Brody has arrived at the ER and is being wheeled toward Trauma Green. Everyone happily remembers the way electricity lit him up like a Christmas tree during The Storm. Luka wonders where to put Brody, then remembers that anything Mark does is irrelevant, and so kicks the mediocre Dr. Greene out of Trauma Green. As Mark wheels Daniel's gurney to another room, Abby shares that the boy tested positive for marijuana. Her timing is impeccable: Daniel's very angry father overheard, and is irate to learn his oldest son tokes the happy herb but doesn't share his stash. "I didn't smoke today," protests Daniel. His parents don't care. His mother, who thinks it's a crime that she wasn't born Mia Farrow and has therefore tried to fashion herself after Woody's ex, joins the chorus of criticism. They can't believe Daniel took Joey to the river in this kind of weather. They hate Daniel. They rue the day his single helices twined. They lament the day they discovered child-labor laws. And they especially hate when he asks them for things, like food or attention, or something other than a brick for a pillow. Daniel insists Joey wanted to see the river. "Joey's six years old!" yells Dipshit Dad. "So you're going to blame it on him now?" Flatly, Daniel says, "No, it's my fault." Mia is silent and disapproving suddenly, as Mark turns around and tells them to wait right there while he situates Daniel in another room. They, without having gotten an update on Daniel's condition, persist in asking Mark about Joey. Daniel's going to get a Jan Brady complex.
Gallant cuts Rex's umbilical connection to Craft Services. "Is that my baby?" drawls Vicki, semi-conscious but still alarmed that she birthed a plastic robot baby. "Yes, honey, you have a boy," Weaver calls out as Rex starts bawling, proving to the world that he is human, so hear him roar. Gallant gauges the fetal heart rate, while Mighty Lopez Power Ranger yells that the electric company has finally decided it's almost time to consider possibly turning off the power grid, but it wants first to notify all emergency services of their imminent need to switch to a backup generator. I'm beginning to think they fouled up and called the old cast of Electric Company instead of the actual power people. I feel like Morgan Freeman's out there scratching his chin and flipping circuit switches while rhyming and using only words that begin with "A." Gallant pipes up that he thinks the fetal heart rate is 88. "You think, or you know?" snaps Weaver, shedding her cloak of gentleness and allowing some impatience. "It's 88," asserts Gallant. He prepares to wrap up Rex in a Wonder Cloak as Weaver explains that the tot needs fluids, oxygen, and blood. "You need to get him to the hospital," she instructs. Meanwhile, Vicki decides she's had enough of this fluid-retention crap, and exsanguinates all over the place. "I have to clamp off the uterine arteries," Weaver panics. The camera cuts to a shot of the Easy-Bake Belly, the inner-workings of which are strewn all over the place. Seriously, I think Vicki's uterus is sitting on top of her sternum, sweeping on some rouge and waiting for its close-up.