So while Peter sets up the equipment, Walter looks at a picture of Nancy and asks why she looks so familiar, and Peter reminds him that he dissected her twin sister yesterday: "Blond girl, about five-seven. Really well done. Melted fillings." Peter's compassion is truly inspiring. Anyway, Peter gives a cord to Astrid to plug into the computer and then announces that the project he's been working on was for Walter. His equipment reconstructs audio. "I wanted to digitize some of those old water-damaged vinyl records you have. I know how much they mean to you," says Peter. Walter's quite touched, and Peter beams at him for a moment, and Walter's reminded of a time when Peter was five and he built Walter a popsicle-stick napkin holder. "Dreadful design. Utterly useless," says Walter, happily. Hee. Moving on, Peter says the basic principles here are very simple: "You all know how a record player works, right?" And Astrid has to show off her knowledge of vibration amplification. Although I have to say, as much as we take recorded sound for granted, it must have seemed like magic when phonographs were invented, huh?
Anyway, Peter, who's placed the glass disk under the electron microscope, says he's using it take a high-resolution digital image of the grooves on the surface of the record, which will then be transferred into the computer, which will translate it back into audio. "You sound just like him," says Astrid, meaning Walter. Proud moment for Papa! My son has cannibalized expensive, necessary equipment for a theoretical and highly dubious project, and he's contaminated a crime scene to do so! Peter says Walter figures the pyrotechnic abilities only occur during times of stress, so he figures the heat generated caused the window to liquefy slightly. "Which means that any sound that was in this room at that time would've left microscopic impressions in the molten glass.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pour myself a large drink.
So Peter asks Astrid to scan the glass, and she does that no problem, and Peter says the scan is being transferred into the audio processor, and can I just ask when Peter found the time to program code that reads molten glass like record grooves? Not that it works, initially. There's just a piercing noise and the glass section shatters. "That could have been one of my records!" says Walter, concerned. Peter says it's OK because he already has a digital scan of the glass. So he tries again, typing on his computer, and he slows it down by spinning the turntable device that's attached, and I'm no computer geek but I'm reasonably certain that you shouldn't need to physically spin a turntable to make your all-digital file play slower. The noise and static starts to fade out and some voices start being heard. It's the new Sonic Youth record! Walter tells Peter to "attenuate for ambient noise," and so Peter fiddles with some knobs and we can make out a woman screaming "get out of here! Stay away!" And then there are some cellphone tones and a man's voice saying, "I have her. See you there." Wow. It sounds like she was abducted. NICE WORK, Peter. "Poor dear," says Walter. The phone tones heard nice and clear, so Olivia gets Peter to play that back, because she has a cellphone app that can dial a number from audio tones. You know, even all the way up here in northern Alberta, we have ten-digit dialing, so I'm surprised that, judging from this, Boston doesn't. Olivia's phone dials the number, and we see a cellphone on a stack of paperwork that gets picked up by ... Agent Harass! "This is Harass," he says. Olivia says nothing.