Drop The Pilot

by Jacob Clifton November 2, 2009
The Plan

The Basestars were taking new forms in the sky. "Seized by God they cry for succor in the dark of the light mists of dreams dribble on the nascent echo and love no more. Jump." And as she came, they went: Away from the Colony, readying for the end of the world. Crying for succor; trying desperately to outlast the myth of death.

"And why are you here, Ellen? I mean, you're so obviously intended for greater things." She looked around, confused at first. "Are you a priest?" She laughed when he asked if it would matter, and he stared at her. This broken woman he'd made of his mother, responding like a machine to his interest and her vanity. He'd stacked the deck against her but he had to know.

On Caprica, at a Pyramid training camp far from the urban centers, his father Sam bashed some girl backward, and landed the target: Perfection. That's what it was about: Those moments when you can feel the perfection of creation. The beauty, the physics, the wonder of mathematics. The elation of action, and reaction. He was a forward guard; he was another face selling magazines, another piece of scoreboard trivia but he knew he was destined for more. He was just waiting for his singular moment of clarity: Spins and turns, angles and curves. The shape of dreams, half remembered. To slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of perfection.

The Basestars jumped in, over their twelve brothers. All functions were nominal, all function was optimal, as the Hybrids began the countdown, singing in chorus: "The center holds the falcon hears the falconer infrastructure check wetware check everyone hang on to the life bar please..." Even the Hybrids were lying to themselves.

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

The team cheered for their fallen comrade. "Anybody wanna save the lady?" Sam laughed; and a boy helped her up again. Like Sam always said: You keep shooting until you can't anymore.

"Apotheosis was the beginning before the beginning devices on alert observe the procedures of a general alert the base and the pinnacle the flower inside the fruit that is both its parent and its child decadent as ancestors the portal and that which passes."

They were everywhere, in the skies, but nobody knew it. Tory Foster was driving to the Delphi shuttle, to make it to Caprica City on time. The shuttles were flying every hour, in those days. Knitting the world together, making it smaller.

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