Original subtitles

Olivia Dunham. Charlie Francis. FBI.

ANNOUNCER: Previously on Fringe...

Unh!

BROYLES: You had no choice.

Whatever that thing was, it wasn't Charlie.

NINA: You've been through quite an ordeal.

What's this?

Sam Weiss--the man who helped put me back together.

You can take the shoes off now, we're done.

- I just got here. - Come back tomorrow.

By then, I'll have found you the perfect bowling ball.

I was told that you could fix me.

Take care, Agent Dunham.

[pop music playing faintly on jukebox]

We're closed.

I think I owe you a thank you.

I got my memories back from the accident,

so...

I figured I wouldn't be needing these.

Who died?

You and your partner, Charlie,

were pretty close, huh?

Yeah.

I guess getting your memory back

wasn't your only problem.

Oh, of course I have problems, but...

The problems I have I can handle.

Sure you can.

You know, if you ask me,

what you need right now, Agent Dunham,

is something to help you

with everything you've been going through...

Something to help you...

make sense of it all.

Like bowling.

Well, what do you know? She makes a joke.

No, I got another project for you.

Uh, yes, like bowling.

You're gonna think I'm full of it,

but here's the thing, Olivia...

Whether you admit it or not,

your life is something of a nightmare.

I hope you don't have anything against the color red.

[elevator bell dings]

[distant phones ringing]

Jeez, Greg. Carl's really pissed off at you.

What, uh-- what'd you do, man?

- You better get in there. - I'm going.

[distorted voices]

Finally. We've been waiting.

Are you okay?

Whatever happened, make sure we all go away.

You know how much trouble you caused me.

I am going to destroy you!

What the hell?

[grunting]

Greg, are you crazy?

[grunting]

"Dream Logic"

You can bring that in here, please.

Hang on.

Walter, what are you doing?

Making my bed.

I've got a fireplace to keep me warm,

and if I get hungry in the middle of the night,

the kitchen is only 13 steps away,

which is a prime number

and a sign of good fortune.

You know that you have a bedroom, right?

Upstairs.

Oh, I know what you're thinking.

Don't worry, son.

I promise to wear my shorts to bed

so that if you bring any young ladies home,

there won't be any embarrassing moments.

Knock, knock.

Agent Farnsworth.

Welcome to our new home.

Thank you.

Oh. Oh, housewarming.

I love presents.

Hey.

- Oh. - Walter, come on.

Italian ciabatta bread.

- Very impressive, Walter. - Yes!

It's for good luck.

I brought something for you too.

Oh, you shouldn't have.

Agent Dunham sent this over.

A man kills his boss, he doesn't remember,

and then he has this really crazy thing with his eyes.

This says there's video surveillance.

I saw it.

Whatever was happening to that man,

it wasn't normal.

Do I eat it or keep it?

I suppose whichever you'd like.

Pack a bag, Walter.

We're going to Seattle.

PETER: Thank you.

There you go.

Do you have a card?

In case we need a ride while we're in town.

Thank you.

MAN: Thanks for coming out.

We brought Mr. Leader here around 6:00 last night.

We haven't managed to get anything out of him.

He hasn't been cooperative?

He hasn't been responsive.

We only just managed to wake him up.

Wait.

He's been asleep for 16 hours?

Like he was drugged.

The doctors only managed to wake him up a few minutes ago.

[ominous music]

Peter, I-I don't want to go in there.

I'd rather stay out here.

Sure.

OLIVIA: Can you tell us what happened, Mr. Leader?

It doesn't make sense.

I remember driving to work from lunch,

pulling into the garage,

and then I was on the floor in Carl Langdon's office.

They were holding me down.

And there's nothing else

that you remember from yesterday?

Nothing unusual?

You're gonna think I'm crazy.

Try me.

The office...

It was like the office

was infiltrated by these creatures.

And Carl, he was their leader.

He had horns...

like some demon.

I know. It sounds nuts.

Almost like I'm dreaming,

or like it was...

[breathing heavily]

Mr. Leader?

- Mr. Leader? - Walter!

What is it?

WOMAN: Greg!

MAN: You can't go in the room, Mrs. Leader.

What's happening to him?

- Greg! - Mrs. Leader. Please!

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

No, Greg!

No! No!

WALTER: That's odd.

Warm.

He should be cooler by now.

The oven--

Peter, I think we forgot to turn it off at home.

Walter, we've never even turned it on.

You sure?

Walter, we never turned the oven on.

We did not leave the front door unlocked,

and the toaster is not gonna burn the house down.

What's going on with you, Walter?

You've been acting weird ever since we got here.

Apologies, we're still waiting on the tox screen.

But the blood CBC is, uh--

Severe thyroxine deficit,

curiously high levels of adrenal hormones.

How did you know that?

Shock-induced achromotrichia,

hyperkeratotic skin lesions,

and clear signs of dehydration.

It seems that this man died of--

Of acute exhaustion.

That doesn't make any sense.

- Human beings can't die of-- - Not that we're aware of, no.

It has been documented in rats.

I need this body taken back to my lab.

Your lab?

- In Boston, Massachusetts. - Walter, whatever you need,

I'm sure they have it here.

Would you excuse me, Doctor?

Peter, I-I need to go home.

I don't like it here.

- Walter. - This city has a smell.

- Walter. - It's wet!

It reminds me of St. Claire's,

the mental institution where I lived.

Peter, I want to go home.

You stay. Help Agent Dunham, but--

Okay.

We'll find someone to take you home.

Thank you.

Seems pretty harmless.

Looks can be deceiving.

Buddy, I've been with the bureau for three years.

Flying your father home shouldn't be a problem.

Right.

You'll want to keep his Sudoku pad handy.

There's also a copy

of Max Planck's book on entropy in his backpack.

That should keep him busy for a couple hours.

And whatever you do, under no circumstances let him drink.

Bit of a tippler, huh?

No, at any given time, there's a good chance

there's about a half dozen psychotropic drugs

in his system, so drinking-- It's not a good idea.

Thank you, Doctor.

You know, I really appreciate your cooperation.

Yeah, no problem.

Do you have a business card?

So that I-I can send you a copy of the results.

Uh, of course.

Thank you.

[Walter groaning]

No!

You can't put the body in feet first.

Lunatics. Out, out.

You think he'll be all right?

Walter, or Agent Cashner?

MRS LEADER: Greg used to call me every day after lunch.

When he didn't call, I knew something was wrong.

But there'd...

There'd been no change in his behavior recently?

He was a little more tired than usual,

but he'd been working a lot.

But no illnesses?

No hallucinations?

No, not at all.

I can't believe he's gone.

Mrs. Leader...

Did your husband have any sleep issues?

These books-- Guide to Sleep Disorders,

Understanding Sleep...

He used to sleepwalk.

Sometimes he'd wake up in the kitchen

having cooked a whole meal.

Was he ever violent?

No, never.

And he was cured.

He had seen a few specialists.

He hadn't had an episode in six months.

Uh, we'll need the names of those doctors.

And did he by any chance keep a sleep journal?

Yeah. Would you like to see it?

Yes. Please.

WALTER: Just in time, dear.

Help me with this infernal body bag.

This is Agent Cashner.

Walter, it's almost midnight.

Yes, I'll hold.

The ride back was invigorating.

The turbulence over Ohio

was like being in the belly of a seizing whale.

I screamed like a little girl.

I'm sure that went over well

with the rest of the passengers.

No, it's Bishop.

B-I-S-H-O-P.

Yes, we got the body.

What's that about?

They detained our bags.

Raw milk?

No, I'm pretty sure

Dr. Bishop wouldn't have packed a bottle of raw--

[moos]

Milk.

Yes, I understand it's against the law.

I'm a federal agent.

That's odd-- nine stitches...

Surgical.

There's no reason for an incision there.

Astricks,

my small bone saw, please.

Astrid.

Yes?

Dr. Bishop, I-I'm sorry,

but, uh, those bags won't be available to us

until morning.

That's okay.

In fact, you can assist us in removing his scalp.

Once you get used to the smell, it's really quite something.

Come on.

- Hey. - Hey.

I didn't wake you, did I?

What?

Cute.

Except in my case, I actually graduated.

I'm guessing, uh, you bought yours

to impress the girls.

Yeah, more or less.

So what you got?

Greg Leader's sleep journal.

His wife was right.

For the last couple months, he's been averaging

between eight and ten hours of sleep every night.

Then how can he die of exhaustion?

It gets weirder.

He was also using it as a dream diary.

Guess what his nightmares were about.

Demons?

Yeah. At least once a week.

Then a couple months ago, all of a sudden, they stop.

So do you think this is some kind of extreme sleepwalking?

No, sleepwalkers don't generally get violent.

And unlike Greg Leader,

they don't remember their experiences.

Where'd you learn that? M.I.T.?

As a kid, I used to get these terrible nightmares,

almost every night.

So I know a thing or two about dreaming.

I'm sorry. That must have been awful.

Actually, it was one of the rare occasions

in my childhood that Walter was helpful.

He taught me to condition myself.

Every night before I went to sleep,

I had to say a mantra in my head.

"Please don't dream tonight. Please don't dream tonight.

Please don't dream tonight."

Did that work?

Well, you can't stop yourself from dreaming,

but it did make it so that I didn't remember.

From the age of 8 to almost 19,

don't remember a single dream.

No more nightmares.

[cell phone rings]

There's been another incident.

MAN: Guy on the bike was dead on impact.

Must have been driving 40 miles per hour

- which killed him. - Crash-killed her, too?

She's dead but it wasn't the crash.

MAN: Ellen was calling to let me know

she was heading home from the office.

We were on the phone when she...

She said she saw a monster.

Did--did you see her white hair?

What happened to her?

Hold it steady, Agent Casper.

It's Cashner.

Do this kind of thing often?

Brains? No.

Although Walter gets particularly excited

whenever we do.

Hmm.

Look at that.

Would you call Peter?

Ugh. I'm out.

Hey, I've got Walter for you.

PETER: A filament? What kind of filament?

Hold on a second, fellas. Mind if I take a look at her?

Some kind of little computer chip

imbedded in his midbrain.

The thalamus?

Yes, that would make sense. Well done, son.

Hold up, Walter. Agent Dunham!

Excuse me.

What does that do-- the thalamus?

Why is it relevant?

It's the part of the brain that regulates sleep.

What are you looking for?

That.

BROYLES: Both the victims had been surgically implanted.

It's a bio-chip.

Technically a brain-computer interface, or BCI.

This particular chip

has a transmitter, which makes it wireless.

So it can commit the brain to a remote computer?

That's right.

From what we can ascertain,

we think it works a lot like a pacemaker.

It monitors sleep cycles

and, when necessary, stimulates the thalamus,

which induces a deeper sleep state.

There is a researcher in Seattle

who has worked on several prototypes like it.

The man's a genius.

We've been tracking him for years.

Thank you.

I'll let the team know.

Dr. Laxmeesh Nayak?

I'm Olivia Dunham. I'm with the FBI.

We were wondering if you were familiar with Greg Leader

and Ellen Rosiello.

Yes, they're patients.

What's this about?

Both of them recently committed homicidal attacks

and then died,

as a result of what appears to be extreme exhaustion.

Oh, God.

Dr. Nayak, we found a bio-chip

imbedded in Mr. Leader's brain.

- Do you know-- - Yes. Yes, of course.

They both had them. They were part of a study.

So you've implanted those chips into other people?

It's a large-scale, clinical trial.

There are 60 in the control group

and 82 with the bio-chips.

We're gonna need their names,

all of them.

I've been working on this chip for years.

I've tested it extensively.

PETER: And there's no malfunction

that could have caused the kind of reaction we saw?

What if the chip shorted out?

Even if it had, the chip should have remained benign.

Why is this...?

[ominous music]

Wait here.

The main computer server.

It contained all my research-- the patients' files.

It's all gone.

The patients' files

are backed up on a remote server.

I'll give you the password.

Dr. Nayak.

My research assistant.

Zach, call the nurses.

We need the names of all the patients.

Everyone they can remember.

Sure. Uh, I-I'll get right on it.

The password.

Thank you.

Dr. Nayak, can you think of anyone

who would want to steal your data

or might want to sabotage you?

I-I don't know.

I-I suppose there are any number of companies.

The chip was valuable?

Oh, the initial testing has been remarkable.

It's cured sleepwalking, night terrors...

All major non-REM sleep disorders.

These people just wanted some rest,

and my chip was helping them.

It wouldn't make them hurt anyone,

and it certainly wouldn't kill them.

It just doesn't make any sense.

Dr. Nayak, do you have a business card?

Just for our records.

I'll get you one.

Well, the doctor is beside himself.

And aside from the obvious, which is money,

he can't think of any reason

why someone would want to steal his research.

I can.

The bio-chip plugs directly into the thalamus,

which not only regulates sleep,

it also works as a relay tower

to the cerebral cortex,

which also controls motor function.

WALTER: Mind control, Peter.

Wouldn't be the first time someone's attempted it.

I told you about my work

with the MK-ultra project.

Of course, at that time, we supposed we could do it

with LSD and hypnotic suggestion.

So it is possible?

Theoretically, yes.

If I faxed you a schematic

of the device's internal architecture,

could you test the chip you have?

Yes, but I'd need to replicate the chip's function

in a neutral environment.

Of course, I-if I had a live subject...

Walter, no.

No student volunteers.

Good news: The bags are back.

Walter. Walter.

Walter, say it-- "No students."

All right, no students.

[phone beeps]

OLIVIA: Okay, well, get back to me as soon as you can.

Hey.

Hey.

So, uh, did you reach Walter?

Yeah.

He thinks it could be mind control,

but modifying the bio-chips

would take a lot of trial and error.

So he thinks that someone's

trying to perfect mind control

one patient at a time?

Well, that would explain why the events

are seemingly without motive.

Yeah.

How's the patient roundup going?

Nayak could only list 26 patients.

So the local P.D. are taking them into his clinic

and removing their chips,

so to speak.

That still leaves, what?

50-odd patients.

Listen...

Olivia, I think I understand

what it is that you're going through, but...

that thing that you killed...

That wasn't Charlie.

I know.

It's just, I--

You know, my first week on the job,

I was on a sting operation.

These Irish thugs

were smuggling guns and--and cocaine.

And I had been a military prosecutor,

so I hadn't handled a gun

since basic training.

And suddenly,

I'm underground in this garage,

wearing a bulletproof vest

and--and wondering how the hell I got there.

So I did what any rookie would do,

and I started looking for an exit.

And then Charlie walks over.

This man that I didn't know--

This gruff guy.

And...

He said...

"You're gonna be fine."

And, um, I have to face it...

That he...

He's gone...

And that he's not coming back.

So I'm just gonna go

to Nayak's clinic

and--and see if I can help the nurse

identify some other patients.

[door opens]

- Okay. - [door closes]

[computer whirring]

That was a double order on table nine, pop.

So what'd your friends think of my moussaka?

Like they'd died and gone to Heaven.

Damn right.

Do you really want to increase the dose?

[ominous music]

[whistling]

[door opens and closes]

Dr. Bishop, I'm heading to the airport,

back to Seattle.

Would you say good-bye

to Agent Farnsworth for me?

Certainly.

Oh, before you go, could you do me a favor

and smell this?

It seems my olfactory sense is a bit muddled.

Must be the French roast coffee I had for breakfast.

[sniffs]

Raspberry?

Keep Miss Barage sedated for another ten minutes.

Then bring in my next patient.

MAN: What's going on here?

MAN: I understand you're all upset.

We should contact the local pharmacies too.

They should be able to identify

- who's filled a prescription - [cell phone rings]

within the last six months from Dr. Nayak.

Excuse me. Hello?

What's shakin', Bacon?

Oh, the usual--I'm just painting my toenails

and planning on taking a trip up the coast.

You get the business cards?

Uh, yeah.

I got, uh-- I got eight of them.

Eight? You asked everyone you saw wearing red?

Yeah.

So what do I do now?

Lay them out in front of you like you're playing Go Fish.

Now take a pen, circle one letter in every name,

both first and last.

When you're finished,

take all the letters you've circled

and write them down on a piece of paper.

Got it?

Okay.

Now what?

Now jumble.

Jumble?

Jumble, anagram, word puzzle.

Find the phrase.

What phrase?

What--what am I looking for?

Whatever it is you need to hear.

You'll figure it out. Got to go.

[cell phone rings]

You know, I really don't have any time for this.

BROYLES: Dunham.

Agent Broyles?

Nayak's patient files are gone.

The server at the data-storage facility

was wiped some time within the last 24 hours.

Can we trace the hacker's I.P. address?

We don't think there was one.

There's no sign of a D.D.O.S. attack,

and given the level of online security in the facility,

we think whoever wiped the files

must have had a password.

So it was someone in the clinic?

It would seem that way.

It's not possible.

My employees are good people.

They've all worked here for years.

We're a family.

But they all had the password?

There was no reason for them not to.

I'm telling you...

none of them would have done this.

PETER: Agent Dunham.

Another one.

MAN: Her eyes were going crazy.

Her hair turned white, then she collapsed.

I don't understand.

She screamed we were cannibals

and then attacked with a knife.

I had to wrestle it away from her.

She--she was so happy.

[crying] This doesn't make sense.

[crying]

NAYAK: Leanne suffered from night terrors.

She was just in my office last week.

We're gonna have to make a public announcement.

I'm gonna get our media liaison

to put an announcement on the local news.

Zach Miller, my lab assistant...

skipped work today.

He hasn't been answering his phone.

Zach Miller? FBI.

Olivia.

I guess that's why he wasn't answering the phone.

Walter, what's wrong with Agent Cashner?

I drugged him.

You drugged him?

Walter...

Don't tell me you put that chip in his head.

No, but I wanted to.

Then I realized that I could attach the chip

to an E.E.G. net,

and the signal would reach his brain.

And how are you going to send him commands?

I have wired the neurostimulator

to the same frequency.

If Peter's theory is correct

and this is mind control,

then the chip should receive commands from here,

through the neurostimulator. It's then translated

into impulses that Agent Cashner's brain

can understand.

I need help putting this on.

Walter, I do not think this is a very good idea.

Don't be such a grinch.

I've told you, science should be fun.

Come on.

WALTER: Look at his feet.

ASTRID: Feet. Got it.

Anything?

Nope.

[sighs, breathes heavy]

Walter, what is it?

[groans]

Either a green unicorn just raced across the lab,

or I accidentally took some LSD.

Oh, it must be mescaline.

It's peaking too quickly.

Oh. Oh, God.

That's not mescaline.

It's something else entirely.

I think it's not the drugs at all.

I think I have an idea what it is.

And you've never gotten anything like this before?

No, of course not.

Okay, I'm gonna send a copy of this

to our question documents unit.

They'll analyze the handwriting,

the paper, and the ink.

But in the meantime, the police have offered to put

a protective detail outside your clinic,

and Detective Green will watch your house.

Now, if you'll excuse us,

we're gonna try and track down the rest of your patients.

Don't worry, Dr. Nayak.

We're gonna catch this guy.

Then you can get back to your work.

We'll call you as soon as we know something.

[static]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Please leave a message

after the tone.

I told them.

I showed them your damn note.

So you might as well stop.

PETER: So it's not mind control?

WALTER: No, Peter, your theory is wrong.

Dr. Nayak's chips aren't receiving commands.

They're transmitting massive amounts of data.

Walter, the bio-chips are supposed to transmit data.

That's their function, to monitor sleep cycles.

The chips aren't simply monitoring sleep.

They're accessing all the sensory information

that--that passes through the thalamus--

Every color, sound,

and picture while we sleep.

Walter, are you saying that Dr. Nayak's bio-chips

are stealing dreams?

That's right, dear.

Leader's sleep journal.

He slept for hours, but he never had any dreams.

Before they reached his consciousness,

they were all siphoned off,

which means no dreams.

The brain can never recharge, and that...

Would lead to death by exhaustion.

Exactly.

What's more,

I believe the chips have the ability

to turn on a dreaming state while the patient is awake,

which would lead to paranoia, hallucinations,

and a complete inability

to differentiate between reality and dreams--

The very behavior we've been witnessing.

Walter, why would anybody

want to access another person's dreams?

The rush, Peter.

Think of your most pleasant dream,

multiply that feeling tenfold,

all mainlining through your cortex

in a few seconds.

It's really quite something.

Walter, are you saying that we're dealing with an addict?

Not just an addict, dear.

A man who came in contact with this drug--

In my estimation,

that man would become its slave.

We got to go back to the hotel.

What are you thinking?

Walter thinks we're looking for an addict, right?

Well, my stepfather was an addict.

He was a drunk.

And it was like he had two different personalities--

One when he was sober and one when he was smashed.

The deeper the addiction, the more extreme the rift,

like, uh, Jekyll and Hyde.

So this is the patient list that Dr. Nayak wrote out,

and here is the death threat he received.

The handwriting's sloped.

Look at the "G"s and the "F"s.

These are written by the same person.

Thank you, Detective Green.

[machine beeps]

You have one message.

NAYAK: I told them.

I showed them your damn note.

So you might as well stop.

Please.

[computers hum to life]

[computers whirring]

Water rudder set.

Thanks, hon.

[computers beeping]

[plane engines whirring]

[air traffic controller chattering]

Jack, what are you doing?

Jack.

Jack.

Jack, what are you doing?

Jack, we have got to get

this bird in the air.

Jack! November 822, pilot in distress!

Jack!

OLIVIA: Peter, he's plugged in.

PETER: Let me try to shut down the program.

November 822 to ATC,

I've got a problem!

PETER: I'm gonna have to try

to disable the server.

Can you shut it down?

I think it's locked.

Jack!

November 822, squawking 7700!

Okay, stand back.

Whoa.

[gunshots]

Jack! Jack!

Jack.

He's dead.

Hey.

Got a call from, uh, radio control at Lake Union--

Incident with a seaplane pilot, one of Nayak's patients.

They're all safe.

Good work.

I checked out Nayak's control panel.

All the dials were cranked up into the red.

You think he decided to go down

in one final blaze of glory?

Actually, I think it was a lot more complicated than that.

You remember how horrified Nayak was

when we told him his patients were dying?

I don't think that he was fully aware

of what his darker side was up to...

Until tonight.

So this was his way of trying to put a stop to things.

I guess that's the irony.

His addiction to dreams became his nightmare,

one that he couldn't wake up from.

Maybe that was his only way of ending the nightmare.

[door opens, creaking]

Dad, what's wrong?

[gasps, screams]

What is it?

Nothing.

You were talking in your sleep.

Yeah, I think I was having a bad dream.

[chuckles]

I was a kid,

in my room.

You were there.

And the rest?

You don't remember it?

Mm-mm.

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