So Olivia decides to give it a whirl, and flicks a switch on the side of the box. All the lights come on. She folds her hand under her chin and starts to stare at the lights. Everyone looks at her, and the box. This is like watching someone play the world's most boring video game. After about thirty seconds, Olivia's cellphone rings, like how RUDE, and everyone has a good smile. Olivia answers it, and it's Charlie, telling her that they found something: a white van rented in New Haven to one Olivia Dunham. Whoa! Another Olivia Dunham! What are the odds! ... Oh. "He's messing with you, Liv," says Charlie.
Olivia hangs up. "This is just a stupid mind game," she says, and stomps off to end it.
Over at the federal building, Harass isn't keen on her seeing Jones without proper surveillance. Harass: "I am attempting to thwart you at every turn!" Olivia: "Let me do my job!" Harass: "I am a cartoonish hard-ass who cares more about saving face than saving lives!" Olivia: "I only care about saving lives and am just trying to do my job!" Harass: "I'm letting you get your way again because I grudgingly respect the passion with which you stand up for yourself!"
Anyway, she goes into the interview room, where a more agitated Jones is shaking. She tells him she didn't bring his test. "Your reluctance is to be expected," he croaks out. She tells him they know about the manuscript, about ZFT, about recruiting warriors and all that. "You read it?" he says, surprised. He thinks that she doesn't believe she's worthy. "I believe that everyone, maybe even you, is entitled to their belief system. But somehow you got me in your head," she says. He tells her it's because she was treated with cortexiphan, and they wanted to be sure, which was why he kidnapped her and did the spinal tap. "The next step, had you not escaped, was to convince you of this." She thinks he's full of it, and tells him so, and he gets more and more agitated, especially when she calls the light-bulb thing an impossible test. "The test is HARDLY impossible!" he spits at her, and she tells him he needs to co-operate, and like an eight-year-old, he's all, "YOU need to co-operate!" And his chair tips over, spilling him on the floor.