Battlestar Galactica

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 2 USERS: A+
YOU GRADE IT
This Is Not A Love Story

The stream Twinset's drinking from, that was Athena's last download: her husband had just shot and killed her, to save their child, after being lied to by every single human, and still holding on with both fists and everything she had. She is a Hub. Twinset opened that box like Pandora, and the person she is, is only trust and only love. "I will get home, I will protect my child, our child, I will earn my allegiance." But Twinset's shame here is one indication of where we're at; on the other hand, it didn't stop her. These are new rules and new ceremonies, under an uncertain sun.

Twinset tries: "They're mine now too. They're as real as my own. I know this must feel like a violation of trust or something, but I..." He looks away. No matter how nice she tries to be, no matter how much she tries to cross that cultural salt, it's impossible. You try to explain the automatic and it slips through your hands, like telling a dream. "I don't want it to be strange, okay?" She reaches out; he doesn't take her hand. Eights need touch, they know what it means. He doesn't take her hand, but he tells her it's fine, and he bounces. And she knows she fucked it up, but she doesn't know how bad.

It's not that she broke a show rule; it's not that she infected herself with love. This isn't a love story. It's that they're expected to be human. The Cylon are meant to earn -- to be worthy of -- survival. We must fight for our own deaths, clamp down on our strangeness, stop sharing with our sisters, layer t-shirts over bras, sweaters on top; we must cover up our shame. Filters. Control. We must stop sharing, stop being more than one place at one time, stop being more than one person at a time, stop loving and stretching out; start fearing, and drawing in. The place we are in must stop being more than one place, too: no more projection. We must be only one person at one time, with no sisters and no promises: nothing but the ground beneath our feet, and the salt around them. The scariest thing in the world. And then they will accept us. We will be human -- we will be okay -- once we stop doing that which makes us most beautiful. Because nobody told us something better.

Laura sits in Pike's Raptor, with Searider Falcon in her lap. The last vestige of him. She can't live without him, and she's dozing. Helo wakes her softly, and she puts on her glasses, tossing the book onto the panel. It's the last time she'll see that book; things will stop moving in anything but a blur. She drops him carelessly onto a panel so she can whisper hate and deception, and she will lose him. He'll find the book, on the other side of anything, and he will wait. But this is where she lets it go. He was the dove and she was the hawk; she puts their cabin aside. This is not a love story.

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Battlestar Galactica

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