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From Fringewiki - The Online Fringe Wiki Pedia Encyclopedia

Dr. Walter Bishop

Portrayed by: John Noble

Portrayed by: [[{{{Actor1}}}]] and [[{{{Actor2}}}]]

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Name: Dr. Walter Bishop

Also Known As

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Eccentric, Hungry, Happier

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Scientific Exploration & Research

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[[:Category:{{{Images}}}|Images]]

Dr. Walter Bishop was a research scientist extraordinaire for many decades, working primarily in FRINGE-science, aka. pseudo-science. He received funding and support from many sources, including governments, corporations and educational institutes.

Preferences & Peccadillos

• Finds falling asleep while counting PI to the one hundred first digit is soothing.
• Hyacinth is his third favorite flower.
• When discussing "a proclivity for sexual bondage"... he waxed, "Some of my fondest memories"...
• Craves blue cotton candy? Not pink.

Backstory

Bishop has conducted scientific exploration/experimentation in many fields, including: Synaptic transfer of thoughts between subjects, astral projection, genetic alteration, rapid-aging, telepathy, re-animation of the dead, biologic manipulation... among many other fields of interest.

In His Career

• Much of his research was conducted in a personal lab in the Kresge Bldg. at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA.
• Some of his research was highly classified and experimental work for the military and US Army.
• He was institutionalized at St. Claire’s in the early 1990's because he was mentally unfit for trial for his contributions in the death of a colleague during experimentation.

As A Young Adult

• He had some level of involvement (relationship) with Nina Sharp - based on her testimony to Peter Bishop that she knew him (Peter) well, when he was a child. She did not clarify if her relationship with Dr. Bishop was professional, social, romantic, or a combination of these.

As A Child

Lab Notes

Walter's Notes - The official FRINGE website provides the weekly musings of Dr. Bishop... with a still-shot of his notes and photos for that particular episode. The photos are an authorized product of the Creative Staff, satisfying the semi-canon policy of FringeWiki. Below are the abbreviated transcriptions of his written notes.</blockquote>

Walter's Notes

Notes - Safe · Project 1069 · Exploration 1

Notes - The Dreamscape · Project 269 · Exploration 19

I had not expected the opportunity to return to this project so soon. The resurfacing of Agent Scott – for whatever distress it has caused to Agent Dunham – confirms my suspicion that lysergic acid diethylamide can induce flashbacks of alien, as well as indigenous, memories – like the corners of my mind – misty water-colored memories… Curse you Streisand, your wretched lyrics afflict my soul!
How fortunate that Olivia brought these toads here. “And that river shall bring forth frogs abundantly, which shall go up and come into thine house, and into thy bedchamber, and upon thy bed, and into the house of thy servants, and upon thy people, and into thine ovens, and into thy kneadingtroughs”. And thy laboratories! I have modified the regression formula to include doses of bufotenin and 5-MeO-DMT from the bufo alvarius,. Like the Scots witches, I will stir the pot:

Eye of newt, and toe of frog.
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog.
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting.
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing …

…with oyster crackers on the side, of course. The new brew will assuredly amplify the psychedelic effects, allowing even deeper penetration into repressed memory. Perhaps I should inform Olivia; but she has little patience for such details. The whole process should take four to five hours. Not unlike the time required for baking a turkey – assuming, of course, the bird has been properly thawed and brined. I must remind Astringent not to drain the tank when we are done; no need to waste perfectly good saline solution!
Yet there is but one subject this time. The puzzle is one of recursion: the linking of the brain to itself. What happens when a person goes through her own portal? Herein lies the danger of a strange loop, an endless spiral of meta-realities, each self gazing into a yet deeper self. The experience could lead to the destruction of identity. Or perhaps its affirmation -- for what is self but an endless recursion, looking at oneself in a mirror within a mirror within a mirror…

Notes - The Equation · Project 577 · Exploration 5

• A Conversation With Himself

~ It happens all the time: Newton and Leibnitz inventing calculus. Darwin and Wallace discovering evolution by natural selection. Jevon, Menger and Walras elucidated marginalism in economics. And yet. Dashiell and the boy -- with nothing in common -- not even working in the same medium -- not even knowing what they were trying to find –-
= YOU SHOULD HAVE SOLVED IT YOURSELF! IT IS JUST MATHEMATICS, A SIMPLE MATTER OF CALCULATION, NOTHING MORE.
~ Every iteration of the main theme of the composition corresponds to a further expansion of the central function of Dashiell's equation. And with each iteration, he comes a step closer to a closed-form solution. Yet the expansion is infinite, implying a potentially limitless composition -- small wonder the boy was obsessed --
= EXCUSES. EXCUSES TO RETURN TO WHERE YOU KNOW YOU BELONG.
~ No! I have the boy now, he is the key, on some level he understands, even if he chafes and bristles -–
= BECAUSE YOU ARE A BURDEN. AND THE VISITOR CAME AGAIN, DIDN'T HE? ALWAYS PRESSURING YOU FOR THE NUMBERS, THE NUMBERS!
~ I couldn't stop him, he knows my combination. He bumped my head and I went to bed and I couldn’t get up til morning --
= ENOUGH RHYMES. THE QUESTION IS, WHAT HAPPENED WHEN HE LEFT?
~ It was still there, my box of secrets, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma within a lumpy mattress. I should have left it there --
= FOR THEM TO TAKE? FOOLISHNESS. IS IT SAFE OR NOT?
~ I have it now. The box is safe, but my secrets are not. My visitor whispered to me: thank you. No more pearls in this oyster, he said.

Notes - In Which We Meet Mr. Jones · 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 that saw its beauty. What we have here is LIFE created by man not god! The German Shakespeare would have understood.

Dare we determin’d will to burst the portals
Past which in terror others fain would steal!
Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortal
The calm sublimity of god’s 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 petri dish. And then the second time with more primitive methods, heaving at perspiring, nine months of grueling effort for the carrier, culminating in a convulsive expulsion of amniotic fluid. I suppose that output was better 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 astonishing 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 humuolus 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 a 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 up 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!

Notes - The Cure · Project 1051 · Exploration 1

• Autumn has arrived and the whole city is in a funk because the Red Sox failed to make the Series. Astonishing. Whence the strange expectation? During my seventeen years in captivity, did we enter some alternate reality in which the Sox are a viable team? It was always the time of year that the orderlies would propose a ballgame, staff versus inmates. The orderlies insisted upon their three strikes per out, three outs per half-inning, seven or nine innings per game. The inmates played along, knowing that the line of scrimmage ran from home through the mound to third, that wickets could trip unwary outfielders, and that every strike guaranteed another frame. The game ended when the score was Q to 12. The orderlies never could crack the secret of Dashiell's quantum knuckleball. The batters were unable (sic) determine its position and momentum at once! In confidence, Dash confessed to me that it was a cheat: after all, the direction of the ball's hop was determined after the batter had chosen where to swing! True, there may exist parallel timelines in which every swing connected — in which they made line drives and smacked home runs and even drove the balls' cork nuclei from their leathery skins — but we do not live in them. Speaking of nuclei, those in the young woman's bloodstream are shedding electrons and antineutrinos as we speak. Soon she will perform her Darryl Revok routine. Stains on the carpet and stains on the scenery, unless we can forge an antidote, a bonding agent, a Zephyrus for the Hyacinth. Wait! Hyacinth! That's it!

• Pictures of the diner victims and a plate of exploded papaya.

Notes - Power Hungry · Project 491 · Exploration 7

• King of Cups. Above his typed notes sits the tarot card. The card describes a man of business, law or divinity, kind and considerate, and willing to take responsibility. He is interested in the arts and sciences and enjoys quiet power. Someone you would likely display paternal feelings toward. Symbols on the card suggest calm in the midst of turbulence, spirit and creativity and the balance of the unconscious with the conscious. The King of Cups does not repress his emotions and unconscious impulses, but accepts and deals with them. Traits - you may not understand him, but you can trust him. He has achieved something in life. Sociable, loving, sensuous. Intelligence combined with strong intuition. Enjoys comforts of life. Love of arts. Responsible and generous. In a positive environment (Tarot reading), the King of Cups can be; secretive, yet professional; empathetic and good in an emerging dynamic; able to bring ideas to fruition and imaginative; act as a concerned protector; moody, sophisticated, quiet and deep; romantic, poetic and a guardian of hidden mysteries. In a negative environment; powerful, but likely to double deal; display a crafty, violent nature; barbaric, insecure and immature; manipulative and will toy with others emotions.

Typed notes → Power Hungry Notes

Notes - The Arrival · Project 643 · Exploration 3

• Only a mild sedative should knock her out for only a short while. The girl won't understand, nor the others. Not a preferred course of action, but necessary. I have to meet with my friend, and the clouds are gathering, I can hear them already. I know what's to be done: find a new hiding place, before the chase begins. Round and round the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel! It has returned to plague me again. Fallen like a ton of feathers, right into the banana patch. Wrestling with my insides, trying to extract something. Like the bearded man, when he told me he needed another pearl. Thank you sir, may I have another? I told my friend he should get a toupee, or at least a better hat, and he said it's a fair wind that bloweth no man any ill.... The boy knows but doesn't know that he knows.... But he'll be okay as long as we stay, when there's more songs to play and few things to say. We'll need to ask the Fisher King for answers. Chapter next, turn the page, feed the germs a macrophage. Is that where it goes, a scrapyard, or a graveyard? No matter, just keep it from Scotland Yard.... I left something behind, in a mattress, or something like it. Phi, chi, psi, omega, that's how it starts.
  

  

  Phi-Chi-Psi-Omega
  An equation that will take me back, back, back to where I once belonged. Kenneth, what's the frequency? Once at 2 MHz, again at 4, and once (in a) blue moon.

Notes - Ghost Network · Project 773 · Exploration 13

• In solid smoke a crowd of victims froze - Encased in crystals bound in nitrous gas. And paralyzed with their deathly throes, They found this daily trip to be their last. Metallic compounds in his brain we found: Antennae for a sensory array. Experimental subjects come and go - The soil in which the roots of wisdom grow.
  
• I should repair the old transmitter on this building's roof, if indeed it is still there. Others receivers might also hear our signal.
  
• The magnetic neurostimulator is the first essential component. The second is the laboratory itself, whose dimensions will encourage reception of transmissions.... Something here is not precisely right. Something missing, or something extra.

Notes - The Same Old Story · Project 397 · Exploration 23

• The regulation of celermitosis, which despite Mr. Nixon's fervent support I... never perfect, must finally have been cracked by modern techniques. Exactly how remains a mystery, though the transmission of rapid growth from parent to child suggests the answer is genetic. Perhaps retroviral therapy was employed to manipulate the genome directly. Yet I cannot rule out epigenetic inheritance, via methylation of growth-regulating gene complexes.
  

Notes - Pilot · Project 269 · Exploration 17

• For seventeen years my circadian rhythms have been manipulated by the nurses of Saint Claire's. What they hoped to accomplish with their pre-dawn intrusions, I can only guess! It gives me such joy to turn the lights on and off at my own whim -- and to resume the explorations I began so long ago, in this very laboratory . The ratio of floor dimensions is the key. How can I be expected to make true progress without understanding the proportions of my space?
  
• That the blonde-haired woman has consented to participate -- despite my direst warnings, which I am nearly certain I provided, despite the interruptions from my progeny -- is most gratifying. The experiment promises to strengthen my still inadequate grasp of the fundamental principles of human consciousness. All this despite my concern about the perils of mental transference and theta-wave commingling that affected the rodentia in 1970.