A regular guy's brain is "harvested" and put into the body of an artificial guy. We GET IT, CBS.
The first shot depicts a snoozing cab driver. He looks about a hundred years old and has a cap on, just like in the old movies. A lady tries to get into his cab and he sleepily groans, "I'm off-duty, lady," but when some MAN in a trenchcoat steps out and lifts his arm in hail-a-cab mode the driver snaps on his meter and zips right over. Grr. The man gets in and barks, "Park and 77th." The cab zips off. The man reads his paper and looks up a moment later in surprise. Hey! They're going the wrong way! The cabby says, "Relax, Mr. Proctor," but his words have the opposite effect. The man starts crying like a baby, yelling "Help! Heeellp! Stop this cab! Pull this cab over now! Hey! HEELLP!" Not a pro.
The cab pulls into au underground garage and two thugs in gray watch caps haul the man out of the back seat and press a gag over his mouth. The gag must have ether on it or something because his screams stop and he goes limp. As the thugs drag him off, the cabby calls after them, "Don't damage him! They don't pay full price if you damage him!" Urban legend much?
Theme song! Give me a sign! Unh! So I can feel it when you try! You never know what's good until it's left behind!
Dr. Morris enters Artificial Guy's bedroom (not like THAT) and starts belting out a tune from Singing in the Rain: "Good morning, good MOR-ning! You've slept the whole night through, good morning, good morning, to YOOOOU!" He is so in love with A.G. But wait! A.G. isn't in his bed! He calls out, "Over here, your divaship," (hee!) and look, there he is, lifting weights by the lap pool. Dr. M. languidly says, "You haven't caught a dose of initiative, have you?" HELL no. A.G. was bored: "I couldn't think of anything else to do. I went to bed at seven last night." Dr. M. is confused -- he left at 6:15? Well, since A.G. has no TV, or paper, or friends to call, he "counted bricks" until he was bored and went to bed. Dr. M. fixes A.G. in his steely gaze and A.G. says he knows that steely gaze. "You're jealous, aren't you." Dr. M. wheels around and says, "Whatever it is, the answer is no." A.G. whines, "I don't remember the question!" Then A.G. whines some more about how bored his is, and Dr. M. simultaneously rants about how tired he is of hearing about A.G.'s boredom, and I just roll my eyes because it's my job to watch this show and who am I to complain, and yet I do, and the dueling whiners square off with Dr. M. winning by yelling "TIRED!" in A.G.'s face who then shuts up, thank god. Then Dr. M. says, "After your work-out, put on a suit and tie. We're going out." A.G. starts bouncing up and down like a little kid and asks, "Where?" Dr. M. says the four words no kid wants to hear: "To stimulate your mind." BUM BUM BUUUM!
In the limo, A.G. asks Dr. M. (AGAIN) where they are going. School? A museum? To a medical conference, says Dr. M. Goody. Apparently, every once in a while Dr. M. presents a fake paper with fake documentation that he's trying as hard as he can to synthesize skin and organs and people (like our own A.G.) as a way of lying/throwing people off the scent. A.G. says, "So you pretend you're trying to figure out how to make the tortilla when the truth is you already know how to make the whole enchilada." Holy frijoles! A.G. understood something after it was explained to him once!
Heather slams some cute young thing up against the front door to her house and kisses him fiercely. Wow! Heather's getting some! She leads him inside, saying, "It's okay, my mom doesn't get home until 5:20. Want something to eat?" I'm not touching that. Heather leads her man into a trap -- I mean, into the kitchen, and look out! There's Lisa-Mom, parked at the table. Heather thinks fast and speaks faster, saying, "This is my lab partner. He came over to help me with some bio." Oh, is that what you call it? The boy/toy stands there petrified until Lisa-Mom summons him over. He's got lipgloss smeared all over his face. He mumbles, "Nice to meet you Mrs. Wiseman," and scrams. Lisa-Mom sarcastically says, "I had no idea you were struggling with your bio." Well, he didn't look like he was struggling at all. Heather laughs maniacally. Lisa continues, "I had no idea you were bringing boys home after school." Heather corrects her: It was A boy. And why wasn't the car in the driveway? It was a dirty trick to surprise her like that. Lisa barks, "HA," and then adds that if Heather does it again she'll be "grounded until menopause." Heather sits down at the table with her mom and asks why she's home. "Did you get fired?" Lisa explains the concept of working on commission (which is similar to working on contingency) and that she needs to get a lead, pronto. That means fast. "They can't fire me; they're not paying me." A car horn honks. Heather swears she doesn't know who that is. Don't worry, it's just "Uncle" Roger to get Lisa. She leaves, ordering, "You better be alone with I get back." Heather, now's the time to call that sweet boy toy of yours.
Lisa and Roger are driving, talking about real estate. If most Japanese business is done at parties, I bet most American business is done in cars. Lisa says, "I'm starting to feel like a character out of Glengarry Glen Ross." Ooh, if you mean the movie, don't be Jack Lemmon, although if you were, Ving Rames would have given you his Golden Globe by now, which was nice of him. "I considered reading obituary columns and contacting the surviving family members about the house." Ooh, the real estate equivalent of an ambulance-chaser! Roger, great friend, says, "If all you need is a listing, why not list my house? It will buy you some time. List it for $150,000 more than it's worth. No one even has to know that we're friends!" Lisa thinks it's a great idea and kisses him on the cheek. Roger stammers a bit because, being a giant dork, he flusters easily.
A.G. has his head thrown back and is full-on snoring at the now-deserted medical conference. Dr. M. comes up, wearing his glare. A.G. wakes up and says, "You were riveting." Zing! Then, over the PA, someone begins paging a "Dr. Stein, Sr. Frank N. Stein...I mean you, your tallness." Dr. M. squints and says, "Freddie?" It's a short, weaselly-looking guy. He's balding and wears glasses. "Theodore?" Dr. M. goes over and they do that very male hug-pat thing. Oh, and this is A.G. They explain to A.G. that they were college roommates over twenty years ago and were "singing buddies; the Simon and Garfunkel of Johns Hopkins." Okay, is this like the Newsradio episode where Dave's barbershop quartet buddies come back and want to start up the band again? If so, why isn't Freddie being played by David Cross? And writers, if you mention that they were singing buddies, there had better be some singing. A.G. says as a premonition, "Scary."
Now A.G., Freddie and Dr. M. are all walking by the river -- a perfect place for a musical number. Freddie opens his mouth and...asks a question. "So, do you guys work together?" Dr. M. lies and says, "We have the same boss. Newman is with the IRS." A.G. says, "It's not what I would have chosen for myself." Har. Freddie says he has his own business: He's in tongue depressors. You know, those things that make you gag? Like this show? Then Freddie says he's just kidding and that he wants to take them out to dinner. A.G. starts salivating and Dr. M. says A.G.'s on a "special diet." Freddie laughs and says, "What are you, his mother? If we talk business, I can deduct this, right?" A.G. takes his arm and says, "As long as you declare it."
A piano tinkles as a giant steak is delivered on a silver platter to A.G. Freddie hoists his huge glass of wine and says, "Here's to old friends." Okay, everybody: TONIGHT IS KIND OF SPECIAL. A.G. drains his enormous glass. Dr. M. asks what line of work Freddie is really in, since he was kidding about the tongue depressor thing. Freddie says he's a headhunter, and is recruiting Dr. M.: "I run a biotech company. Our generation spends a lot of time watching TV and eating peanut butter. As a result, we have a whole generation of people with a lot of disposable income and internal organs doomed to fail." Okay, so since when does sitting around watching TV and eating peanut butter equal disposable income and bad health? If that were really the case I should be rich and sickly. ["Me too! I'm watching TV and eating peanut butter right now!" -- Wing Chun] A.G. takes a huge bite of his steak and Freddie continues. "If you want a liver by 3 PM tomorrow, I'm your man." A.G. says, "Wow." Yeah, it's good to work for the rich and sickly -- lucrative, anyway. And who cares about the sick and less fortunate anyway? No one, really. And the sad thing is I'm not making a joke! Dr. M. asks what any of this has to do with him, and Freddie says, "It's expensive keeping abreast of every orphaned organ..." Okay, that's just gross -- to personify an organ and to not even refer to its host body as a person? Gross. "...The demand outweighs the supply. I want to synthesize organs. I heard your paper -- you're still trying to grow skin in a petri dish. You know why? Your funding is inadequate. The folks that use my service are rich. You could do what you've been talking about since college and we could both be rich. There's nothing wrong with rich, is there, Mr. Newman?" A.G. takes a huge bite of his colossal steak and says, "As long as you declare it." Wuss. Dr. M. says he has to think about it, and Freddie gets all excited, saying, "This is like Sears pitching Roebuck." Or some greedy bastard pitching a smart unethical bastard -- like some kind of asshole merger.
Cut to a small, dark operating room. The man from the opening scene is strapped to the table, surrounded by nurses and beeping machines. He's awake. His eyes are wide open, but he has tape over his mouth. If this image isn't ominous already, imagine some spooky music. Freddie walks in, wearing scrubs: "I got your page; sorry to have kept you waiting." The scary violins that sound like bees swarming start up. "Welcome to my chop shop! You won't feel a thing. You're going to benefit..." the camera pans over to show about five coolers lined up, all ready to receive organs. "...many people's lives." An oxygen mask slowly descends on the camera's point of view, and we hear some horrible muffled screams from the man as the violins get louder.
Ding-dong! Lisa opens her door to see a nice lady standing outside, with the news that she's found a buyer for Roger's house. "How can we have an offer when we haven't even shown it?" asks Lisa. The lady doesn't know, and oh, the buyer has offered $300,000 above the asking price. Lisa says, "What?"
Dr. M. and A.G. are in the limo. Dr. M. says, "Wipe that smile off your face." A.G. says he finds science conferences "thrilling." At the same time, Dr. M. and I say, "HA!" A.G. is just psyched because he gets to enjoy another rich, sumptuous dinner with Freddie.
Cut to A.G. snoring again, and being woken up by Dr. M., again. "I was resting my eyes," he says. No matter. Time to eat!
In the restaurant, jazz music noodles softly. Dr. M. is speaking: "It's flattering...but I just feel the fruits of my labor should go to everyone, not just those rich enough to enjoy it." Or those in the government that feel they need a super-killing machine. But it's a noble sentiment, even as a half-truth. Freddie rolls his beady eyes and says, "I'm getting cavities just listening to you. Wise up, you're getting older everyday. You should be testing a human prototype by now! Listen to me, I'm greedy and egomaniacal, which is how anything in the country gets done." Just then, whoops! A flambé accident, right on A.G.'s hand. Sizzle sizzle! A.G. just stares at his hand, which is completely in flames and looks grisly. Dr. M. smothers the flames. Freddie says, "Call an ambulance! Look at him -- he's in shock!" A.G. starts moaning unconvincingly to cover the fact that he feels no pain. "Ooh! Ooh!" Hee hee! Freddie says, "Let me see the wound. It looks terrible!" We get a gross shot of a hand with most of the skin burned off. Thanks, CBS! Dr. M. says he's got a car out front and that he'll drive him: "He'll be fine." They scurry out, and as Freddie smiles at them, the scary violins start up. Gee, you don't think Freddie might know more than he lets on, do you? Those violins are really scaring me!
In the car, Dr. M. says, "Give it to me." He means A.G.'s wounded hand, you perverts. A.G. says it "tingles." He means his HAND. "Look, you can actually see it heal." Hand again. Dr. M. says, "In the morning, there will be no sign of the accident." Hand. A.G. holds his (own) hand and says, "Did you really mean what you said about science being for everyone?" Dr. M. says, "Yes. I hope one day that the pancreas that cost $19 million to synthesize will be cheap enough so every diabetic can afford one. And the $47 million pituitary..." A.G. says, "A pituitary in every pot, huh." Good one! "You think Freddie saw?" Dr. M. says, "A better question is, do you think he knows what he saw." BUM BUM BUUUM!
Roger is behind his desk, twiddling his thumbs. He and Lisa are reading lines of dialogue. "$300,000!" "Yup." "That's almost half a million!" "Yeah." "What do I tell Ruth?" Ruth is Roger's invisible wife, played by the voice of Christine Baranski. It needs to be said. The house has been in her family for generations. "Her grandmother was born in that house!" Lisa reminds him he doesn't have to sell, and that the buyers have admired the house for a long time. Lisa wouldn't mind the commission, but he did it so she could get the listing, not that he would sell. But Roger is psyched. "A half a million clams! You have brought me an offer that she can't refuse!" Hee hee, he said "clams."
Freddie's in the back seat of the cabby's cab. He commands the cabby to roll up to Dr. M. and A.G. They pull out gats and throw down. A drive-by! Kidding. Freddie tells Dr. M. that his car was impounded and he needs Dr. M. to give him $300. Dr. M. says he'll meet him at the impound lot. Then he says to A.G. that "all he saw was red." Uh, don't you mean green, as in money? The he tells A.G. to start his work-out, but after he leaves A.G. chants "back to bed, back to bed," and goes back to bed.
Buzz! A.G. gets out of bed and answers the door. Over the intercom Freddie yells hysterically, "Oh my god! A man out here grabbed his chest and fell down! I think he's having a heart attack!" A.G. says, "Doc," and breaks the security lock on the door. Freddie stabs a syringe in his neck and depresses the plunger. "There's enough sedative in there to stop a rhinoceros." Oh, that should be enough to stop A.G., he's more rhino than human. Duh, he's not Rhino Guy, he's ARTIFICIAL Guy! But oh look, A.G. slumps and Freddie calls out, "Don't bruise him!"
Ding-dong. Lisa-Mom and Heather sleepily go downstairs. Heather grumbles, "What kind of inconsiderate jackass would ring the bell at this hour?" Is it Lenny and Squiggy? No, it's "Uncle" Roger. He needs to use the bathroom, because the ones at the park and the filling station aren't open yet. Oh, and he's done the crossword puzzle in their paper. Lisa and Heather are like, wuh?
Lisa-Mom and Roger are sitting at the table. Lisa speaks: "Ruth threw you out?" Ruth, extreme shrew, got cheesed that Roger listed and wanted to sell the house that's been in her family for ages without consulting her. That seems reasonable to me, but we're supposed to believe that Ruth is a giant bitch and take Roger's side anyway. Roger says, "I want to live in a hose of my own. For once I'd like to make a decision rather than be informed that one has been made. I'm ready to be the author of my fate instead of a passive participant." Lisa offers coffee, and Roger says, "I dunno. Are you having any?" Oy. Heather comes over and hisses, "He's not moving in, is he? He's not getting my room." Then she leaves, ignoring her mom's puckered-up lips.
Cut to a shirtless A.G. strapped to the operating table in Freddie's chop shop. Freddie is wearing scrubs and is waving his hands over A.G.'s shirtless chest like a magician. Then, examining his hand, he exclaims, "Not a scratch...not a nick. No wonder he doesn't let you out of his sight." Freddie's phone rings. It's Dr. M. "Where were you? I waited for forty-five minutes at the impound lot!" Freddie draws what looks like blood from A.G. and injects him with another syringe as he lies through his teeth to Dr. M. "I owe you a meal, old chum." The violins start up again. Eeek!
Dr. M. inspects the damaged door back at The Gilded Gym. "Do we have audio yet?" Baldy and another lackey play Dr. M. the tape of Freddie bamboozling A.G. Baldy says, "We're ten miles away. Should I call for reinforcements?" Dr. M. looks his steeliest ever as he says, "No. I want to handle this myself."
Roger's sleeping on the couch at Lisa's house. He calls Ruth but doesn't say anything. She reads him the riot act and then star-69s him five times. He hangs up each time. Lisa comes downstairs and says, "How's Ruth?" Roger says he senses she's not ready to talk yet.
A.G. is still strapped to the operating table, still deliciously shirtless. Freddie has a scary-looking drill in his hand and is talking to him, even though A.G. is still knocked out. "I know this is taking forever..." Wow, is that some kind of meta-shout-out to me? The doorbell buzzes (would a secret chop shop have a buzzer?) and Freddie, rat-like, scurries to answer it. It's Dr. M.! Just in the nick of time! Freddie says, "I was expecting you...you have some sort of tracking device in him, I gather." Dr. M. says, "Help him off the operating table NOW." Freddie says, "You know that's not in the cards. First, you are Curie. You are Sachs. You cut him, he heals. He's an organ farm! He just sprouts them, clean, beautiful...do you know what rich men will pay for clean organs?" He looks over at the row of organ coolers and continues, "We fill them once we're rich. We fill them endlessly, and we're gods!" Dr. M. says, "I don't want to hurt you." Freddie says, "You can't afford to hurt me! I know your secret! I know his secret! You don't go into business with me, I go into business with the Chinese. The government doesn't even have to know, Theo!" Dr. M. fixes his gaze on the shirtless A.G. Freddie pathetically says, "You could at least have the courtesy to LOOK at me." Yeah, you could at least look at the person that's extorting you...where's your manners? Look at him! He's a rotten, balding, four-eyed guy half the size of Dr. Morris! Freddie says, "I'm your friend! I'm trying to cut you in! What are you going to do, kill me?" Well, why not? Dr. M. slowly advances towards Freddie and the camera zooms in on the shirtless A.G. Freddie says, "That's better," but then the drill starts up and Freddie says, "Aaugh! Theo! Theo! Aaugh!" Cue the music.
Baldy and Goon #2 carry the still knocked-out A.G. past the lap pool and lay him carefully into bed. Baldy asks, "Is he gonna be all right?" Dr. M. says he probably won't remember. Baldy holds up the organ coolers. "What do you want me to do with these?" Dr. M. says, "Contact the organ bank, and find the most needy people. It was my friend's dying wish." A guitar starts playing "The Sounds of Silence," and Dr. M. says, for no reason other than to provide closure for the Simon and Garfunkel reference, "Hello darkness, my old friend." Goo goo ka choo, Dr. Morris-son!