She makes her way into a darkened sub-level with hand-bots hot on her heels. "This is a kindness," they keep repeating. Amy runs and runs and finally makes her way to a steamy cage thing. She rattles it, trying to find her way through it, but then hand-bots suddenly can't sense her anymore and walk away.

The TARDIS materializes in a red-waterfall gallery where the Appaloosas have deposited all their favorite works of art. The Mona Lisa is there, along with a nude sculpture and an oozing purple tower that would look fabulous in my dining room. Why would they keep their priceless collection in an infection zone? Who knows?

Amy finds her way to another white room, this one occupied by plain white arches and an octagonal console. The Interface tells her the room is the Gate, which leads to all the facility's entertainment zones. Amy picks a vast, fancifully landscaped garden and takes the opportunity to pick the Interface's brain. She eventually finds out that the hand-bots couldn't sense her earlier because she was near a vent that "channels temporal exhaust fumes" from the engines that run the place. The exhaust messes with their sensors. Two hand-bots beam in. As they both reach for her, she grabs their hands and touches them together. This shorts out the hand-bots. Either this is a blatant design flaw or the manufacturer was trying to cut down on douchey high-fives. Amy makes her way to the temporal engine room and uses her lipstick to write the Doctor a message on the door.