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The Shapeshifters of Things To Come

Speaking of confused, Walter enters Peter's cell. "Are they feeding you?" asks Walter. Well, yeah, they kind of legally have to. Peter gets right to it, saying he doesn't know what to do, because no one remembers him. "Olivia looks at me like I'm a stranger, like she's afraid of me. I know what you're capable of. I need your help, Walter, to fix this," he says.

Walter steps forward until he's close enough to touch Peter's face, and the two men stare at each other. They smile, and Walter says that every day for the past twenty-five years he's wondered what Peter would look like as a man. And you're thinking, hey, great! Walter's going to help Peter! And then Walter withdraws his hands and the smile fades and you get a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Walter says he doesn't deserve Peter, and that Peter was sent here as his punishment: "You were sent to tempt me, to see if I would repeat the mistakes of the past. You shouldn't be here." He's heading for the door, much to Peter's chagrin. Walter says wherever he came from and however he got here, it doesn't matter, because he can't help. "I tried to help a boy, a version of my son, twenty-five years ago. But that boy was never my son. And neither are you," says Walter, who bangs on the door. Am I nuts or does the guard who let Walter out give Peter the stink-eye and reproachfully shake his head ever so slightly?

And where is our shapeshifter? She's at train station in Boston, making her way to the bathroom and hoping no one notices her freaky shimmering skin. Once inside, she injects the serum and her face stabilizes (although she could use a little exfoliation, but that's just me).

No longer with see-through skin, Nadine makes her way to a bank of lockers, and pulls from one a case containing a typewriter. You know, did the other side ever consider trying to do this with laptops? Typewriters aren't exactly inconspicuous.

Anyway, she types, "STATUS REPORT: DOCTOR TRUSS LOCATED. SERUM SYNTHESIZED SUCCESSFULLY." After a few moments, she gets the reply: "HIT THE CAPS LOCK KEY, DAMN." And then: "UNDERSTOOD. BEGIN PREPARATIONS. WE'RE SENDING THE OTHERS." She smiles. If I were her, I probably would too. I imagine her company Christmas party would be pretty boring over here with just her.

"The Others"? Great. Now I'm going to have traumatic Lost flashbacks.

Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. When you comin' home, Peter? I don't know when, but we'll get together then. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel[at]

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