Are you insane?
You're not sticking that into me.

He is a medical trainee, Mr. Sullivan.
I don't care if he is a fucking brain surgeon!
You're not gonna drug me.

We're undrugging you.
The shot will block out the DigiCorp narcotics.
The chemicals they are putting
in your blood's stream at every convention.

Do you normally drink something inside the convention room?
Mineral water.
The drug is tasteless and odorless.
You wouldn't have known.

Did you take the pills I gave you?
Have the noises in your head started to go away?
- And reoccurring dreams?
- What is this?

Why didn't DigiCorp check my
transmission in Omaha?

There was no transmission in Omaha.
Or in Buffalo, or anywhere else.

- Why are they sending me at these conventions?
- The conventions are charades.

You and the other convention guests
all work for DigiCorp. You're all spies.

You're given phoney assignments,
phoney identities.

You think your pen is a transmitting device.
Another guest thinks it's his
tie clip or a watch.

The all thing is just a ploy
to keep you all distracted.

To not realize what's going on.
What is really going on?
If you want answers, take the shot.
When you're inside the room,
act as you always act.

Order the mineral water, drink it.
Don't make them suspicious.
The shot we gave you should protect you.

- Should protect? What if it doesn't?
- Listen to me carefully.

Whatever happens in that room,
show no reactions,

no emotions, no surprise.
No matter what you see,
do not move.

What will I see?