All language subtitles for The Middleman (2008) S01E11 The Clotharian Contamination Protocol

And then, when I hit the bridge
on Junks and Galleys,

I realized what the song needs
now is a solo.

So I'm gonna go home,
strap on the Telecaster,

and find out
a way to make it sing.

It's gonna be good.

- Tyler, I'm so sorry.
- About what?

- Um, you're not upset?
- About my show?

Oh, no, is this gonna be
like that Saved By The Bell

where no one would tell Jessie
how bad her music really was,

so she had
a caffeine pill freak out?

'Cause I was the only person
in the audience.

Why would I be upset
about that? I killed.

Seriously, Dubbie,
since you and I met,

- I have been writing
like a song-nado.
- A tornado made of songs?

You know it. Who cares how
many people came to the show?

The songs are great,
if I do say so myself,
the ideas are flowing.

You're the best audience
I could possibly want.

And now, if you don't mind,

I would like to decompress
from my artistic triumph

by enjoying a fine dining
experience with my lady.

Only if I can treat.

Well, seeing as how
I got all of... Oh!

- Forty-six cents in tips.
- That barista shafted you.

- Be my guest.
- If the universe
isn't gonna reward you

for being a great guy
and a talented musician
because it's too busy

making d-baggy slimeballs
rich and famous,

the least I can do
is pick up some of the slack.

As much as I appreciate
the show of solidarity,
Dubster, I'm over it.

Over it? Your old band is live
at Budokan on a song you wrote.

I'm sorry, Tyler,
but you deserve better.

Um, two hotdogs.

One grilled onions and mustard,
one chili-cheese with bacon.

I know you're Zen guy
about the whole thing,

and I admire that,
but if there ever were people

who should reap the whirlwind,
their names
are Casanova Charlie.

Is Casanova Charlie.

How come there's no one
in the band named Charlie?

That bass player steals his girl,

for which I'm infinitely
grateful, by the way,

but still, he rides
the wave to the pop charts
of success on his song.

- What's the problem?
- Those guys are
masher chum-suckers.

No, they're worse.

If they tried to suck chum,
they'd fail. All right?

Honestly, I think it's
the flyer I designed for a show.

Should have featured
in the foreground

so that people could bask
in the sheer power
that is his awesomeness

and if they failed
to come to the show,

they would miss the newest magic
by the guy who really wrote

- Dreams of Monica.
- Want a piece?

Yeah. He wrote it.

- Tyler, are you OK?
- I'm fine.

- Are you OK?
- You just saved my life.

- Oh, I don't think I...
- I do.

You selflessly stepped in
to mediate a tense situation.

When that proved untenable,
you took swift action

to prevent me from a lethal
dose of wood and pine tar.

I'm sure you have
gainful employment,

but if you should find yourself
wanting, please call me.

- Are you offering him a job?
- The empathy to step in

and the gumption to act
are rare qualities.

I'm always looking for
someone with rare qualities.

- I don't know if that's me.
- I do.

I do.

I'll be expecting your call.

You are such a rock star.

- Morning, Lacey. Hey, Noser.
- Hey, Tyler.

- Yo, Wendy's boyfriend.
- Tyler, give me back my shirt.

[Middleman] Two minutes.
This is an emergency.

Pan-galactic incursion
requiring immediate sanction!

I got it.
I'll meet you outside.

- Noser, give me back my shirt.
- Noser, long bomb.

Noser throws
where the coffee is.

Did your boss just
call you on your watch

- about a pan-galactic
gargle blaster?
- No.

Uh, Lacey, can I
borrow your Capri pants?

Go for it.
So how's our hero doing today?

Seriously, Lacey, all I did
was stop a street fight.

The way Wendy told it,
you were like Bruce Willis.

I hope you mean before he
recorded The Return of Bruno.

Saving the life
of a man of mystery.

Did you called the guy
for your reward yet?

- Reward?
- If you saved
his life using kung fu,

he owes you what the Chinese
sifus, the Japanese sensei

and the Jedi knights refer
to as a "life debt."

Every kung fu movie
ever made can't be wrong.

In terms the common man can
understand: you own his ass.

Mm. I don't want to own his ass.

He offered me a job,
I told him I was gonna
work on my music.

His card doesn't even
have a company on it.
It's just his name.

You saved the life
of Manservant Neville?

Manservant Neville?
Sounds like somebody's butler.

Not Man-servant, Man-ser-vant.
As in, Manservant Neville.

CEO of Fatboy Industries.

As in the man who brought
the world the uMaster.

- The uMaster!
- Oh, that Manservant Neville.

I remember when I got
my first uMaster.

- Did it not change your life?
- It seems to have
an invisible touch.

- I had a uMaestro for a while.
- The knockoffs
are just not the same.

But Manservant Neville,
Fatboy Industries,

he didn't just create a handheld
device that changed how people
relate to the world.

They are the greenest, most
progressive corporation ever.

They fund the one uMaster
per child initiative

and a massive solar farm
in the Gobi

- and a blue whale haven in the...

Son of a monkey's uncle,
Wendy Watson,

which part of "emergency"
didn't you get?

Wendy, why is your boss
standing outside our door
wearing a hazmat suit?

Forget it, Lace,
it's Chinatown.

I'm not gonna lie
to you, Dubbie.

The party's beginning
and we have a manure hoagie.

What's with the
salty language?

Familiar with NASA's Voyager?

The two probes that conducted
grand tours of the solar system

and passed into deep space,
never to be seen again?

Each carrying evidence
of humanity to anything

that might want
to pick them up.

- Did someone?
- Unknown.

But less than a half hour ago,
the HEYDAR picked up an object

streaking across
the solar system.

Voyager 2 is rocketing back
home, and it's coming in hotter

- than the devil's
wedding tackle.
- Whoa! That was filthy.

- It's that bad.
- Is that why we're going all
Andromeda Strain on it?

I'm not taking any chances.

When one of NASA's
birds unexpectedly
comes back to the nest,

it can mean
one of two things:

One, the probe is carrying an
alien virus, hence the suits.

Two, the probe is carrying
actual aliens, hence the suits.

Actually, three things.

Possible the probe developed
artificial intelligence

and is returning
to judge its makers,

in which the suits
are the least worry.

But bottom line, Dubbie,
that grand tour was supposed
to be a one-way ticket,

and I'm godfather to an
aardvark before I let a debacle

- like the Viking Mission happen.
- The Viking Mars mission?

- There was no one...
- I'll explain.

Voyager 2,
or what's left of it.

The outer casing and antennae
must have burned off in re-entry.

Luckily, it looks like
the black box is still intact.

Wow.
When I was three years old,

my dad sat me on his lap
in front of the television

to watch the pictures Voyager 2
sent back from Neptune.

It seemed like magic back then.

- Now, it just looks...
- Small?

Like a wrecked hibachi.

This is a secure area.
You have to clear out.

We're authorized.
I'm Commander Benton,
this is Specialist Herriot.

- NASA.
- We're NASA.

- Regional listening
post number 46A.
- What a shocker.

Only an apple-dumpling
gang of untrained,

scrub-podunk-know-nothings
would show up

at the potentially
toxic aftermath of
a pan-galactic incursion

with only bubblegum
in their mouths and
the air between their ears.

Where are your
environment suits?

I... We...
This is a routine retrieval.

Routine retrieval?
How many Terran Probe Return
Retrievals have you been on?

None. I mean we just
found out about this
a few minutes ago.

- What if that wreck
is carrying alien virus?
- Or an actual alien?

Or developed artificial
intelligence
to judge its makers?

Or if it has already judged its
makers and found them wanting?

Bottom line, Mr...

...Lethbridge-Stuart,
if that is your name,

are you gonna
stand in front of Congress

when we're sprouting
tentacles from our elbows

and tell them that it was
a routine retrieval?

OK. But if this goes south,

it's your ass in front
of the oversight committee.

Cover your kiester?
Send a letter to my boss.

You can address it
to Current Occupant,
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

OK, guys, let's go!

We should be NASA
on every mission.

It's thinking like that that
led to drug-resistant malaria.

Let's get this picnic basket.

Ooh! I like the bridge.

- Wait, the best part
is coming up.
- Just listen.

Wow, Tyler.
It's awesome!

The new solo
you added is amazing.

Tyler Ford, I'm gonna have to ask
you to co-produce my concept album.

Oh, I'm gonna
have to say yes.

Manservant Neville.

Good morning, Miss Thornfield.

Mr. Noser, and Tyler Ford.

- Why haven't you called me?
- A, I didn't think
you were serious.

B, I didn't think you were
really Manservant Neville.

And C, did you track
me to the hallway
of my girlfriend's loft

- and find out all of our names?
- When someone saves my life,

someone who doesn't know
who I am, I pay attention.

- I would have done
the same for anyone.
- But you didn't.

You did it for me.

I believe fate has brought
our paths together for a reason.

I really appreciate the offer,
but I'm not exactly
corporate material.

No, you're not,

which is why I've gone through
such great pains to find you.

They said no one would buy a
solar-powered hand-held device

made entirely
out of recycled materials,

and now one in 25 humans
owns a uMaster.

Intuition is why
I am where I am.

And I have intuition about you.

You know Fatboy Tower
downtown?

Tell the proctor
I sent you. 10:00.

- I don't think I can...
- Fate, Mr. Ford.

Fate.

That was crazy, right?
Because I'm thinking crazy.

Most crazy. But kind of cool.

- Cool, really?
- Put this on.

That's the tie Wendy and I hang
on the stairs when we're...

Like I don't know.
Look, I don't care what you say,

you're going to the interview,
and I'm driving you.

Lacey, I'm a musician.

And this is like Bono
offering you a job.

Bono, Buddha,
and the Wizard of Oz.

Like the man said,
it's fate.

Shouldn't we be doing this
in a lab or something?

Oh, did they teach you
about labs in art school?

Yes. They also taught me
about the ancient art
of color matching.

I do enjoy the banter,
but let's remember
the project at hand.

This box was designed
to serve as a zygon-rated
quarantine facility.

- We're perfectly safe.
- What if something
happens to the box?

Well, then I'd say
it's been nice knowing ya,
but it hasn't.

Would you like
to do the honors, Wendy?

Your chance
to handle a piece of history,

albeit through
triple-strength prophylactics.

No. And please
don't call them that.

All right.

That is not your
tax dollars at work.

- Is that writing?
- Good eye.

Hard to discern,
but it looks like,

- "Made in Clothar."
- Clothar?

The war-torn galaxy
that sent us Varsity FanClub,

five intergalactic dictators
masquerading as a boy band,

and threatened to destroy
Earth and everyone on it?

You remember that?
I thought you were on the
happy leaf that whole time.

Is it just me,
or is that Clotharian for...?

- Three, two...

Contamination alert.

Contamination alert.
Contamination alert.

Are you telling me there's
an alien virus loose in here?

And we're locked in, toots.

- What's going on?
- Don't talk, Dubbie.
It exposes the mucus membranes.

Contamination alert. I hope
your Code 47's up to date.

- Code 47?
- Talking.

Leave the watch. It goes
through the showers with you.

- Showers?
- Yeah. D-con protocol, honey.

That's what you get
for being made of meat.

Breathe deeply.
Aerosolized antibiotics.

Toke it, sweet pea.
You know how to do that, right?

- Ida, a little privacy, please?
- Oh, fine.

Thank God.

- What?
- You might find the next phase a bit awkward.

To lower the risk of infection following
exposure, there is a great deal of...

...scrubbing involved. Normally,
Interrodroid takes up the duty,

but since 5000 has been destroyed,
and the building is under quarantine...

We won't get any
replacements anytime soon.

Great. I guess I can cross

"give my boss a Silkwood
shower" off the life list.

Oh, good Lord!

There's no such thing
as modesty when life
and death are at stake.

Now, quit your grinning
and drop your linen.

- I am not grinning.
- Here comes the steam.

Look at all these people.
It's Gucci Gulch over here.

Do you really need Armani for
rolling calls and light filing?

It's Manservant Neville.
What do you expect?

Maybe you should
apply for this job.

Can't. I'm wanted
in three states.

We have been
expecting you, Mr. Ford.

- Does everyone around
here know my name?
- Yes.

You may wait to be called.
Thank you.

What am I doing here?

You're going on
an adventure, Tyler Ford.

What's the worst
that could happen?

You turn down the world's
greatest multi-media mogul

and you get a story
to tell your friends
for the rest of your life.

It's not exactly
rock and roll.

Yeah.

But aren't you dying
to find out what it is?

Mr. Tyler Ford.

Good luck, Tyler.

So, what kind
of job is this?

The kind you'll find out
about if deemed worthy.

You wouldn't mind taking
a few tests first, would you?

All rid of that
not-so-fresh feeling?

Status, Ida?
Have you made any progress
isolating the contaminant?

Cultures are cooking.
You may have to sit
in d-con for a few minutes.

See if there's any way
to contact the Clotharians.

If this is their mess,
they might have the Goo Gone
to get rid of it.

They put a killer alien virus
in our space probe.

They're just
gonna give us the antidote?

- Not with that attitude.
- I'm on it.

Dubbie, it's time
I told you about Code 47.

Yeah, what is that? And how
many codes do we have, anyway?

- At least 86.
- You don't know?

In the event that a Middleman
is called upon to make
the ultimate sacrifice,

a microwave burst from
the Middlewatch delivers
a pre-recorded message.

Whoa, Scooter. We're not
gonna die from a face-full
of some alien virus.

I certainly hope not.
But a Middleman should be
prepared for any eventuality.

I record a Code 47
for you during every mission.

I'm as serious
as a German film festival.

Dubbie,
if you're seeing this,

I have been assassinated by
the Clan of the Pointed Stick.

I trust you
were more fortunate.

Remember:

Dubbie, if you're seeing this,

I've been turned
into a fish zombie,

and you had
to shoot me in the head.

Dubbie, if you're seeing this,

I have perished
in the Underworld.

Hopefully, we've stopped
thousand years of fire.

If not, you might want
to look into getting
an asbestos umbrella.

Or a really good
insurance policy.

Dubbie,
if you're seeing this,

we were unable
to stop Varsity FanClub,

the Clotharian rebel fleet
opened up a warp hole,

and their armada
has reduced the planet Earth
to a smoking cinder.

I'm not sure how you managed
to survive, but good for you.

OK, that's enough
Last Thought Theater.

- Code 47 is...
- Planning for failure.
No, thank you.

Wanting to say goodbye
to friends and family
is hardly planning for failure.

If you knew you weren't
going to see Lacey again,

wouldn't you tell her
what she means to you?

If she doesn't already know,
I'm a pretty lousy friend.

There's nothing that
you haven't told her?
Or Mr. Noser?

- Or Tyler?
- Nope.

Open book. That's me.

I hope you know you
were a stellar Middleman
in training, Dubbie.

And I'm sure your superb immune
system will serve you well

as you one day train
a Middleboy or Middlegirl
of your own.

I am right here.
You're not dead.

That doesn't change what
I would say to you if I were.

How much longer do we have
to stay in this bath-house?

Decontamination of the corridors
should be done by now.

Ida, are we cleared
to exit isolation?

Ida? It's the Middleman.
Do you read?

Ida? It's me, the toker.

Hophead McStoney. Pick up!

She's right there.
Why isn't she answering?

We've been Jack Traven-ed.
That's not Ida.

That's a recording
of Ida playing on a loop.

- How could a virus do that?
- Maybe Ida's been compromised.

Perhaps this is all part of
some elaborate Clotharian ruse.

Whatever's going on,
we got to get to Ops.

- And that can only
mean one thing.
- Really?

We're going to have
to activate one of our
emergency incursion protocols.

I thought we only had one
emergency incursion protocol.

Try over 300.
And in this case,

- it's going to have to be
the Nakatomi Protocol.
- Nakatomi? Like the movie?

No. Like the real-life events
that inspired the movie.

"Come out to the coast,
we'll get together,
have a few laughs."

No dawdling, Dubbie.

Can I say something?

It's what the Founding
Fathers fought for.

What's up with the vents?
We're coming from
an isolation chamber

inside a secret headquarters
built by an organization
so covert

we don't even
know who they are.

Yet we have vents
large enough to crawl into,
with accessible registers.

Was this building designed
by TV writers or what?

No, it wasn't.
See, most of the time,

the Middle-vents are a series
of tubes, each one no
thicker than a capellini.

But the Nakatomi Protocol
enlarges the vent system to
allow us to move about freely.

Simultaneously, it confounds
any hostiles by shutting
down our internal surveillance,

- allowing the hunted
to become...
- The hunters. Cool.

Hold the wire.
This is dad-gum peculiar.

I don't get it.
Interrodroid was destroyed.

That was Interrodroid 5000. This
is obviously Interrodroid 6000.

How, "obviously"? And how was
a new Interrodroid delivered?

We were supposed
to be in lockdown.

Interrodroid 6000
is using HEYDAR to cause
a cascade overload

in all of Ida's vital systems.

He's turning her
into a walking detonator.

Oh, come on, how many times
are people gonna break
into headquarters

- and threaten to
blow up the place?
- A, about three times a year.

And B, a cascade overload will
put all of our systems into a
simultaneous detonation sequence

and crater the entire city.
We have about 60 minutes

before our town
becomes our cinder.

Great. Hans Gruber-ed
with our own robot.

- Hey. Can she see us?
- Yes, I can.

Kill them!

- Nice catch.
- Next time, you be the bait.

It would appear that Ida has been
contaminated and turned against us.

Great. It's like
Die Hard in a building.

Which explains why we
aren't showing any symptoms.

Whatever was in that capsule
was meant for Ida, not us.

She duped us into lockdown
to get us out of the way.

All that scrubbing,
for nothing.

At least we have one
of our guns back.

The other firearms
are locked up tighter
than Marie Antoinette's corsets.

- Nakatomi Protocol?
- Nakatomi Protocol.

It's an even split.
Ida has my Middlegun and...

Now, I have a machine gun.
Ho-ho-ho.

Firepower isn't going
to win the day, Dubbie.

But that severed
head just might.

Come on,
we need to keep moving.

- Mr. Ford.
- Yes... sir.

- You want to work
for Fatboy Industries.
- I was approached, actually.

You attended a small
liberal arts college of no
particular reputation or merit.

McCrimmon College
is considered an excellent...

And took five-and-a-half
years to finish.

I finished
in three-and-a-half years,

but I took two years off
in the middle to backpack
through Africa and South Asia.

And that made you so worldly you
haven't been able to hold a job
other than guitarist

- for more than three months?
- Some of those jobs sure felt
like they lasted more than that.

No?

As for your time as a guitarist,
that was capped by your composition

of the number one hit song,
Dreams of Monica.

A song you freely gave to your former
band mates when you left the group

- because you were dumped by the song's namesake.
- What's that got to do with...?

Is this the kind of
decision-making we can expect

when you're representing
our interests?

I gave up the song because
music is a living thing.

Dreams of Monica was written
about that girl,
for those people.

I could have taken it and
recorded it with another group,

but it would have been as dead
as a goldfish in a gerbil cage.

It sure wouldn't
have been a hit.

There was one place
that song could live.

And since I couldn't
live there, I let it go.

Do you truly believe that
your cavalier attitude
toward intellectual property

would serve this company
or Manservant Neville's?

- What did you just say?
- I said,

"Do you truly believe that
your cavalier attitude
toward intellectual property

would serve this company
or Manservant Neville's?"

Why can't you pronounce
your own boss's name?

And why is your watch
ticking so damn loud?

It's a Cartier Pasha case,
but the movement ticks
like a cheap knockoff.

Your suit is machine-sewn,
not handmade,

even though it's cut in an
ostentatious Italian style.

Your toupee is far more
obvious than a highly-paid
corporate executive

would allow himself to wear.
Your cufflinks are plastic.

Your tie is a clip-on.

And your reading glasses
don't have magnification
lenses in them.

And you can't pronounce
Manservant Neville.

Which means that this is either
a very poorly run company,

in which case I have no
business working for you,

or... this is still a test,

in which case you people
are sick,

demented... geniuses.

That will be all, Mr. Ford.

It's been too long. Ida's gonna
to figure out something
happened with Interrodroid.

We have ten levels to hide in,
she won't be expecting
instant results.

Is this even gonna work?

Supreme Commander
of the Clotharian Rebel Fleet

did contact us through
the Interrodroid before.

We should be able to use the
technology to call him back.

I know. But that was,
like, two Interrodroids ago.

Remember how when we got
New Ida she had all
of Old Ida's memories?

- Yeah.
- Same with Interrodroids.

Dubbie, this really
is a one-man job.

Perhaps now would be a good time
for you to reconsider
your stance on Code 47,

in case the Clotharians
aren't willing to help.

- Nope.
- I have to say,

I'm a bit surprised
by your reluctance.

Considering the mysterious
disappearance of your father,

I'd think you'd
want your mother...

Look, I'm not gonna
record the message, OK?

How did you
obtain this frequency?

- High Aldwin...
- I am not High Aldwin.

You sound like Graham Chapman
and dress like a vestal virgin.

- If you're not High Aldwin...
- Silence!

I have been promoted
since we last spoke.

I must now only be addressed
as Maximum Aldwin.

Oh! Well,
that's just great.

I know you.
The hairless ape who
read the scrolls of Xanthor.

Maximum Aldwin, your people
returned one of our probes.

Within that probe was a
capsule which contained a virus.

In accordance with provisions of
the Treaty of Periperpegilliam,

you are required
to inform us--

I told them that signing
the treaty of Periperpegilliam

was a mistake. Now everyone
suddenly wants to know

why you're killing them
and how they're going to die.

Wait a minute. We saved your ass from
Varsity Fanclub,and this is how you say thanks?

- A killer virus?
- Three of your Earth weeks ago,

Voyager 2 was sucked
through a warp hole

and promptly began taking
pictures of a top-secret
Clotharian military base.

As if flooding the cosmos
with your televised
reality shows,

sitcoms and competitive
cooking programs
wasn't bad enough,

you primates escalated
to galactic voyeurism.

And that will not stand.

The capsule we sent back
to you contained a payload

of aerosolized nanobots.

- Nano-whats?
- Nanobots.

Microscopic machines, designed
to infiltrate our technology

and rip it apart
from the inside out.

And they're what's making
Ida go boom all gone?

That's dumb.
Won't the nanobutts be blown up
with the rest of the city?

To the contrary.
The nanobots will use the force
of the explosion

to spread into the atmosphere
and from there, the world.

Within a week, the height
of human technology

will be a few pointy rocks,

which should teach you gibbons
not to treat our galaxy like
your own private peep show.

And now, if I may invoke
the text of one of
your sacred documents,

"Yippi-kay-yay,"

If we can push Ida's reset button,
Ida will shut down,

which will stop the cascade,
and reactivate her root
anti-virus systems,

- which will get rid
of the nanobots.
- Where's the reset button?

- In her brain.
- Her brain?
How are you gonna push that?

- You gonna get your
Boston Strangler on again?
- Ida's in livewire mode.

Any attack that compromises
her structural integrity will
cause a premature detonation.

What we need is the HEYDAR.

You stay up nights
coming up with these
plans, don't you?

We can use the HEYDAR's
on-board shrink ray to shrink
me down to sub-atomic size.

- HEYDAR has a shrink ray?
- Of course.

We'd employ its
particle accelerator...

- HEYDAR has a particle
accelerator?
- Of course.

And we can use it to
shoot me right into her.

Then I'll make my way to her
brain via the cortex entry hatch
and trigger the reset,

which will engage
her antivirus subroutine.

- Like the space android Norton utilities?
- Exactly.

After the nanobots have
been destroyed, I'll signal
you with the Middlewatch.

Then you can use HEYDAR
to restore me to normal size.

That's a great plan, except
Ida's wired into HEYDAR,

and she's
on a hair trigger.

- Wait. What about...
- Baby HEYDAR.

About time.

You took care of 'em?

I am so over being the bait.

Sorry,
but I'm too tall

to fit inside Interrodroid's
hollowed-out exoskeleton.

Now I know what
a TV dinner feels like.

Commence the distraction,
Dubbie.

Watch it, you oaf!

What's your damage?

You best unscrew yourself,
or I am gonna reprogram you
with a can opener.

Don't think
I can't do it!

Everybody, shut the heck up!

So, one of you
is Interrodroid 7000.

That means the other one
is the burnout in a suit.

Now, you're wondering, "How's Ida
gonna know which one's the fake?"

You forgot one thing:
I don't care.

- Get me out of here!
- Out the door! Go!

- Say goodnight, peanut.
- Sorry, Ida. I can't let you do that.

Dubbie.
Dubbie, can you hear me?

Dubbie? Dubbie,
are you all right?

I think so. Where am I?

You're inside Ida.

OK. I'm in the sinus passage,
heading towards the brain.

Also, checking "picking an
android's nose from the inside"
off the life list.

- Where are you?
- On the move.

Ida was stunned by the particle
transfer long enough
for me to give her the slip.

OK. Just keep that
Baby HEYDAR safe.
It's my ticket out of here.

Listen to me, Dubbie,
and listen to me good.

I never intended for you to be
the one shrunken inside of Ida.

Now, there's something
you need to know.

Now there's something
I need to know?

After you've hit the reset
button in Ida's brain

and stopped her
from blowing up the city,

it is crucial,
I repeat, crucial

that you get out
of her body through
whatever orifice you can

before you signal for me
to bring you back to size.

If Baby HEYDAR returns you
to full size while surrounded

by Ida's titanium
substructure...

- I'll be shredded.
- Like a White House phone log.

This place is a mess.

Wait. I hear something.

Oh, no. It's the nanobots!

They're taking apart Ida. It's like
Oompa-Loompas with power tools.

Be careful. Not only are nanobots
super-strong and nigh-indestructible,

they act as a swarm. The last thing you
want is to be at the bottom of that pileup.

- They'll take you apart, literally.
- Avoid the nanobots. Got it.

- I'll call you when I reach the brain.
- Good luck.

Nice speech about the song.
Very moving.

So did I call it
about your board?

We've all been trying
to find a way to tell Sullivan
about his crap toupee,

but we were afraid
it would be... awkward.

Please. A bunch of stuffed
shirts could never
have made the uMaster.

So I passed the test?

Have a good day,
Manservant Neville.

You're not turning me down,
are you?

Which part of "I'm a musician"
did you miss?

The part where people
are lined up to hear you play.

I've done my homework,
researched your life,

listened to your music.

Make no mistake:
you are good.

Really good.

- But what if it's not enough?
- I am good enough.

But the world isn't.
It seldom recognizes genius,

and when it does,
it squashes it with the
abject tedium of compromise.

Dreams of Monica excepted,
you write songs
about changing the world.

You want to be on a stage.
I'm offering you that stage.

I don't even know
what this job is.

I need a right hand man,

and I don't need
another stooge from the
Ivy League assembly line.

I need someone
who has music in their soul.

It's time for you
to stop singing
about changing the world,

it's time for you
to start doing it.

I'm at the hatch to the brain,
but the nanobots
are standing guard.

- Now way I can get around them.
- How many?

Does it matter?
More than there are of me.

- You have to find a way inside.
- There's only the one hatch,

and these guys are about
to survive the equivalent
of a nuclear strike.

- No way I can take them.
- Then don't.

The nanobots are strong,
but you're smarter.

It's just like what Sensei Ping
says about weasels.

They can easily hide
in a tube sock?

That their love of battle
is surpassed by their love of
shiny things.

Ida.

I know you're
in there somewhere.
You can fight this.

You can't win.
Hurt me, and I blow up now,

take out the building
and spread the nanobots
across the city.

Do nothing, I blow up later,
take out the city and spread
the nanobots across the world.

Maybe. But remember,

you can't injure me, or,
through inaction,
allow me to come to harm.

Kiss my Asimov!

Welcome to the party, Ida.

Yoo-hoo! Over here!

How do you like them weasels?

- Tea?
- Uh, no. Thanks.

So, shrunken to lepton size.
White void.

Little people with power tools.
Better than Mary Jane, huh?

- You are Ida.
- I'm Ida's brain.

The nanobots have
taken over her body.

And if you don't stop them
in the next five minutes,

humanity's gonna be rubbing
two sticks together
to power their coconut phones.

I know. I came to hit
your reset button.

Activate my anti-virus system,
destroy the nanobots,
save the world?

Oh, honey,
that was a good plan.

Thanks. Wait.
"Was" a good plan?

The nanobots beat you to it.

They trashed my reset
button first thing.

- What am I supposed to do?
- You want to stop
the nanobot Apocalypse Now,

you've got to
send me back to O2STK.

They can fix me,
destroy the nanobots.
Or they'll send you a new Ida.

- All the same to me.
- O2STK?

"Organization
too secret to know?"

No one knows how to contact
them. Even you said you didn't
know who we work for.

Doesn't mean I don't know
how to return a faulty
piece of equipment.

I may not know
who runs the joint,

but keeping the Middleman
in weapons and gadgets and
things is my primary function.

How am I gonna send you back
when Ops is in lockdown?

- Huh.
- Wait.

We must have some
kind of channel to O2STK
in the building.

That's where all
the new Interrodroids come from.

Keno. Just get the Middleman
to subdue my body
and take me back to Ops.

I'll show you how
to send me back to my maker.

Hey, boss, it's Wendy.
I got a new plan.

Any chance you can subdue Ida
and get her back to Ops?

- You sucker-punched me!
- Goes to show how
well you know me.

It doesn't matter what you do.

This cranky old broad goes
kablooey in three minutes.

Today, John Wayne doesn't
get to ride off into
the sunset with Grace Kelly!

That's Gary Cooper, Ida.

Dubbie, I've brought Ida
to Ops. Now what?

Bankers lamps.
Third lamp, top row:

Turn off.

And the second lamp
on the bottom row:

- Turn off, then on, then off again.
- Got that?

Off. On. Off. Got it.

Pipefitters local!
I've never seen that before!

It's a pneumatic tube.
Goes all the way to O2STK.

I always wondered how we got our
weapons and gadgets and things.

No Middleman's ever seen
this far behind the curtain.

But you two hoobanauts crapped the comforter
so bad, I thought, "What the hey."

Uh, boss, Ida's brain says anything put
in the tube will go straight to O2STK.

I'm two steps ahead of you.

Dubbie, that explosion is gonna
trigger in two-and-a-half minutes.

You need to get out of there.

The nanobots.

- They're coming in.
- Is there another way out?

- No.
- Can I just go back with you to O2STK?

Not if you want
to come back.

You need to get
out of there now!

I can't.

Dubbie, if you can't get
out of there, I'm not
sending Ida to O2STK.

You have to.
You know you do.

This is save the world time.
You taught me that.

- No, Dubbie.
- Hey, boss?

If you're hearing this,
the nanobots are outside
the hatch,

and I didn't have enough time
to get out of Ida
before the cascade overload

spreads technology-eating
robots from space

all over the world.

I just want you to know,

I'm kind of OK.

You taught me that there are
things in life worth dying for.

And I am so glad
I got attacked

by that tentacled ass-monster
back at the lab

and that you framed me so
I'd have to be your sidekick.

Because... I am so proud
to be a Middleman.

I'm proud to know you.

And I want you to know

that since my dad disappeared,

you're the closest thing
I've had to a father.

I'm honored, Dubbie.

I hope I taught
you one more thing.

What?

Never give up.

I don't envy you explaining
this one to my mom.

"I'm sorry for your loss,
Mrs. Watson,

but your daughter was shrunk
to the size of a dust mite

and trapped inside
an android's brain
by a bunch of

indestructible little robots."

Indestructible. That's it.

Open the hatch.
Let the nanobots in.

What are you doing?

When I give the signal,
unshrink me.

- You'll be overrun.
- Bring it on.

In five, four.

three, two...

Dubbie?

Dubbie!

Structural integrity
compromised.

- Flood the tubes!
- Detonation in five seconds.

Four, three, two...

Contamination neutralized.

Now ending lockdown.

Nanobots as body armor.
Nice work.

What are we gonna
do with them?

I guess we'll have to build them
a really big circuit
to take apart.

- A nanobot habitat?
- I think they'll
be happy enough.

Aren't they just gonna try and
dismantle our technology and
send us back to the Stone Age?

They're programmed to destroy
technology from the inside out,
not the outside in.

- So, they can try, but...
- Plus, they're fun to watch.

Like an ant farm.

You know all those things
I said before when I thought
I was going to die?

Well, I meant
every word of it.

OK, Tyler. I am making my final
approach to the hotdog stand.

Arriving in T-minus five,

four, three, two...

- Whoa.
- What's the matter, Dubster?

Never had someone
buy you a hotdog before?

You must have had
an exciting day.

You know.
Same old, same old. You?

Just another boring
day at the office.

The good news is I now
have an office to go to.

You're looking at
the official attach�,
assistant,

and aide de camp
to Manservant Neville.

Maybe a few other things,
too, we only got to the A's.

- Wow!
- Good wow, or bad wow?

- Are you happy?
- I kinda think I am.

If you're happy, I'm great.

You know I think
you're awesome, right?

Like, amazingly awesome.

I don't know. How awesome
is amazingly awesome?

If you were a magazine,
they would call you Tyler Beat.

Really?
That amazingly awesome?

Really.

Off, then on, then off again.

- Nice try.
- Ida!

Hundreds of years
with the same old Ida.

Think you can wait until the
warranty runs out this time?

You feeling better?
Not... homicidal?

Don't push me.

- Good night, Ida.
- Hmm.