Walter puts a thermometer with the letters ZFT printed on it into the head of one of the victims in Holly's Diner in 'The Cure'. ZFT is the organization responsible for the parasite in 'In Which We Meet Mr. Jones'.
In 'In Which We Meet Mr. Jones' Mrs. Loeb handed Olivia a piece of paper hidden in a copy of A Christmas Carol. In 'The Equation', Walter sings Christmas carols over and over to try to jog his memory about the pattern of green-green-green-red lights.
FRINGE DIVISION CASE FILE #107-111108
FRINGE EVENT: Hybrid genetically manipulated parasite with David Robert Jones/ZFT connections
CLASSIFIED CASE CONNECTION(S): 1975--Dr. Bishop's Jimmy Hoffa postmortem interrogation for assassin ID; low electrosensitivity, so Hoffa's brain fried
AGENTS ASSIGNED: Dunham, Francis
SUPERVISING AGENT: Broyles
FILE ARCHIVED BY: Kristi "Skullaria" Gilleland
WITNESSES/CONTACTS: Lucas Vogel (Bundestag), Warden Johan Lennox, Joseph Smith (deceased), David Robert Jones
LOCATION: Frankfurt, Germany; 4331 Broad St., Saugus, MA
VICTIM(S): Agent Mitchell Loeb (in treatment)
CASE REPORT SUMMARY:
Agent Loeb returned from an operation in Frankfurt with a partially organic, genetically manipulated parasite wrapped around his heart. Dr. Walter Bishop identified it as giardia duodenalis, a single-celled parasite that lives in the intestines of animals, which had spread quickly, squeezing Agent Loeb's heart. Dr. Bishop identified a microscopic "Caesar Shift" cipher marked "ZFT" that had been added to the parasite's DNA.
- Project 269 - Exploration 18 -
This breathtaking organism may have been made for the most nefarious of purposes -- but no matter, the scientific achievement shines through. The National Socialists gave birth to the Volkswagen Beetle, yet the hippies saw its beauty. What we have here is LIFE, created by man not god! The German Shakespeare would have understood.
Dare with determin'd will to burst the portals
Past which in terror others fain would steal!
Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals
The calm sublimity of gods can feel...
I remember the first time I tried to create life. A failed merger of paramecium and amoeba, all cilia and pseudopods, a paradox in a petri dish. And then the second time, with more primitive methods, heaving and perspiring, nine months of grueling effort for the carrier, culminating in a convulsive expulsion of amniotic fluid. I suppose the output was better that time, although the hybrid had a bit too much of his mother. Parthenogenesis might have been preferable.
But this chimera is something else entirely. The offspring of unconscious evolution and conscious design, marvelous yet dreadful -- the very model of a Hegelian synthesis. Never seen anything like it, except of course for that astounding black-and-tan I poured myself in Heidelberg, 1985. The perfect mingling of two local brews -- a dunkel and a weizen -- rich chocolaty oligosaccharides fornicating with bitter earthy extracts of humulus lupulus. But where did I put the recipe? I must have taken it from my head before they could, stored it in sequence with the rest of my ideas.
And now I must perform my own extraction, from the fellow with the hole in his head. Pulling thoughts -- substantially more difficult than pulling teeth. The boy is skeptical, but Nietzsche put it best: "I favor any skepsis to which I may reply: 'Let us try it!' But I no longer wish to hear anything of all those things and questions that do not permit any experiment." Now, what was Peter's electrical tolerance? Was it 40, or 80? Oh well, only one way to find out!
WALTER: "We need to talk to that man Smith right away. He may be our best chance to save Agent Loeb's life."
PETER: "I know that, but he's dead. He was shot. We're out of luck."
WALTER: "Well, does he still have his head? Is it still attached to his body?"
PETER: "Only you would ask that question seriously. Yes, he still has a head."
WALTER: "Splendid. Perhaps in this case death is simply an inconvenience."
