Cut back and forth between the Doctor's elevator and Rose's, as Stage One Disinfection commences: there's a flash of light, a sanguine Doctor is soaked in a shower of disinfectant, and Rose screams madly. The Doctor runs his hands through his hair as Rose is smacking the walls with her eyes shut, trying to turn the shower off. Talcum powder puffs out onto both of them, and they are finally blown dry. The Doctor loves it, and Rose eventually calms the hell down and gets it together. The Doctor steps out into Ward 26; Rose steps out into a dank and creepy cellar. "The human child is clean," says Chip, down at the end of the hall, and summons her: "This way, Rose Tyler." He scurries off, creepier than a handful of cat nuns, and even Rose picks up a piece of rebar before...totally following him, even though the Doctor is nowhere to be seen.
Sister Jatt, a cat nurse, leads the Doctor into Ward 26. The cat nurses look freaking awesome, I love them. The Doctor's lecturing that he would put in a shop downstairs, "so people can shop," and Sister Jatt is surprised: "The hospital is a place of healing." The Doctor says that shopping is healthful for some people -- not him, but some people. I agree. It's like Breakfast At Tiffany's, only for me it is Banana Republic. Your day cannot go poorly once you've gone into Banana Republic and spent some cash. It is good for the immune system. I don't know the whys and wherefores, but science supports me in this. I have been studying this for years. Also the Apple store: good for your ear, nose, throat and limbic system. And Betsey Johnson is good for the pancreas.
There's a patient who is completely red that they pass by, in Ward 26, as Jatt's explaining that the Sisters of Plenitude take a lifelong vow "to help, and to mend." There's a very fat man, the Duke of Manhattan, who is turning slowly and inexorably to stone. Near him stands his assistant, Frau Clovis, who is an a-hole. "Excuse me! Members of the public may only gaze upon the Duke of Manhattan with written permission from the Senate of New New York." Whatever: it's about faces, and touching. The Duke of Manhattan is turning into stone, suffering from a stiffening of the face -- petrifold regression, the Doctor calls it. Manhattan smiles: "I'm dying, sir. A lifetime of charity and abstinence," he chuckles ironically, "and it ends like this." Clovis bitches and whatever. Sister Jatt leads the Doctor away, saying that the Duke'll be "up and about in no time," and the Doctor begs to differ: "There won't be a cure for...oh, a thousand years? He might be up and about, but only as a statue." Sister Jatt tells him to shove it, and find that the person he's supposed to be visiting. The Doctor looks around and finally sees him: The Face of Bo. The last twenty-odd years have not been kind to him. I mean, he's a six-foot-tall Angry Tiki face that looks like Masters Of The Maze, in a jar. So it's relative.