Erica Albright: You called me a bitch on the Internet, Mark.
Mark Zuckerberg: That’s why I wanted to talk to you.
Erica Albright: On the Internet.
Mark Zuckerberg: That’s why I came over.
Erica Albright: Comparing women to farm animals.
Mark Zuckerberg: I didn’t end up doing that.
Erica Albright: It didn’t stop you from writing it. As if every thought that tumbles through your head was so clever it would be a crime for it not to be shared. The Internet’s not written in pencil, Mark, it’s written in ink. And you published that Erica Albright was a bitch, right before you made some ignorant crack about my family’s name, my bra size, and then rated women based on their hotness.
Reggie: Erica, is there a problem?
Erica Albright: [Turning to talk to Reggie] No, there’s no problem.
Erica Albright: [Turning back to face Mark] You write your snide bullshit from a dark room because that’s what the angry do nowadays. I was nice to you, don’t torture me for it.
Mark Zuckerberg: If we could just go somewhere for a minute.
Erica Albright: I don’t want to be rude to my friends.
Mark Zuckerberg: Okay.
Erica Albright: Okay.
[pauses for a moment]
Erica Albright: Good luck with your video-game.
La red social (2010)