From what I can gather so far, the sonic alien virus allows the average human to absorb punishment like Sylvester the Cat and inflict it like Godzilla. Exhibit A: that terrorist gentleman Park. He was shot and zapped by an electric fence while trying to escape Detective Rossi (Park did kill her partner), but that didn't kill dat bad ol' Parky-tat. Nope. Then Park was shackled to a bed by the good folks at Homeland Security. Did that deter him? Nah. Parky merely broke the handcuffs and stomped on his captors like they were the denizens of a scale railroad burg. And why? Because, like Slade (more than Quiet Riot), Parky was bound and determined to get the folks of Earth to "Cum on Feel the Noize" from some transmitter gizmo that he built in a Baltimore subway. Happily, the sod died in a grisly fashion before he accomplished his task. While Molly shot up his gizmo, Cavennaugh fried him like mozzarella on the train tracks (Rather like Robert Shaw in The Taking of Pelham One Two Three). Although it was disappointing to see Molly disable the gizmo instead of Pegg — especially in light of the 20/10 eyesight the writers enhanced him with — Carla Gugino's resourceful strategist remains the charismatic foundation of this addictive adventure. This show can tone down its self-congratulatory subversion of due process any time now, though. Does it make you feel safe that there are guys like Cavennaugh out there who take pride in ignoring civil-rights laws? It makes me wonder if the Firesign Theatre was right and we're the aliens. Ever consider that this signal is too beautiful for some human ears? Remember that Star Trek episode with Diana Muldaur as the blind woman who escorted that bizarre dude in the box who drove people loony if they stared at him? This alien signal sounds like his cousin.