House opens his eyes. He's still in his hospital bed. He turns to see Shooter McGavin smiling at him like a creep.
After the commercial, Shooter and House take a lunch break at House's favorite taco stand. House has already figured out that this a hallucination, too, which means that he can eat all the tacos he wants and never get fat! It also means that Shooter is just a figment of House's imagination and therefore when he talks to Shooter, he's just talking to himself and not the guy who tried to kill him. "How can I tell what's real?" House says. Shooter says that as long as House doesn't act on any of his ideas, he can't hurt anyone. He can keep throwing out the ideas to his team, but if they're based on a hallucination and not reality, the Cottages will point that out to him and refuse to act on it. We hope. And doubt.
Back in the physical therapy room, House decides that they'll have to do more than biopsies, which aren't always accurate. House bases this on the analogy that if you go "down the shore" (what up, Jersey in the house!) and fill a cup of ocean water, you won't find any fish in it. Obviously, that doesn't mean that there aren't any fish in the ocean. They need a bigger sample. Chase agrees with what HallucinationCameron said before: they can't operate on Harpo to really see what he's got going on inside his body because of his bleeding problem. Foreman agrees with HallucinationForeman that they don't even know for sure whether Harpo has a bleeding problem. Chase has had two facefuls of bleeding-caused exploding body parts, though, so he knows better than anyone that Harpo has a bleeding problem and they can't operate on him. Unless, that is, they can find a way to do the surgery without having to cut him open.
Fortunately, PPTH possesses the very latest in robo-surgeon technology, even though the place can't figure out how to keep an attempted murderer and his victim in separate rooms. Harpo balks at the prospect of a robo-doctor. He wants a person. House points out that people haven't done much for Harpo so far, judging by his rapidly decreasing number of balls. House tells Harpo to at least watch the robot in action before he decides.
Our sample patient will be Cameron, who is laid out on the operating table as sexily as possible. House will be operating the robot controls. I don't care how big of a crush I have on a guy -- I draw the line when it comes to him operating a robot with a scapel while suffering from blackouts and hallucinations. What if he hallucinated that I was skinnier than I actually am and accidentally cut into me? Although I guess that's not possible for Cameron. House tells her to stop him if he does anything that doesn't make sense, assuming that she'll still have her limbs at that point, and begins. His years of videogaming have made him quite skilled at the process, and he trails a little robot finger down Cameron's cheek. He then moves down to her stomach and peels her shirt up just a bit, revealing her belly button. He puts a little vacuum-thing in there, as part of his agreement with Cameron that she'd only let him do this if he did some lint-removal service. Anyway, Cameron reacts to this by closing her eyes and looking pretty darn happy with how things are going. House decides to really press his luck and uses the tiny robo-scapel to cut Cameron's top button off of her shirt and the little pincher-arm to part it, revealing a little piece of her bra. "House..." Cameron moans. "Does that hurt?" he asks. She shakes her head that it does not. This kind of reminds me of my days in my school's U.S. First club, except that our robot only had to pick up a large ball and deposit it in a barrel. We couldn't get it to undress women and get them all hot, no matter how much I'm sure some of those geekier guys tried. Anyway, thus concludes the robo-sex and Harpo's demonstration, much to his chagrin. Now that he's missing an eyeball and a testicle and has a screwed-up tongue, robo-sex might be all he can get.