Fringe

Episode Report Card
Daniel: B | 3 USERS: A
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Ghost Network Busters!
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

A shadowy figure enters St. Anne's cathedral and sits down in the confessional, and tells the priest it's been three months since his last confession. Three months? Multiply that by about a hundred and that's about how long it's been for me. I feel like I should have taken notes, because I'm sure there's some confession-requiring stuff that I've forgotten, should I ever decide that I'd like to go to heaven. He asks the priest if he believes God talks to people, and the priest pretty much has to hang up the robe or answer "yes." Well, then, how about the devil? "Do you have something to confess, my son?" asks the priest.

Buddy, getting a little verklempt, says he tries to be a good man, but he sees things. And we flash through what this guy sees. A man in a suit getting on a city bus. Sitting down, he looks at the other passengers, specifically at a woman with a backpack.

"It's happening again, and I'm scared," says Buddy, back in the confessional. Scared of what, asks the apparently bored priest. "Of what's going to happen on the bus!' says Buddy.

Which is this: as the bus enters a tunnel, the man opens up his briefcase, and calmly takes out a gas mask and straps it on. This does not fail to escape the notice of the other passengers, but before they have too much time to react, the man pulls out a shiny metal canister, pulls it open an inch or so, and rolls it down the aisle. It spews smoke, and as the other passengers start to freak out, the man calmly walks down the aisle and picks up the woman's backpack.

In the church, Buddy is getting more and more agitated, and the priest has asked if he's hurt someone. Buddy bolts from the confessional and runs off through the nave.

The man on the bus steps off, totally forgetting to get a transfer. He pulls off the mask and gets into a car waiting nearby. Fortunately the bus drove into an ENTIRELY DESERTED tunnel in the middle of RUSH HOUR.

Back at the church, the priest chases the confessor, who drops a piece of paper as he hurries out. "Roy, I know it's you!" yells the priest. So much for the privacy of the confessional. The priest picks up the crumpled piece of paper, on which is drawn a black-and-white picture of screaming bus passengers. Judging from the utter sense of despair, I'm guessing this is from a Monday-morning commute.

Back in the tunnel, one police car has shown up, with one cop all, "Come on, move it along," at least until he shines his flashlight into the bus to find the passengers frozen in some kind of plastic or gel filling the entire interior. That's no excuse for being late for work! You should have left a little earlier!

We're at Mount Briar Cemetery for ... John Scott's funeral? Really? They still haven't buried him yet? He must be getting a little gamey by now. Olivia looks like she's going to pass a kidney stone from taking in the whole military funeral. Also, John's mother keeps staring at her with an inscrutable expression. Smirk? Knowing smile? Senility?

After the ceremony, Charlie catches up to Olivia ("Libby," he calls her) to tell her she did the right thing by showing up. The bureau's already got one black eye as it is, and the last thing it needs is another espionage scandal. She says John's mom was staring at her as if she were blaming Olivia for John's death. Charlie says that as far as John's mom knows, John died a hero serving his country.

"A hero," snorts Olivia. "He was using me. And he told me he loved me!" She's more annoyed at John telling her he loved her than John selling state secrets, I see. "I wasn't gonna tell you this. But he said he loved me too," says Charlie. Olivia stares at him for a moment, then cracks up. Charlie stays entirely stonefaced, but before we can contemplate whether Charlie was serious or not, Broyles pops up out of nowhere to speak to Olivia.

Upbeat rock music plays as we watch an establishing shot of Fenway, which takes us into a ... diner? Really? OK. It's the Bishop boys, with Walter putting his own medicine into his iced tea. He says he made it himself in the lab. So now Peter has to worry about his dad being a METH HEAD on top of everything else.

Peter excuses himself, and walks down the lunch counter. Back at the table with Walter, Peter's phone vibrates, and an exceedingly confused Walter suddenly turns into Unfrozen Caveman Scientist, pawing at it. Peter strolls down the diner counter before suddenly stopping and grabbing a guy sitting on a stool. "You thought I didn't see you all day?" he snaps. He grabs the camera from the counter and flips through the images of him on the computer, and then takes the memory card. "You were supposed to check in before you came home," says the guy. Peter warns the shutterbug that if he tells anyone else he's home, that Peter's going to come after him first. I for one would be terrified at the thought of Joshua Jackson coming after me.

Peter goes back to his seat, and Walter struggles to remember the important message imparted when Peter's phone started buzzing. "Something about a bus," he says.

Broyles shows the Fringe crew over to the bus, telling them that CDC was called in but it was determined that the attack was not biological. Not that the people on board are any less dead for it. "It's horrible. They're like mosquitoes trapped in amber," says Walter. Olivia wonders why they didn't use something conventional, like plastic explosives. "Impact. Whoever did this wanted attention," says Peter. Broyles wonders if it's an attack at all, or something else entirely. Bag 'em and tag 'em! Olivia says they'll need to dig out the personal effects to ID the victims and notify the next of kin. Hey, perhaps the next of kin wouldn't mind the life-size statues of their loved ones, preserved for all eternity!

Meanwhile, the man with the canister is going through the backpack with another guy in some kind of ... ancient foyer? It looks kind Da Vinci's Code-ish. Whatever they're looking for, it's not there, and the second guy gets on the phone and speaks ... Latin? It's not subtitled. "Quomodo peregemus," he says. Read my mind, pal. He walks away, up some stairs.

Over at a modern looking office, Roy is trying to concentrate on some paperwork, but the flashbacks are kicking in again. He flips over a sheet of paper and starts drawing a person and then rubbing it in charcoal and dotting red for blood dripping from the hands. One of his co-workers, passing by, says, "Roy? What is that?" Roy looks at the drawing, of a woman, arms splayed, hands bleeding. "I don't know," he says, practically choking. This is why no one wants to sit next to you in the break room, Roy.

Back at the Harvard lab, Walter's examining a chunk of the bus material. Peter asks what it is. "Tricky. Just tricky," he says. It's tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time. It's tricky! How is it? Tricky! Tricky? Tricky! Tricky? Man, no one can use the word "tricky" in my presence. That always happens. It's a serious problem; my wife's considering divorce. All Walter has determined so far is that it's a silicon-based aerosol, and it solidifies somehow.

How can Peter help? Well, by playing Bach's Mass in A Minor. Walter suggests the "young lady down there" can score them a piano. Peter rolls his eyes and reminds Walter, for apparently the hundredth time, that that's Astrid Farnsworth. "You always resisted your lessons, too. Lack of commitment, son, was always your problem," says Walter, who goes on to gripe about his son not choosing a profession yet. Hey, "con artist" is a kind of profession!

Peter sarcastically suggests that he should have followed in his dad's footsteps, since Walter's work has "obviously brought so much joy to the world." Peter, no, that's Three Dog Night. You're thinking of Three Dog Night. But suddenly Walter sharpens and asks Peter who the guy in the diner was: "You in some kind of trouble?" Peter laughs it off, and says the guy was just harassing the waitress, so Peter just told him to knock it off. "Oh, I see," says Walter,

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Fringe

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