There is an alternate universe
and in it another version of us.
Previously on "Fringe.."
We know who our enemy is now.
His name David Robert Jones. He's a scientist.
Jones is responsible for dosing
Agent Dunham with Cortexiphan, for what purpose?
He was trying to activate some kind of latent ability.
What are you doing, Olivia?
I'm turning on the lights.
I have discovered
David Robert Jones' true intentions.
Jones is trying to collapse both universes.
Mutual destruction.
To create a world designed
and controlled by him.
Any way to stop Jones?
I'm afraid we have to close the bridge.
I think I shall miss them.
Hi, Neal.
- Cafe mocha, 1%, no whip? - That's it.
Jill, can you get that started?
That'll be 4.80.
'Enjoy.'
Are you okay?
Stop!
'What's happening to them?'
Don't move. I think when they move, they die.
'Nobody move!'
'Medford?'
No.
'Holliston?'
Uh, only if I am being punished.
- 'Weyburn?' - Only if I'm dead.
Alright. How about Lexington?
Three beds, central heat and air, dog run.
Did you know that I had a lab when I was growing up?
No, I thought you were allergic.
I was, but Walter made him non-allergenic.
It's got a working fireplace in the bedroom.
Nursery?
Nursery.
What's he doing? No!
O-over by the second woman! The one that's still smoking.
No, you ninny.
The next one over!
Walter.
You are going to freeze, God!
Why must you always mother hen me?
I'm quite capable of looking after myself.
I know, but just humor me.
Maybe I like doing it.
We're good. No airborne toxins.
Thank you.
Walter! Don't forget your--
- I need my kit. - Yeah.
Please, do something.
Help us.
'Maybe the deaths are associated with this mobile transaction.'
No, Walter, this is just how people pay for things now.
Hmm?
Uh, he probably just bought that coffee.
Huh. What will they think of next?
All we know far, at 3:23 p.m. more than two dozen people
experienced some kind of spontaneous human combustion.
You know that's a myth, right?
There are survivors.
Remaining still seems to have halted the ignition process.
For now.
Do we have any idea what's caused this?
I'm hoping Dr. Bishop can help shed some light on that.
Okay, my friend.
Let's see what secrets you hold.
I had a watch similar to this once.
My uncle gave it to me. Uncle Heinrich.
He loved rhubarb.
- He was always-- - 'Am I gonna die?'
I can't answer that. Not yet.
What are you?
I'm human. What are you?
Is this some sort of alien invasion?
- Are you part of a strike f-- - No, I mean.
I mean, what are you doing here?
Are you a doctor?
Oh, no. I'm a scientist.
Oh.
May I take a blood sample?
The discomfort will only be momentary.
That's what all you men say.
You are very brave.
Go on, then.
I'm sorry.
Um, where did you get this smudging on your fingertips?
I don't know.
The escalator, maybe?
dramatic music]
Her blood definitely shows signs
of a foreign incursion at the cellular level.
Viral?
We're gonna have to get it to the lab to be sure.
What sort of virus are you?
If you were aerolized
you would have infected everyone
not just those on the escalator.
If you were harbored on a water tap or a doorknob
the first few contacts would have wiped you clean.
What would have kept you fresh and so infectious
my lethal friend?
Agent, I think we found something.
Oh, dear.
This is not a virus at all.
Well, then what is it?
The escalator is infested with nanites.
Nanites?
Microscopic self-replicating robotics.
There's a machine that's generating them.
Despite their itty-bitty size, each of them
is capable of storing a tremendous amount of energy
and it would seem they can be overloaded
by the bio-kinetic energy
stored in the cells of anyone infected.
You mean, these people's movement
is what's activating the nanites?
That's what I just said.
And the longer they are in the bloodstream
the more sensitive they become.
So that the slightest exertion can trigger the overload.
Causing them to spontaneously combust.
Like a soda pop bottle after shaking.
Okay, so who would do this, and how do we stop it?
I don't know. I need my lab.
But we can't move them, Walter.
How are we gonna get one of these people to your--
Very carefully.
Walter, we can't risk it.
I don't know how long they have left
even without moving them.
'I can't be certain.'
Do you have any kind of insurance?
I mean, if I volunteer for your experiment
and something goes wrong, what happens
you know, to my next of kin?
The Bureau takes care of you.
Everybody that we work on is fully-covered.
It's in the regs.
Okay.
You can use me.
'Whatever you need.'
I'm sorry, what's your name?
Jessica Holt.
Do you know what you're saying, Jessica?
Yeah, I do.
I need a solid-board stretcher.
Uh-uh, and some ice packs and a blanket.
Must seem a little bizarre, huh?
Well, uh, I'm an ER nurse.
Night shifts on Fridays, that's bizarre.
If there anything that I can do to make it
a little more pleasant, please let me know.
Actually, there is.
Um, could you get my phone for me, please?
It's in my handbag.
Of course.
Thank you.
Mike, it's me.
No, I know.
Um, yeah, listen
I, um, I need you to pick up Sarah
after school for me, please.
No, I know it's not your day
um, but, you know, please, Mike.
Um, I'll explain it to you later, okay?
Okay, bye.
- Thanks. - Of course.
'Olivia, how long until this antidote is ready?'
I'll just check with Walter.
How close are we?
We're starting to see first results now.
But how long is it gonna take?
At this rate, it's gonna be at least a couple of minutes.
Hey, Walter, her temperature's rising rapidly.
How rapidly?
Uh, two degrees in the past 23 seconds.
What about an ice bath?
No, that won't help. Just try to keep her calm.
Jessica?
Jessica, I just want you to focus on me, okay?
- Okay. - Peter.
Grab the ammonium nitrate.
You wanna speed up the condensation?
Unless you have a better idea.
Walter, she's at 104 degrees.
Uh, we need 60 seconds more.
We don't have 60 seconds.
Oh, my God.
- Get away from me! - Oh, here.
'Jessica, just focus on your breathing.'
- Walter! - 40 seconds more!
'How are you doing that?'
'Well, her temperature's dropping.'
Oh!
'She's okay.'
How did you do that?
I have no idea.
This should permanently remove
and neutralize the nanites in your system.
Thank you.
I can breathe now.
You and a lot of other people.
Walter, do you have any idea what just happened to me?
I could make an educated guess.
Cortexiphan has given you certain kinetic powers.
Moving molecules so quickly
that you can create spontaneous combustion, yes?
Well, perhaps in this case, you slowed the molecules down
causing her to cool down.
But how did I do it?
I'm afraid I have no idea.
I should get her home.
You'll let me know what with the others, then?
I will, but now that the antidote's been synthesized
they'll all be fine, thanks to you.
Thank you.
I don't know how you did it, but you did.
You know, not everybody would volunteer
to be Walter's guinea pig.
It wasn't really for me.
I've got a four foot tall redhead at home
who's constantly in dire need of mac and cheese
and help with her math.
And her father's an idiot.
Well, if you ever need help getting to the head
of the line in an ER..
And listen, if you find that you have any more symptoms
give me a call.
I will.
- Thank you. - Thank you.
- Dunham. - 'We know who's responsible.'
'For the nanites.'
'This was taken ten minutes before'
the first victim was reported.
Another camera picked him up leaving the scene
but we lost him after that.
Well, at least we know Jones is in our universe.
So what does infecting a bunch of people with nanites
have to do with ending the world?
I mean, everything Jones has done
has been in service of collapsing our two universes
in order to create a third.
But destroying the bridge ruined that plan.
As far as we know.
You think he found another way
to create his own universe in place of ours?
I don't know.
'But we do know Jones.'
We know he's not gonna just give up.
No.
That can't be.
A chimeric structure in nanites, I don't believe it.
That was Olivia.
David Robert Jones is definitely behind this.
Walter, what is it?
A hundred different ways to design a nanite
and he chose this.
It's inconceivable.
Not by chance.
Jones isn't smart enough, not by himself.
Wait, what are you saying?
Jones didn't create these nanites.
They're not his design!
There's only one person
who would construct this particular pattern.
Who?
I have bad news, sir.
Agent Dunham has stopped us again.
Don't be so sure.
Olivia beat us today.
'Clearly, you don't seem concerned.'
Don't confuse a winning move with a winning game.
This board never changes.
'How long do you take between moves?'
Since the last move..
...about 20 years.
In this game, the skill one must have
above all else is patience.
'The board changes, but very slowly.'
The art of chess, the art is knowing
when a piece is most valuable
and then, in that very moment
being willing to sacrifice it.
For in the vacuum created by the loss
of what is most precious, opportunity abounds
influence is maximized
and desire becomes destiny.
For example, on this board
the most valuable piece is the bishop
therefore, for the game to be won..
The bishop must be sacrificed.
I'll attend to it.
Promptly.
He's alive. I'm telling you, he's alive.
I knew that Jones's plan was too ingenious
too remarkable
that it had to have come from Belly.
He's alive, Nina.
The nanotech that Jones used on the escalator
I've examined them, they were built by Belly.
I-I'd recognize his work anywhere.
His methodology was all ov--
Jones had access to many projects at Massive Dynamic.
He could simply have copied William's research--
Nina, it was the work of a master, not an imposter!
I know the difference.
Walter said that Bell died in a car accident
on New Year's day seven years ago?
Yes, I went to the hospital. I saw his body.
But it wasn't New Year's, it was Christmas.
I-I always thought that he died on new year
because he came to visit me the night before to say goodbye.
Walter, what are you talking about?
When I was in St. Claire's, Belly came to visit me.
It was New Year's Eve, 2005.
They gave me additional shocks that day just to celebrate
'so I can't remember what he said.'
Nina, I know you loved him--
Oh, Walter, just stop it!
The car crash wasn't an accident.
William had lymphoma. He'd been trying to fight it
but..
I think he didn't want me to see him that way anymore.
He didn't wanna be vulnerable.
He wanted to go out on his own terms, and he did.
- It's still possible-- - Oh, Walter.
Anything is possible.
But the man I knew wouldn't try to destroy a universe.
'That doesn't sound like William.'
'Fine.'
I'll prove it to you.
If my son is not too busy monitoring my cure
I'd like him to meet us.
Where?
'Well, well.'
Wally Bishop.
Hey, doc, you just visiting
'or are you coming back to stay for a while?'
Good news.
The administrator can see us now.
Everything okay?
Fine.
I'm sorry, we're still transitioning
to a more up-to-date record-keeping system.
Federal funding isn't all it used to be.
In fairness, I'm told it never was particularly good
so technically, it never was what it used to be.
I guess now it's just worse.
But I'm confident these are all the visitor logs
during the period of Dr. Bishop's--
Incarceration.
I was going to say treatment.
It has a nicer sound, and I like to think
is more reflective of what we do here.
Would you, now?
What about your surveillance archives?
Uh, security cameras?
I'm afraid our current mainframe storage capacity is limited.
The institution doesn't keep anything older than two years.
How convenient.
Walter, Dr. Benlo has been cooperating fully.
And do you see anything in those
that suggests the logs have been doctored?
No.
Matter of fact, they're perfect.
Very thorough.
Every single individual logged in and out.
And?
No William Bell.
Walter, you said you had been having a lot of shock therapy.
Do you think perhaps he could've been a hallucination?
No.
No, no.
My hallucinations were rarely biped and never men.
Dr. Bishop, are you--
Crazy?
No.
May I borrow this?
Uh, um..
Well, those records have already been digitized, I-I--
Thank you.
Let's go.
Thank you.
I must say you're much prettier
than your predecessor.
I still don't know why Walter needed that log book
and he's not telling me
and he won't back off that Bell thing, either.
Oh, man.
Oh, one second, hold on.
I got it.
- God. - Oh, that's got to smart.
That's what happens when you drink and mince.
Thank you.
What's the matter?
You worried about Walter too, 'cause honestly you shouldn't--
No, I'm not thinking about Walter.
I was thinking about that girl, Jessica.
Oh, one encounter with us and her child
almost becomes an orphan.
And we deal with this every day.
We're playing the odds, Peter.
I mean, what do you really think
our chances are of having a normal life?
Olivia, I know you're scared about
what happened in the lab yesterday.
Well, I don't know what's happening to me.
What I'm becoming, I've got this
this power inside me that terrifies me
because I don't understand it
and I just, I just want it out.
Okay.
So we'll figure it out.
Together.
Is that a personal guarantee?
After all we've been through
I will not lose you again, Olivia.
I'm starving.
What's a guy got to do to get a good
'home-cooked meal around here?'
'Where are you now?'
We're just passing Kenmore Square.
And what do you mean, it's the sun?
Well, even though we can't see it
it's still there in the sky.
Jones must be reflecting the light
off of something, like one of those disco balls
'and then focusing it'
'like we do with a magnifying glass.'
Well, how is he doing that?
Well, I'm not sure yet, but I have my suspicions.
Yeah, Farnsworth. Agent ID J-H-1-1-2-4-0-2.
And why is he doing it?
Seems like he's trying to burn a hole to China.
It's a myth, technically it would be India, but I doubt it.
'What does this have to do with nanites?'
'And how do we even know it's Jones?'
So you are now prepared to concede
that this may well be the work of William Bell?
- 'Not my point.' - Okay, thanks.
Satellite imagery?
Yeah, I just got access to the system.
Radio waves.
It's coming online right now.
I need geological data on Beacon Hill.
Walter, which one of these do you want me to do first?
All of them.
Uh, you said that Agent Broyles was on-site?
Is he evacuating the area?
Yes, one square mile from the center of the beam.
Okay, Walter, the geological's printing.
- Oh, no. - Oh, no, what?
'I knew I'd read something about this.'
Three months ago, a subterranean oil reservoir
was discovered below Beacon Hill.
Well, what does that mean?
Imagine putting a match
to a can of lighter fluid.
'Unless we stop this soon'
the sunbeam will essentially set Boston on fire from below.
Uh, Peter, you should alert Agent Broyles.
'Tell him that he'll need to evacuate an area'
'uh, with a radius much wider than one mile.'
Well, how much?
- All of it. - All of what?
Boston.
We'll call you back.
Walter, you're right, there is a radio frequency
that's not owned by the government
'that's transmitting in the S band.'
- What's the frequency? - 2202.518.
'Actually, there's two frequencies.'
What?
Also 0.520.
Of course.
You brilliant bastard, Belly.
Quick, give me something to write on.
- Dunham. - 'Turn around, head south!'
Towards Beech Street, on the edge of Chinatown.
'Why? What's there?'
I believe that's where Jones
is commanding the satellites from.
What satellites, Walter?
'I think Jones has commandeered two private satellites'
or maybe he'd launched them, and they're
the disco balls that are bouncing the sunlight
around the planet, in any case, I have triangulated signals
and they appear to be coming
'from the 1600 block off Beech Street.'
Interrupt the signals and you shut off the sun.
Well, you know what I mean.
Okay, we're on our way.
Ah! Get a knife. My lemon cake's ready.
Walter, if you were hungry I could've gotten you something.
This is not about food, Athos
this is about Bell.
Where's the knife?
Please, quickly?
Alright. This is the 1600 block.
'See anything?'
Peter, look, that antenna.
'Do you think that's what's controlling the satellites?'
Could be.
'There's the other one.'
Okay, I'll take this one, you take the other one.
Okay, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
We gotta turn them off.
We'll just figure it out when we get up there.
Oh, my God, that smells terrible.
- What is it? - Lemon cake.
'Laced with pig brain.'
- What? - Hmm?
Lemon cake is the perfect incubator.
And I thought it was easier to get pig brain on short notice
than a human specimen.
Is that from the, the log book at St. Claire's?
Just the relevant page.
First tried scraping it, hoping Belly had left some DNA behind
but he was too clever for that.
Or maybe he was never there in the first place.
I know none of you believe me which is why
I have conducted this little experiment.
The pig brain is activating
a little-known side effect of Cortexiphan
which is temporary tissue regeneration.
'Heated between 90 and 100 degrees'
the Cortexiphan I have added to the pig brain
should cause at least partial regeneration
of all biological matter on the sheet of paper
'and voila, fingerprints!'
Although..
...identifying Belly's prints from these smudges
'may prove impossible, after all.'
What is that brown mark?
I don't know.
Walter.
'As I said, Cortexiphan is regenerative.'
You shouldn't eat it, though.
'Almond oil.'
I knew it! Chilean almonds!
Almonds?
Belly was obsessed with them.
Even had an agreement with the importers.
They sold them to him wholesale.
He must've had the oil on his fingertips.
Walter, what are you doing?
I'm going to find Belly.
A1 Imports, down by the seaport.
Walter, would you stop? This is nuts.
I am not crazy.
At least I'll be able to confirm that he's still alive.
Would you excuse me?
Oh, what about Olivia and Peter?
They're doing everything they can.
There's nothing we can do to help them.
What do you think you're gonna find there?
Walter! Walter!
I know this is a wild goose chase
a fool's errand, and I'm a fool
but no one is asking you to join me, Alex.
It's my hunch, and I'm quite capable
of pursuing it on my own, so peace out.
- I don't-- - Drive.
Alex?
I was on a roll.
Got it.
- 'You found the control panel?' - Yeah.
Now find the dial marked transmission amplitude.
That's the one that needs to be tuned all the way down.
- Okay, got it. - 'But not yet!'
Not, not, not yet.
Sorry.
We have to do it together.
If we don't, the beam could go off-kilter
cut a swath across Boston.
It'd be sort of like don't cross the streams
just, you know, in reverse.
You know I have no idea what you're talking about.
Yes, I know.
Okay, tell me when.
Okay, in three..
...two..
...one.
Go.
'We did it. Good job.'
Ah.
Jones!
- Hey! Security! - I-I'm FBI.
- Drop your weapon! - I-I can show you my badge.
I said, drop it!
Now!
'How did you?'
- Oh! - Aah!
Aah! Aah!
'I got it wrong.'
I was the sacrifice.
I was the bishop.
Tail fins?
Yes, tail fins, whitewall tires
two-tone paint jobs.
Oh, sure, by today's standards
they're terrible for the environment
but oh, there's something to be said for style.
"A1 Imports." Come on, dear.
Walter, they're probably not even..
Ye of little faith.
It's just as I remember it.
I used to accompany Belly here on his visits.
Not a smell you forget.
- It smells like sweat. - Exactly.
Hello?
Hello, sir. My name is Walter Bishop.
I'm sorry to trouble you so late.
I-I was hoping to speak with Ms. Weisberg.
I'm sorry, who?
Lynn Weisberg.
Uh, lovely woman, yea high.
'Nice laugh.'
Walter, I don't think he knows her.
Hmm? She's the owner. Or she was.
I-I was hoping to ask her about a particular customer.
Oh, I think I get it.
You're talking about that import/export company.
'Well, they went out of business'
'three years ago.'
- Oh, I see. - 'Tom, do you copy?'
Yes, I'm here. Coming right now.
Look, I have to go.
Um, thanks for your help.
- Sorry to have bothered you. - No bother.
Maybe we should ask around. Maybe someone else--
- Walter, he had a gun. - What?
It's a dangerous neighborhood.
Whatever the reason, there are no almonds here.
Did you hear that?
Yes.
- 'Walter!' - Come on. Come on.
Walter.
What are those?
One of them sounds almost like a rhino
but more nasal.
I'm sorry. We were leaving, and then we heard a noise.
Go and tell him we have visitors.
Sir, I'm with the FBI. You're making a mis--
Stop!
'Hands where I can see 'em.'
Look, this is all just a misunderstanding.
Walter, come on!
Oh. Whoa! Oh! Oh. No!
I'm not sure I ever thought I would see you again.
Hello, old friend.