Adam leans back in the broadcast chair and calls his answering machine, telling his parents to keep this message, too, even though it'll "sound like white noise." Three, two, one, and spike, and the information starts to flow.
"...But that's why you're so dangerous," says the Editor. "Knowledge is power, but you remain unknown." He laughs and snaps his fingers, sending shocks through their shackles. "Who are you?"
On the chair, Adam begins to tremble and shake. Back in 2012, the phone starts glowing, and the dog freaks out.
The Doctor writhes around, in pain, and tells the Editor to leave Rose out of it: "I'm the Doctor, she's Rose Tyler. We're nothing. We're just wandering!" The Editor demands again to know who they are, exasperating the Doctor: "I just said!" But what the Editor wants to know is what the information means: "Who do you work for? Who sent you? Who knows about us? Who exactly..." The Editor stops yelling, and spreads his hands delightedly. Down on Floor 139, Adam shudders, and the Editor smiles at the Doctor: "Time Lord." Over the Doctor's shock, he continues. "Oh, yes! The last of the Time Lords, in his traveling machine! Oh, with his little human girl from long ago..." The Editor caresses her face, and Rose jerks away violently. The Doctor tells the Editor he's wrong, he doesn't know what he's talking about, and the Editor answers: "Time travel." Adam begins to scream. "Someone's been telling you lies," the Doctor exclaims, and the Editor smiles: "Young master Adam Mitchell?" He snaps his fingers, summoning a projection of Adam twitching and shouting, spike still going strong. "Oh, my God," says Rose. "His head!" The Doctor shouts over and over, "What's he done?" And Cathica listens to the Doctor speak. "They're reading his mind...he's telling them everything!" Anonymity, in the prison of a not-so-benevolent demiurge, is at premium. There's more at stake than the old bar code across the neck -- it's about existence itself. The Editor confirms it: "Through him, I know everything about you. Every piece of information in his head is now mine. And you have infinite knowledge, Doctor. The Human Empire is tiny compared to what you've seen in your T-A-R-D-I-S...TARDIS." The Doctor swears he'll die before the Editor can get his hands on the TARDIS, and the Editor replies, "Die all you like. I don't need you; I've got the key." Which floats out of his pocket and hangs in the air. The Editor explains that now, "today, we are the headlines." He adds, "We can rewrite history. We could prevent mankind from ever developing!" And now the Doctor's just openly talking to Cathica, which is okay, and way better than feeling like he's lecturing us about it: "And no one's gonna stop you. Because you've bred a human race that doesn't bother to ask questions. Stupid little slaves, believing every lie. They'll just trot right into the slaughterhouse if they're told it's made of gold."