Drop The Pilot

by Jacob Clifton November 2, 2009
The Plan

"You know that when we download among the others, your strange ideas will be shouted down," One reminded himself; he smiled. "Ideas only seem strange until you try them on, Brother."

"We had a temper tantrum in the form of a cataclysm, because we wanted them to treasure us -- the Ones -- more than humanity. More than their own history and blood."

God knew Iblis meant every word, and every claim that he'd tempt them from the straight path, and so he granted Iblis and his angels a Hell in which to play. And God allowed Iblis one final test: To roam the world, to convert the rest away. To drop the pilot, forever.

"We didn't want to be loved," One lied to himself. "We wanted to be treated fairly."

"We wanted to be held to a bosom," Cavil told himself. "To be petted, and perfumed, and told we were the princes of the universe."

"Yes," One huffed. "Well, if the humans were gone..." Cavil chuckled at himself. "Our parents would mourn them. They'd love them more, anyway."

One offered to box himself, and assured himself he'd see to it humanity was wiped out once and for all. He have his mother's bed and his father's eye. He'd give his father's filthy lover to the demons to play with; he'd set his mother and father against the system, fighting the government from the inside out. He'd watch them play at bombers and terrorists, hiding guns in churches and killing men and women, to prove they were still free. Jealousy is less about anger toward others than toward the acknowledgement of our own lack.

One didn't want to be human, he hated the body as much as he hated the way the Five still loved their brothers and sisters, after so much time and so many wonders. He wanted to see gamma rays and hear x-rays and smell dark matter. To extend the boundaries of his stupid human senses; to feel the universe the way he experienced time. He wanted to feel the solar wind of a supernova on his body -- and in a few minutes he will.

But most of all, he wanted to reach out, into the universe, and touch something more than what he could see. He wanted to drop the pilot of his hate and his rage and the weakness of his sisters and his brothers, and simply feel something. "I'm a machine," One said once, "And I could know much more." But the only thing the Cylon never understood was love. And those that came to know it, they became more than Cylon every time: They reached out with something better than prehensile paws, and touched an infinity that no amount of their sister's lives could duplicate.

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