The following story is inspired by actual documented events. Or is it?!
A girl, encumbered by her long, wet nightgown, runs though the woods in the middle of the night. She stumbles and falls to the ground, panting and half-sobbing. She pulls herself up and staggers a few more feet before tripping and rolling down a small hill. The wind rises, whipping her long hair into her face. The girl rests on her side in a small clearing, watching as the leaves around her start to rustle in the wind. A bright light appears over the crest of the hill and soon a man (or something looking very much like a man, since you never know with this show) trudges down that hill towards her. The wind blows harder and harder and soon the girl finds herself in the midst of a mini-tornado of leaves. When the man reaches her side, bright lights flash. The light grows brighter and brighter and brighter, until the screen fades to white.
We fade back to what looks like a sepia-toned photograph of the girl, sprawled face-down on the dirt. Eventually, that photograph blossoms into Technicolor. Welcome to Collumn National Forest, in northwest Oregon. Several official-looking men -- including a man I assume is the sheriff, for example, and another man in a flecked sweater -- come tramping down the hill and join the officers already on the scene. Mysteriously, there is no visible sign of death on the girl, and no evidence of battery or sexual assault. The only thing strange about the body, in fact, are two small marks on her lower back, like bite marks, or very strange moles. Sheriff and Flecked Sweater exchange looks and turn the body over. The girl suffered a nosebleed at some point: there's a long trail of blood running from her nose almost to her chin. ["That's not evidence of battery?" -- Wing Chun] Flecked Sweater straightens up, pale, and identifies the girl as "Karen Swenson." She went to school with Son of Flecked Sweater, he says; he makes an angry face and stalks back up the hill. Sheriff stands and calls after him, "Would that be the class of '89, Detective? It's happening again, isn't it?"
FBI Headquarters. A very small, very young woman with sort of brownish hair and a truly hideous suit walks up the stairs into the building and speaks to the security guard. Good God, it's Scully. And she's wearing my hair. Although mine isn't this indefinite auburn brown color, it's certainly the same cut -- shoulder length, no bangs. And while this strange, unglamorous person is certainly pretty (and very, very young-looking), Pilot Scully isn't anywhere near the babe that Current Scully is. I guess it just goes to show that a great haircut and good dye job can make all the difference between "cute" and "knockout." Which is why I just placed an emergency phone call to my hairdresser. Anyway, Scully gives her name to some yahoo and walks through a bunch of random FBI offices, occasionally greeting people we'll never, ever see again.
Eventually, Scully is admitted to Section Chief Blevins's office, finding Blevins flanked by some random old white guy in glasses and, naturally, the omnipresent CSM. Blevins thanks her for coming in on such short notice, and waves her toward a chair. Scully perches on the edge of the chair and warily glances at CSM, who fiddles with his cigarette. This scene is exposition-tastic, which is certainly not unusual for a pilot, and I have to admit that the expository dialogue is rather well done. Blevins mentions Scully's medical degree right off the bat, and notes that she's been at the Bureau for the past two years. Scully explains that she was "recruited out of medical school. [Her] parents still think it was an act of rebellion, but [Scully] saw the FBI as a place where [she] could distinguish [herself]." I find it hard to believe that a military family would find working for the federal government rebellious, but, since this is the pilot, I'll let that go. Maybe at this point, Chris Carter was thinking that Scully's parents would be aging hippies with a meth lab in the basement and an old Volkswagen van up on blocks in their front yard. I'm completely distracted because Gillian Anderson's line readings in this scene remind me of nothing so much as...Annabeth Gish as Moronica Reyes. Seriously. It's weird. Glasses wonders whether Scully is familiar with an "agent named Fox Mulder." Scully is. She gets to exposit a good 60% of Mulder's back story. "He's an Oxford-educated psychologist who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped catch Monty Props in 1988," she begins, a little nervously. "He's generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section." Scully pauses for a second, then smiles shakily before continuing, "He had a nickname at the Academy: Spooky Mulder." CSM sort of looks at her and rubs his forehead with his cigarette butt. Scully glances over at him and makes a vaguely creeped-out face. Scully, to quote The Real World Seattle's David, you don't even know. Blevins asks whether Scully is familiar with the X-Files. "I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena," she says, looking from Blevins to Glasses and back again. Blevins explains that they'd like her to assist Agent Mulder with his work on the X-Files, recording observations on the validity of his work. CSM stubs out his cigarette and looks at her. Scully's eyes flicker over to him and then back at Blevins. "Am I to understand that you want me to debunk the X-Files project, sir?" she asks. Blevins looks down at his desk and then reiterates that he trusts she'll make the "proper scientific analysis." They look forward to seeing her reports. I'm sure they do, the fools! They have no idea that Scully's destined to become that without which Mulder cannot live without.