Olivia rolls out a city map on one of the workbenches at the lab for Broyles. At least they know Walter has to be close, since brain tissue can't survive on its own for long. Broyles says they've got alerts out to every hospital in the area, including veterinary ones. Olivia says they can't be sure that'll work, since these guys might have the resources to handle this on their own. "It's a start, and if we're wrong, we'll have to get creative," Broyles says, which is just about the least reassuring thing he's ever said, and that's saying something. Peter, who has been standing with his back to them pouting this whole time, doesn't wait for that; he's going to get creative right the hell now. "The girl in the red dress!" he suddenly realizes, referring to Slater's obsession. "28, 28, Sydney Greenstreet." Peter says the girl in the red dress that Slater used to rant about did exist after all. "She lived across the street from me. When I lived in Cambridge as a kid. Her name was Sydney. She lived at 2828 Green Street." It's Walter's memory, in other words. Peter's fingers are flailing around Walter-like in his rush to get his ideas out. He basically echoes what Newton was just saying about memory requiring context and association. "Every time Walter asks for a piece of food or music or art, he's trying to create a moment in time to help him remember." Which again, explains a lot. If the show knew that all along, that's pretty impressive. Only Peter's not sure where to go from there. "Maybe they're going to take him to the place where he did it," he guesses. Olivia thinks that means the lake house, but Peter says it would be not where Walter did it, but where he first had the thought.
"CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS," the giant floaty letters over the Boston suburb remind us. Walter is indeed in a house there, having his memory jogged, which is lucky, considering that he seems to have been transported all the way over here still wired up to his former brain-bits. He reminisces about the autumn leaves the last time he was here. Newton, feeling chatty, says this place is there in both worlds. "You see, but on my side, the trees died long ago .The same thing killed the grass. They call it the Blight." Imaginative name, that. Walter says that's terrible. The hench-nurse comes in and reports, "[Curtis] is on lookout and I've taken care of the Rubells. They're secured." I guess the Rubells must be the current homeowners. Newton adjusts a video camera on a tripod that's pointed at Walter, and explains, "I can see which areas of your brain can make sense of the data that's stored in these slivers of flesh. In a perfect world, I would simply put it back. I would never subject you a process so crude. But this is the only way we can reconnect these pieces of your brain." The hench-nurse depresses a plunger hooked up to the brain-bit jars, Walter gasps, and the red lights in the jars go green, so we can see it's working. Showy much? "You do know where you are, don't you?" Newton asks Walter. Walter kind of reboots, and says it's his home. "Where's my wife? Where's my son?" he demands. He doesn't also ask where his furniture is, or all his other crap. "You've drugged me!" he accuses, baring his teeth. Newton asks Walter how he built the door. "How are things on your side?" Walter taunts. "Worse, I'm told," Newton says mildly. "I know why you built it. The door. I know what you lost. Now are you going to pretend that you're willing to lose it again?" Walter's bravado disappears, and Newton says, "Now. Tell me about the door."