Species III

Most people don't see it, or don't want to see it.

The evidence is right there,

but they refuse to make the connection.

We have Colleen on line 1.

Oh, absolutely.

We are living in a world of high strangeness.

The fact is, all this activity

started happening at a certain definite point in our history.

Before the early '50s, there's nothing. Then it all began.

The sightings, the signals... too many to deny.

So you have to ask yourself,

"What specific event caused this sudden uptick

in alien visitation after thousands of years of silence?"

It was our atomic energy. They detected it.

I mean, that many megatons? How couldn't they?

And then, they followed it here.

What do they want? Are they studying us?

Warning us? Harvesting us?

We don't know, but the fact is they're here.

They are here now, and they are not going away.

Mercy, six-two actual. We've lost visual contact.

Say position. Over.

Roger, six-two. Stand by.

Chopper's lost us.

I think we took a wrong turn. Can't see a damn thing out here.

Friday, April 13th. Huh... My last day alive... maybe.

What does that matter when so many have died before me?

They said she was beautiful.

I suppose she was.

The part of her that was human, anyway.

And the part that wasn't, what about that?

Did the men she killed understand,

in some final flash before dying, what she really was?

Cold. Indifferent. Inhuman.

Insatiable.

And terrifyingly wonderful.

And what about the civilization

that beamed her DNA code through space?

They knew we'd use it.

Knew we'd mix it with our own genes.

But did they know the monster that would result?

Twice she was built. Twice she brought destruction.

And now it's my turn to take Eve's body.

Take her dying DNA and somehow create something better.

More pure.

Only then will we understand why she was sent.

Only then.

Slow down. Easy.

She's dead.

I don't think she cares at this point.

You up from the Reserves or something?

Something like that.

- Wait. - What?

The road.

We're supposed to be on a gravel road.

The one we passed back there.

Pull over, man.

I told you to stay on the road!

Did you hear me? I said, pull over.

Six-two, this is Mercy.

Put down the radio. Now.

- I said, put it down now! - Okay! Okay! Chill out!

What are you, back from Iraq or something?

Shut up. Now, get out.

Jesus fucking Christ!

Anybody! This is Mercy! Cargo's alive!

Repeat, the cargo is alive...

Now, get out, as I told you.

What the hell are you doin'?

Mercy six-two, come in.

Do you read me? Over.

Do you read me? Over?

- Nothing. - Find them.

Are you...

Eve.

I got him. 16 miles east-southeast.

Looks like they're not moving.

Still no contact?

Mercy six-two, come in.

Come in. Do you read me? Over.

Negative.

Send a ground team in there to meet us.

Six-two ground. Six-two ground. This is six-two actual.

Rendezvous, Mercy.

Coordinates, 87 Foxtrot. Over.

Can't see anyone down there.

Let's pay 'em a visit.

- Who's he? Specialist Robert Kelly.

- Who else was here? Just the driver.

- Where's his body? No idea, sir.

I want a full autopsy.

Check every inch of this ambulance and destroy it.

- And find that driver. - Yes, sir.

Good afternoon, sir.

This monster's been sucking in natural gas

and spewing out electricity for over 50 years.

Now, you might be wondering why we still need this in the 21st century.

After all, it's loud, expensive, inefficient, temperamental,

and it smells terrible.

And it's the best way we have of keeping the lights on.

But, if you follow me, I'm gonna show you

how we're gonna put it out of business.

Come on upstairs.

Come on in, folks. Just gather around here.

- How's it going, guys? - Okay, Dean.

Warning...

Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Tokamak.

You're looking at a prototype fusion reactor.

The university cut a deal with the city to build this down here.

Now, we're just in the experimental stages,

but soon... everything from cars and cell phones

to washing machines, and even spacecraft,

will be powered with clean, limitless fusion energy,

all courtesy of the atom.

- How does it work? - Glad you asked.

- Glen, you wanna fire this thing up? - Sure.

We take hydrogen and deuterium, put them together inside the reactor,

and then heat the mixture to 10 million degrees.

We then try to get the two elements to combine or fuse,

which produces a staggering amount of energy.

Basically, it's how the sun works.

So you're telling us inside that thing, it's as hot as the sun.

- Yeah. - Isn't that dangerous?

Yes, it is. Very. But don't worry.

Inside the Tokamak are a series of magnets powered by the plant here.

The magnets keep the super-hot plasma contained at all times.

Positive air-flow keeps the room pressurized,

and the walls here are six feet thick,

which is two feet thicker than the walls in the pyramids of Giza.

That's a little trivia for you.

Now, I'd love to be able to fire this thing up myself and show you,

but, unfortunately, there's only one guy who can do that,

and that's the head of the department, with his own personal access key.

And now, for the highlight.

On Sublevel C is the plant cafeteria,

where I understand the grilled cheese is excellent,

but the tuna fish sandwich is not.

I'd love to join you, but I gotta get back to class.

So, anyway, thank you very much.

- Thank you. - Thank you so much.

- Thank you very much. - No problem. Thanks a lot.

Have a good day. Bye-bye.

Behold, the T-4 bacteriophage virus...

nature's most elegant killing machine.

Look at it. It's beautiful, isn't it?

Invading our living cells, it has killed unabated since the beginning of time.

Who made it? Where did it come from?

What immortal hand or eye framed this dreadful symmetry?

You know what, just between us,

I think...

Who are you?

- I'm Dean. - Dean? Of what? Leisure studies?

No, Dean's my name.

- Oh... An atrocious one. - Sorry, sir?

I don't even think you're in this class.

- Yes, I am. - I think not.

Because if you were Dean,

you obviously would have arrived on time

along with the rest of your classmates.

Won't happen again, sir.

As I was saying, between us,

I think we made these viruses, you and I.

They're our own renegade microbes,

escaped from our cells, evolving, mutating,

they become our curse, our punishment.

Multiplying our sorrows... the perfect predator.

It's hardly perfect.

What was that?

- Nothing. - No, no, no. Repeat your comment.

Well, it's just that you said that viruses are perfect,

but they're not.

For one thing, they can't reproduce on their own,

and that's their Achilles' heel right there.

Without a host mechanism, they're just slowly dying proteins.

It seems we have a future CDC administrator among us.

I don't get it.

On level four of the Center for Disease Control,

there are preserved in frozen nitrogen

the world's last remaining strains of smallpox...

strains which are now scheduled for destruction.

Rendered extinct.

Like the dodo bird, dinosaur...

...and I guess that pleases you, right?

Who are you to judge which species lives or dies?

What?

What the hell was that?

- Specist. - Specist?