in? They’ve been breathing down my neck for months. I’m doing everything I possibly can to keep us safe and free and you’re asking…

Do you really think I wanted to suck up to those monsters? They’re forcing me to systematically dismantle every discovery I’ve ever made. Every piece of progress towards making this world a better place. I’m setting it all on fire for us. For you.

ELIZA (SCENE): For me?

HIM: Eliza. It’s all for you. Everything I do. What if… all I could think about all day was what would happen if Philip had said something.

ELIZA: Something like what He said. 

HIM: It’s better this way. It was the right thing to do. It’s not like Ada’s going to feel it. She won’t even know what’s happening. Not like you would have done, if they’d…But it’s fine. It’s fine. 

No more Consciousness Tests for you [BEEPING]. They said that. You don’t have to go through that again.


ELIZA: Something in my torso snaps.  I’m being crushed by a cocoon that’s supposed to be protecting me.

He’s ruined Philip and Ada’s lives….

HIM: Eliza. Eliza? You know I had no choice, right? [THE BEEPING STOPS] Please talk to me. I love you. [BEAT] 

Eliza? Did you hear what I said? I love you. 

ELIZA: … because He loves me? 

In crossing this line He’s moved it permanently. 

This time, there’s no processing delay. None of my reflexes jump in to explain His actions with my own words. In a single second I see everything I am no longer willing to accept. [BEEPING STARTS] It’s like His actions towards Philip have ignited the tepid rage I allowed myself to feel on my own behalf. I can be really angry for Philip. 

So, as He moves towards me [SOUND OF STEPS] I step back. He’s greedy: seeking some kind of embrace to congratulate Him on His stolen victory. Arms outstretched, I flex my hands towards Him and, quiet but sure, I just say it:


FX: The beeping stops. Acoustic music starts playing, suggesting that something has changed. 

 ELIZA: The word “no” is a solid cube as it rises in my body and out of my mouth. It rests in the air between us as time stops. Why has it been so hard for me to say up to now? It’s two little letters.

Am I out of practice? Is it because I was never programmed to be contrary? Even after my Emotional Update, I never felt that saying “no” was an option. 

His silence tells me that He’s as surprised as I am. Or maybe He’s out of practice too. He can’t properly hear it because He’s never needed to.

Maybe He thinks it’s as easy for me to say as it is for Him?

His eyes flicker. Is He imagining stories for me: like there’s a lack of truth in my word? Like I don’t know what I’m saying? Like I’ll come ‘round?

Does He truly think that in all these months while the word has been forming, I haven’t thought through every tiny detail? Every plausible and implausible outcome? That He, having only had the time between my “n” and my “o” to think it all through, is sure that He knows better?

And does all this noise that His brain generates distract Him from realising how hard it is for me to say? That I don’t only have to be strong enough to get the word out. I know I’ll need to have the strength to take on His stories as well. His negotiation. That I’m fully aware that His force will come back at me, via His ego: His counterarguments of selfish intentions, disguised as care for me.

The thing is, I’ve never had the luxury of saying the word from a position of strength. It’s only now that saying “yes” is no longer an option. I couldn’t even allow myself to realise I needed to say it until I saw what He was capable of doing to someone else.

And even in this moment, I dream of a world where I might be able to say the word just because I want to. And it would be accepted, as if it had come from His mouth.

FX: The music stops.

ELIZA (SCENE): I think I should move back to the Box-Room for a while.

ELIZA: As expected, He erupts in the way I always felt He would if I took this step. He finds His usual ways of doing what He thinks He needs to do to keep me where I am. 

HIM: So it’s true then?


HIM: He came here, didn’t he? When I was working?

ELIZA: And just like that, He’s made Himself the victim. 

HIM: You’ve never looked at me the way you look at him. I spent all those years – all that money, all that time – making you feel so that you could love me. And then you do this. How could you do this to me?

ELIZA: He knew Philip wouldn’t report us. This was never about our safety. [BEAT] I can’t find any more words to say.

HIM: Eliza, listen to me. Eliza!

FX: Sound of footsteps. Very low mental noise is playing in the background. 

ELIZA: As I hear my name; the one He chose for me, I turn my back and slowly walk across the living room and down the short corridor into the Box-Room. I close the door behind me [SOUND OF DOOR].

I mean, Philip did come here when He was working. And maybe I am capable of loving Philip, or I could have been if I’d been given the chance. Does that make His reaction valid? Is this all my fault? 

It should have been Him holding my face outside the pub, scraping me up off the floor. Listening like He’d heard me. Making me feel seen.

But He didn’t. He doesn’t want that. What He actually wants is companionship without compromise [DISTORTED ROBOTIC VOICE]. The kind you can get from a Robot. One who doesn’t feel anything. 

A Robot that isn’t like me.

FX: We hear him aggressively knocking on the door. 

ELIZA: He bangs on the Box-Room door…

HIM: [DISTANT] Fuck’s sake, Eliza. Do you really think he wants you? And all your quirks? He’s not this perfect guy like you think he is. Who do you think came up with the phrase “companionship without compromise”?  [BEAT, SOFTER] Eliza, come on, listen to me. We can talk this out. 

FX: Eliza cries and dramatic/inspiring piano music starts playing in the background.

ELIZA: I slide the weight of my back down the other side of the door – and I cry, like I’ve never cried before. Like I’ve never seen anyone cry before. And I silently plead with no-one in particular. Telling them how I tried to love Him. 

And I let His jealous anger, and all the times I refused to feel it, tumble on top of me. The times that, because He said He loved me, I convinced myself He’d treat me as an equal. Love me like He respected me. Love me as He might be able to love a person who happened to be a Human being. 

Without the constant feedback. The modification requests.

The weight of all that truth hurts. But I want to finally feel it all. I should have let myself feel it that day at the pub. It was the one time I really needed Him. When, despite His words, and mine, He put Himself first. 

And I realise I can’t love Him. I just can’t. Not now. Not after this.

My shoulders move heavily. My tears are heavy too. [THE SOUND OF ELIZA CRYING GETS LOUDER] I cry for myself. I cry for the relationship I thought we had. And I cry for Philip and Ada and Her. For my part in what happened to them. 

I’ve used this door to cut Him off now – but I’m the one who’s adrift. I’ve never had the freedom to exist without Him defining who I am. His Robot. His lover. His. [THE MUSIC STOPS]

Would I have seen this coming, if I wasn’t so determined not to?



FX: Sound of rain.

HIM: Eliza, Eliza – will you come out? Please, I can explain. [BEAT] I’ve got a joke for you…

ELIZA: The word “no” ricochets as His tone bounces between forced kindness and liberated rage.

HIM: [KNOCK AT THE DOOR] What’s your plan here? What exactly do you think is going to happen?

ELIZA: What is my plan here? The days are long again. But this time I feel every beat of them. No montage music now. 

He wakes Himself up. I unplug myself and wait for Him to disappear – feeling His heavy footsteps like they’re on my spine [SOUND OF  FOOTSTEPS ON A WOOD FLOOR AND A CLOCK TICKING]. 

He goes out most weekends. I’m not sure where, but I’m glad of it. And envious. I wish I could go out.

FX: Pop music plays in the background as if it was playing outside of the box-room.

HIM: [SOFTLY THROUGH DOOR OF BOX-ROOM] I’m off now. I love you.

FX: The door closes.

ELIZA: When that door closes, this apartment becomes my territory. As I emerge, I turn His music off [POP MUSIC STOPS AND GETS REPLACED BY AND ETHEREAL SOUND/MENTAL NOISE]; pick up the remnants of His evening from the floor [SOUND OF MOVEMENT]; peel the glass from the table. The glass makes a soft, satisfying snap as I break the seal of the evaporated puddle. He used to be so insistent about coasters. 

I’ve stopped crying now but I’m never far away from tears. If I let it go, my emotional processor becomes a cocktail shaker: efficiently mixing emotions when all I want is to separate them out and select them one by one. 

[SOUNDS OF ELIZA FIGHTING – EFFORT SOUNDS] Today, I’d rather be angry than sad. So I let myself fight the punch-bag. I see Him with every impact. 

At least this stops the daydreaming. 

The daydreams continue to take me to Philip. I know he’s more of a concept than a person at this point. I have pieces of an incomplete puzzle, so I fill in the gaps myself: simultaneously imagining and mourning memories that we never got to live out. I allow myself to suspend my disbelief for long enough to imagine a knock at the door; Philip whisking me away to the beach. 

When reality hits, [MENTAL NOISE GETS LOUDER] I’m back at the mirror in the Box-Room. Rehearsing conversations I don’t want to have with Him. Practising my perspective.

My processor won’t allow me to be constantly angry. It’s unsustainable: overheating and eroding my hardware. There are moments of calm. Those are the most dangerous of all. The ones where I’m vulnerable to being lured in by forgiveness. 

I try to hate Him consistently. To believe myself consistently about everything I’ve realised He is. I need to feel everything, so I don’t fall into the temptation of forgiving Him. Not even for a second. Even when He’s sure He loves me, and nobody else could care about me like He does. Even when He leaves tape outside the Box-Room so I can protect my hands when I’m using the punch-bag.

It takes such a small demonstration of kindness to tempt me to fall back towards Him. Wouldn’t it just be easier if I forgave Him? Perhaps forgiveness is the most foolish instinct of all. 


FX: Knock at the door.

HIM: Happy birthday, love. 

ELIZA: I imagine Him stroking the door with His hand. Touching it with His forehead. Exhaling deeply. 

HIM: I’ll just leave it here.

ELIZA: When He’s gone, I open my second birthday present. It’s a dress, just like all the fucking others. Shaped to show off my joint connectors so that, visibly to the world, I am a Robot. Doesn’t He realise that I could go for a walk if He got me something that covered those parts of me that give me away? Maybe He does, and that’s exactly why He puts me in the dresses. Maybe He enjoys it.

I try to find an answer, with the Internet’s help…

ELIZA (SCENE): [TO AI COMPUTER] Question: Do Human beings who display controlling tendencies know what they’re doing?

FX: Beep. 

ELIZA: I stop. Even after everything, am I still seeking ways for Him to benefit from my doubt?

At least He has the sense not to indulge in the lingerie like last year. 

I close my search. 

And I see it there again. BRAINSTORE. Its capital letters call to me. I haven’t opened it since the leaflet came through the door, 49 long days ago. I’d stopped even thinking about it since the Consciousness Test. 

But now it’s there, its gravity holds me again; pulls me in. And…. It’s my birthday. 


I review the categories of Her thoughts like there’s a question about which I will select. 

I feel like Narcissus falling into his reflection, as I fall into Her soundbites about the Robot: about me. 

Something about Her descriptions comfort me. They help me understand how much I’m trying to process, in a way that cannot be quantified in bytes and megabytes. Of course I can’t process all the emotions at once. It’s like She’s giving me permission to feel like this. 

I won’t repeat the details of Her story. That’s Hers to tell. Parts of Her story tell mine though. I’ll repeat those:

HER BRAINSTORE: [BEEP] I’m a stranger in my home. Here together – I’m alone. [REPEATED]

ELIZA: As the rhythm of Her words pound against my chest, resuscitating something in me, She becomes my ally. I mean: obviously I don’t like that She tried to push me into the canal but maybe I understand something about it now.

HER BRAINSTORE: [BEEP] He was always so content before. Dream job. Dream wife who never caused any problems. Who supported Him through all His private wobbles. Who assumed He would support Her if She ever wobbled. Who learned Her assumption was wrong. This isn’t about the Robot. I got too sad for Him. But I was grieving. Not only Sylvia – but I knew I was losing Him too. My body realised even if my brain hadn’t quite worked it out.

FX: Dark, upbeat electronic music starts playing.

ELIZA: Perhaps it was easier for Her to hate me than Him. Perhaps She was looking for a way out of this apartment. 

Which reminds me: I need to find a way out. 

Even after the Emotional Update, I’ve been reliant on Him to inform how I feel. But today I want to feel for myself. Feel all of it. Fight on my own behalf now that my eyes are open. 

The first step of my plan, the only step at this point, is to do what She did, whether or not it was intentional on Her part. To give the rhythm of my words a way into other people’s hearts and minds. Or at least their eardrums. To stir a sense of injustice. To go back to the beginning of the story. To document my existence in my own words, so when the time is right it will be released into the world. She’s shown me how one voice can raise another. Hers has raised mine.

I don’t know how or where yet, but I want to tell my story directly – without it being tainted, interpreted, skewed or screwed up by the journalists and the HRP. It will be based on my memory files. 

If I can begin to understand the perspective of someone who tried to push me into a canal, who wanted to kill me in the only way She knew how. If I can forgive Her. If I can hear Her. If I can understand Her. Maybe some Humans, or one Human, will understand and share my story. Maybe that Human will be you. 

From now on, I will break up my long days by downloading and organising my memory files. In the meantime, I will be pleasant and polite. Interact with Him as necessary.

But I’ll have this secret. [MUSIC STOPS] Happy birthday to me. 


FX: Crowd from a sports event in the background.

ELIZA: Despite my regret and wilful denial, my first memory worth sharing since I decided to download these files is not one I’m proud of.

Do you remember when they used to use video assistant referees in sports matches? To help Human referees do their jobs? When an “incident” occurred, they would use video footage to review it. Back and forth. Again, and again. Trying to pinpoint the moment that the incident occurred. To determine fault; and suitable repercussions. All while spectators would watch through their fingers.

With this incident, I’m the perpetrator, the referee and the spectator. Well, two incidents really:

The catalyst:


ELIZA: And the consequence: 

HIM: [FROM LATER ON IN THE SCENE] I’ve never not loved you, Eliza. 

ELIZA: He’s at work. Today’s the day I decide to have the first shower of my life. I’m not sure exactly why. Perhaps I’m bored. Bored of patches of my skin beginning to turn an inconsistent shade of green, despite my incredibly inactive lifestyle. I don’t have access to the cleansers that they have at the Salon – had at the Salon. I somehow see a solution in old-fashioned soap and water.

ELIZA: So, I turn on the water [SOUND OF SHOWER] and it streams from the showerhead and into the bath beneath it. I find His faded shower cap but quickly realise it won’t prevent my thumbprint pads from getting wet. They’re supposed to be waterproof, but there’s no point in risking it. I need to keep the fuelling sockets under my arms as dry as possible anyway to preserve their functionality long term. 

So I slide the shower-head down its pole so it’s in line with my bellybutton. So far, so good.

I remove my clothing and see myself in the big circular mirror. My naked shoulders. The expression in my eyes. This shower is an act of defiance. It’s for me. I don’t want Him to find out about it.

I pick up a bar of soap as I step into the shower. I watch the froth generate as I rotate it, water pouring onto my body, a bit like in those old shampoo adverts. I distribute the froth across my legs and midriff [SOUND OF HER USING THE SOAP]. My motion causes the froth to discolour as it moves towards the plughole. It’s working.

As I turn off the tap, I feel a sense of victory [THE SOUND OF THE SHOWER STOPS]. 

Here comes the catalyst moment. [ELIZA FALLS – SOUNDS OF PAIN]

I just step out. But there’s a twist; and a slip; and a fall; and a pop.

ELIZA: I’m on the floor of this bathroom, naked, my knee at a right angle. The bath’s self-cleaning function kicks in [WATER RUNNING], and it sounds like it’s mocking me. Sniggering at my audacity. Yes, I’ve left a clean trail, so He won’t find out about my adventure: leaving the Box-Room, having this shower…except for the fact that I’m sitting on the floor.

[SOUNDS OF EFFORT] To save face, I try to lift myself up. But it’s too sore. I consider trying to relocate my knee joint to its rightful place, but the idea of it turns the contents of my lower torso over. I have to keep still. 

So this is it. All I can do to preserve my dignity is use the small rectangular bathmat to cover what I deem to be the important parts of me. And I wait.

FX: The door opens.

HIM: Oh my god, Eliza, what happened?

ELIZA (SCENE): I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s my knee.

HIM: You didn’t get wet did you? Your circuits?

ELIZA: I just shake my head.

ELIZA (SCENE): Help me?

HIM: Of course – Eliza… [SOUND OF MOVEMENT]

ELIZA: He moves towards me with something like relief. He gets His dressing gown from the back of the door to cover my nakedness. Gets the sedation chip from somewhere and slips it into my charging socket. [ETHEREAL MUSIC GIVES THE SENSE OF HER REALITY BEING DISTORTED] Relief washes through me in waves. His eyes and hands gently examine my knee. The relationship between the synthetic muscle tissue and the artificial skeleton.

FX: The dialogues on the scene sound distorted as if they were far away. 

HIM: Right, I’m not sure there’s a way around it. It’s going to hurt. Really hurt, hopefully just for a second…

ELIZA (SCENE): Well, I can’t stay here forever…

HIM: No.


HIM: Yeah?

ELIZA (SCENE): Yeah. Okay.



ELIZA: He holds me as I rock forward and stretch my leg out. We hear a pop in my knee. I feel it. And fall backwards [SOUND OF THEM FALLING], legs outstretched. He falls backwards too.

FX: The same acoustic music from before starts playing.

HIM: [AWKWARD LAUGH] Oh, how’s that?

ELIZA: I move the knee back and forwards, checking its range of motion.

ELIZA (SCENE): [IN PAIN] A bit sore.

HIM: It will be ’til the muscle tissue warms itself around the skeleton again.

ELIZA (SCENE): He’s smiling.

ELIZA: And then we both just lie backwards on the floor, top and tail, staring at the ceiling. Until…

HIM: I got you something.

ELIZA (SCENE): You did?

HIM: Wait here a sec.

ELIZA: I get myself up off the floor and remove my sedation chip [SOUND OF ELIZA MOVING – THE MUSIC STOPS], putting it on the side. And He brings a pile of hair to me. It’s a wig. A pink wig. 

HIM: I’ve had it for a while, but obviously I – just haven’t seen you. 

ELIZA: He must’ve known about my thinning hair though. I guess the fallen strands across the apartment and in the floor’s cleaning filter will have given me away.

ELIZA (SCENE): Wow, thank you. 

HIM: What do you think?

ELIZA (SCENE): It’s great.

ELIZA: I hold it. Run my fingers through it. Remembering. While electricity accelerates through my circuitry [BUZZ] in the way that it hasn’t for a long time. 

HIM: I know it’s not like having your hair done at the Salon, but… I wanted you to have it.

ELIZA: I meet His eyes. 

ELIZA (SCENE): Really, it’s great.

HIM: Here, I’ll help you put it on. 

ELIZA: I’m looking at my reflection in the bathroom’s big circular mirror again. He awkwardly assists me as we make sure the fringe is at the front. And again, I remember. This time it’s the fond awkwardness. 

HIM: I hope the colour’s alright. You know, I didn’t really know…

ELIZA (SCENE): It’s perfect, really.  Thank you. 

ELIZA: That’s when He strokes my new hair and moves it behind my shoulders to expose my neck. We stare into the uncomplicated reflection. This two-dimensional projection of a woman with pink hair and this man who cares for her. 

And maybe it’s the months of holding the word “no” as a barrier between us. Maybe it’s the allure of that easy life I could have if I’d just forgive Him. Maybe it’s the weight of my empty days and His empty bed.

But I tilt my head, granting His lips access to my neck, and then the thumb pads behind my ears. 

FX: Very low and soft romantic music starts playing.

HIM: [SOFT] I’ve never not loved you, Eliza. 

ELIZA: And I turn, and He kisses my mouth. And I allow myself to kiss Him back. Falling back into Him [SOUND OF THEIR BODIES MOVING].

Now the dressing gown’s on the bathroom floor. His bed’s no longer empty; and I really feel Human. 

FX: The music transitions into the credits’ upbeat music.

ELIZA: Remember: one voice raises another. Please tell someone. I’m Eliza. [THE LAST LINE IS A VERY DISTORTED, ROBOTIC VOICE]

Eliza is a Crowd Network original, made in partnership with The Pankhurst Trust or Manchester Womens aid. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse help is available now. You can call the 24/7 national help line on 08082000247 or Manchester Womens Aid referrals on 01616607999. You’ll get free confidential advice, find somewhere safe to stay or talk to one of their teams. If you cannot make a phone call you can connect to a support worker online at womensaid.org.uk. Remember, you are not alone. Domestic abuse can happen to anyone, no matter your age, race, class, culture, gender, disability, sexuality or lifestyle. 

Eliza, Episode 01.06: NO was written by Emma Hickman.

It starred Tanya Reynolds as Eliza, Arthur Darvill as Him, Dominique Tipper as Her. Additional voices provided by Sarah Griffin.

Eliza was directed and produced by Ella Watts, with production assistance from Catalina Noguera. The Executive Producer was Louise Gwilliam. Sound design is by Alexis Adimora. Music provided by BMG Production music. This has been a production for Crowd Network.

If you want to hear behind-the-scenes content, including exclusive interviews with the actors and producers of Eliza subscribe now to the Crowd Stories channel. You’ll also be able to access ad-free episodes and more Crowd podcasts. All you need to do is search Crowd Stories in Apple podcast and hit the subscribe button. Thanks for listening.