This is news to Wedeck, Vreede, Demetri and Mark. NSA Agent Levy goes on to explain that a few months ago, the NSA intercepted a call on an FBI agent's mobile phone, and the origins of said call had been professionally secured. Noh's righteous snit fit about the NSA eavesdropping on FBI calls is sidetracked by Mark musing that this could be the call from the woman about Demetri's pending murder, and if that's the case, the NSA will have a recording of the call. Demetri asks how to get a recording of the call and Levy looks very uncomfortable. She says, "I'm sorry. It's classified signals intelligence."
Demetri says, "I'm running out of time, so if you have any information on who that was or how I'm going to be killed --" "I'm not authorized --" Levy starts, but Demetri interrupts with an impassioned "Come on!" Although this fails to sway Levy, the collective glaring power of Mark, Wedeck and Demetri does the job. We are apparently wasting our time (and moral high ground) with renditions and Gitmo if all it takes for people to fold is the tripartite ogle. Or does this ocular intimidation work only on wimpy Americans?
Back to Japan's answer to Initech, Nakahara. Keiko is in her cube and is super-bored. She's got a little robot arm -- I'd like to think it's the one that she built as a teenager) -- and she's watching it move jellybeans from one bowl to another. She recalls her flashforward: sprinting down a street as fireworks spark in the sky. And then Keiko turns back to her computer. Instead of working, she loads a favorite YouTube clip of a guitar player -- think of this as a cross between Jimi Hendrix and Jesse Camp [it's Bob Dylan doing "Shelter From the Storm" in concert in 1976; you can find this version on his Hard Rain live album -- Ed.] -- and begins mimicking the fingerwork in her cubicle. Then work indignity #1 is visited upon her: Keiko is caught out by a coworker. And then comes work indignity #2: she's summoned to a meeting with the eponymous founder of the firm ... only because the men sitting around the table want her to serve them tea. Her coworker helpfully points out, "You're the only female in the department. They're not going to hire another woman just to serve tea." (Apparently this serve-the-men tea thing is still common in the workplace over there.) Keiko pours the tea and each little cup is like a hot little liquid humiliation.