Zach is alone in the control room, drilling down into the Pit. He turns from the hologram to check the pressure; behind him the Beast appears, horns and the whole bit, and shakes its head triumphantly. Zach turns back, but it's gone; he feels something watching, and shakes it off.
Danny opens a hatch, and the computer tells him to close Door 3. "I've closed Door 3," he says, absent-minded; the computer responds: "He is awake." Danny cocks his head and asks what it just said; it repeats its command to close Door 3. He shakes it off.
Toby examines the text fragments, the untranslatable. It is silent. "Toby..." He begins to look, but the voice is insistent: "Don't turn around." The camera is behind him, on his back; almost breathing. This is the scariest thing that ever happened on television. Scarier than Flavor Flav and Brigitte Nielsen, scarier than Jerry Springer, scarier than Toni on Paradise Hotel, scarier than anything. Toby says Dan's name again, but acknowledges that this is not Danny right now; he starts to turn again. "Don't look at me." Toby obeys and asks who it is; the Beast is proud and tired at once: "I have so many names." Toby begins to ask if he may look, indulging the human urge to look, but the Beast tells him plainly, "If you look at me, you will die." Which is how you get Toby. "I'm behind you, Toby. I'm right behind you." For REAL! Toby jerks around, trying not to look. "Don't look -- don't look at me. One look and you will die." The Devil never ever lies. He doesn't have to. He's the Prince of Lies, but we do all the work. The camera zooms in on Toby, closer and closer, almost breathing. "I'm reaching out, Toby. I'm so close. Don't turn around. Oh, I can touch you..." Toby finally snaps. That is simply too frightening. If this wasn't my job, I would have quit watching right that second and changed apartments and possibly zip codes. Most of my internal organs started the journey early. Actual flesh crawling; actual whimpers, no lie. So awful. But Toby looks, and just like that the voice is gone. Toby breathes a sigh of relief, having felt him go.
In the corridor, the lights flicker. Toby looks down at his hands, turns them over, back and palm, and puts down the broken vessel he's been studying. Pulling his gloves off, he stares down at his tickling, trembling hands. Backs, and palms -- which are now covered in the ancient text, like a tattoo or a stain, all over him. (Buffy Reference #354 for the week, if only because the reason Willow sucks is the same reason this is happening.) Toby stands in shock, staring down, and checks himself out in the mirror. His face is a page from an untranslatable book: words burned into his skin, eyes gone red. He is physically transformed into something that predates language; his body becomes synonymous with the language the TARDIS won't touch. And all its words are lies, and all they say is loneliness. The words of the Pit, the fear that stands behind you and says, "Everything changes, and everything ends," and dares you not to look. Toby throws the mirror down, ugly to himself, mistaking those words for the truth of him, and his back arches; he is thrown to the floor, unconscious.