(And I'm barely being facetious, because honestly this episode, like the last, relies so much more on previous connections you've made in your brain -- movies you've seen, episodes of this show, trite scenarios they scarcely have to built to at all for you to assume the connection for yourself -- that frankly it would be better if you had that stuff available to call on. Be Pound's Ideal Reader, and take the references -- which is all these two episodes are, just fragments of better ideas and half-remembered tales by better writers, shored up against the ruins of story -- that they're practically literary in their own right. Almost poetry. To the point that maybe I should treat them that way, like sketchy semiotic moments in a web of universal poetics, referencing lyrically instead of earning in their own right. What do you think?)
"What you are, sir, is either on our side or theirs," says brilliant Winston. "Now, I don't give a damn if you're a machine, Bracewell -- are you a man?" Amy gets in his face -- in lieu of a personality this episode, she'll be saying real talk and using women's intuition to get to the mealy-melty heart of the matter, while gazing adoringly at Churchill as he does nothing -- and says she gets it. She understands, she says, she really does.
(Which was a tossed-off line in this episode, but more and more increasingly looks like the lynchpin of Amy's story. As much as I wanted to believe that kissogram=stripper was just a kneejerk reaction from fake Jezebel feminists, it seems to be more and more true as the story goes on, in Moffat-world: Women are mysterious and lovely objects, machines containing obscure mechanics "we" can't hope to understand, and their daddy issues run deep. We have to save them from becoming stone, or robots like Bracewell here, because they can't do it for themselves. God help me, but I'd prefer Russell's gay-agenda pedestal over Moffat's stereotyped stripper-pole any day of the week, because at least in that formulation women are an ideal we're approaching, instead of strange broken creatures from Venus that we must resist. It starts here.)
Having shown compassion for Bracewell's "am I real or am I a stripper" crisis, Amy moves on: "Look, there is a spaceship up there lighting up London like a Christmas tree. Thousands of people will die tonight if we don't stop it, and you're the only one who can help take it down." Why? Because he's alien tech. "You're as clever as the Daleks are. So start thinking!" (Screaming repeatedly at someone about their potential magically activates their potential? Check.) They imagine immediately gravity bubbles and hypersonic flight, and suddenly London is capable of flying Vipers! Sexy old dogfighters gifted with the technology to become weapons of space war every bit as exciting as... When Bernard Cribbins flew one a few episodes ago. Well, in for a Skywalker in for a pound, I say. They get them ready, with much dashin' about.