Delphi, Old Caprica. The alarms of Kara's Viper become a clock radio, blaring a wakeup call. It's dawn. She slaps the clock and the radio begins to speak. "Good morning, Delphi. Got another hot one in store for you today! Time to head for the beach. Weatherman says we can expect..." A hand switches it off again: Leoben's. Leoben Conoy has hands. "Rise and shine," he says, caressing her hair, sitting down at her side on her pallet, smiling tenderly. "We have a big day ahead of us. Come on."

Later, Starbuck's not buying it: "I'm out cold on a Cylon ship, and you drugged me to play your frakkin' mind games..." I have to admit that was my first reaction, too. He shakes his head. "No games, Kara. It's about your destiny." She picks up a bottle and nails the Eye on her wall without ever looking away from him. It's one movement, a physical jerk, but I think it's my favorite moment of the whole episode. In this episode there are three Karas at least; I mean to say that there are at least three people in this episode that are Kara for sure, and we know that because they look like her. There's the little Kore one, with her bloody nose and her righteous eyes, and there's the one we know, the one in freefall. And there's the one we're about to meet, the one we met so long ago. And this movement is the definitive statement of all of these, moving as one woman, at once: a reaction to the word "destiny" and the violence it connotes. For her and for us all. We're all of us, inside, every age we've ever been, somewhere in there. Stuff this intense, and this basic, you'd be surprised sometimes who gets the talking stick. "I write my own destiny," she hisses, and sits down at the other end of the coffee table, facing away from him. This is my second favorite line, I rewound it several times to make sure: "I didn't paint that symbol, Kara. You did. In the clouds, didn't you?"

"You didn't tell anyone else. Because you're drawn to it. You feel its pull. You want to fly into it. You want to cross over, but you're afraid." Um, of a frackin' cloud? "Of the unknown. Death. All of your high-wire stunts have been an act. Time after time you skip to the edge of the abyss, then dance away again. But you never really conquered your fear. You've been afraid ever since that day." She knows; she's always known. Where this leads. The Eye is a circle, a circle is a zero, a birth canal, the beginning and the end: how you start and how you know you've become a grownup. The opposite of a one, combining with it to create everything Cylons ever knew. "What day?" she asks.