Over on Liberty Island, alt-Bradon is dorkily asking Olivia questions about how she's doing, after being back with Fringe division for eight days, like is she having any headaches, that kind of thing, and Olivia slyly says she does feel like she keeps getting asked the same questions over and over again: "Is that a lingering symptom?" and Brandon unsmilingly reminds her that she had a severe mental break, so he has to ask her these questions.

Then Walternate oozes into the room, doing his best to appear to be charming and not all Lex Luthory, and he apologizes for the "poking and prodding," and tells her she looks well, and he asks if she got the "dossier" he sent over, and I kind of think that "dossier" is a word I should really try to use more often in day-to-day conversation.

And apparently the dossier is about how the "other" Olivia Dunham can cross between universes. "Thus far, we've developed some means of our own, but each of them has dangerous side effects," says Walternate, who tells her -- even though all this stuff is probably in the "dossier" -- that they think Olivia might have the same abilities, so they need to put her through a series of experiments to see if they're right. "I'm sure you understand what this would mean to our cause," he tells her quietly. Oh, but by all means, if you're not up to it, she should just say no. Not fair! "Yeah, our whole universe could be destroyed if you don't take this test, but DON'T SWEAT IT."

And then all of a sudden Olivia's all by herself and she's popping a pill from a bottle in her backpack, and she opens a locker and there's Peter in the reflection. "You can take as many pills as you want. I'm not going anywhere," he says. Olivia says that he's not there, and then Peter starts prattling on about how she only agreed to take the test because she wants things to go back to normal. "Unfortunately, that's not gonna happen. Because you're not their Olivia. And you can keep on telling yourself that you're fine, but you're not fine," he says. Yeah, point of order: of all the words that may be used to describe Olivia Dunham, "fine" might actually be quite near the top of the list. "And I'm not a lingering symptom," says Peter, who I imagine knows quite a lot about lingering symptoms. "You can't ignore me," he concludes, and Olivia shuts the locker door, and Peter's gone.

Over to the Franklin Street Station in Brooklyn, with a shrine immortalizing the victims trapped in the wall of amber underground. There are a couple of guys who seem to be cutting into the amber with what appear to be some kind of laser blowtorches. The carve a massive Toblerone-shaped wedge out of the amber and lay it down on the floor, and then start using some kind of handheld pen lasers on the thing, telling each other to be careful and whatever. They cut off sections of the slab until it's apparent they're cutting a person out of the amber, and when we see his face, we see he looks just like one of his liberators, who puts his head close and determines the amber man is not breathing. His cohort, all pessimistic, says, "He's dead," which just means that there has to be a syringe somewhere close by that they can jam into the dude's neck. Still nothing, and then some smoke from all the cutting reaches some kind of detector on the ceiling that starts going off, warning them about a quarantine area breach. Which reminds me that when you set your clocks back an hour is the perfect time to make sure you've got working batteries in your quarantine breach detector.