More running. Doctors and Rosita get all the kids out of there and it takes a million steampunky years, while Cybermen rush around with those doggies some more, being commanded by her imperious steering wheel-headed self. Then comes a thing I don't even want to talk about, so I'll just say: let's take ten minutes out of this impending whatever-it-is that we still don't-know-what-it-is so that Jackson Lake can suddenly unfugue about the fact that he has a son that was kidnapped at the beginning of the story -- and of course like in all science fiction this is of vastly greater importance than the guy's wife having just died -- and guess who's standing on that ledge like Toby the Future Goblin King? Right, the kid. What kid? The kid with the power. What power? The power to suddenly be very fucking important in the middle of this story, destroying all forward momentum and making Jackson Lake look like even more of a weenus.
So yeah, stop the whole fucking story so we can have a big fake emotional moment where the Doctor literally swings on ropes for awhile to get to the kid, while things explode forever and everywhere and Daddy blubbers down in the exploding place, and saves the kid, and OMG daddy loves you and all this, and seriously, it goes on forever. And Jackson Lake -- whom we've known now for about five minutes -- sweeps up his son -- whom we've known since this paragraph -- into his arms and cries and cries and cries and cries. None of which fucking matters, because who are these people, and why was the idiot kid standing on that ledge while the place was literally coming down around his ears in the following ways: It was on fire. It was electrocuting itself. It was sort of raining in there, or boiling steam clouds were in there. Giant boulders. Things exploding and competent adults literally conducting the children to the doors one by one, but not old Frederic Lake, no. Not our Freddy. He's going to stand right there in the most fucking precarious place possible until several grown men are forced to go up there after him, and why? No reason other than the heart-tugging reunion between two people we have never met and cannot care about. And then outside the building there is yet more administrivia as Rosita explains to approximately thirty kids, separately, that they should run to the left and stay away from burning or exploding things.
Finally, finally, the giant robot. It comes out of the Thames, and it is fabulous. Big as the sky. Built less like a Cyberman and more like a Wicker one. There's lots of running around, and Mercy's chock full of tapioca chatter -- "Behold! I am risen! Witness me, mankind, as CyberKing of all!" -- which doesn't even mean what she thinks it does, turns out, because really a CyberKing isn't a person or a job: it's a thing. "A ship! Dreadnought class! Front line of an invasion. And inside the chest, a Cyberfactory, ready to convert millions!" (Girl who was a ship, check.) And Mercy's booming, "And I will walk! I will stride across this tiny little world!" And so she does, and it is awesome like whoa. Houses smashing, clouds rising, people screaming, giant robot feet. The denizens of the new world do not accept it well. "My people, why do they not rejoice?" she shouts, smashing everything as it walks across London Town. I think I know.