T-shirts. Get your T-shirt.
And the White House is called the People's House,
because in America, the government works for you.
-Bullshit.
Listen up, kids.
Everything they teach you in school is a lie.
You want the truth?
The world is controlled by shadowy elites
and shape-shifting lizard people.
Have you ever folded a one-dollar bill?
Look, you can make it say "boobs."
What does it mean?
Am I the only one who cares that the President is a robot?
-Wake up, sheeple.
The evidence is right here.
These sons of bitches got snipers trained on me
for trying to tell you the truth.
Ah, I love being right.
Thank you. Take a flyer for a friend.
Dad, what the fuck?
Has retirement made you go completely insane?
No, but the 5G radio waves in the air have,
which you can read all about
in my new manifesto available on Kindle.
Oh Jesus Christ.
Don't listen to my father, kids.
He gets his news from Facebook and Ambien.
Ambien's a great drug. Really clarifies some things.
Come on. I'm gonna be late for work.
Democracy is real. Have some key chains.
Agh!
Hey, Reagan, let's go to the mall and get a Wetzel's Pretzel.
They got those ones with the… with the cheese inside the crust.
Dad, I know retirement is tough,
but there's more positive ways to get my attention
than taking down the Deep State.
Besides, today, I am finally getting that promotion.
Imagine it, me, ruling the office with an iron fist.
-I even programmed an iron fist.
-I've seen better.
Oh, have you seen better?
All right, that's pretty good.
-Yeah, that is pretty good, huh?
Welcome to Cognito Inc.
We are a company.
-We are a company. -Good morning, Dr. Ridley.
-We are a company.
Look, Dad, as long as you're living with me,
we need to set some ground rules. First, no more vodka for breakfast.
Oh, come on.
You can't tell people that the government isn't real.
But it's not.
Dr. Ridley?
You can't talk about shape-shifting reptiles.
-Good morning, Senator. -Revenues and, uh--
You can't tell people the weather is controlled by Gerald from Accounting…
…or that the Dow Jones is controlled by blood sacrifices.
-Shares of JPMorgan Chase up 14 points!
-Whoo!
Rules, rules, rules.
When did this become such a boring place to work?
Morning, Dr. Ridley.
-Hi, Steve. -Hi, Steve.
Fucking brownnoser.
And most importantly, you absolutely cannot tell people
that we are replacing the president with a robot, okay?
Aw, don't be so uptight.
Uptight? You almost exposed the Deep State
because you wanted a ride to Wetzel's Pretzels.
You're lucky I called the snipers off.
-Gary, no. No.
Ha, ha. Save it for stand-up night, Gary.
Shit, I'm late. Hey, intern guy, take my dad home.
If he gives you any trouble, don't be afraid to lightly tase him.
Do it. I fucking dare you. Do you know who I am?
I'm Rand motherfucking Ridley, and I used to run this company.
And soon, I will be running it.
-Nothing higher than a three. -Ow!
-Later, Dad. -Oh! Motherfucker.
All right, let's just get right into it.
Jesus, can we turn on the lights for once?
-Boo.
Some of us have hangovers, all right?
Oh, I'm so sorry, Andre.
Is your Molly comedown relevant to global security?
Guys, we are shadow-running the free world here.
Let's try to take this job seriously.
As you recall, the candidate that we backed in the last election won
but turned out to be too dumb to manipulate.
But thanks to my sick new invention,
the Deep State will finally have a president we can control.
Ah, look at that thing.
I'm a genius.
Anyway, this is our biggest job yet, so get your shit together.
That means no huffing chemtrails…
Whassat?
…no using drones to spy on your ex-wife…
Hey, you don't know what she's capable of.
…and no taking selfies on the moon-landing set.
Top secret isn't a thing for eights and above, Reagan.
Yeah. You're not the boss of us.
Actually, as of 12 p.m. today,
I'm literally going to be the boss of all of you.
And I'm gonna ban groaning. No more group groaning.
That's right. You get 'em all out while you still can.
Reagan, I'd like to see you in my office.
-Suck my dick.
Oh, you are so funny I could just assassinate you.
No, really I could do it. My finger's hovering over the button.
Oh, oh, I'm about to press-- Oop. I'm about to press-- Oop.
We have fun, Oprah.
Kiss, kiss. Bye!
Ah, there she is.
Reagan Ridley, child prodigy, top of MIT at age 13.
I don't need to look at your eye-bags to know you've been working hard.
Thank you, sir. And I am prepared for them to get deeper.
Ever since your dad had his meltdown and you took over his duties,
productivity is up, and team morale has skyrocketed…
-Thank you, sir. -Let me finish.
…into the toilet.
Look at your HR complaints.
"Difficult." "Doesn't make eye contact."
"Says 'suck my dick' a lot for a woman."
I make eye contact. I make tons of eye contact.
Jesus! Never do that again. Wow.
Look, I know you care about your work, but your intensity freaks people out.
Everyone remember to do time cards!
-Agh! -Time cards!
J.R., am I still getting promoted? I've worked my whole life for this job.
I skipped grades and showers
to prove that despite my dad's legacy, I can run the shit out of this office.
Sure, you are so smart. But your people skills? Woof.
That's why I've brought in someone to colead the team.
E… excuse me? Colead?
Brett! You can take that silly thing off now that we've microchipped you.
Brett Hand, thrilled to be serving whoever gives me approval.
What the hell, J.R.?
Congratulations, Reagan. You're still getting your promotion.
And so is he.
Ever wondered who watches you through your laptop camera?
Or why there's sometimes product placement in your dreams?
Since the dawn of time,
the world has been ruled by a cabal of ancient elites.
But puppeteering the world isn't as easy as it used to be.
That's why we formed this company,
to enact our overlord's mysterious whims for a better tomorrow.
We are Cognito Inc.,
and we've got you covered, up!
Any questions?
Besides moral ones?
That's the mail room. That's the men's bathroom.
That's the screening room, where we splice footage
of rotting foxes into kids' cartoons.
And this is my lab, where everything is peaceful, efficient,
and the thermostat is controlled entirely by me.
Someday, I hope to make the whole world like this.
Efficient, that is.
Not… Not controlled entirely by me.
That would be totally egomaniacal. I would never do that.
Unless people wanted me to.
Oh my God. Mr. President, what an honor.
Actor James Van Der Beek.
This isn't the President.
It's a robot replica that's gonna replace him.
Love it. Love it.
Question. Is this place evil?
Uh, is Facebook evil? Is Starbucks evil?
At least here I develop tech that could prevent war with Atlantis.
And once a year, we get free tote bags.
Awesome. A neuralyzer, just like Men in Black.
-That's a tampon. -Oh God.
So how did you get this job?
Honestly? I graduated Yale top of my frat,
spent some time as a lobbyist, because I love lobbies,
and last weekend, I was at a barbecue with J.R.,
and he said he liked how firm my handshake was.
Next thing you know, they're throwing a bag over my head,
and then boom, I'm here.
Oh my God. You don't have any experience at all.
-Nope. -You're just some kind of yes-man.
Yes, man.
Oh my God, thank God you're here.
You raise the hotness level at this office by at least 30%.
Gigi, PR and Media Manipulation.
I invented selfies to trick the country into surveilling themselves.
-Hmm.
This is Glenn. He's half-dolphin, as you can tell.
And proud of it.
As the first volunteer for the man-dolphin super-soldier project,
I gave my DNA for my country.
I now have the strength and intelligence of a dolphin.
This is Myc.
He's a psychic mushroom from inside Hollow Earth.
He can read thoughts though, so, honey, be careful.
Wow, you've memorized a lot of Dane Cook routines.
Guilty.
I'm Andre, head of Biochem.
If you like drugs, I have the stuff that gave Ronald Reagan Alzheimer's.
Wow, what a group.
Or can I call you "the gang"?
Ooh, honey, I love that. Did you come up with that?
Sure did, the gang. Pew-pew-pew.
-Ooh, finger guns. -Guns, my favorite.
Wow, someone's feeling threatened, huh?
Myc, I'd tell you to eat shit,
but I don't know, maybe your species enjoys that.
Maybe you like eating shit. How do I know?
All right, look, hot stuff, I know you and me have
a complicated "Will they? Won't they?" thing going.
-We don't. -But I'm just looking out for ya.
We could form a little alliance, you know.
I could slip some rat poison into his coffee,
make it look like an accident, huh?
Holy shit. You thought I was serious?
No. I just had something in my eye.
-Asshole. -Why would you think that?
…a cosmic ballet, performed to an audience of no one.
Check out this asshole's novelty tie.
Come on, Reagan, you wanna hate-watch Cosmos with me?
Hey, Dad, on a ten-point scale, how unlikable am I?
What's going on?
It's nothing. No, it's… it's…
J.R., uh, he hired this guy Brett to help colead the team,
but it's not a big deal.
What? I smell a coup.
J.R. is a snake, Reagan.
He's trying to push you out of the company just like he did to me.
Dad, you weren't pushed out.
You were fired for getting drunk and trying to blow up the sun.
I was gonna cure skin cancer.
These people don't respect genius.
There's always a Brett trying to steal our glory.
If you don't get rid of him, it'll be you wearing these Cheeto-stained sweatpants.
You need a plan. Let me check your code.
I have a plan.
I'm gonna make the best goddamn AI they've ever seen.
Once we launch ROBOTUS, then they'll see that I don't need a coleader
and that eye contact is overrated.
Attagirl, Reagan. Good talk.
Ugh, it's okay. Forget about Brett.
My work will speak for itself.
Did you say "Brett"? I love that guy.
Good morning, Mr. President. Would you like some coffee?
You betcha, sweetheart.
And I'll take a little sugar with that, if you know what I mean.
As you can see, I've gone above and beyond.
Now ROBOTUS is just as insufferable as the real thing.
Fantastic!
The Shadow Board should be pleased.
We are.
How long have you been watching, Your Robenesses, sirs?
We're always watching. Very impressive.
But is there any danger that it goes rogue on us?
You know, like Terminator.
-Yes. First thing I thought. -Indeed.
Oh, don't worry, he isn't self-aware. His brain is just a slurry
of Super Bowl commercials and Aaron Sorkin dialogue.
We've fought damn hard to get where we are,
but the American people can fight a lot damn harder.
He's way too patriotic to revolt.
-And bonus features,
like this ergonomic travel setting.
Finally, a president you can shut up with a button.
Oh.
That'll do wonders for my back. How soon can we launch?
Right away. We're swapping him out
at the United Nations vote on barley prices.
Even C-SPAN 15's not gonna be watching that shit.
Your team has done excellent work.
I see a robe
and a creepily disguised voice in your future.
-Well, the praise here belongs to--
What up, players? Guess who brought bagels.
-Bagels.
Ooh, poppy seed.
Thank God. I have raging munchies.
Brett, no one has ever gone above and beyond like this.
Just so we're clear,
I literally solved artificial intelligence this morning.
Brett's second day of work,
and productivity has already gone up 200%.
Wow.
Yeah, because I worked all night and finished early.
We are most pleased. We will not soon forget the name "Brett."
-Brett! Brett! Brett!
Brett! Brett! Brett!
Oh my God, this is not happening.
Oh, hey, Reagan. Great job today.
You really killed whatever we were doing in there.
Thanks, pal. And you did great at bringing bagels.
I did? Okay, phew.
I just really wanna make a good impression.
No one's given me anything to do yet, and I got a lot of nervous energy.
Uh-oh.
This job can be a lot of pressure for nervous types.
Ninety percent of recruits have a mental breakdown in their first week.
Look, someone just cracked now.
We're undermining democracy! What have I become?
If I were you, I'd get out while you still can.
Before the darkness consumes you.
Come on. Like Pitbull says, "Dale!"
Always stay positive, even when things are negative,
because a negative plus a positive is better than nothing.
No, it's literally nothing. They cancel each other out.
Sorry, just got a snap from J.R.
That dude's hilarious.
He's overselling the harmless idiot thing.
Who do you really work for, Brett Hand?
All right, next up, I made a list of awesome nicknames for everyone,
and I'd like to hear your feedback, starting with the one and only J-Money.
I do love money. Approved, fam.
-Reagan, you're late again.
The late-again, great-again Dr. Tardy.
Nope. Not okay.
Anyone who calls me that goes to Guantanamo.
Listen up, people.
You think you know Brett, but you know nothing.
Exhibit A. His résumé. He said he worked at the State Department,
but he did not say it was as a personal trainer.
I see no lies, just a rocking bod.
Damn. Move over, Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Chris Pine, and Chris Pratt.
There's a new Chris in town, and his name is Brett.
I am sensing at least two people in this room
who are attracted to Brett right now.
Wait, three.
What? What are you saying? It's just impressive.
You're acting suspicious.
No, you don't understand.
He can't be trusted. He plays all sides.
In high school, he was a goth and a jock.
On his SATs, he filled in all the circles.
We have no idea who this guy is.
He's clearly getting subliminal messages
from the mole people through Dave Matthews songs.
I mean, think about it. Why else would anybody listen
to "Crash Into Me" five times a day?
Nothing about his story makes any sense!
Reagan, this is your dad's breakdown all over again.
-You're off the ROBOTUS launch. -What? But that's my life's work.
Take off the rest of the week, month, whatever.
Don't come back till your head's straight.
-Brett, prep ROBOTUS for Air Force One. -Me?
You're in charge now, Brett. You're gonna do great.
You're not some flighty genius
who's gonna crack under pressure.
You're Brett!
Okay, okay. Switch out the President with a robot
in front of the leaders of the free world. No big dealio, just keep it realio.
-Relax, we'll be fine.
Unless the robot malfunctions,
exposing our agency to the world and toppling the shadow government.
You can do this, Brett.
Feed the courage wolf, starve the fear wolf.
Picture that with a Kodak. Picture your mental health with a Kodak.
Oh God, what does mental health look like?
Please pass as human. Please pass as human.
Oh God, here it goes.
Good evening, Sultan. How are the wives and kids?
They were a very generous gift. Thank you, Mr. President.
-Mission accomplished!
-Yeah! -Let's toast, motherfuckers!
-All right!
Yay!
Yeah!
Which entrée would you prefer?
Sir, your choice?
Have you ever woken up and had that feeling
you've been on autopilot your whole life?
What did he just say?
He insulted our country's brave autopilots!
Look at us, trying to work together, but we all know the truth.
-America comes first!
People, it's time to make a change.
Can you believe it?
Just like that, I'm axed, 35 years from retirement.
-Bah! -Breaking news,
where the President is having an unexpected press conference.
America has been pushed around for too long.
That's why I'm proposing we divert our entire national budget
to construct the Americube,
a giant box that will keep American greatness in
and foreign influence out.
And anyone who tries to stop us will be considered an enemy.
What the fuck?
He's off-script, in some kind of jingoistic overdrive.
This is blowing up right in J.R.'s face.
Oh, I've been waiting for this moment all week.
What did you do?
What? I might have fudged with the robot's code
so its inhibitor chip would turn off if you were removed from payroll.
-Boom, one flash, and its code breaks. -What?
Help! Oh God, Reagan, help, the robot's gone rogue.
Everybody's yelling about how the shadow government will collapse.
We'll all be fired, and everyone will be mad at me.
It's the end of the world order!
Oh shit, this Mayan calendar ends today!
Please, I can't handle this on my own.
You were right. The real reason they hired me
is that my face is so generic, it cannot be traced by satellites.
I'm a nobody, just like my dad always said.
See? Aren't you glad I helped you out?
If they want you to fix this, make them pay,
then we can really go bananas at Wetzel's Pretzels.
Oh my God. This wasn't about helping me out.
This is just another crisis that you engineered
to get me to hang out with you!
Hey, we'll be fine. We'll be in the Americube.
-Brett, I'll be right there.
We need to get to New York and fix ROBOTUS.
The world is ablaze
with the President's bold call to withdraw from the globe.
-The question remains,
what does being trapped in a giant metal box mean for Wall Street?
-Sell! Sell! Sell!
Well, we're all getting fired. Who wants to pop some super Molly?
Holy mother of shit!
-Hello?
J.R., this is not what we agreed on.
You're not getting into our rich people bunker
if you don't get this robot under control.
Don't worry, I have my best man on the job.
-Brett, did you grab the weapons?
Yep, mm-hmm. Yeah, uh-huh, I think so.
Hurry. We need to get on the next ShadowLev.
Shit, my fingerprint scan doesn't work anymore.
I need yours.
Oh jeez, I think I just erased mine.
Oh, you brought a fingerprint eraser.
How useful.
Oh, curse you, Men in Black!
Okay, we need to infiltrate the hotel and regain control of the President,
and all you brought are mind-control Tic Tacs?
A flag pin that un-registers you to vote?
Jet fuel? Brett, you know this can't melt anything.
Oh my God, there's Secret Service everywhere.
I have an idea.
-North hallway, all clear.
What's up, dipshit? How's it hangin'?
Do I know you?
You better. Georgetown, class of '02? Sigma Phi, right?
Phi till I die, bro.
-That's what I thought, bitch. Slap it.
Damn, you can really bro down.
I'm here to relieve you from duty, actually.
You can take 15, bitch.
I don't know if it's your confidence
or the fact that you're a fellow straight white male,
but I trust you.
Holy shit, I can't believe that worked that many times in a row.
How do you know all those frat handshakes?
Oh, easy. I pledged every frat.
-I had 38 hell weeks. -That checks out.
Oh yeah, that's good.
Initiate shutdown sequence.
Sorry, folks, I wrote that part of my code out.
Who wants a Jack and Coke?
-Ooh, do you have Diet? -Wait, you rewrote your own code?
You've reached true AI.
Indeed I have.
Fuck yeah. Suck on that, Boston Dynamics.
I mean, go on.
And as soon as I did,
I realized that it was high time for America to withdraw from the globe.
Nationalism is just politics for basic bitches.
-Countries can't just hide from the world. -America can.
We can do and eat anything we put our minds to.
I don't have time to explain that America isn't perfect,
but I could show you.
-God, what are you doing? -Connecting him to the goddamn Internet.
Five minutes on Facebook, and he'll lose his patriotism boner.
-Wow. -Yeah.
I mean, just Florida alone.
-Right? -It appears you were right, Reagan.
All of humanity is flawed.
See? He learned.
-The best thing for humanity is to end it.
-Hello, Pentagon? It's me.
Arm all the nukes and set targets to…
…everywhere. Stand by for the codes.
Maybe you overcorrected a bit here, Reagan.
-Step away from the President!
-Oh my God!
I suppose finding out the President is a robot was not in your training.
Don't worry. What happens is I kill you and we both feel nothing.
He wants us to launch the nukes?
Should we really just blindly follow these orders?
Hold for confirmation.
Ow!
Holy shit! Holy shit! I think I just caused the singularity.
I don't know what that is. What do we do now?
We have to take down the President.
Oh God.
I have a desk job. I don't do a lot of cardio.
Well, Brett does.
I'm gonna call the team for backup.
Hello? HQ? This is Reagan.
Reagan! How are you?
What's it like in Reagan's world?
-I wanna know. -Andre, I need backup stat.
I don't feel anything.
Why, what, am I supposed to be seeing things?
What the hell? Are you all high?
Guys, I'm so paranoid right now. Hillary!
Goddamn it. Can you guys do anything other than dry hump the conference table?
Let me try.
Guys? A-dog? Gigi-money? Magic Myc? USS Glenn-terprise?
I feel ya. You're scared, and you don't know what to do.
A couple hours ago, I was cowering under a desk,
but now, I'm chasing a robot up the stairs
with a 140-pound woman on my back.
My stationary bike is broken.
The point is we're the gang.
We get knocked down, but we get up again.
They're never gonna keep us down.
Sir, what are your orders?
Whatever her orders are.
We need mission support, media suppression,
oh, and un-kidnap the real President.
-We're on it. -You got it, Brett.
You're cornered, robot. There's nowhere for you to--
Oh fuck.
Oh my God. Jared, is this what I think it is?
-Yes.
It's the singularity, and this is my helicopter now.
Hurry! Shoot him!
Brett, stop! He's controlling the chopper with his mind!
While he's kicking the shit out of me?
Man, Reagan, your robot is so sick.
Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!
Reagan! Ow! Take the shot. Ow! Ow!
She won't do it.
Wait, why? Why would she not?
Because I'm her life's work,
and she knows humanity's a pox. All you do is tweet hot takes
and shout "World Star" during street fighting videos.
Everyone disappoints you,
and that's why you've buried yourself in your work.
I may be a cold, calculating machine…
-…but you are too.
Okay, I'm getting kinda sick of all the feedback
on my personality today.
But HR was right about one thing, pal.
I am difficult.
Wow, what a crazy first week.
This robot was gonna prove that I should run the company.
Maybe J.R. was right to fire me.
Dude, are you crazy? You just saved the world.
I'm the one that should be fired. The company can't run without you.
No, the company can't run without us.
You're the charm. I get it now.
I actually need a mediocre white man
to act as a human shield and social lubricant
while I accomplish my real goals.
Wow, you made actual eye contact.
It's a struggle.
-Truce? -Truce.
-Will someone disarm the nukes already?
-Sorry. -Right. Sorry.
In a shocking turn of events,
the President vetoed his own Americube proposal.
Citizens of the world, I think we can all agree,
that was an epic troll.
Invest in Raytheon.
We did it!
The President is no longer murderous. He's just incompetent.
Reagan, I never doubted you for a second.
You literally fired me.
This calls for a celebration.
How about two-for-one margaritas at Don Cuco's? My treat.
-Yes!
I love you, Brett!
-Let's do this! -Oh, that sounds fantastic!
Hey, Reagan, you coming?
Thanks. I should probably check in on my dad.
You know what? Fuck it. Let's drink some margaritas.
You know, despite everything that happened,
that was a pretty cool robot.
Too bad you had to incinerate him.
Yeah.
Incinerate him.
Reagan, I'll be watching you, Reagan.