As we listen to a crackly broadcast of Churchill giving a famous and inspirational speech about it all coming down to world anarchy or world order, Reed pulls on his lip that's become stiffer with every passing minute. I seriously doubt whether Malcolm's upper lip has ever been stiffer. He thought he'd experienced the stiffness before but that stiffness was nothing, NOTHING, compared to this stiffness. In fact, if the stiffness doesn't subside in three hours, he might have to seek medical attention. Do you see how I turned British national pride into something dirty? Just think what I could do with "mustn't grumble." You're scared now, aren't you? Hoshi reports that was Ol' Windbag himself in a speech that he gave thirty minutes ago, and Reed brilliantly figures out that they are two hundred years in the past. You know, just in case we couldn't do that math ourselves based on the Nazis, the Nazis, oh, and THE NAZIS! Hoshi goes on that she intercepted more military reports and "a radio show -- something called 'The Shadow.'" Ah, Lamont Cranston -- debonair man about town by day, creepy peeping tom by night. I kid. I love "The Shadow" and used to listen to that and "The Life of Riley" with my mom, but let's face it, this ability to cloud men's minds that he learned in "the Orient"? He didn't just use it to solve crimes. That Margo Lane had quite the sexy voice, and Lamont knew full well that evil doesn't lurk solely in the hearts of men -- sometimes it's in pantaloons too. What? Oh, right. The show.
T'Pol wants to run a diagnostic, but Trip goes all ape shit about how this isn't a sensor glitch, they're in the past, and he doesn't give a ratty tat's ass about what the Vulcan High Council thinks of time travel. Once she wipes the Trip spittle from her face, T'Pol continues with what she was saying: "The first step to getting back is ascertaining how we got here. As soon as the diagnostic is complete, I want to scan for any anomalies in the area." Reed accepts his orders and prances off to apply more Viagra Lip Balm to his upper lip. May-Pocket-Philosopher wonders if they were meant to be there. If he starts quoting Thomas Paine, I'm cracking open a forty. Oh, what am I worried about? This is Enterprise -- there's no higher thinking going on here. Whew. T'Pol agrees they have to consider all possibilities.
In a corridor, Silik crawls upside-down and inside-out on the ceiling. Why do I come over all Dr. Seuss-y when describing Suliban I Am? Oh, wait -- Silik's back! Yay?