Community S3E16 Script

Virtual Systems Analysis (2012)

We are screwed. How are we gonna memorize this?

Let's just go over it again. Kingdom, phylum, class.

Order, family, genus, species.

I use a mnemonic device.

"Kevin, please come over for gay sex."

Why wouldn't you use "Karen"? Because it's gay sex, dummy.

So use "great." Now I can't remember anything.

Thanks. For all the time you spend here you'd think we wouldn't have to cram so much.

We never get work done because we have so much fun.

Definitely, maybe that's why.

Ahh. The duali-dean of man. Heh, heh.

I'm dressed this way because I have good news and bad news.

You have got to be kidding me.

The bad news is Professor Kane has the flu.

The good news is biology class is canceled.

After you. What a gentleman!

Guys, we don't have to cram last-minute anymore.

Last-minute got moved to tomorrow.

Three-hour lunch? Three-hour lunch?

Three hours? I could watch the first half of three movies.

I don't have to go to the fast food restaurant.

I can go to the fancy one across town.

We can make-believe Inspector Spacetime in the Dreamatorium.

Word. Yeah.

Maybe we should go to Señor Kevin's.

Didn't you wanna try that new cage-free bean burrito?

The tortillas are made with micro-financed flour.

Troy, you could drive.

You always like that spiral parking ramp.

You keep turning left, you end up up.

I can't go. The manager and I are enemies.

He said Die Hard was bad.

I know, buddy. Well, how about this?

This lunch is already a runaway train, no point in stopping it.

Troy, Britta, you go to Señor Kevin's.

Abed promised he'd show me how the Dreamatorium works.

But I want to... Abed, don't you think today's the perfect day? No.

Abed. Is this a social cue?

I left my "Putting on the Ritz" cane in here earlier.

I know it probably has another name, but...

Can I be perfectly honest with you guys?

I think I went too far with this one.

I have to go to the bank today.

What am I supposed to tell people in line?

I had good news and bad news?

Come on, Craig. Get your life together.

♪ Give me some more Time in a dream ♪

♪ Give me the hope To run out of steam ♪

♪ Somebody said It can be here ♪

♪ We could be roped up Tied up dead in a year ♪

♪ I can't count the reasons I should stay ♪

♪ One by one they all Just fade away ♪

I am Inspector Spacetime.

And I know that which is unknown.

Duty bound to protect a universe of innocent unremarkables, I patrol it in the X7 Dimensionizer with my loyal constable, Reggie.

This week, however, Reggie has been forced to go to lunch.

So I'm aboard the much crappier HMS Spacetime 12, from the worst season ever, with temporary constable, Geneva.

Geneva, I need the quantum spanner, the big one.

Oi, quantum spammer, up and at them, isn't it?

If we can't get out of orbital lock, the Blorgons may intercept. Tut, tut, milord.

Wouldn't give a tuppence for that sticky wicket.

Okay, stop simulation.

More British? I can't do this anymore.

But the Blogons might intercept...

It's "Blorgons" with an R. "Blogon" means "thank you."

Can't we play something I know about, like hospital administration?

You're mad at me for playing matchmaker with Troy and Britta.

You think you're gonna lose Troy.

I'm not petty. I'm mad at you because you tampered with the fabric of the group.

How do you know their pairing up wouldn't destroy everything?

I examine this stuff from every angle.

Oh, and you can do that, but I can't?

You don't have a patent on being a control freak.

I kind of do. You think this is a room where Troy and I play dinosaurs versus riverboat gamblers?

It's how I got construction approved, but the Dreamatorium has higher functions.

Would you like me to show you how Troy and Britta will play out?

Why not? Execute simulation:

Troy-slash-Britta. Render environment: Señor Kevin's.

Ooh! Those appetizers were dope and legit.

I don't usually support lunch because it's unfair to breakfast.

I never thought about meals fighting each other.

I guess that explains why you never see any two of them on the same table.

So Annie's pretty hot to get us together.

She probably just doesn't understand people.

Well, the sooner the food comes, the sooner this will be over.

I'm afraid your food won't be ready for another half hour.

I'm too busy misunderstanding the whole point of Die Hard.

I can't wait to get home to Abed.

So you can dart back and forth doing impressions of your friends.

There's no science at work here.

You're right. The science is at work in here.

This is the Dreamatorium's engine.

My thoughts are collected by this box.

Everything I know about my friends is here.

Both are distilled by logic then recombined into objective observation.

I'm able to simulate any of the study group in over 7000 unique situations.

Abed, it's cardboard tubes and a funnel.

It's calibrated to a specific level of brain function.

Right. I'm stupid.

Not stupid, just less able to see what I see.

Gee, you've got it all figured out.

King of toilet paper rolls over here.

Hey, Troy, I'm glad you called. Your lunch is going well, right?

Yeah, just checking in on Abed. Making sure he's okay.

What? He's fine.

He just implied I operate on a lower level of brain function, so business as usual.

Great, just, you know, make sure he stays comfortable.

I worry about him when I'm not around.

Well, he's fine, he always will be.

People bend over backwards to cater to him.

He's just extra sensitive in the Dreamatorium.

It takes a lot out of him to run that thing.

I don't want you to break his brain.

Bye, Troy.

How is he? He'll be okay.

It's so sweet how much you care about him.

And another thing I hate about Die Hard:

Two FBI agents named Johnson?

I've been thinking about our Inspector Spacetime scenario.

It might work better if instead of playing Geneva, you played Rosamund. She was a constable in season five and she only had three lines.

I have a better idea.

You know what would make your scenarios realistic?

If Troy weren't on a date.

Why don't you take your thoughts, and add one step to the process. What are you doing?

From now on, before you do or say anything, you're gonna think about how it affects the people around you.

We lower functioning brains call this empathy.



Oh, my God, I broke Abed.

Abed? You know how you wanted me to tell you when you were being scary weird instead of cute weird?

This is scary weird.

Hello, Annie.

What was I doing on the floor? Were we doing it?

Are you being Jeff?

I'm not being a Kardashian. So where are we now?

We're in the doctor's lounge of Greendale Hospital School.

Hospital School?

It's a sexy, emotional school where doctors save lives, and make love, often simultaneously.

Our stories, ripped from the headlines.

Our passions, unbridled.

Our cafeteria. Eh.

Make love to me, Ann. I know I'm a surgeon and you're a hotshot, upstart administrator, but damn the rules, damn the system, damn our two-foot height disparity.

I want you. Okay, Abed, I get it.

We have different sensibilities. Later.

Bye. I'm leaving.

Okay, Dr. Jeff, can you please tell me where I can find Abed?

I owe him an apology. Abed? Never heard of him.


I asked you a question, doctor. I'm a surgeon.

And I'm your administrator.

I left my wife for you when she was pregnant.

Who do you think inseminated her?

Tell me what I want to know or, God is my witness, I'll have your stethoscope. Fine.

Dr. Perry might know.

Render environment: Bio Lab.

Look, there's Britta and Troy fooling around with each other.

Look, there's Abed having overcome his issues.

Nice try.

Dr. Barnes, Dr. Perry.

We just saved an uninsured homeless man's life.

Using an unapproved procedure. Now we're going to kiss.

This is what you think I want? What do you want, administrator?

I want to talk to Abed.

There's no one here by that name.

You're lying. Maybe I am, so what?

I was raised on the mean streets of Harlem.

I'm not scared of you.

Well, be scared of this.

Sodium pentothal, known commonly as truth serum.

I saw Abed's name in the hospital school files, I love butt stuff, I hate spiders, I stole a pen from the bank, I cried during About a Boy. The soundtrack.

I don't wash my hands before surgery.

I see why women find Clive Owen attractive to the point where I might as well be attracted to him.

I use comparisons to Hitler to win arguments on the Internet at the drop of a hat. I know nothing about wine.

I'm more turned on by women in pajamas' than lingerie.

I just wanna know they feel comfortable.

I didn't get Inception.

I didn't get Inception.

You saw his name in the files. There's so many layers.

Right. Render environment: medical study room.

There's head nurse, Shirley, talking to heart-wrenching Alzheimer's patient, and Emmy contender Pierce Hawthorne.

Mr. Hawthorne, you're out of your bed again.

Because I think I'm on a train. Ohh! Oh.

Shirley, get me the file on Abed.

Abed doesn't exist, young lady. He exists if I say so.

This is my hospital school. Your hospital school is a simulation being run through a filter of other people's needs.

Abed's been filtered out because nobody needs him.

I need him. Well, you're not simulated.

No, but this is. Oh!

And there's more where that didn't come from.

This is a private compartment. Jeff, get the files.

Why me? You can see the cabinets.

And I'll make love to you. Jackpot.

There is an Abed in this hospital school, but he's not a doctor.

He's a patient. Notify security.

Conductor. Jeff, take me to Abed.

Where is that? Enough games.

Just take me where I wanna go. Follow me.

Are we close? Almost there.

You should probably run in place and let the hallway move around you.

Here we are. Where?

Where you wanted to go. The last night of school, first year.

The night we kissed.

Abed wasn't there, so whose memory is this?

Maybe it's yours. Maybe the Dreamatorium really works.

Or maybe Leonard was watching from the bushes and told Abed about it.

I don't have cable.

Knock it off, Abed. I'm not Abed.

You're confused, so was I.

But not anymore.

Jeff, Abed, stop. I don't wanna do this.

I wanna talk to Abed.

I'm taking the file.

Oh, it says Abed is in the recovery parlor.

Condition: never better.

You're not holding anything.

This is the file.

Abed Nadir, psychiatric patient 1373, control freak with no empathy.

People bend over backwards to cater to him.

Signed, healthcare administrator Annie Edison.

That's out of context. Shh, shh, shh.

You've thought of everything, Annie.

With Abed gone and Troy and Britta together, there's nothing standing in the way of us.

Wait, what? Come on. This is your dream.

This is why you played matchmaker.

This is what's important to you.

You are not Jeff.

Because Jeff cares about Abed.

And I did not push Troy and Britta together so this would happen.

I thought they were cute together and this would've been a bonus.

And we are not here.

And I'm not staying here because I hate whoever you are.

You should probably storm off in...

Aah! In place.

Where do you wanna go next?

I wanna be alone. Sounds good to me.

Execute simulation: Annie-slash-Annie.

There. Now we're alone.

Great, so you're me now.

Why are you blowing our magic moment with Jeff?

It's not magic. It's not even real.

But we love Jeff. No, we don't.

We're just in love with the idea of being loved.

And if we can teach a guy like Jeff to do it, we'll never be unloved.

So we keep running the same scenario over and over, hoping for a different result. Running scenarios?

Careful, now. You're starting to sound like Abed.

So I probably shouldn't say things like:

"Star Wars. Zardoz, Cougar Town, cool, cool, cool."

Stop it. Pop culture.

I'm on a TV show. You're gonna get in trouble.

Meta, meta. It's Abed.

I got an Abed here. Get him.

That's it. I find you guilty of being Abed. You're under arrest.

Can I just interject and say I don't know what's going on?

This time you'll never get out.



I found you by turning into you.

How cool is that? Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

Tell me where we are so I can pretend to see it.

We're inside a locker.

It's where I spent a lot of time in junior high.

You think this is where we'd put you?

You know that's absurd, right? I'm not stupid.

You can see I've increased the square footage.

It's a metaphorical locker.

Where people like me get put when everyone's fed up with us.

Abed, so maudlin.

If you start turning into a vampire...

I've run simulations. I don't get married, or invent a website that helps people have sex.

I don't make it into Sundance, Slamdance or DancePants.

Troy invents DancePants in 2019.

Don't tell, he needs to stumble onto it.

All right, listen. The scenarios you run in here are like great science fiction.

They're impressive and detailed and insightful, but they're not accurate for crap.

Science fiction never has been.

Look at 2001. Did we have a space odyssey?

No, we got snowboarding in the Olympics, and we over-validated Carson Daily.

That poor guy. Yeah, cry me a river.

My point is, your simulations are nothing more than anxieties.

You're afraid you don't fit in. You're afraid you'll be alone.

Great news, you share that with all of us, so you'll never be alone, and you'll always fit in.

And, yes, that's why I meddled with Troy and Britta.

You caught me.

I was trying to make life go according to some script.

I can't. You can't.

We both need to get more comfortable winging it.

At least it'll be less work.

It would cut down my Dreamatorium time by 18 hours a week. I could take up yoga.

You have the body type.

Now, let's get you out of here. I don't know how.

These shackles don't have a key.

Isn't that what a quantum spanner's for?

Technically, no.

But that's fine.

So should we get back to lunch? I guess so.

More anticlimactic than I would've simulated it, but whatever. Anticlimactic?

Render environment: Observo-deck, HMS Spacetime 12.

Inspector, set the tachyon drive to hyper-jump.

We must get to the other side of this field before the Blorgons intercept.

Blorgons, in this sector?

Well, this mission has gone pear-shaped, indeed.

Prepare to hyper-jump on my mark.

Bugger the dove-coats, Inspector.

We're too late. Blorgons.

Eradicate. Eradicate.

Quantum blasters are useless against their armor.

We're as cooked as Lord Nelson's mutton.

Not if I can help it.

I'll see you on the other side, Inspector, wherever that is.

Don't you mean "Whenever that is"?

Take that, Blorgon scum.

You'll blogon me for this later.

Ow! Annie.

Oh, my God. Abed, I'm so sorry.

No, no, you're committing. This is good stuff.


I am Abed Nadir and I don't know a lot of things everyone else knows.

I wander the universe with my friend Troy, doing whatever I want.

Sometimes accidentally hurting innocent unremarkables.

This week, however, Troy went to lunch and I adapted.

I now have the ability to enter the minds of others.

I'm hungry, are you hungry? Yeah.

I'll make us buttered noodles.

Using an elusive new technique known as empathy.

So was the other fast food place worth the drive?

Halfway there, I thought, what am I doing?

It's the same fast food in a different location.

Have the margins of my life become so narrow?

I went to the mall and had pizza. I beat the Matrix today.

Sounds like this has been a game-changing day for all of us.

I almost sat on my balls, but at the last second, I made an adjustment.

Good job. Good work.

Good job, man. Well, we had a good lunch too.


I spoke to the manager about Die Hard.

I told him he should be ashamed of himself.


Sorry I bailed on the Dreamatorium.

It's okay. Annie did pretty good in a pinch.

All right, back to cramming?

The people at the bank loved my outfit.

And they had all kinds of questions about it, and my answers seemed to amuse and even liberate them a little.

A few of us went to lunch and I had the deepest conversation of my life.

I gotta go, I'm telling everybody.

Hm. Maybe after a long, dark night, the sun is starting to rise on Greendale.

Maybe. Maybe not.

You never can tell what kind of day you're gonna have.

Okay, I didn't really avoid sitting on them.

I sat right on them.

I'm sorry. Pierce, I'm sorry.

Hurt like hell. I saw eagles.

♪ Troy and Abed in the morning ♪ Today, we're joined by Annie. Hi.

Who's gonna show us how to spruce up your apartment.

What inspired this throw? I thought I'd cover up the stain where Abed spilled Code Red on the couch last week.

Crafty. And you have some tips on entertaining.

Yes, if you're expecting company, but you don't have enough chairs, you can bring pillows from your bedroom and use them on the floor for a Moroccan feel.

Oh, a taste of the Orient.

Actually, boys, I have a little surprise for you.

While you two were out playing blazer tag...

That's laser tag with sport coats.

I did a little extreme bedroom makeover.

I unbunked your beds and got scrap fabric and...

It's okay. We can put it back.

We can put it back the way it was.

I'm so sorry. It's okay.

Cut, Garrett. Sorry.