Episode Report CardJessica: B- | Grade It Now!
YOU GRADE IT
The camera pans up to the blackness of the cave's ceiling, which is shortly broken by a small child falling through from the world above. It's clearly the present day, judging from the kid's clothing. He groans and moans and holds his chest, and a shovel falls down on top of him. Three little kid faces peer down at CaveKid, who twangs up to them that he got the wind knocked out of him. That's sort of a poetic phrase, if you really think about it. One of the kids twangs back that it looks like he's fallen into a cave. Ya think? This must be evidence of that great Texas educational system George W. Bush kept talking about last year. CaveKid spits and looks around. His friends peer over the edge of the hole until, eventually, CaveKid comes back into the light, holding a human skull. "Toss it up here, dude!" one of the kids yells. "No way, butt wipe! It's mine," CaveKid tosses back. God, what poetry in those words. CaveKid tells them that there are bones all over the place, man. He looks at the skull -- the back of which has been bashed in -- and then down at his feet. The black oil slowly seeps out from under his tennis shoes. CaveKid looks up at his friends, panicking, and drops the skull. The oil turns into those worm things, which burrow their way under his skin. "Hey, Stevie are you all right?" one of the boys calls down. Stevie looks up at him as the black oil washes ominously over his eyeballs. ("The black oil!" everyone in the movie theatre muttered simultaneously, under our respective breaths.) Freaked out, the other kids bail on Stevie and run all the way across the dusty landscape to their little row of tract houses. According to the time/date stamp at the bottom of that big wide screen, this is North Texas, Present Day. Several fire engines come wailing onto the scene. They screech to a halt, and the fire chief runs like an uncoordinated little girl over to the hole, calling for a fourteen-foot ladder. He sends some firemen into the hole. And then some more. And then some more, despite the fact that he can't contact any of them on their two-way radios, and they're probably all getting eaten alive down there. A big black helicopter choppers onto the scene, landing in a cloud of dust. Fire Chief and Two Random Guys (And a Pizza Place) watch as a bunch of other Random Guys in HazMat Suits unload what looks like a portable hyperbaric chamber and scamper over to the hole. Some guy in a suit climbs down out of the helicopter and watches. Townspeople mill in the distance. For all the people who just stumbled late into the movie theatre, Fire Chief recaps that he's sent four men down to check on the boy, and he's lost communication with all four of them. Also, something about someone's eyes turning black? Crazy talk, that. The Suit totally ignores him as RGIHMS scamper swiftly past him once more, Stevie all locked and loaded into the hyperbaric chamber. They lift the kid into the helicopter and take off in another swoosh of dust. A white eighteen-wheeler, with what looks like an oil tanker on the back, pulls up. "What the hell is this?" Fire Chief wonders. ("Where the hell are Mulder and Scully? Are we in the right theatre?" I whispered to my roommate in the movie theatre.) Mark Snow goes completely berserk with the Cymbals of Stretching Out the Plot and the Drums of Delaying Any Action. The Suit sneaks behind one of the tankers and pulls out his cell phone. "It's Bronschweig," he says into the phone. "Sir, the impossible scenario that we never planned for? Well, we better come up with a plan."