Carter then decides to whine a bit more, which really is an awful decision. It's like he's determined to suck. He's bored of waiting for the instructor. "I say we go," he announces. "I say we wait," pipes up Gallant. "We were told to report here at zero-eight-hundred hours, and I'll stay here until someone in charge tells me to do otherwise. I suggest you do the same." Gallant is The Geek. Susan shakes her head and cradles it in her hands, while Abby gargles a sip of coffee. Carter doesn't take kindly to being outclassed, so he snipes, "This ain't the Marines, Gallant. At ease." Gallant corrects that he's in the Army. Luka agrees with Gallant, figuring that if they ditch detention, they'll just get ordered back there next Saturday. Carter scowls, and Susan rubs her face. Abby lights up a smoke. "Abby, please, we're in a public building," Gallant frets. "Nobody's here," she counters. "I'm here," he snits. Abby stares wearily at him, then puts it out. I think it's funny that she's smoking in front of Luka, who always seemed vaguely disapproving of her tendency to suck on nicotine. Susan announces that she thinks their punishment is simply staying in the room. "Maybe they're watching us to see how we all respond," she muses out loud. "Watching to see how we react to stress...how alliances grow, how social structures break down under pressure." Luka merrily makes a paper airplane. Abby and Susan extol the virtues of Survivor, because they're jealous that C.S.I. gets a half-decent lead-in show, whereas ER gets no help at all from Just Boot Me -- er, "Shoot Me." Carter snorts louder than a pig in heat. Abby glares at him, and then turns back to Susan, waxing rhapsodic about all the back-biting and lying on Survivor. "It's human nature at its most venal," she adds. Carter, at his most venal, snaps -- just because he can -- that reality television is a sign of the downfall of the universe. Why, hello, Pompous. So nice of you to stop by and shine my shoes. Abby wonders if he's ever watched it, and when he shakes his head, Susan tells him to shut up, with a giant, steaming helping of Shove It Where the Sun Don't Shine sauce.

Abby and Susan start gabbing about Fear Factor, which sends Carter sinking down in his seat, ashamed of himself for lusting after both of them -- and, it should be said, pretty much striking out. Carter unleashes a torrent of hot air that sounds like "Television is a vast wasteland," which actually might be this site's reason for being, but it still sounds annoying coming from someone with no demonstrable alternate hobbies. "Sorry, I meant to watch La Bohème on PBS last night, but I had to go to the symphony," Abby snits in an affected tone that's not far off from Eleanor Carter's Diction of Snobbery. Susan cracks up. Carter hops on his soapbox and lectures that the lines are blurring and we'll end up with televised executions and a Torture Channel next, although some might argue that MTV already fills that role. "What is your problem today?" Susan demands testily. "You know what my problem is," retorts Carter icily. Susan's floored that Carter can hold a grudge so long. Abby is dying for details. "You know what, John? Grow up," fumes Susan, crossing her arms and pouting mightily. Abby's about to burst, and Carter looks upset that his dirty laundry's getting dragged around, despite the fact that he handed Susan the basket.