Albion. The reels of the tape spin and tick-tock. It's a matter of time. "Mummy? Please, Mummy? Mummy?" The Doctor's voice gets weird as he paces: "Can you sense it?" Rose and Jack can't; they're just human. Caught in context, raised up by time travel but not made of time, like the Doctor is. The Doctor: "Coming out of the walls, can you feel it? Funny little human brains, how do you get around in those things?" Rose explains to Captain Jack, like a lover, like a sister, or a mother: "When he's stressed, he likes to insult species. Cuts himself shaving, does half an hour on life forms he's cleverer than..." The Doctor coughs it up: "There are these children living rough around the bomb site. They come out during air raids looking for food. Suppose they were there when this thing...landed." Captain Jack protests again, because he must: "It was a med-ship. It was harmless." Which is, it would seem, untrue. The Doctor postulates an idea: "Suppose one of them was affected. Altered? It's afraid. Terribly afraid. And powerful -- it doesn't know it yet, but it will do." The child shouts several times, "I'm here!" The Doctor laughs a bit, with a crazed smile: "It's got the power of a god, and I just sent it to its room." The reels crackle and click in the silence. "I'm here. Can't you see me?" says the child. And the Doctor recognizes the sound: "End of the tape. It ran out about thirty seconds ago." The child speaks again: "I'm here, now. Can't you see me?" Not quite yet. The Doctor hums. "I sent it to its room. This is its room." He turns, and there is the child: "Are you my mummy?" It cocks its head at Rose: "Mummy?"