"The golden age was gone," Elton remembers, as the lights turn on one by one, revealing them to be exactly what they were all along. Victor wears a black cloak and top hat, and carries a black and silver cane. He is the dorkiest thing in the entire universe. "So, we meet at last...LINDA," he smirks. Skinner -- holding out a hand, to touch him and apologize -- asks if they've been too loud, and Victor pulls back, away, into himself. No touching: "I don't shake hands! Back, back. I suffer from a skin complaint -- eczeema." Elton corrects his pronunciation, but Victor claims his version is worse: "I blister to the touch. Back, back! All of you! Further, further. Thank you." They back away; Elton asks who the heck this dude is. "I am your salvation," says Victor. But salvation and damnation are the same thing, said Stephen King. Said this whole season. But we're not there yet.
LINDA watch Rose board the TARDIS on Mr. Kennedy's laptop, thrilled and reminded of how it started. "You've forgotten your purpose in life," says Victor. "You, with your band, and your cakes, and your blubbing...And all the while he still exists. The Doctor." There are the fans who try to tell you how to love the things you love; the religious types who tell you how to worship; the men who tell you what it is to be a man, and how to be a woman. They turn the lights on and you look back at yourself and suddenly you're ugly. Just like that. If the Devil is the anti-TARDIS, Victor Kennedy is the anti-Doctor. By way of Scuttle the Seagull. Everybody stares, mouth agape, at the Doctor going about his business, exclaiming. "Move back, move back, all of you! Oh, wait for this -- the picture cuts out, but the sound still continues: listen. Listen to the sound of the universe..." The holy VWORP issues from his crappy speakers; Elton gets a memory of shadows shaken loose and retreats to a corner, to sit and not remember, head in hands. "What is it?" asks Ursula, worried and comforting. She reaches out a hand to touch him, and Victor sticks his stupid cane in her way. No touching: "Leave him!" Victor asks if Elton hasn't heard that sound before, battering at him with words, asking him, trying to force him to remember. "I'd forgotten," Elton says quietly. "Until now. But it was that night..." Victor pushes; Elton continues: "I was just a kid...that's why I went downstairs. It woke me up. That noise..." Young Elton heads down the stairs, into the living room...and cut. We forget because we must: this story and Elton's memory are fluid, and Victor makes things hard: "That is the sound of his spaceship."