Dr. Arden's in his office, listening to radio reports of a nor'easter heading their way. Ah, the classic Dark and Stormy Night. Glad AHS appreciates the oldies, but goodies. Dr. Arden has apparently found the microchip he pulled out of Kit's neck (after it sprouted spider legs and scurried away, as you'll recall). He's taken it apart, but after prodding at it, it re-assembles like it's made of magnets.
In the kitchen. Sister Jude kneads the dough of personal responsibility, remembering that fateful night and the girl in the road -- the crunch of her body on the windshield; the terror at realizing what she'd done. She's interrupted by Dr. Thredson, who's here to bother her ass about the corporal punishment she's so eager to dole out and "I realize you're likely unfamiliar with the work of B.F. Skinner, but..." Golly, what a pill this guy is. Blah, blah, positive reinforcement. Blah, blah, modern standards of care. Blah, blah, my perfect boyfriend and I are always walking our dogs around Los Feliz. Sister Jude says she is a beacon of compassion and in fact she has contacted a neighboring parish about borrowing their film projector for a movie screening on Friday night. Even she can admit there are some exceptions to the "usual Hollywood dreck." The archdiocese, she says, is loaning them a copy of The Sign of the Cross. Quick lesson in film history and irony, as The Sign of the Cross was a 1932 film that pre-dated the Production Code, but was so controversial for its depictions of sex and violence that it spurred the creation of the Catholic Legion of Decency, which, if your parents were Catholic and as old as mine, they can tell you stories about what movies they were forbidden from seeing, per the Church. Anyway, so obviously the archdiocese has a copy that they're happy to lend out for group viewing. Thredson then "oh, by the way"s about Jed Potter's autopsy report, which he needs for his files. He says he bets it'll say he died of natural causes. "If it's natural for a 17-year-old boy to die of a heart attack," she sneers at him. He mocks her and says maybe this suspicious nature of hers is a projection of her "guilty conscience." This triggers a realization in Sister Jude that it must have been this pencil-neck who is taunting her with old newspapers. She demands to know where he got it, but he of course has no idea what she's talking about. She decides to drop it rather than incriminate herself further. She says she needs the office he's been working in, so he's got two more weeks to make his evaluation of Kit Walker, and then he's out the door. Knead that dough, girl. Knead that dough.