Episode Four
Origins
Part Two
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AT THE BIO LAB. ED ENTERS THE HALLWAY TO HIS OFFICE WITH A PAPER CUP OF COFFEE HANGING IN HIS TEETH. HE PAUSES AT THE DOOR OF HIS OFFICE AND LOOKS DOWN THE HALLWAY. SOMETHING CATCHES HIS EYE AND HE CONTINUES ON AWAY FROM THE DOOR. HE’S STARING UNBELIEVINGLY AT BOXES AND BOXES OF NEW EQUIPMENT. ED ENTERS THE DOORS TO THE DESERTED LAB AREA AND SLOWLY WALKS AROUND LOOKING AT THE NEW MACHINERY. WE SEE ATTWOOD WATCHING HIM FROM HIS OFFICE. ATTWOOD APPROACHES ED. ED STANDS AS HE SEES ATTWOOD.
Ed: What is going on? Where is everybody?
Attwood: Heightened security, Ed. They have been assigned elsewhere in the University. Our work has to be in absolute secrecy now.
Ed: So, uh, where did all the new stuff come from?
Attwood: There are advantages to partnering up with the Federal government, Ed. Try to keep an open mind. Where’s Sloan?
Ed: She had...
ED CATCHES HIMSELF.
Ed: ...an appointment, and she’s heading home.
Attwood: Come in for a minute.
ATTWOOD WALKS BACK TO HIS OFFICE. AFTER A FEW SECONDS DEBATE, ED FOLLOWS HIM IN. ATTWOOD TURNS ON AN OVERHEAD PROJECTOR THAT IS SITTING ATOP HIS DESK AND PLACES A TRANSPARENCY ON IT.
Attwood: Mexico. A satellite photograph of the area where we picked you up.
ATTWOOD PLACES ANOTHER TRANSPARENCY ON THE OVERHEAD.
Attwood: An infrared image of this same area.
Ed: What is that, is that some kind of village?
Attwood: (nodding) More than a mile and a half across and buried fifteen feet beneath the desert floor.
Ed: Fifteen feet?
ATTWOOD NODS.
Ed: So it’s old. What is that four, five centuries?
Attwood: Try fifty years.
Ed: No. There’s no way. A village that size would require a water source. You know. Fields for agriculture. The area we saw was completely inhospitable.
Attwood: Now. Some kind of extreme ecological change went on there. A confluence of unique conditions that greatly accelerated global warming. Nothing like this has ever been seen before. Less that half a century ago that desert was more like a swamp.
Ed: Their Eden. Where the species began.
Attwood: Quite possibly.
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AT SLOAN’S APARTMENT. SLOAN UNLOCKS THE DOOR AND TOSSES HER KEYS ON THE SECRETARY NEAR THE DOOR AS SHE ENTERS. SHE TURNS TOWARD THE KITCHEN AND STOPS.
PILED UP ON HER CENTER ISLAND ARE VARIOUS CARTONS OF JUICE, MILK, SODA BOTTLES, BAGS OF FOOD, ETC. SHE LOOKS ABOUT THE APARTMENT WARILY AND NEARS THE REFRIGERATOR. SHE OPENS IT AND WE SEE THE MUMMY INSIDE, WRAPPED IN PLASTIC.
TOM STEPS OUT FROM THE DINING AREA. SLOAN STANDS IN FRONT OF THE FRIDGE, MOUTH AGAPE.
Tom: I told you I’d come back.
SLOAN LOOKS BACK AT THE MUMMY IN THE REFRIGERATOR.
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SLOAN’S APARTMENT. CLOSE UP OF THE MUMMY ON THE CENTER ISLAND. THE FOOD FROM THE FRIDGE HAS BEEN PUT AWAY. SLOAN STANDS ABOVE THE MUMMY, ZIPPING HER INTO A BLUE BAG.
Sloan: This is just incredible! It’ll be invaluable to us.
TOM TURNS FROM THE SECRETARY HE WAS STANDING NEXT TO AND APPROACHES SLOAN.
Tom: I’m afraid that’s not a secret.
SLOAN TURNS TO LOOK AT HIM.
Sloan: The green lights in the desert?
Tom: Yes.
TOM IS SLOWLY PACING THE APARTMENT NOW. (AND HE’S STILL WEARING THE SAME CLOTHES HE WORE DOWN TO MEXICO. PEEE-YOOO! MUST BE GETTING A MIGHT BIT GAMEY BY NOW. IT’S BEEN WHAT, AT LEAST THREE OR FOUR DAYS NOW...)
Sloan: What’s wrong?
Tom: I don’t um....I can’t describe it.
Sloan: Try.
Tom: I’m feeling things. Emotions. Like pity. And empathy.
HE PAUSES AND GIVES HER A BRIEF ONCE-OVER.
Tom: Affection.
THE CORNERS OF SLOAN’S MOUTH LIFT JUST SLIGHTLY. SHE NODS.
Sloan: Human emotions.
TOM ACKNOWLEDGES HER STATEMENT.
Sloan: There’s nothing wrong with that.
TOM TILTS HIS HEAD, CONSIDERING, AND PACES OVER TO THE LIVING ROOM AREA. SLOAN FOLLOWS HIM.
Sloan: What happened to you out there?
SHE SITS ON ONE OF HER COMFY-LOOKING OVERSTUFFED CHAIRS. TOM STANDS OPPOSITE HER, STARING TOWARDS THE WINDOWS. HE CROSSES HIS ARMS OVER HIS CHEST AND LOOKS AT SLOAN.
Tom: I knew the moment we drove in that I’d been there before. I just can’t pin down when or why.
Sloan: The images you kept flashing on. Tell me about them.
HE LOOKS AWAY FROM HER, BOWS HIS HEAD AND SIGHS.
Tom: They won’t stop.
HE TURNS TOWARDS SLOAN AND TAKES A STEP CLOSER TO HER.
Tom: Emotions I can’t handle. Memories I can’t identify. These visions--the pillar--somehow they’re all linked. I know that.
Sloan: Why can’t you remember, Tom?
Tom: (brow furrowing in confusion and retrospection) I don’t remember most of my childhood.
Sloan: Well that’s where you’ve gotta start. That’s the key. Your parents, your home. The--
TOM TURNS AWAY FROM HER AND SIGHS AGAIN. HE SHAKES HIS HEAD MINUTELY. SLOAN SIGHS.
Sloan: Except you can’t go back, can you?
TOM LOOKS AT HER.
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AT THE BIO LAB. SLOAN ENTERS THE EMPTY LAB AND LOOKS AROUND IN CONFUSION. LOTS OF NEW EQUIPMENT BUT NO BUSTLING PEOPLE AS BEFORE. SHE WALKS ACROSS THE LAB AND APPROACHES ED IN HIS OFFICE. ED IS STANDING NEXT TO A CORKBOARD WITH LARGE SATELLITE IMAGES TACKED TO IT.
Sloan: Where is everybody?
Ed: (smiling) Boy, have you got a lot to catch up on. Hey, I called you fifty times. Where you been?
Sloan: You’ve got a lot to catch up on too. Come on.
SLOAN STALKS OUT OF HIS OFFICE AND ACROSS THE LAB.
Ed: (rushing after her) Wait! Sloan, Sloan, Sloan! Whoa...whoa...hang on...hang on...hang on....Attwood has this photo that actually proves the existence of some kind of village.
SLOAN REACHES THE LAB DOORS AND PAUSES AT A GURNEY. SHE THROWS BACK THE COVERING AND REVEALS THE MUMMY TO ED. HE’S SUITABLY STUNNED.
Ed: My God. How did you get it out?
Sloan: Tom.
Ed: (looking at the mummy) Let’s go.
THEY HURRIEDLY WHEEL THE GURNEY INSIDE THE LAB.
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AT THE POLICE STATION. A MAN IN A DARK SUIT WALKS THROUGH THE DOORS, FIXING HIS TIE. HE’S LOOKING FOR SOMEONE. HE WALKS UP TO THE OFFICER AT THE FRONT DESK AND PRODUCES A SHIELD.
Man: Tony Zendejas. I’m looking for Detective Peterson.
Ofc.: (pointing through some doors) Right in there.
AGENT ZENDEJAS WALKS THROUGH THE DOORWAY AND SEES RAY. RAY STANDS AND THEY SHAKE HANDS.
Ray: Hey, Tony!
Tony: How ya doing, Ray?
Ray: Good, good.
RAY TURNS AND WALKS TO HIS DESK.
Tony: Wife, kids?
Ray: Uh, everybody’s great. Uh, sit down, Tony.
TONY SITS.
Tony: (with a smile) I can’t believe you dragged me all the way out here for this. You got something against the Bureau these days?
Ray: I’d just rather talk on my own turf. So, uh, what did you learn about this Attwood guy?
Tony: I checked this guy Attwood out, but he doesn’t check out. Ten years of personnel files, the entire fingerprint database, I mean even the obsolete print cards, every source I could access, and I got nothin’.
Ray: So what does that mean?
Tony: That means there is no Walter Attwood.
RAY TURNS HIS HEAD AND SIGHS AS HE DIGESTS THIS.
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AT THE BIO LAB. THE MUMMY RESTS ON A GURNEY. ED AND SLOAN WEAR LONG BLUE LAB COATS AND SAFETY GLASSES. SLOAN SNAPS ON A PAIR OF LATEX GLOVES.
Ed: Well, the lab’s not the best place to do this, but it will have to do. Gonna make a midline incision in the abdomen.
SLOAN HANDS HIM A SCALPEL. ED CUTS OPEN THE MUMMY.
Ed: Later we can weigh the individual organs, I just wanna make a cursory evaluation of the physiological stat--My God.
Sloan: What is it?
Ed: Sloan, this girl was pregnant.
Sloan: She was only nine years old. Ten at most.
Ed: And there are four fetuses.
Sloan: Quadruplets?
ED LOOKS UP AT SLOAN FROM WHERE HIS GAZE HAS BEEN RIVETED UPON THE MUMMY.
Ed: No. This girl has four uteruses.
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A DUSTY COUNTRYSIDE LOCALE, WITH LARGE TREES AND ROCKY HILLS. TOM STRIDES UP FROM A DIRT ROAD. (HE’S STILL WEARING THE SAME OUTFIT THAT HE WORE IN MEXICO, BUT LET’S REMEMBER, HE BURNT HIS HOUSE DOWN IN THE LAST EPISODE.) HE PAUSES AND THE CAMERA PANS AROUND TO SHOW WHAT HE’S LOOKING AT. THE BURNT-OUT STRUCTURE OF A HOUSE STANDS BEFORE HIM.
HE APPROACHES IT AND CLIMBS THE BLACKENED PORCH STAIRS. HE HALTS AT THE REMAINDER OF THE FRONT DOOR AND GRIPS THE DOORKNOB. HE TURNS IT AND OPENS THE DOOR WIDE. AS HE STEPS ACROSS THE THRESHOLD, HE CLOSES HIS EYES TIGHTLY AND BOWS HIS HEAD, HIS HAND COMING UP TO HIS TEMPLE. IMAGES FLASH--THE YOUNG BLONDE WOMAN IN THE WHITE GOWN, SLOAN EXAMINING THE TATTOO ON THE MUMMY IN OAXACA, HIMSELF, STANDING BEFORE THE CRATER CONTAINING THE HALF-EXPOSED PILLAR, THE BLUE AND GREEN LIGHTS OF THE INFORMATION GATHERING SCANNERS, THE YOUNG BOY ON HIS STOMACH BEFORE THE FIRE. TOM OPENS HIS EYES AS THE IMAGES RECEDE. HE LOOKS SLOWLY AROUND THE REMNANTS OF THE HOUSE, KICKING AWAY DEBRIS WITH A REALLY NICE PAIR OF VERY DARK BROWN LEATHER LACE-UP SHOES. (WHY THEY PUT BROWN SHOES WITH BLACK PANTS, I’LL NEVER KNOW....FASHION FAUX PAS NUMERO UNO.)
HE STOPS BEFORE A STAIRWAY TO WHAT WAS ONCE THE SECOND STORY AND KICKS AT MORE DEBRIS. HE SEES SOMETHING AND BENDS DOWN TO PICK IT UP. IT’S AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH. BLACK AND WHITE, NEARLY DESTROYED, BUT WE SEE A WOMAN IN HER EARLY TWENTIES, EMBRACING A YOUNG BOY. 
TOM LOOKS UP FROM THE PHOTO, HIS BROW FURROWING.
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AT THE BIO LAB. SLOAN IS LOOKING AT A CLIPBOARD AS SHE WALKS FROM THE LAB AREA OVER TO THE OFFICES. ED TRAILS HER.
Ed: So are all of their ten year-olds capable of bearing children?
THEY ENTER SLOAN’S OFFICE AND SLOAN WALKS AROUND TO HER DESK CHAIR.
Sloan: It’s a good bet that they all have multiple uteruses. But do they all have four?
Ed: Or more.
Sloan: We just don’t know. We don’t have enough information.
WE SEE ATTWOOD APPROACHING.
Ed: Yeah, we need it. It’s the only way we can figure out how many of them there are.
ATTWOOD ENTERS SLOAN’S OFFICE.
Attwood: Maybe this can help.
ATTWOOD HANDS SLOAN A REPORT.
Ed: What you got?
Attwood: It’s the military assessment of the photograph.
Sloan: (looking at the report) They think the village was abandoned in 1964.
Attwood: At which time there were between one thousand and twelve-hundred inhabitants.
Ed: Okay.
Sloan: (sitting at her computer and typing information into it) Take a worst case scenario...
Ed: Go.
Sloan: If the ‘64 population was half female...
Ed: If all the females can conceive at ten...
Sloan: If on average they conceive four children at a time...
Attwood: Factor in the biological imperative to procreate as quickly as possible.
Ed: So say every female conceives, uh, five times in her lifetime.
ED LEANS OVER SLOAN’S SHOULDER AS THE RESULTS COME UP ON THE SCREEN.
Ed: My God.
SLOAN LOOKS AT ATTWOOD.
Sloan: A hundred and eighty-seven thousand of them.
Ed: Today.
Sloan: They could be anywhere.
A PHONE RINGS. SLOAN ANSWERS IT.
Sloan: Hello.
CUT TO TOM ON HIS CELL PHONE AT THE BURNT HOUSE.
Tom: I took your advice.
SLOAN LOOKS OVER AT ED. HE RUSHES OVER TO HIS OFFICE. SLOAN GLANCES AT ATTWOOD, WHO WAVES GOOD-BYE AND BACKS OUT OF HER OFFICE.
Sloan: What do you mean? Wh-where are you?
CUT BACK TO TOM.
Tom: I’m in Wildwood Canyon. I came home, Sloan.
CUT BACK TO SLOAN. WE HEAR TOM SPEAKING OVER HER RECEIVER.
Tom: (voiceover) The house I grew up in.
CUT BACK TO TOM. HE LOOKS AROUND.
Tom: What’s left of it.
CUT BACK TO SLOAN.
Sloan: You shouldn’t be there. It could be dangerous. You have to leave!
CUT BACK TO TOM.
Tom: It paid off. I found something...a photograph.
Sloan: (voiceover) Of who?
TOM LOOKS AROUND AND LOWERS THE PHONE FROM HIS EAR. HE SEES A BLONDE WOMAN IN HER EARLY FORTIES STANDING A FEW FEET AWAY FROM HIM IN THE YARD BELOW.
Sloan: (voiceover) Tom? Hello?
CUT BACK TO SLOAN IN HER OFFICE. WE SEE HER ON THE PHONE FROM A VIEWPOINT IN ED’S OFFICE. ED IS LOOKING OVER AT HER, CONCERNED.
Sloan: Tom? Tom!
CUT BACK TO TOM AS WE SEE HIM SCRUTINIZE THE WOMAN.
CUT BACK TO SLOAN. SHE HANGS UP THE PHONE, LOOKING
WORRIED.
CUT BACK TO TOM. THE WOMAN WATCHES HIM. SLOWLY SHE ADVANCES UPON TOM.
Woman: Tom.
SHE CLIMBS THE STAIRS INTO WHAT’S LEFT OF THE HOUSE. TOM CONTINUES TO STARE AT HER QUESTIONINGLY. HE FLASHES ON AN IMAGE OF THE YOUNG BLONDE WOMAN FROM BEFORE, AND THE IMAGE SUPERIMPOSES OVER THE FACE OF THE WOMAN STANDING IN FRONT OF HIM.
Woman: Tom.
Tom: Mother.
CUT BACK TO SLOAN. SHE HURRIEDLY GETS UP FROM HER DESK AND GRABS HER COAT. SHE STRIDES FROM HER OFFICE, PAST ED, WHO LEAPS UP AFTER HER.
Ed: Sloan, Sloan! Hey, hang on!
SLOAN PAUSES IN THE DOORWAY AND LOOKS BACK AT ED.
Ed: It’s Tom, isn’t it?
Sloan: Yeah.
ED LOOKS AWAY.
Ed: (shaking his head) Don’t do this, Sloan. You have no idea what you might be walking into.
Sloan: Ed. I have to go.
SHE LEAVES. ED LEANS AGAINST THE WALL, FRUSTRATED AND WORRIED. HE TURNS AND ENTERS HIS OFFICE, SLAMMING THE DOOR BEHIND.
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AT THE BIO LAB. RAY NEARS THE DOORS OF THE LAB. HE WALKS THROUGH AND PEERS IN THE LAB WINDOWS.
Attwood: Can I help you, Detective?
RAY TURNS AND GLANCES AT HIM.
Ray: I’m uh, looking for Dr. Parker.
Attwood: She just left.
Ray: (gesturing to the lab) Looks like Santa came early.
Attwood: University’s been most generous.
Ray: Sure it wasn’t Uncle Sam?
Attwood: Meaning?
RAY TURNS TO FACE ATTWOOD.
Ray: I hear you claim you work for the Federal government.
Attwood: Come with me.
ATTWOOD WALKS DOWN THE HALL AND RAY FOLLOWS.
Attwood: I guess Dr. Parker has a great deal of faith in you.
Ray: How do you figure?
Attwood: Why else would she tell you things that I told her in strictest confidence?
THEY ENTER ATTWOOD’S OFFICE.
Ray: Well the thing is, when I ran a check on you--
Attwood: No one had ever heard of me. Not the FBI, the Secret Service, the CIA, ATF--
Ray: Not even the Border Patrol.
Attwood: (sitting at his desk) What did you expect, Detective? My name would be available to every civil servant with a computer terminal?
Ray: Why don’t you just tell me who the hell you are?
Attwood: It’s not who I am, it’s who I work for that matters. You need to raise the bar, Detective. Take out your cell phone. Go on.
RAYS GETS HIS CELL PHONE OUT OF HIS BREAST COAT POCKET.
Attwood: Dial Washington, D. C. Information. Area code 202. Do you know who John Maxwell is?
RAY LOOKS UP.
Ray: (disbelieving) President’s National Security Advisor?
Attwood: Ask for the White House.
Ray: (into the phone) General number for the White House, please....Thank you.
Attwood: Dial it.
RAY DIALS.
Attwood: Ask for Maxwell.
Ray: It’s ten o’clock at night there.
Attwood: They’ll patch you through to his house. Just say Walter Attwood told you to call.
SOMEONE ANSWERS ON THE OTHER END.
Ray: Yes, hello. John Maxwell, please....Could you ring his home? Walter Attwood said to call.
RAY LOOKS AT ATTWOOD.
Ray: It’s ringing.
THE PHONE IS ANSWERED. WE HEAR A MAN IN VOICEOVER FROM THE OTHER END OF THE LINE.
Man: (voiceover) Hello, John Maxwell here. Hello? Hello?
RAY COVERS THE PHONE WITH HIS HAND AND LOOKS AT ATTWOOD IN SHOCK. ATTWOOD SMILES AT HIM.
Attwood: Say hi.
Part Three
Part One
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