"Jake Foley was an ordinary guy, until a freak accident made him into the first computer-enhanced man." It's hard to pick out what specifically in that sentence rankles me. Perhaps because I keep thinking of people that have medical implants (like an artificial heart) who are monitored over the internet, before Jake had his nanite-infusing accident. Or maybe it's that the term "computer-enhanced" is so maddeningly vague. It's like when an infomercial calls a pasta pot or a blemish cover-up "advanced" when it's just an innovation. This nanotechnology stuff is really cool, but the repetitious vague teasers forced on us loyal viewers are really not. Be more specific! Thanks.

We open at the NSA. Jake, sweaty and winded, punches the hell out of some unlucky man's chiseled torso. Jake brandishes a finger in the man's faceless face and says he's got a chance to do this the easy way. "Where's the bomb? Oh, you think you're tough?" Ahoo, slug slug punch. Punch punch punch, slug, ahoo. Then Jake punches a hole in the human-shaped punching bag's nonexistent face. Oh, it was a dummy. What a relief. The Man walks in and says dryly, "Remind me not to piss you off." And it's time for some new business.

A sexual harassment seminar. Hooray, I love Sexual Harassment Panda. A lady who looks like Anna Wintour (it's her bobbed hair) explains that "the workplace is not your home," and the PowerPoint presentation on the screen shows...little faux-alphabet building blocks with male and female signs, instead of ABCs? That's some Onion-esque PowerPoint for you. The PowerPoint people I know have great senses of humor; this person must be no different. Jake takes a handful of pamphlets and looks at them. The Man is all, pass them down, Jake. Jake says he collects seminar pamphlets. The Man rolls his eyes heartily, along with everyone else watching. A man sneaks in late and puts a chair next to Dr. Thora. Would she feel harassed if he sat there? She might. "Please don't sue." I hate people that crack stupid, obvious jokes at boring, non-work-related, work-imposed seminars. Ergo, I hate this guy. Dr. Thora whispers to him, "I gotta touch ya." Ew, she's flirting with him! She's flirting back! Well, she has needs. Jake's hearing does that mee mee mee mee mee! Thing, and he eavesdrops all the way down the hall and into the War Room, where the assembled staff is listening to the satellite listen in first on a domestic argument ("No, the big gray one controls the TiVo!"), then something in Spanish -- or is that Polish? It's a mobile phone call out of Vienna. A creepy guy with a scar on his face is intrigued at the offer of American dollars, then agrees to come to D.C. on Monday. Then he says to a man cowering behind a desk that he's "very sorry. About the rug." Creepiovitch then kills the cowering man. Yikes!