A flashbacked John Locke is sitting in an administrative office with the florescent lights reflecting off his not-yet-bald pate. He is being asked a series of inane questions by an administrative office drone while she reviews a form. She inquires about his name (John Locke), marital status (single), girlfriend (no) She then asks him if his parents are living or dead. He says he was raised in foster care and never really knew them. She then rather impertinently asks if he ever considered seeking out his biological parents. I seriously doubt that question is on the form. Locke is with me on this and can't figure out what that has to do with anything. The cubicle denizen informs him (with a head bobble, but no finger waggin') that it's her business because if the state is going to continue to pay his disability, she needs to determine if his condition has improved. Improved by hypothetically seeking out the biological parents that abandoned him to foster care as a child? How would that improve anyone's condition? Unless your condition is "Painful Pursuits" or "Unhappy Endings." Are those in the DSM IV? Locke is unimpressed with this answer, but his mouth says nothing. The cubicle dweller now wants to know how his appetite is. Locke rolls his eyes without actually rolling his eyes and says, "Fine." The state worker bee says that she sees he stopped submitting his therapy bills for repayment. Locke explains that he stopped going because it is a waste of time. The office lady stares at him and without blinking, grabs a stamp and slams it onto his paper work, marking "Benefits Suspended" in big red letters across the top of his file. Locke looks as stunned as a depressive can look. The drone tells him it is just a temporary suspension and that he can re-apply for benefits once he starts seeing a therapist again. Locke asks if she thinks he is temporarily disabled. She says depression can be temporary, and since he saw fit to stop going to therapy she gathers that he is all better. And nothing treats depression like no money, no job, and no kindness! No sir. Locke says he must be all better then and gets up and walks out of cubicle hell as the nice lady yells, "Next!" I guess we were supposed to think he was in a wheelchair, but I forgot to. He's not in one anyway.
Back in the jungle, Locke handles his gun. Get your mind out of the gutter, dirty bird. He, Kate, and Sayid are still in the bushes staring intently at Jack and Tom's football game. Kate asks Sayid what they are doing. Sayid whispers, "It looks like he's attempting a blitz, but I can't tell whether he is going to tackle the quarterback behind the line of scrimmage or just force him to hurry his pass. Can you feed me some beer nuts? This foam finger makes it hard to eat." Just as the game is about to get good, Juliet comes to play ball. Ha ha! Girls can't play football! Obviously the game is over. Kate tells Sayid that Juliet helped her and Sawyer escape. Juliet calls Jack and grabs his arm and whispers in his ear. They walk off together. Sayid tells Kate that Rousseau is gone, Kate tells Locke, but Locke has no one to tell since Rousseau has left and so the game of Telephone ends as quickly as it began. Locke leads the group a little further into the bushes so they can follow Jack and Juliet. Juliet leaves Jack outside but quickly emerges with Ben in a wheelchair. Much to the shock of the Losties, Ben shakes hands with Jack. The camera shows the shock on each of their faces in turn, and it ends up looking like an acting class exercise. Locke can't help but point out that this will be more complicated than they thought. I can't help but point out that that line is very, very tired.