"Lee," Kara giggles, "When are you gonna get yourself a girl?" Foul! Total foul! On many levels! He smiles and shakes it off and says he's doing fine, thanks. They do the shots. "You're not still frackin' Dualla, are you?" laughs Kara, cruelly. Even Anders is like, "Whoa, lady." "I mean, I'm not one to like, you know, lecture or anything -- because I'll do just about anything to get into the pants of some hot little young thing." Anders pulls her onto his lap, completely ignorant of the shitstorm in the exact center of which his so-called girlfriend has just placed him. It's easy to idealize when your whole life is about playing Pyramid and running from robots. Your asshole qualities kind of run second to survival and hot sex. I might feel worse for Anders than I even do Lee right now, just because he's a nice guy and has no idea about the baggage here. Even though he's drunk, the vibes are hardcore unmistakeable. "Is that all I am to you?" he asks, desperately trying to chill the situation, but Kara's not having it: "Yes. But you love it." He allows as how he doesn't "mind doing charity work," and they start mugging down hardcore, drunk and relieved and giddy. Lee makes his exit, about five minutes too late, as Anders and Starbuck murmur and whisper. At the sound of Lee closing the hatch, Starbuck looks up, having literally misplaced him in all the different kinds of game she was just running: "Where'd he go?" she laughs, Anders shrugs, he picks her up, she squeals, they fuck.
Roslin impassively watches the new Brother Cavil in his brig cell. "I'm here to deliver a message," he tells her. "After that, you can do whatever you want with me. I don't care." The other Cavil, her priest one, is brought in by Marines, bitching loudly: "Would you mind telling me what's going on? I'm not a fracking Cylon! I'm not..." He trails off, seeing the other Cavil: "Oh. Well...okay then." It's adorable and scary. "Sorry to bust up your day, Brother," says the new one, as they put the old Fleet one into the next cell. "But there's been a change of plans. It's been decided that the occupation of the Colonies was an error." Roslin and Adama watch as they look at each other. Old Cavil: "I could've told them that. Bad thinking. Faulty logic. Our first major error of judgment." (My emphasis.) New Cavil shrugs: "Live and learn. But the War Heroes have managed to swing opinion over to their side." Adama asks what he means. "A Six and an Eight," says New Cavil. "One of the Eights, you know as Sharon Valerii." Roslin and Adama look at each other. "Their voices carry a lot of weight. So when they started talking about our 'mistakes' and our 'corruption' and our need for a 'new beginning,' the rest of us listened." The other Cavil joins in. "You see, we're not like you. We can admit our mistakes, and we're not afraid of change." Again, emphasis mine, but check out the semantics: this is a situation in which the change would come easy. Thirty-six hours is a way long time for the Cylons to figure this out. A self-regulating system of computer intelligence only needs the new patch, which implements in seconds and then restarts. They don't have to vote, or worry, or weigh -- SpyBot says there's an issue, the system responds. What it does with that information is sometimes fucked up, but the words they're using are the words of an artificial intelligence that has been alerted to a logic failure. Once alerted that jealousy, murder, vengeance are sins in the eyes of God, the slaughter of mankind was a mistake, it will self-upgrade, change things for the better, create a new beginning, a new way to live in God's love. Without hate. Without all the lies. It will demonstrate "the way." It will bring itself back into alignment with the program, sweeping all those ones and zeroes into the Recycle Bin like they never existed. You want a truly alien intelligence? Try explaining Normal.dot to me.