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Nightmare on Pike Street (And Union Street, and Spring Street…)

Shortly thereafter, the office has been converted to a crime scene, with cops milling around and Nayak giving Olivia the password to the offsite backup server. Nayak's research assistant, a shaggy dude named Zach, wanders in wondering what's going on, and Nayak dispatches him to pull together as many subject names as he can. Olivia watches as he leaves rather shiftily, then accepts the password from Nayak. She asks him the standard question about who might want to do this, and he says the chip has been working so well that it might have become the target of some corporate espionage types. Not Massive Dynamic, I'm sure; now they have one of their own. Yes, Nina gave the original back to Broyles, but I'm sure Nina's lab techs spent about five minutes figuring out what it was and two hours getting their own version into mass production. "These people just wanted some rest," Nayak says. "And my chip was helping them." Yes, clearly. But Olivia has already tuned him out, because she's noticed a tiny red logo on the breast of his jacket, which means she has to ask him for a business card. As he goes to get her one, Olivia steps over to Peter to say that since Nayak is too upset about all this to be a suspect, she's got no theories. Peter, however, does. He explains how the chip is connected to the thalamus, the thalamus is connected to the cerebral cortex, the cerebral cortex is connected to motor function, now hear the word of the evil megalomaniac controlling your movements.

"Mind control, Peter?" Walter asks over the phone. "Wouldn't be the first time someone's attempted it." And of course by "someone" he means "Walter Bishop." Have I told you about my work with the MK Ultra Project? Of course, at that time, we supposed we could do it with LSD and hypnotic suggestion." Is there anything Walter won't try with LSD and hypnotic suggestion? It's like his version of duct tape. Peter, carrying some coffee and stealing an apple from a sidewalk market as he walks through a sunny Seattle morning (they do exist, I've seen them), asks if Walter has a way to test the chip they recovered from Leeder. Walter says he'd need a live subject for best results. "Walter, no! No student volunteers, "Peter orders, just as Agent Kashner proudly presents himself in front of Walter with a full set of bags recovered from their flight. Peter makes Walter say it. "No students." Yeah, Agent Kashner is going to wish Peter had been a little less specific.

Peter returns to Olivia's hotel room, where she's got a whole chaotic workspace spread out on the coffee table in front of her. After some discussion of the mind-control theory, Olivia shows Peter the list of names Nayak could remember: only 26. Plus he writes like a girl. Those people have already been rounded up by the Seattle police to have their chips removed, but as Peter points out, there are some fifty still out there. Fifty-four, by my count, soon to be fifty-three. Suddenly Olivia goes into a mood as a result of having looked down at one of the items on her work space: a photo of herself with Charlie. Peter catches the snap, and reminds Olivia that what she killed last week wasn't Charlie. She knows that, but of course he's still dead. Not that she's that blunt. Instead, she tells Peter about her first week on the job, trying to bust a gun-and drug-running operation. Her first week? There wasn't any filing she could have done? "I had been a military prosecutor, so I hadn't handled a gun since basic training. And suddenly I'm underground in this garage wearing a bulletproof vest and wondering how the hell I got there. So I did what any rookie would do and started looking for an exit." And then Charlie came up to her, "this man that I didn't know, this gruff guy, and he said, 'You're gonna be fine.' And I have to face it. That he...he's gone. That he's not coming back." So to face it, she's heading to the clinic. She leaves Peter sitting there in her room. He could totally order anything he wants on pay-per-view and it'll be on her bill.

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