About a Boy

S05E11

Michael's touch has brought Walter back to his normal self, more or less, and this lead up to the series finale starts to feel like a bit of a farewell tour with its nods to the past -- Walter receiving the white tulip that convinced him of the existence of god, not to mention the good ol' sensory deprivation tank. Not just a way to get Anna Torv to show a little skin in the first season, but a chance for Walter to skinny-dip and delve deeper into the flashes of memory revealed at Michael's touch.

The team then locates Donald, a.k.a. September, who has hair and stubble (thanks to being stripped of Observerness due to his meddling ways) and puts the finishing touches on the Defeat Observers Now plan, and fills in some of the backstory: a hundred and fifty or so years from now, a Norwegian scientist will figure out, essentially, how to sacrifice human emotion for intelligence, an almost eye-rolling premise that eventually leads to the Observers as we know them: Emotionless walking brains. But Michael -- September's son, or the genetic-material that passes for progeny in the year 2609 -- is a hybrid, and the plan was to bring Michael to the Norwegian scientist to show him intelligence and emotion can co-exist, and thus, they hope, preventing Observers from ever evolving. Peter and Olivia are intrigued by the plan, since it means that if the Observers never come about, then Etta won't be killed, and there is no discussion of any kind of timetable paradox, so I'm not confident this is going to work too well. I mean, obviously whatever happens is going to work, it being the series finale and all; I'm just not prepared to jump on board with what promises to be an “All You Need is Love” finale.

Anyway, interestingly, we learn that Windmark is the Observer equivalent of a loose-cannon cop who plays by his own rules, since his own superior is not at all interested in Windmark's bloodyminded pursuit of the fugitives. Maybe Windmark will have to surrender his badge and Observer guns! Before that happens, though, Peter and Olivia and Walter need to figure out how to rescue Michael from the Observers and Loyalists, since he just gave himself up to them. It'll probably turn out to be some part of an important plan, but in the meantime, I can't imagine September will be pleased that everyone showed up just in time to lose his son.

Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. Can we flash back to four and a half years ago? Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.

Peter's hard at work burrowing in the amber when he's startled by something behind him. It turns out to be nothing, at least not at first, but now he's enough on edge that when Walter actually does show up behind, he's lucky Peter didn't put a bullet in his forehead. "You need your rest, son," says Walter, who seems to be in the kind of good mood that usually means he has recently ingested recreational drugs. Peter explains that he's going after another tape, and wonders what's Walter's excuse is for being up so late. "I believe I have an idea about how we can find our friend September," says Walter. The memories that Michael showed him are in Walter's subconscious, so it's time to get in the sensory deprivation tank!

Cut to the team turning knobs and plugging in whatsits, with Walter already in the tank. Olivia opens the doors to check on him, only to be startled when she spots Walter's trunks floating by his head. Walter, as you might imagine, is completely unapologetic, saying his body needs to be as free as his mind if this is going to work, and he hands a discombobulated Olivia his sodden trunks. Come on, Olivia! By this point I'm pretty sure she's seen him naked a few times, so she must be desensitized to his old-man penis already.

Walter relaxes, starts flashing through the memories, while the team does the thrilling work of monitoring his vital signs. Oops, his blood pressure is up! In his mind, Walter's in a sunlit room that includes a Victrola. "Incredible. I'm here," he whispers. It's the same apartment from the flashes Michael showed him.

Peter asks him if he can see anything that might identify where the apartment is. Walter moves toward a motionless September -- remarking that he looks nothing like his usual self. It's true; I wouldn't have been able to identify this guy as September. Hair and eyebrows do wonders for a person!

Peter asks if there are any windows. There are, and Walter goes to them, looking out and describing the water and skyscrapers. The sky is almost blindingly bright, so the skyline is indistinct. Peter asks if it's New York, and with much squinting, Walter can see the Empire State building literally materialize. More comes into view; he appears to be under a bridge.

With Walter out (and thankfully wearing a robe), Astrid's looking at a map and theorizing that, from the view Walter described, he was in a building in Brooklyn near where the Williamsburg Bridge used to be (damn Observers!). So if September's still alive, that's likely where they're going to find him. Walter confidently says September is still alive, based on nothing more than his own optimism.

Windmark is listening to that Nina Sharp phone call about the child Observer with that special technology again when another Observer comes in to say they've received word that "he'll see you now." Windmark gets himself ready (i.e. puts on his hat) and instructs the underling to alert him any developments. He picks up his briefcase, turns around and steps...

...right into Manhattan in 2609 -- the floating letters include the Observer language. I can only imagine that Observers six-hundred years from now complain, "I have to press 1 for Observo-speak? I thought this was America!"

Back in the present day (well, 2036, anyway), the Fringe team has arrived in Williamsburg -- the bridge replaced by the ubiquitous LRT -- and a confident Walter gets his bearings and heads off to where he was looking out from. Peter has to jog to catch up to him and is all, WTF, Walter? Walter says he feels good. "From where I'm standing, you don't seem good; you seem amazing, which is a little scary," says Peter, and Walter tells Capt. Bringdown not to worry about him, but Peter reminds Walter that he asked Peter to help him stay grounded: "You were so afraid of becoming the man that you used to be, you asked Nina to remove pieces of your brain. Again," he says, in case Walter forgot about his requested brain surgery. Walter hasn't forgotten, but he says the procedure is no longer necessary; when Michael touched him, he showed Walter more than just images, and all at once he understood that everything he thought he knew could fit into a thimble. Well, I can see why that would make him happy!

But there's more: Walter remembers things he hasn't experienced, and he thinks they're from the other timeline, before Peter was erased and the timeline reset: "I remember when you came to me at St. Claire's. My first words: 'I thought you'd be fatter.'" Ha! Oh, nostalgia. Walter's getting choked up at this walk down Memory Lane, which includes reminiscences of making a peanut butter sandwich and Peter slipping up and calling him "Dad," and the terror Walter felt before Peter stepped into The Machine. "I told you I've never been good at letting you go, and you said..." "...this time you're gonna have to," finishes Peter. Peter's not unhappy for Walter but still concerned about how Michael could have enabled Walter to see a life he didn't live. Given the Observers' access to other times and timelines, it doesn't seem like that big a puzzle.

But here's a more urgent question: Does Walter now remember the Observers Off Earth Now plan? He doesn't, and seems less agitated than Peter does about that fact; Peter doesn't understand why Michael would give him all those memories but not the plan. Walter really doesn't seem to care: "Peter, before I met him, I didn't think it was possible to love you more but now, knowing what we've been through, and everything we've had ... I do."

Peter smiles, and they hug, tightly, with Olivia hanging back on the sidewalk with Michael so that the Bishop boys can have their bonding moment. After Peter and Walter come up for air, a moved Walter says Peter never liked public displays of affection. Shall we cut the treacle? "Or going No. 2 in a public restroom. I remember that too," says Walter. Hey, my parents once had to bring me home from a camping trip because ... but this isn't about me.

In 2609, Windmark stares out massive windows over Manhattan, which is dark and grey without end. But at least it looks like we've finally managed to figure out flying cars! There's a billboard for Season 619 of The Simpsons, though, so there's that. Windmark is then summoned to the presence of some commander, to whom he announces that Anomaly XB-has been found. "It is being hidden in 2036," says Windmark. Aw, dude, "it"? You're really committed to this emotionless asshole routine, aren't you?

Naturally, the commander looks like just another Observer. I kinda hoped he'd have some sort of distinguishing feature, like a really big Pope hat or something. He asks why the anomaly is being hidden. Windmark isn't sure, but he figures there's a reason: "It should not exist, but someone wanted it to exist. Someone ensured its survival because they thought it was important," he says. Then they stare at each other for a few moments while the music swells. Kinda like a soap opera scene-closure, only much, much, much less melodramatic.

In 2036, Walter has spotted the building and the window he was looking out of in his vision in the tank, so the group heads inside, and Walter rings the buzzer of the corresponding door (I can never figure out once I'm inside which door belongs to which building, I'd be terrible at this). There's no answer, so he knocks instead. After a moment, Peter nervously reaches to get his gun ready.

Then there's the sound of multiple deadbolts being unlocked, and when the door finally swings open, Bryan Adams is standing there! I mean, it's September! He's got hair, including a couple days' growth of stubble. He's also delighted to see Walter alive. Walter explains about being frozen in amber for twenty-one years (it's funny how they've told this story so many times it's almost casual, like "I went to California for the summer").

Then September spots Michael, and walks over, pulling the hood off his little bald head and crouching in front of him. Michael puts his right hand up, September his left -- September is tilting his head somewhat like the Observers do, but now his movements are laden with much more feeling; it's remarkable to watch.

Once everyone is seated in the apartment, September asks how they found him. Peter explains about the tapes Walter made in 2015, which led them to the radio that September left in the pocket universe, leading them to Michael (Olivia explains to September that "Michael" is what the couple called the kid), and voila. See? It's like a crazy video game!

"We've lost a lot. A lot of good people sacrificed themselves to get us to you," says Peter quietly, looking at Olivia.

Hey, but enough about their dead daughter, right? Walter wants to know what happened to September. So settle in, folks, because it's exposition time! September explains that before the invasion, he was arrested for his constant timeline-meddling, not to mention all his crazy shenanigans with Olivia and the Bishops. As punishment, his device was removed, and now he can't move through time or do the things he was able to do. If I may counter: Decent head of hair for a former baldie, so it's not all bad. (Assuming it's not a wig.) They experimented on him, calling it "biological reversion," and now he's no different from them. But it wasn't much of a punishment, he says, because he's always held this era in the highest regard. You know, I'd think I'd have preferred the '80s. Go to Minnesota and check out Prince and the Replacements in their heyday. Wait wait wait! Kill Hitler, and then go see the Replacements.

Anyway, Walter asks him why he chose the name "Donald." Was it for Sutherland? Fagen? Trump? Duck? Donald can't believe Walter doesn't remember; he picked it because they first movie they watched together was Singin' In the Rain, and he picked the name Donald O'Connor. Walter's delighted, and this seems to come back to him, especially how he would sing "Make 'Em Laugh" -- wonderfully, if he doesn't mind saying so himself -- in A-minor.

Michael comes over, having up 'til now amused himself by checking out some sort of wooden model September seems to have been building, and joins the group. September solemnly pulls out a little music box and turns the crank. It plays, a little on-the-nose, "What Child Is This," fascinating Michael, who starts playing with it himself, Donald looking on and patting Michael's head. Damn, it's 2036 and September doesn't have some kind of Nintendo lying around for the poor kid?

"What is he?" asks Walter. Take your bathroom break now and grab some snacks because it's Exposition Part II!

September says Michael was born hundreds of years from now, created -- like all of their kind -- in a lab using genetic material from a designated donor. It seems that on Feb. 20, 2167, a scientist in Oslo, working to boost human intelligence, discovered he could increase cognitive function by rewiring the part of the brain that induces jealousy, essentially sacrificing emotion for intelligence.

By Daniel

"What is he?" asks Walter. Take your bathroom break now and grab some snacks because it's Exposition Part II!

"This discovery was the catalyst of the creation of the beings that you called 'Observers,'" says September, and it started a chain reaction that saw more and more human emotions sacrificed to increase brain power. We watch At first it was just negative ones -- like anger, greed and aggression -- but soon humanity became so intelligent and efficient that it lost perspective on the value of not only those emotions but even of positive ones. We watch in the future as a test tube baby grows from a little piece o' popcorn to a full-grown human -- the test tube discreetly frosted to obscure the humanoid's lower half because even in the future, the intelligent, emotionless creatures don't want to piss off the FCC. "Soon empathy, compassion and love became messy distractions, and they too were machined out. And they too were machined out, and without romantic love, they developed new reproductive technologies." But you guys kept oral sex, right? WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS ARE YOU? Given the fact that we haven't seen any Observer women, I guess we know the answer. Also, congratulations to the Republicans on what I presume five-hundred years of GOP governance would look like.

Windmark -- still in 2609, I assume -- is visiting some sort of Observer scientist to get some "data on an anomaly." The scientist, typing on a holographic keyboard on a glass tube that descends from the ceiling, brings up the file on XB-. I like that there's a picture of Michael. Oh, the bald one!

By Daniel

We start cutting quickly back and forth between 2609 and 2036, with September explaining that early in the boy's maturation, the scientists in charge of reproduction realized that the kid's brain had developed differently from other offspring, and the scientist telling Windmark that the boy's maturation was halted. "To them, he was an anomaly, a defect." September, the kid's sitting right there!

At this point I start to wonder about Windmark's disgust when he discovered the Observer bodies in the black lab, because of a) the emotionlessness of the Observers and b) the fact that they THEMSELVES experiment on Observers.

Anyway, Windmark asks the scientist whose genetic material was used to create this progeny. It's not really any mystery to anyone watching, I can't imagine. "I had observed, in your time, how fathers cared for their sons and protected them," says September. Really? In our time, dads spending time with their kids is still referred to as "babysitting" by way too many people. Nevertheless, September continues, "It stirred something in me that I could not ignore." He took the boy away and hid him in the past, where he would be safe.

Olivia and the Bishops are starting to figure it out. "He's your son?" asks Walter. September, fighting back tears -- super-cool to see this actor change it up like this -- nods.

In the future, Windmark is reporting back to the commander that September was one of the "original twelve" -- I imagine that accounts for being named after months of the year -- science team that traveled back in time to observe "primitive humanity," and was banished for sympathizing with the same fugitives that Windmark is tracking and are in possession of the anomaly.

The commander asks why he would go to such great lengths to protect a genetic defect. Windmark doesn't know, but he's asking for a "protocol suspension" to travel back to a moment when he can eradicate the resistors. The commander says, "No. I've seen Terminator and Terminator 2 and that never works." He says they're not prepared to deal with a "readjustment of probabilities."

Looks like the Observers haven't completely eradicated disappointment, judging from Windmark's slight reaction, and the commander notes that the resistors seem to disquiet him. "The fugitives are inconsequential. He poses minimal risk. We chose this time in history for a reason -- a 99.9999 per cent probability that we will succeed," says the commander. Windmark counters by pointing out that the boy had a 0.0001 per cent chance of surviving, yet he did," he says. Then, if I remember probability correctly, the probability that both the boy will survive and the Observers won't succeed is 0.per cent, which are PRETTY DAMN GOOD ODDS even for a by-the-book supervisor like the commander apparently is. He phrases it a different way: "Is there something wrong with you?" he asks Windmark, emotionlessly. Ha! Windmark considers the question, then confesses to experiencing something he doesn't understand: "The idea of ending their existence consumes me," he says. The commander is, shall we say, unsympathetic. "They are insignificant. So no," he says. Windmark stares at him, and suddenly I realize that Windmark is the 2609 Observer version of the cinematic trope I hold very dear: The loose-cannon cop who plays by his own rules!

So the plan is, as September starts to explain, to send the boy into the future so he can demonstrate to the scientists a different kind of intelligence: "An enlightenment that goes beyond knowledge or cognition to something greater." September says that when they see what he is, they will realize that he's living proof that they don't have to sacrifice emotion for intelligence, and they won't go down that path.

Instead of saying, "That's the looniest plan I've ever heard of," Peter seems to be on board: "And the Observers will never exist. They will never invade." But you can see his and Olivia's thought processes working already: Etta would never be taken from them. It seems churlish to point out that the elimination of Observers would have the consequence of erasing the sequence of events that led to Etta's being born in the first place, but it doesn't appear as if the word "paradox" is going to be uttered here. Walter realizes that this was the plan they were working on before he ambered them.

September says he knew the boy was important, but when he realized what he was supposed to do his device had been removed, so he came to them. "We were going to send the boy forward in time," he says.

No one seems particularly gung-ho to make a status report, so September asks how far they've come with the tapes. Peter explains that they've got the rocks from the mine in Pennsylvania, the magnet, the Observer beacons, and some scrolls of physics that they can't decipher (September says he can help them with that). Walter wants to know how they can possibly use those things to travel through time, and September says they're part of a device that they have to build, also using tech that hasn't been invented yet, from his time. "I took them from the future long ago -- the tech is hidden, it's not far from here," he explains.

In the kitchen, Olivia gets herself a glass of water from the tap, and Peter pops up to ask if she's all right. Olivia says she thinks they're going to get their daughter back. Good thing she doesn't already have her hopes up! Peter seems a little more cautious than she does, but Olivia's not exactly listening, pointing out that September said the plan would reset time. "Peter, that boy in there, he's how we're going to see Etta again," she says, asking Peter if he believes her. Peter -- evidently subscribing to a "happy wife, happy life" philosophy -- says he wants to believe that more than anything, but they've still got a long way to go.

By Daniel

Windmark's back in 2036, it seems, and his assistant is reporting that after the invasion, September was detained at a mine in Pennsylvania, extracting rocks, but the purpose of the rocks was not determined. "He was questioned and released. He was labeled a known offender," says the Observer, which means, points out Windmark, that he's been tagged. He tells the assistant to initiate "location protocol" to find his address, and the assistant comes up with chip number .

And Windmark pops right into September's apartment, with a couple of backup Observers. He orders them to search the apartment, and his two flunkies spread out, finding blood and tweezers in the kitchen sink. They report back to Windmark that September has most likely removed his chip and destroyed it, which is likely why they couldn't track it. Windmark picks up a cup of tea from the table and notes it's still warm, meaning September was just here. He orders his men to have the Loyalists review footage from surveillance cameras in the area. He passes through a doorway, not noticing the little device with flashing red and green lights on the wall above the threshold. He inspects a bible and a New York City snow globe, with the Statue of Liberty ludicrously out of scale in the skyline. More quality control at the snow globe factory, please! Then he powers on the stereo, which starts playing some jazz that my Shazam app will only identify as belonging to Fringe.

After a commercial break, a Hummer full of Loyalists pulls up. They get out of the vehicle, and one of them shows Windmark -- who's still staring up at where September's apartment used to be -- traffic camera video from Front Street, showing the Fringe crew getting into their minivan. Windmark notes the child is with them, and that was fourteen minutes ago so they couldn't have gotten far. He tells the Loyalists to set up a perimeter.

Over at the storage unit -- where the door only seems to pull up a couple of feet -- September finds, amidst a whole room full of useless junk, a couple of cylindrical objects, just as he left them. But Walter is still full of good vibes and tells September about how Michael communicated when he touched him. "He gave me an awareness of another timeline when you saved Peter and I from Reiden Lake," says Walter, reminding September that at the time he told Walter, "The boy is important. He must live." Walter has figured out that September wasn't referring to Walter's son, but to his own. September confirms this. Well, they're called proper nouns, September! A lot of confusion could have been avoided! It's not like the future of the universe is at stake or anything!

September asks if Michael showed anything else, and Walter says he did: "There is one thing I haven't told the others. He showed me that, for the plan to work, I would have to sacrifice myself." Walter asks September if that's right, and September, after a moment, says it is, and asks Walter if he's frightened. Walter said he'd be lying if he said he wasn't.

Then he asks if September thinks Michael showed him all these other experiences so that he knew that he has loved and had incredible moments and connections: "Because it will make it easier for me to come to terms with what I have to do? You think that's why he did it?" September says he doesn't know, but gently asks Walter if he remembers that it was Walter's own idea to sacrifice himself for the plan. This appears to come as some news to Walter. "You said you had caused so much unintended damage, you felt this was your chance to make amends," says September, and Walter sadly nods.

But hey, as long as we're revisiting -- and revising -- memories, September asks Walter if he remembers getting a white tulip. "Remember? We did a whole episode about it!" says Walter.

Turns out it wasn't a sign from god, as much as it was -- as September pulls a briefcase from a hidden compartment underneath a record player, much like in "A Short Story About Love," he says the white tulip was important. "I took it from the other timeline, and kept it," he says, opening the briefcase and explaining to Walter that when they devised the plan to stop the invasion, Walter didn't think they could succeed, but September knew the tulip would give him strength, just as it did before.

He shows Walter the envelope that contained the drawing of the white tulip, all those years ago. Walter's face lights up, but he's crestfallen to find that the envelope is now empty. "I could use that tulip right now," he says, and September says he doesn't know what Walter did with it; only Walter would know that. So September is arguably shaking Walter's faith in God and he got Walter worked up about the tulip only to disappoint him? Good morale boost there, September.

Outside, Peter seems surprised that all the tech September needed to retrieve is in one little box. "Is that it?" he says. "You say that as though we're not carrying technology that can bend space and time into a Möbius strip," says September. Listen, guy! The Fringers have gathered together weird rocks, a huge electromagnet, a radio from a pocket universe AND YOUR SON and all you've got is this little box, so cut Peter some slack!

Anyway, September says he's not coming with them, since he's got a few more things to pick up for the plan -- I hope beer is on the list because I imagine saving the world is going to be thirsty work -- and he crouches in front of Michael and they touch each other's palms again. September promises Michael he'll see him again, and the fact that September feels the need to make such a promise ought to be enough for Michael to realize that a reunion isn't exactly a given. September reluctantly walks away, and Michael takes a few steps after him.

So back to the lab, Olivia lamenting that she used to love Brooklyn. Yeah, I think Earth in general used to be better. They run into a checkpoint that Olivia complains wasn't there on their way in. I'm no Loyalist, but I'm not surprised that maybe they're not exactly sending out checkpoint update on Twitter so everyone has plenty of warning. So they pull off into an alley and call Astrid to save their asses again by hacking into live camera feeds in the area. Astrid does so, and reports that a perimeter is being set up all around them. "There's no way out," she says. Well, not with that attitude!

Peter and Walter unload the back of the van, with Walter fretting about whether the Observers found September. He doesn't want to leave September, but Peter says they don't have a choice. Meanwhile, Olivia's back on the phone with Astrid, who says she thinks she's found a hole in the perimeter, but they have to move quickly, and she relays the directions to the nearest stop, where there doesn't seem to be any activity.

By Daniel

Peter heads out to the street to see if it's clear. His hood has been up the whole time, kinda like Michael's SHOULD BE BUT ISN'T, even in the alley. Peter sees the Loyalists setting up another checkpoint, and reports back that they're blocked again. Olivia puts Michael's hood up, saying she'll take him, because a mother and child shouldn't draw too much suspicion. And if Peter takes him, the sexist Loyalists will be all, "Babysittin' the kid, huh? Haw haw!"

By Daniel

So Peter keeps his eye on the troops, radioing Olivia directions, while Olivia and Michael make their way down the street, at least until a transport pulls up in the middle of the road, with a Loyalist popping out the top to scan the area, pointing his Uzi-type weapon, and no one in the street takes any notice of this because this is just what happens in 2036. He tells Olivia to keep on to the monorail, and they'll meet them there.

Peter and Walter start heading down the street himself, Peter doing his absolute best to look as suspicious as possible, with his hood up and looking shiftily around the entire time. Olivia makes her way to the station, and calls Peter to let him know that the train's leaving in a few minutes. Yeah, he knows, and he doesn't have time to answer the phone, Olivia! She warns him that they're searching cars, and he tells her not to worry. She boards the train, and then anxiously watches out the window for the Bishops.

Peter and Walter finally make it to the platform, and Olivia sees them, and tells Peter they're in the second car. But between Peter and Walter and the second car is a phalanx of Loyalists, who don't seem to notice the hooded guy see them, turn around and walk in the other direction, nervously glancing over his shoulder at them as he walks away. He and Walter duck into the first car, and he tells Olivia that they'll make their way to her and Michael. Olivia's worried the Loyalists are coming on board to search, but before that becomes a problem, Michael nonchalantly gets off the train and on to the platform, the doors closing in the frantic Olivia's face.

A Loyalist immediately stops Michael and pulls down his hood. Peter and Walter catch up with Olivia in time for all of them to watch their important bald cargo being escorted away by a couple of troops...

...and outside the station, where he's brought to Windmark. Michael eyes him warily. Windmark leans forward a little bit. "Hello," he says. As much as Windmark smiles, I think we're getting a bit of that here.

Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. He both can't wait for Friday and doesn't want it to come. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.