Oh, shit! We've somehow traveled into a parallel universe where I'm the recapper for Fringe! Despite my never having seen a single episode before now! And God only knows what Daniel is up to in this reality. Well, there's nothing we can do but make the best of it, and try to get through this together. Something tells me we'll all be safely back home by January.
We open on a rural field, where in the midst of some kind of vegetable, some enterprising farmer has succeeded in raising a bumper crop of giant white letters that read "Lansdale Pennsylvania." There's some construction happening to the road running alongside the edge of the field, but it appears to be wrapping up for the day. As a couple of workers get set to climb in a pickup to leave -- the pickup's radio muttering softly about six recent local disappearances in what I'm sure is a totally extraneous detail -- one of them returns to the field to pick up some stuff he forgot, despite his coworker fretting about missing an impending kickoff. The worker takes his time, though, pausing to regard the ominous scarecrow looming over the field. Well, at least it's supposed to look ominous, but the noisy crow perched on its shoulder seems pretty unintimidated. Probably because it flew right out of The Stand. In fact, the worker comes over all curious about what the crow could be trying to tell him. As the truck's radio, apropos of nothing, plays "Poor Little Fool" by Ricky Nelson, the worker ventures into the field to see what's what. There appears to be a small puddle of some blue fluid on the ground. A hand-shaped puddle, although it's hard to get a good look at it with all the leaves in the way. So as the signal bell at the nearby train crossing starts ringing, the worker squats down for a closer look. What an extraordinarily awful idea; it's bad enough to find oneself in a Fringe teaser in the first place without compounding your doom by ignoring an actual, literal alarm. Sure enough, the hand-shaped blob suddenly grabs the worker's hand and drags him bodily head-first right into the ground in less time than it takes to read this sentence. Even if you're a speed-reader. His coworker, who wouldn't have been able to see any of this through the thick crop, is left calling, "Raymond!" to an empty field, save for the impassive scarecrow and the Walkin' Dude on its shoulder. Neither of them seem to care that he's going to miss the kickoff after all.
After the titles, we're in New York City. Specifically, Olivia's soon-to-be-former hospital room. The cuts on her face are healing normally, looks like. She's dressed to leave, and a health care professional snips off her wristband. Olivia stretches her newly freed hand -- which shakes only briefly -- as Peter looks over at her with concern. Before handing Olivia her new cane, he jokes that he's checking it for a hidden ninja sword. One would expect him to know that samurai swords are much sharper. Olivia's just glad to be leaving the hospital. "I'm no good at sitting around," she says, already limping House-style to the door. "You're also no good at letting people help you," Peter remarks. That just gets him drafted into carrying her suitcase. He shakes his head, either in regret that he couldn't keep his mouth shut or in disgust that Olivia doesn't have a rolling suitcase like everyone else.