Well, Rachel, if you really must ask...oh, hell. I'm not linking to all that shit. We'll be here all night. Sloane sums up for us that Milo Rambaldi was a 15th century inventor and visionary who had an uncanny ability to predict the future. "Is that...Sydney?" Rachel asks warily, referring to the large Page 47 standing up in the middle of the table. "Not exactly," says Syd. "There are people who believe it's me." Rachel reads out the prophecy that's pictured there. You know, the prophecy about Syd being the Chosen One and all that crap. "You're the Chosen One?" Rachel asks incredulously. Syd just looks down at the table, and no one says anything. "You people really believe this stuff?" says Rachel. Yes, Rachel. They really do. But I don't! I just drink a lot and write about it! Pass the Thunderbird!
Will's all, "Okay! Can we debate this later? You know, WHEN THE BOMB IS OUT OF MY HEAD?" Hee hee hee. Sydney wonders aloud what the harm would be in giving Anna the page, seeing as if Sydney doesn't do what the page says she'll do, they're just words on a page. Sloane says she's right; without Sydney, the page is meaningless. Yeah, unless they had an exact replica of Sydney to make it NOT so meaningless. But they would never do that, now would they? Dix is all, hey now, we're not considering giving into Anna's demands, are we? Will's all, uh, how about WE ARE. Sydney just says that handing Anna the page doesn't guarantee Will's safety. Jack asks if Marshall can somehow figure out how to deactivate the codes to the bomb in Will's head, and Marshall gobbledy-gooks a whole mess of explanation that comes out to: he can. But they have to get the bomb within range of the detonator. Will is all, uh...did I hear that correctly? Get the bomb within range of the detonator? "You ever been to Portugal?" asks Syd. Heh.