We've talked about him before: he wrote "Six Degrees Of Separation" and "A Measure Of Salvation". The first one's important because of the weird S&M shit with Shelly Godfrey, and the second one because of how the Helo Suit made its first appearance in it. Same basic premise: a primary-colors ethical dilemma in which only the Helo Suit makes any sense and everybody else is a bloodthirsty werewolf version of their usual self, and the ethical dilemma is solved by a primary-colors ethically dubious action by the Helo Suit, and then Daddy Adama pats Helo on the head. I admit I wasn't this offended by "Salvation," mostly because I agreed with the slant of the story itself, because I am a biased toasterfracking freak. He ghostwrote Chyna's biography. The lady wrestler. Lady. Wrestler. The title of this episode is "The Woman King." The title of his next episode is "The Son Also Rises," which is stupid in its own right, but in context of this paragraph is really sad and a little creepy. The stories we tell are pieces of our hearts you can look at: put on the Helo Suit and walk around in it, feel what it's like to be unjustly blocked at every turn, a "lone voice" in the wilderness, the only person that can see the truth, the only person who's good inside in a world gone bad, whose Korean laundry-folding wife sits at home waiting for him with a baby in her arms, and whose selfishness is just one more thing the Helo Suit has to deal with, the women constantly pushing and pulling and occasionally spanking him but lacking basic humanity, the women who disappear when you're not around, the women who when they do appear are so hopelessly unevolved they're climbing down your throat, in your day-to-day life of being perfect, in a secret way that nobody really understands.
Helo shirtlessly worries over his paperwork, his new responsibility as the Mayor of Dogville, sits on the sofa, finally falls asleep. Sharon, holding Hera, finds him sleeping there and looks down at him adoringly, worried about how hard he's pushing himself, and how selfless and amazing he is, and how she'll never understand what would make a person so incredibly virtuous, given what a selfish shrew she is. We fade to the corridor, next morning, where he doesn't even hear Sharon asking him about the rough night, such is the heaviness of the burden on his brow, and he says he had a "stupid dream," and Sharon worries -- Dogville's population is about to increase by 300. "I don't know where I'm gonna put them, but it's not like I'm walking around taking my own pulse." Maybe you should, Helo. You seem to have an emotionally retarded solipsist operating your joints from within. He slaps her ass at the corridor junction, cutely, and the Pilots come running up from another direction, Lee and Kara and Racetrack, and they all fall in together. The good thing about this unendingly shitty script is that the actors are just as good as ever, even with what they have to work with, so it's not as horrible in action as it is on paper, but they shouldn't have to work this hard. Dee and Cottle don't even try, honestly. Racetrack cracks Kara up with her request of Helo for a sex cubicle to which she wishes to take a "ripped and ready nugget" that she wants to "break in, you know, just right." Any other writer I'd probably laugh, and feel a little sorry for Racetrack, but God knows what the Helo suit thinks about all this. Maggie says, "Thank God he didn't get his hands on Starbuck in this episode"; Jacob says, "Like that would even fucking occur to him." Everybody heads off on CAP, Helo and Sharon kiss and are adorable.