Cassandra starts whining that she's so alone, hidden down in the depths, the very last human in existence. Rose tells her to cram it: "They've called this planet New Earth! And there's [sic] millions of humans out there..." Cassandra's not buying it -- New Earth is a "vegetable patch"; the humans on it "mutant stock" -- and Rose tries to talk her through petrifold regression: "They evolved, Cassandra. They just evolved, like they should. You stayed still. You got yourself all pickled and preserved, and what good did it do you?" Cassandra smiles up at her home video: "Oh, I remember that night. Drinks for the Ambassador of Thrace. That was the last time anyone told me I was beautiful. After that it all became...such hard work." Rose gives her props for her "knack for survival," and Cassandra implies that the Sisters of Plenitude are hiding something: "I've not been idle, Rose. Tucked away, underneath this hospital...I've been listening." She promises to spill the secrets of the cats to Rose, if Rose will just come closer. As can be expected, Rose immediately takes three giant steps back, and there's some machine there that grabs her in bands of light. "Chip! Activate the psychograft!" Rose struggles and hollers; Chip "activates" the "psychograft," and then it's "goodbye trampoline, and hello Blondie," per Cassandra, and then Cassandra is zooming spiritually across the room and into Rose. She sits up, asking to be moisturized, and looks down at Rose's hands. "How bizarre! Arms, fingers, hair! Let me see! Let me see!" She dashes to a mirror, and her eyes widen in horror: "Oh my God. I'm a chav!"
The Doctor brings Novice Hame a glass of water; she thanks him, and he says it's no big: she's the one working. "There's not much to do, just maintain his smoke. And I suppose I'm company. I can hear him singing, sometimes. In my mind. Such ancient songs..." That's how you know the Face of Bo is Good. Only Good things sing on this show. Only Good guys can do telepathy: another kind of touch, behind the face. "Am I the only visitor?" asks the Doctor. "The rest of Bokind became extinct long ago; he's the only one left." All that remains is the face. "Legend says that the Face of Bo has watched the universe grow old," she says, as the Doctor smiles. "There's [sic] all sorts of superstitions around him. One story says that, just before his death, the Face of Bo will impart his great secret, that he will speak those words only to one like himself." The Doctor asks what Novice Hame means, but she protests: "It's just a story." On the off chance that the myth is about him, which of course it is, the Doctor gets intense: "Tell me the rest!" She gets a faraway look: "It's said he'll talk to a wanderer. To the man without a home. The Lonely God." Bingo.