Over at Scully's apartment, Scully puts William to bed, patting him affectionately and rubbing his sweet little baby face and then climbing into her own bed. The music twitters in the background cheerfully. Scully lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, then sits up and reaches for the phone. She calls Moronica. Who is also in bed. Despite the fact that it's, like, eight o'clock. Well, I guess they've had a long day. And when you have to get up at four in order to spend several hours on your hair and makeup and make it to the office by dawn, you need to get to bed early. Split-screen action! Scully explains that she needs to know her numerology. It's been bugging her all day. Moronica smiles. "You're a nine," she says. Apparently, nine means "completion." Scully has, according to Moronica, "evolved through the experience of all the other numbers to the realization that this life is only part of a larger whole." Of course she has. She's the mother of the leader of all mankind. Scully is dumbfounded. "Dana, are you there?" Moronica asks. Scully says that something else has been bugging her. "Who was that man?" she says. Moronica shrugs. "God knows," she says. What ever could she mean by that? In other words: do you get it?
And now it's time for the weirdest scene ever. No, ever. No, really: ever. It's, like 1958 in Italy in Wayno's neighborhood, and two old guys -- the ones who were playing Find the King with Burt earlier -- are lip-synching to Italian music. Seriously, for the rest of the episode. I mean it. I have no idea who these guys are, or why they're lip-synching. And now, like, these gypsies are dancing behind them? And this woman is singing? And I have no idea what's going on here. It's like Chris Carter had five extra minutes to fill and he just threw in some extra footage of wacky lip-synching action to fill out the hour. Eventually, the camera pans up, up, up to an aerial view of the neighborhood (or the state, or the earth or something). And the topographical landscape looks just like Burt's face. Because he's God? Or Fate, maybe? Or...oh, man. I can't try to figure out what's happening on this show anymore. Just close your eyes and cha cha cha.
Producttore Esecutivo: Chris Carter. Yes, that's what it said. Next week: I don't know. You look it up.