MOM: That was even more fascinating than last week.
Could we go someplace else next time, Mom?
Anyplace? Please?
There's so much more to see.
We practically ran through the exhibit
of giraffe-necked babies.
Those babies are so fake.
Oh, they're real.
That's not the sort of thing they'd lie about.
That's exactly the sort of thing they'd lie about.
Back me up on this, Dogbert.
Oh, they're real.
How did you get so distrustful?
Well, I'm just guessing, but maybe it was because
you lied to me about the Tooth Fairy,
then you lied to me about the Easter Bunny,
then you lied to me about Santa Claus,
then you lied to me about the stork bringing babies.
He knows about the stork?
My fault. I let him watch the nature channel.
He put two and two together.
Now I don't believe
anything I'm told unless there's proof.
This paperweight is an exact replica
of the largest fibroid tumor
ever removed from a human uterus.
That's ridiculous.
How do they know it's the biggest one?
There's an annual festival in Monterey.
Get the Turbo Supreme.
The commercial says it whitens your teeth while you drive.
That's ridiculous,
but I'm going to get the Turbo Supreme
just to prove you wrong.
You have to believe in some things
without proof, Dilbert.
Otherwise, life will appear meaningless.
Maybe life is meaningless.
Did you ever think of that?
That one is getting whiter already.
Dogbert, could you go inside
and take care of our bill?
Do you ever feel bloated after eating a big meal?
Yes, I do.
How'd you know that?
I'm a surgeon.
Your problem is caused by a huge fibroid tumor
in your uterus.
I can remove it if you have a health plan.
I don't have a health plan.
Can I pay you with gas?
[SIGHS]
All right.
I'll need a plastic fork, a jar of salsa,
and one thing I left in the car.
I'll always remember the day
that little surgeon saved my life.
I'm telling you, it's dangerous
to smoke cigarettes while you pump gas.
My daddy always pumped gas this way
and he's still alive...
or at least it looks that way
when the wind catches his rocking chair just right.
You can open your eyes now.
That didn't even hurt.
I'll have to send this to the lab.
[EXPLOSION]
Bad news. You're out of Turbo Supreme.
[EXPLOSION]
[music]
[CHANTING]
[ELECTRICITY CRACKLING]
Oh, my God!
Dilbert, can you hear me?
Can you do something for him, little surgeon?
No, I used the last of the plastic forks
when I operated on you.
Whatever happens is on your conscience now.
Wake up! Dilbert, wake up!
Can you hear me?
I must be dead.
This is the tunnel I keep reading about.
Behind this door are the answers to the ultimate questions.
The afterlife.
Frankly, I was hoping for more.
[SCREAMING]
He's dead.
Dilbert is dead!
Are you sure?
Yes.
Hey!
[SIGHS]
I don't know what kind of manners
they have in the afterlife, funny boy,
but on earth, you watch your hands.
Am I alive?
Actually, you're down a quart.
You're a miracle worker, little surgeon.
You got that right.
Dear, now that you're alive again,
I need to ask you one very important question.
Yes, Mom?
Are my teeth any whiter?
DILBERT: And then I traveled back down the tunnel
and woke up at the gas station.
Are you telling me the afterlife is a stinking cubicle?
I'm just telling you what I saw.
How fast was the internet connection?!
I don't know if it had an internet connection.
Well, this raises many troubling questions
about the afterlife.
First, how do you get your software upgraded?
Uh, I guess it was just the one question.
So, technically, you were dead.
I think so.
No more employee benefits for you, my dead friend.
But I came back to life.
Rules are rules. Try to look at the big picture.
music Happy birthday, Wally music
music Blah, blah, blah music
Everybody, eat cake and see if your morale goes up.
Yeah, I'd love to stay,
but secretaries have to watch the phones.
Oh, sure, I can buy the cake and I can buy the gift,
but the world would end
if I let one phone call go to voice mail.
Sometimes I call her my BOSS.
That usually gets a laugh.
Did anyone bring the birthday kit?
Got it.
Do we get any cake?
Howard, whose birthday is it?
Yours!
Does anyone care that I was dead yesterday?
Can you let someone else
be in the spotlight for one second?
We can't stop a birthday celebration
every time you die.
Uh, unwrap my present. I'm a little busy.
I am honored.
Oh, it is a round thing
you throw through the air for no apparent reason.
I'll take the picture...
So there's no photographic evidence
that I ever associated with any of you.
Wally!
Napkin.
Where have I seen this before?
Before we get back to work,
I want to remind everyone
that all employees must be present at the launch site
when our new deep space exploration rocket goes up...
in about five minutes.
Five minutes?
We can't get there in five minutes.
No exceptions.
Except you, Dilbert.
I want you to visit our director of human resources--
Mr. Catbert.
MAN: Let me out!
Please! I'll never rob another convenience store again!
I'm scared straight!
Ow! Ow! Oh, God!
That's hot!
How would you feel about making this an unmanned probe?
That's what it's supposed to be.
There's still time to put a monkey in there.
I hate monkeys.
No. All we want on board
is the capsule full of earth artifacts
in case the rocket is discovered by an alien civilization.
A capsule, you say.
The capsule is on board, isn't it?
Would you excuse me for a moment?
I need someone to volunteer for a suicide mission.
Now you'll need to run toward the launch site
and fling this birthday kit
through the open window of the rocket module,
then turn and be consumed by the launch flames
while trying to get back.
Oh, nature was calling me.
Did I miss anything important?
WOMAN: 20... 19... 18...
[PANTING]
If I can succeed in this assignment,
I will be remembered and rewarded
for the rest of my career.
[YELLING]
Yes!
Stupid bird.
[CHUCKLES]
Anyone know what kind that is?
And remember,
any friend who won't join your down-line sales force
is no friend of yours.
Gullible sheep.
I could tell them anything right now.
If you believe you can get rich with multi-level marketing,
slap yourself in the face real hard.
[LOUD SLAPPING]
Every time.
I still can't believe it.
CATBERT: So you admit you were dead.
Yes, but very briefly.
That's no reason to cancel my employee benefits.
Well, at the risk of sounding sadistic and uncaring,
our policy is to discontinue benefits at death.
That only applies to people who stay dead.
I was only dead for a minute.
If I granted this exception,
everyone would claim they were coming back to life later.
Oh, do whatever you want.
It doesn't make a difference.
We all just die and end up in a cubicle, anyway.
Pray tell, what did you have in mind?
Angels playing harps on a cloud?
Well, no.
Well, tell me, Dilbert, I'm curious.
What is your vision of the afterlife?
Well, actually, uh...
Well...
[BUZZER SOUNDS]
Oh, I'm sorry.
Your time is up.
Literally.
We have some nice parting gifts for you, Dilbert.
Tell him what we have for him.
Nothing!
Do you think this was all part of the presentation?
He was supposed to give us the new vision statement.
Maybe it's inside.
We're supposed to interpret it.
It looks like some sort of holy man.
Look at the halo.
It says... "To Wally" on it.
This must be a picture of the Wally.
And that must be his holy plastic grail.
It's the shroud of Wally.
As you know,
yesterday's rocket launch was a complete success.
Uh, could you use the laser pointer?
I'm not following you.
We're pretty sure the problem was
a defect somewhere in this area.
I'll bet NASA is sorry they hired us
to build that thing.
Have they asked for their $5 billion back yet?
More good news on that front--
we also have the contract to provide them
with the digital images the rocket sends back.
How is that good NEWS?
Well, as luck would have it, all stars look alike--
tiny dots of light.
One looks just like the... next.
Does NASA know the rocket went down?
No, and thanks to Dilbert,
they never will.
Me?
Your job is
to create digital pictures
of uncharted star systems
and deliver them to NASA every... Tuesday.
How am I going to do that?
Try sending it as an attachment in e-mail.
It's very efficient.
Don't make them all look the same.
That's a dead giveaway.
I am not going to lie for this company.
It's morally indefensible.
Why? Are you afraid you'll die and go to a cubicle?
[LAUGHING LOUDLY]
It wasn't that funny, but I like to laugh!
You've seen your afterlife, Dilbert--
No penalties, no rewards.
It's time you loosened up
and started harming other people.
That is so wrong...
although I don't know why.
Oh, and do something about these protesters.
They call themselves "The Wallyites."
They have some gripe about space exploration.
"Wallyites."
I like the name.
[ALL CHANTING]: Wally is the way.
Wally is the way.
Okay, settle down.
Who can tell me why you're opposed
to space exploration?
It is heresy.
The Book of Wally SAYS NOTHING ABOUT GOING TO THE STARS.
There's a Book of Wally?
That's it?
That's the whole Book of Wally?
It can be interpreted many ways.
It doesn't say we should go "To the stars."
It says, "To Wally."
When we die, we will spend eternity with Wally.
I hate to break it to you,
but your entire belief system is based on a myth.
Do you have something better?
You'll find us very flexible.
I'm not fond of the outfits, anyway.
You can believe in science.
That's real.
You mean like your rocket ship?
Yes!
I mean, no; that's probably a very bad example.
People only think THE ROCKET EXISTS.
Hi, Dilbert.
Hi, nuts.
Liar!
Wally!
What are you doing in the afterlife?
Haven't you heard?
After you die, you spend the rest of eternity with me.
[PANICKED GASPING]
Wh-whoa!
Whoa!
I know, I know, you died again.
It's getting old.
DOGBERT: No, that looks wrong.
DILBERT: How about HERE?
That's just stupid.
It doesn't matter.
Nothing MATTERS.
You live your whole life being nice,
and you still die
and go to that little cubicle in the sky.
They say, "Only the good die young."
If it works the other way too, I'm immortal.
Speaking of evil,
I could use your special talents tomorrow.
Well, let me check my calendar.
I'll see what else I have going.
"Evil... evil... evil...
not EVIL."
Looks like I have an opening.
MAN: I don't mean to seem skeptical,
but these photos look like
they were made on a personal computer
with a paint program.
This is where you COME IN.
Surely, you agree
that in a vast universe
with billions and billions of stars,
it probably looks exactly like this
from some ANGLE.
Well... yes,
but we wanted actual pictures from the rocket.
Isn't that a little narrow-minded?
You know, this could be the answer
to our funding problem.
Can you give us evidence of life on other planets?
Are you kidding?
This picture is teeming with life.
See this dot?
It looks exactly like the other dot, but smudgier.
What's that prove?
I can't do it all FOR YOU.
Ned, you're good at this.
That smudginess could only be caused
by a distortion in the electromagnetic spectrum
typically inhabited by ham radio signals.
That's it?
And, uh...
further studies are needed?
[CHEERING]
That'll get us funding for the space station.
We'd like to bid on the space station project too.
No! No!
Forget the bid.
You got the job.
Can you tell us anything
about how you plan to build the space station?
[CHUCKLING]: All right, fellas,
I'd better not get into the technical stuff.
My engineers say I tend to shoot from the hip...
but I can tell you this--
I'm pretty sure phase one involves building
a giant stepladder.
The rumor is that you got
this $100 billion contract
without even bidding.
My question to you, sir, is
do you think UFOs have visited us?
No...
but they're on the way.
Have you seen this picture yet?
After I talked to the Wallyites,
the next time I died,
I saw their VERSION OF THE AFTERLIFE--
an eternity with Wally.
What I want to know is
was I really dead or just hallucinating?
Why don't you ask that man we saw on TV.
The one who can talk to the spirit world?
He has an 800 number.
I don't believe in that stuff.
But you believe we spend eternity
in a cubicle with Wally?
What's his number?
MAN: Hello.
Each call costs $3.00 per minute.
I was expecting your call.
You were?
You want answers, don't you?
Yes, I do.
Do you know someone who died in the last 50 years
named John or Jim or Bill or Tom?
Yes!
I thought so.
He has a message for you from the other side.
Which one, John or Jim or Bill or Tom?
He says you like to do things with your hands--
typing or cooking or gardening.
Is that correct?
I type on the computer!
I have to admit, he's good.
He says you get great pleasure from this...
typing or cooking or gardening.
I do, but I wanted to ask...
He says you enjoy music and food.
Is that right?
Forget about that.
I want to know
if the afterlife is nothing but a cubicle.
He says to be careful with your back,
or vision, or lungs, or weight.
I feel fine.
All I want to know is...
So, what are you wearing?
I've never been a supreme being before,
but I'm willing to give it a try.
Your humility inspires us.
Please teach us everything you know.
Maybe you could ask me specific questions.
What is your favorite cheese?
Uh... you know, the one with the holes in it.
Swiss!
Right... not that one.
Can we wear casual clothes on Fridays?
No, it leads to promiscuity...
And no humming to yourself when you're alone.
I hate that...
My faith is being tested.
And if you order fish at the restaurant
and it comes with the head still on it,
try covering it with mashed potatoes.
I wonder if it was something I said.
Is the answer out there... or in here?
Is everything simply a manifestation
of consciousness,
or is there another actual level of existence--
a dimension parallel to
or beyond the one we live in now?
It's all part of the big illusion
that we perpetuate on ourselves,
and, in turn, is perpetuated upon us
like the rocket ship, or the shroud of Wally.
When we believe, we engage the illusion.
When we stop believing, we shatter the illusion
and shatter ourselves in the process
because we are PART OF IT.
Maybe you're right.
Maybe the mistake is in making distinctions--
out there, in here...
life, death.
It's all the same illusion.
Exactly.
[music]