We have a "previously" sequence to start us off with: Meet Jake, affable tech support guy for the NSA. There's Sarah, his blonde college crush. Whoosh, there's the lab accident that infected him with nanites, the tribble-y computer-y things that get all up in ya bloodstream. Dr. Thora explains that "every one of his body systems is enhanced," and my mind goes right in the gutter thinking about every one of Christopher Gorham's body functions and how their being enhanced might make me, well, happier. Agent, boss-lady of the NSA, says she's been authorized to create a special ops team with Jake at its core. I think I want Jake at my core. Oh, sorry. I'll back on out of the gutter now.
Washington, D.C. Well, it's fake D.C., since this is shot in Vancouver. Jake bursts out of a rooftop stairwell and runs, fast. Aww, look how cute his messenger bag is! A strapping man aims a missile launcher at him and lets one fly. Jake outruns it, then in a very bo-bo Triple X shot, leaps off the turret the missile explodes into. Jake's explode-fueled leap is impressive, and the sounds effects very Wonder Woman-ian. Can I just make a wish right now? It's a wish I made a long time ago, back when I was recapping Now and Again. Just this. Two little words: Robot. Dog. Do it. I so dare you. I mean, this show may have a great beginning, but it is still UPN. You take away Grunge Slacker, fine. But give me my crime-fighting robot dog. Back to the action: Jake scrambles over a roof and makes his way into a building.
Once inside, there's a shoot-out. Jake jumps down about a story, shooting away. Then on the ground, he uses his super-hearing (mee mee mee mee mee!) to hear a foe panting behind a tank. Jake gets him . Then, looking super-cute in his brown suede jacket, he uses his super-sight to home in on yet another opponent, and blows him away. Jake smiles. He's killin' real good! Way to go, nerd. Then, ruh-roh. His super-hearing tips him off to two dudes that come right up behind him, demanding Jake drop his weapon and hand over the cute messenger bag. Jake wheels around and shoots, but his gun clicks, empty and impotent. He isn't blown away, though. Jake does not crumple to the floor, riddled in bullets. He just squinches up his face and says, "Whaaaat?" Green lights are thrown on all over the warehouse, revealing it to be a set of some kind. The Man strides out and says, "Jake, you failed the simulator again. You have to count your shots! Twelve in the mag, one in the pipe."
Jake is still too tickled to care that he flunked the spy simulator again. "Did you see that jump? I mean, come on!" The Man agrees that it was a hell of a leap, "but in the real world, you're dead." Jake hands over his empty gun, and his face registers the reality. Play bullets ain't real, real bullets ain't play.
A lab. Jake runs on a treadmill, as Agent talks to some generals outside. She strides back in and tells The Man that with half a billion dollars of nanite technology in a person now, the big brass want results. Dr. Thora comes over with her PDA to show them how she can track Jake's body reactions to stress with a click of a pointer. The missile-launcher bit caused his adrenal function to go up 300 percent. That's the nanites kicking into action, and with increased adrenaline, boy howdy. Dr. Thora says the nanites increase his sight and hearing, and "it's technology at its best." Um, Dr. Thora? The "previously" teaser was just four minutes ago. We remember. And I can guess that the generals who just got up Agent's ass don't care that Jake can hear a mouse fart. They want super-killing abilities and stuff. Agent says the nanites are "unpredictable. He was brought to his knees my one of our metal detectors." Dr. Thora says she's working on it. "The nanites are molecular computers," so Jake would react to things an average desktop computer would: "Electromagnetic waves, power surges, viruses, hacking...well, technically, the chances are really low, and I don't think an outsider would even --" Agent shushes Dr. Thora. The Man says he's concerned about Jake's instincts in the field. Jake, IT nerd, isn't comfortable with hitting people and stuff. Agent says it's been three weeks, and if there aren't positive results in one more week, the brass is going to shut the whole Jake-spy thing down. Dr. Thora gets upset. "This is years of research!" Agent says they would still study Jake, in an isolated environment. Dr. Thora sputters, "They can't do that! He's a human being!" A human being who had better step up and learn to count his shots if he doesn't want to get killed. In the glass room behind them, we see Jake speed up on the treadmill and eventually fly off. Whoops. This episode just got a little Mr. Bean.
Credits. They're sepia-toned, then go into blue and red, then back to color, then back to sepia. Jake explains that he "got these powers" and "life just got reeeeal interesting." And I have a reeeeally big crush. And I am noooot alone.
We have another one of those awesome POV shots, bouncing between a satellite in space, through the atmosphere, onto the planet, and eventually landing on the surface in Tunisia. A truck jounces across a dirt road. The driver says, "Sandstorm in position." Agent copies Sandstorm. The Man explains to Jake that some terrorists "got their hands on an EMP." Jake says helpfully, "An electromagnetic pulse bomb?" No, an Emerson Lake and Palmer record. It could be reeeeally bad in the wring hands. Can you imagine the damage someone like P. Diddy could do with that? Shudder. Sandstorm says via radio that they only have half an hour of darkness left, and he wants to proceed. Agent says to go for it. We have a very Stormship Troopers-like action sequence, sans the giant bugs or Casper Van Dien. Storm storm, bomb bomb, kablooie kablooie. Then, a horrible moment of silence, broken only by the hiss of Sandstorm's radio. Agent calls for him, then again. Still nothing. We get anxious reaction shots from everyone in the room. Then Sandstorm comes back, saying he got the EMP, a little sand in his radio. Agent says, "Tell you what. Come home in one piece and I'll fix it myself." Jake is impressed. The Man says, "That's what real agents do."
Jake's apartment. The fake Hives play in the background ("Get Naked") as Jake pounds a nail into the wall, muttering, "That's what real agents do, Jake. In the real world you'd be dead, Jake." Then -- mee mee mee mee mee! -- he pounds the hammer really hard and makes a giant ding in the wall. Can I just tell you? I had dirty thoughts when I was typing "Jake," "pounds," and "nail." Yup. There's all these boxes around, and no more Turbonegro posters hanging up. Hey -- this is a new apartment! What in the White Stripes? Is Jake living alone now? What happened to his roomie, Grunge Slacker? Did he not test well with UPN audiences?
The phone rings, and Jake answers it. The TV is on, with a snowy, staticky screen. Sarah's on the phone, with a stupid computer question: "Where's my C drive?" Oh, boy. Jake does not say, "Duh," but rather, "It's in your computer." Control-function-8. Sarah finds it, then says she misses him and wants to take him to lunch to "catch up." Jake is all, "You do? Yeah, sure!"
There's a knock on his door, and kablammo, it's Dr. Thora, looking all cute and demure in her glasses and nice black coat. She didn't mean to interrupt, and she brought him a desk lamp. A desk lamp of looove. You know, when I want to let someone know how much I really care, flowers or wine just don't cut it. It's lamps or nothing. Jake just stares at her blankly as she explains that she was just in the neighborhood, well, not really, ha ha, here's a lamp! Jake says that's really nice of her, and would she like to come in? Maybe a glass of water? She says yeah, then he remembers that all his glasses are packed away. He hunts for one, and with his hands full of laundry, he complains to her that he gets home and all his stuff is packed up in boxes, and his roomie is transferred out of the country (waah, Grunge Slacker!), and he's moved above Luigi's Deli for security purposes. He takes a deep breath. "You smell that? I do. Twenty-four hours a day." Dr. Thora nods and says she thinks he's handling things pretty well. Jake doesn't agree. He saw the way they were looking at him the other day. He doesn't know if he's cut out to be a spy. Dr. Thora takes a step toward him with a deadly serious look in her eye. "Do you know what will happen to you if you don't make it?" Jake looks a little worried. Dr. Thora won't get her Nobel prize, is what. And she really wants that -- she wants the medal, she wants the fame, and she wants the money. So Jake had better adjust his attitude, or she's "going to have to kick [his] nano-bot butt." Jake smiles and laughs, and Dr. Thora and every other woman with a pulse melts. Dr. Thora notices that his TV is all snowy. Jake says yeah, he's been waiting for the cable guy to come. She points out that he can fix it himself, to the tune of "mee mee mee mee mee!" He asks if that wouldn't be illegal. It's not like he's unscrambling porn channels. Dr. Thora says it should be illegal for the cable companies to make you wait around all day and not show up. Big fat word to that. And ooh, look, the cable box is set to channel 69. What a wonderful number, when your mind is in the gutter. Jake concentrates, then -- mee mee mee mee mee! The picture clears and there's an old black-and-white movie on. Jake asks if Dr. Thora wants to hang out and watch a little TV. She happily accepts. There's a super-cute scene of them hanging around on the couch, watching a movie, and Dr. Thora slowly relaxing down into the cushions to Jake. Aww! And move over, honey.
We pan by the Washington Monument, then the NSA shield, then Jake and The Man going through various forms of security clearances in a stainless steel-lined sleek building -- the bowels of the NSA, I presume. The Man takes his gun. Jake is still without one, but he says geekily that as long as he's with the Man, he's protected. The Man exits through a sliding stainless steel door, which almost closes on Jake. Whoa! Better watch yourself, poindexter. The Man shows Jake the most secure vault in the NSA, behind three feet of steel and impenetrable to any blast. What about a blast of Jake's red-hot lovin'? Jake looks and just says, "Cool." Sigh. Jake is such a country mouse. It's adorable, though naiveté isn't a great selling point for a spy-in-training. Jake wonders about Agent Sandstorm, and whether he himself will get sent to an "exotic" faraway place like Tunisia. The Man wheels around and delivers a little speech to Jake: this is the NSA, where 46,000 people have been given "the awesome responsibility of keeping this country safe." Did he just say "awesome responsibility"? I'm flashing back to the last show I recapped that was on the UPN, Dead Last, which used the same phrase, but that responsibility was about seeing ghosts. I now suggest that any scripts that come into UPN from now on have the scripts closely read for that phrase, and that phrase then be eliminated from said scripts. It isn't good when you're echoing a phrase from a show that tanked. I mean, Dead Last was a live-action Scooby Doo, only without a dog or the word "zoicks!" The Man finishes with saying that no one working for the NSA really cares if Jake ever goes anywhere "exotic." Jake gulps, then says, "Right. Oh, of course." God, those lips.
The Man takes Jake outside and asks what he sees. Jake sees a woman pushing a baby carriage, some businessmen on their lunch break, and a hot blonde jogging. The Man is not impressed. He sees three baby carriages, each big enough to hold a bomb, and six people on cell phones that could be ordering a hit right now. As a matter of fact, that's happening. Could Jake pick out the parties in action? The Man is all, "Jake, this may be your only chance at this guy. Are you ready?" Jake stammers, "Y-yes, let's do this."
Jake stands in the park, sussing out the situation. A blonde leaves her park bench in a hurry. A swarthy guy talks to another man by a fountain. Then, Jake thinks he's zeroed in on something: A hot dog vendor hands over an envelope to a big strapping poor man's Gary Busey. Jake swarms and pounces on the guy, screaming, "Federal agent!" As he leaps, he misses a skateboarder handing off an envelope to a woman walking briskly through the park. Whoops. The Man rushes over and stands over Jake, lying atop the big guy, saying, "He wasn't even one of ours!"
Poor Man's Gary Busey was just a bookie picking up payment from a client. He isn't mollified by the agent's explanation, that this was just a training exercise that went wrong. He says they'll be hearing from his lawyer. Bookies can do that? What , hookers suing rabbit-fur-jacket manufacturers when they catch colds? The Man scolds Jake for thinking the obvious was what it seemed to be. "Would a drop look like a drop? You gotta dig deeper! Look beyond the obvious." D'oh.
In a plane high above the earth's surface, Agent Sandstorm radios in that he's coming home with the device. Copy that. He sits in the very elegant, spacious cabin (three people in three seats, bigger than an urban living room) with an empty glass. A steward walks up to take his glass, asks if he wants anything else, and then drops the tray in his lap. In one smooth movement, the steward takes the tray away and Sandstorm's gun out of his breast pocket. Blam, blam, blam; Sandstorm and the other two people in the cabin are dead. Steward walks back to his station, and returns with a knife. Then he brings the knife up, then down quickly to sever the handcuffed briefcase from Sandstorm's wrist.
In the bowels of the NSA, we have a shirtless, sweaty Jake. Ooh. Dr. Thora has him strapped to some monitors. He's a little testy, and she notes that he's "tired" and "maybe we should take a break." Jake snaps, "No, let's keep going." My mind, she is so in the gutter. Jake focuses on a CD player, and -- mee mee mee mee mee! -- it comes to life and starts blaring ersatz White Stripes. The CD player reads "Ed." Is there a band called Ed that sounds exactly like the White Stripes? Write me and let me know. Then Jake moves on to the piece of electronic equipment, a hotel safe. I love those things. Every time I go to Las Vegas, I have to put all my shit in it; money, camera, plane tickets. Booze and other fun stuff I leave outside. I love to make up stupid codes like 6969 or 8008. Jake concentrates, the nanites in his bloodstream go all nutty (maybe they're dancing to the music?), and the safe reads O-P-E-N. Then, the computer; he tries to crack the password. Dr. Thora hovers nearby, monitoring his progress. The music blares, the screen reflects user activity, then reads "USER DISCONNECTED." Jake screams, "DAMMIT!" He looks so cute all shirtless and sweaty. Jake asks Dr. Thora to help him, and she says that "interfacing wirelessly is very taxing," and since this was the dead lab guy's project she just came in on recently, she can't help him speed the process along. But she's "the best [he's] got." Jake yells at her that he's doing badly out there, and the nanites are the only reason he's still here. Dr. Thora looks at him and says, "You know what? You're an idiot." She rips the sensors off his back, and he yips, "Ow!" Heh. He asks if they're done there. She says yeah. The Man walks in, surveys the scene, and asks if they're done. Jake and Dr. Thora both yell, "YES!" She rips off another sensor for emphasis, and Jake winces and yells ow again. The Man just looks rueful and says, "We've got something here."
Jake, now dressed, follows The Man down the hall. The Man reminds Jake that he has a lunch date with Sarah, and that he has a mission for him regarding her: she's been investigating the diversion of DOD funds to the NSA for the nanotechnology project, and Jake has to throw her off the trail. The NSA "knows about" Sarah, that she and Jake were at Georgetown together (class of '99, woooo!) and that he likes her. The Man hands over Jake's "cover." Jake is all, "You want me to lie to my friend?" Yup.
Establishing shots of D.C., then we land at a sidewalk café. Sarah is all, "Isn't this great, just the two of us?" Jake gulps, yeah, ha ha, then looks at the government-issued car with eavesdroppers inside. Sarah asks how work is, Jake says "same old same old," then admits he's being "consumed" by work. Sarah says, "That's what this town will do to you." Hey, I think I hate Sarah. She's four years into the working world and already has ideas about what "this town" will "do" to a person. Dude, you're a neophyte. Just roll with the shit and talk to me about "this town" after you've been working for twenty years. Sarah asks if Jake remembers when their biggest problem was how to get beer on Friday night. The Man says to Jake via a wire to get on with the story, already. Jake says, tight-lipped, "Okay," and Sarah is all, "What?" He means beer, yeah, the beer runs, whoo yeah. Sarah gets a cell phone call and leaves the table. Jake takes this alone time to bust The Man's balls via wire. Sarah, of course, comes back and is all, "What are you doing?" Jake says he was just talking himself through a problem, and he needs to talk to her about something. Remember the missing funds? The NSA wanted to upgrade their computer systems and keep it from the CIA, since they would want the same systems, so that's where the money went. To fancy computers. Sarah is all, nah, I'm not buying it. I have a source. Jake is all, really? Because "my intel is really, really good!" Nerd alert!
Jake gets into The Man's car and says he doesn't think the cover worked. "She has a source!" The Man looks at Jake ruefully. Ohhh. She has a source! So Jake actually did a good job. The Man takes a call and learns that Sandstorm "has been compromised," in a national park. He takes off in a hurry.
A rocky park. Caution tape marks the perimeter. Oh wow, it's the crashed plane in a gully. Jake surveys the scene, then walks up and stands over Sandstorm's body. Agent steps up and takes control; the CIA and National Security Council are to be advised of this "terrible loss to our nation's security," fast. Agent calls Sandstorm's family. The Man notices that they "cut off [Sandstorm's] hand," and that "we gotta get this guy." Jake says, yeah.
We have EMP briefing in the war room. A guy explains that detonation of the EMP anywhere in the D.C. area would be "devastating," but there is a detonation warning signal, so if the bomb is triggered, they'll know. And then they have 20 minutes to shut it down. And if they use the wrong code to try to shut it down, the detonation process accelerates. Yikes. And who's the dude who killed Sandstorm? He's designed missiles, his mom's American, and the Israelis have him on their wanted list. Killer's brother was whacked last year by the Israeli army, though he wasn't "Al-Jahara," but rather a professor in Gaza. Jake closes his eyes at the news, and Agent says, "Great. Now he's really pissed." I am totally amazed at a show -- on the UPN, no less -- that begins to address the complexities and show a little sympathy for the Palestinian situation. I mean, the gist is that Killer is angry since his brother was incorrectly targeted (via "bad intel" from the NSA), and killing is still wrong, but for a show to say the government made a mistake in handing out a hit in the Middle East debate? And to begin to take responsibility for that mistake in understanding that a person has a right to be pissed that his brother was assassinated for no good reason? It's pretty progressive. It's gray area shit in a world of black and white, and I like that. Whoops, there goes the warning beacon on the EMP. Look out!
Agent tells The Man to take who he needs and "get out there." The Man does not take Jake. Jake is bummed.
Screechy car chase outside. Inside, Dr. Thora works away and picks something up on her PDA.
Car chase rushes toward the beacon on the EMP. Agent directs them. I guess the NSA doesn't have OnStar navigation systems. You know, "Turn left here!" "Bomb over there!" "Burger King in twenty paces!" Or something. Dr. Thora comes into the war room to check on Jake; his blood pressure is a little high. He says it's just because he's steamed that The Man left him there alone. But, says Dr. Thora, The Man is the one who wanted to make Jake an agent in the first place! He knew how much Jake wanted it! Jake is all, really? For reals? For real for real? The cars swarm over to a hapless bike messenger, then demand he hand over the silver briefcase in his bag. Inside is not the EMP, just the beacon. Then the screen in the war room lights up with ten or so replicated beacon signals. Reaction shots of everyone's grim faces follow.
The Man rushes toward a dumpster. Inside is just a silver briefcase with a transmitter. There are more wild goose chases, all resulting in transmitters, not the EMP. Inside the war room, Jake thinks out loud to Dr. Thora. "He wants us all out there, not in here. Why?" Jake realizes that the EMP is somewhere inside the NSA, where it could do the most damage -- not in casualties, but in a nationwide security blackout and loss of satellite transmission. Dr. Thora wonders how he could have gotten inside. Talk to the hand -- Sandstorm's hand. Which we now see, in all its severed glory, placed on a sensor pad so Killer can gain access to the NSA.
War room. Jake runs off, calling for evacuation of the building. Killer, with a silver briefcase, stalks the halls looking for a good place to detonate the EMP. Jake finds him without difficulty. The bomb beeps away, eighteen minutes left on the timer. Jake concentrates and -- mee mee mee mee mee! -- stops the timer. There's a pause; then the timer speeds up and counts down even faster. Jake panics, then Killer steps out and kicks him away from the EMP. "Don't tell me you're the best they've got." Jake slaps a button and hides in a cell, then Killer slaps the same button and opens the sliding door. Jake comes out fighting and tosses Killer through a glass wall, then grabs the EMP and goes toward the most solid safe in the NSA. He puts his hands on the door and cracks the safe's code, then tosses the EMP in there and runs. The bomb goes off, and what looks like shimmering heat waves go off along the corridor. Jake takes a hit, and reacts to the waves like he's being punched. An alarm sounds. A security guard comes out and says, "You gotta get out of here." Killer grabs his gun and fires at Jake, who gets away.
In a labyrinth of industrial pipes and ladders, Killer hunts for Jake. Jake does another drop from a great height, like he did in the spy simulator, firing bullets at Killer. Then Jake is gone. No, there he is, firing at Killer from behind a pipe! Killer aims, but can't home in on him. Then we see Jake pixilate and disappear -- it is the spy simulator, and Jake is re-running the program of him from earlier, drawing his fire. Finally, Jake, with a bloody lip and battered face, walks toward Killer, holding a pipe. Killer fires at him impotently, having used up all his ammo. Jake says woodenly, "You should always count your shots. Twelve in the mag, one in the pipe." Then he cracks Killer in the head with the pipe. Killer slumps to the ground. Overcome, Jake does as well. God, I love this show -- it's so efficient! Nothing from the intro was wasted.
NSA. Dr. Thora checks out Jake's nanite-fueled bod and says he needs a little reprogramming. Jake says he wants to thank her for putting up with him. She smiles and says, "We're in this together, right?" Aww! Aww, they like each other again. The Man comes in and says he needs to talk to Jake.
Agent addresses Jake and says she lost three very gifted agents...but she found a good one too. "Congratulations, Agent Foley." Hey, he made it! Dr. Thora hugs him, and agents crowd all around, hugging him and shaking his hand.
Jake's apartment. Jake's watching another old movie, in perfect focus. There's a knock on the door. Cable guy! An underrated comic treasure if there ever was one. Jake says, "Just a second," and concentrates on the TV, re-scrambling the picture. I love this show.