The name rings a bell with Dr. Abel, who does the weird thumb-sucking greeting thing Drs. Hook and James did earlier. Dr. Abelson cuddles closer and asks about the Klingerman meeting. She's awfully canny -- I wonder if she's using him for some darker aim, or if this is just some sort of clumsy exposition. Maybe it's both. Stegman mutters about Renee Klingerman's threat to go to the medical review board, and says in a fit of self-pity, "Hasn't anyone ever told you, you go prospecting around in a person's nut, sometimes things happen?" Abelson gets a calculating look and says, "If things should go bad, the keepers may be able to help you." Stegman looks down and Abelson's eyes get very wide as she nods. She butters him up with, "You are a great man, Steg. You are a genius. A genius can see far, even from the shoulders of little men. So if you should run into problems with Mona's mother, for the Keepers, such problems sometimes go away." Steg looks thoughtful. Maybe he's imagining standing on people's shoulders and looking off into the middle distance. He and Abelson do the Keepers gesture together and laugh.
Off in the bowels of the hospital, Mrs. D and her boy go looking for ghosts. Bobby's all, "You tired, Mama? Would you like a wheelchair?" What is it with the shows that feature the touched-by-the-supernatural woman and her hulking idiot son? First we had Adrienne Barbeau and her boy on Carnivale, and now this? I would love it if just once, instead of a sweet, simple hulk, the giant guy turned out to be freakishly smart and possessed of a razor-sharp wit. Anyway, Mrs. D dismissively says that would be nice, and continues tripping down an ever-darker corridor, not listening to Bobby's exhortation to "Wait here. I don't want to have to go looking all over for you." She stops by a set of elevator doors and asks, "Little girl, little girl if you're here, give me a sign." She sighs as the crystal does nothing. Then, as Mrs. D moves toward the elevator door, the crystal begins moving wildly from side to side. "Oh! You are here. You are," she gasps. Mrs. D leans against the elevator door and tells it, "I know you're here."
On the other side, Paul rolls his eyes demonically before looking thoughtful. Eeee! Scaaaary. Mrs. D whispers, "Give me a word, little girl." Paul gives a happy, malicious grin, then squeaks, "Help me." Mrs. D is so excited, she's practically hyperventilating, and then the percussion of portentousness kicks in and she quickly adopts a look of horror. She whispers, "Who are you? You're no child. What are you?" Mrs. D crosses herself, and then Paul says in a low, creepy voice, "Druuuuuse." The camera zooms up so we can see the lit corridor she's standing in on one side of the door, and the purple-lit elevator shaft with Paul snuggled up to the door on the other. Because the door's a metaphor, you see. Paul looks up at the ceiling, snarling. At least whoever cast this had the good sense to use an actor who can be believably creepy and evil. Of all the miscasting gaffes in The Stand -- Rob Lowe as a swarthy Greek, Molly Ringwald as the tough and independent Fran (I kept expecting her to whine, "What about prom, Harold? What about prom?"), Stephen King as well, the painfully obvious author cameo -- Jamey Sheridan as the Prince of Darkness was the most egregiously wrong. Jamey Sheridan could maybe play the marquis of moral relativism. Playing bone-chilling evil? Not his forte. I can't believe they couldn't get Kevin Spacey -- he was still small potatoes then, it would have been possible. Ah, well.