The slightly angry face becomes a really angry face, somewhere Timmy can't even see it, and it's all very scary, but if you think that's going somewhere, it's not. Then comes the boring new theme song and ugly font, and finally we get back to the good shit: Amy Pond. Held by the Doctor, by the ankle, floating out of the TARDIS, in space. Hair gone all wild. Amy hoots and hollers about how really they are in space, it really is a spaceship, and the Doctor explains that he's extended the air shell, for her to walkies in space, still wearing her nightie. The Doctor locates their first adventure: In the 29th century, solar flares have roasted the earth, so the entire human race packed its bags and moves out, until the weather improves. Whole nations, he says. Not the end of the world, just a little rest, a little vacation to the stars. This whole time, Amy's holding onto the outside of the TARDIS, calling his name softly, still floating.

"This is the United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland," the Doctor explains, yanking her inside and showing her the ship. "All of it, bolted together and floating in the sky: Starship UK. It's Britain, but metal." Great line! Then it goes sour, once again: "That's not just a ship, that's an idea. That's a whole country! Living and laughing and... shopping, searching the stars for a new home." After this nod to meaningfulness, there's cutesy back-and-forth verging on flirtation about how the number one rule is that they must not, must never, get involved in the affairs of other people or planets. Get it? Because he always does, that's the joke. That's what serves as a joke.

Amy stares at a little crying girl on the screen, down there in the ship, and compares them to wildlife documentarians: "If they see a wounded cub or something, they can't just save it, they've got to keep filming and let it die. That's got to be hard. I don't think I could do that. Don't you find that hard?" She finally looks away from the little crying girl, but of course the Doctor's already gone.

The set, London Market, is pretty remarkable. An intense amount of hustle for what is probably a fairly small area in reality, lots of colors and clothes, all of it lavish and particular. Amy wanders through it realizing she's really in the future: "I've been dead for centuries." The Doctor calls this gloomy, because he doesn't like to think about that, because he doesn't have to think about that, and then asks a bunch of Socratic nonsense to get her to figure out something that we, the viewers, can't be expected to have figured out, which means it's just the Doctor being annoying and unnecessarily dramatic, which is on the script: