But I don't know. Of all the episodes, this is maybe my least favorite, because it's an hour of WTF moments spliced together with baling wire and good intentions. Which is fine, but not really fitting for a story that heretofore has relied so much on subtlety and a certain ache that is just not at all present here. The pieces are all sound. I haven't lost any faith in the show, and I still believe it'll be on the Sturgeon-Bradbury-Ellison axis -- add Octavia Butler to the list, and Vonda McIntyre -- but it does make me wonder if, this fall, I'll feel quite so connected to this story, which has quickly become my favorite show maybe ever. But the storylines it sets in motion -- whatever they are, considering this show is about grief and resurrection, so literally anything could happen -- seem a lot more exciting and plotty than what's come before.
Which is nice, because it means the show will survive, but also means that something precious and soft and entirely new had to get a little harder to do so. Which I guess was the point all along: That's what happens.
This all happened a long time ago. Zoë's driving a lab van down the highway as proto-Raptors track her, with spotlights and the whole thing. I don't know where she's going, but I think maybe that's true in her case too, shifty Cylon eyeballs getting nervous as she drives faster and faster.
Twenty hours ago, Philo and the Meaner Sexy Hobbit had the TV on in the lab, flipping through updates on the Graystone ticker and the public speculation that Daniel will have to sell the Buccaneers. Somebody switched the screen to a nature channel: "The Caprican red-tailed raptor has a larger wingspan and is primarily a night hunter..." The Caprican red-tailed raptor is endangered, and they don't even know it.
Drew was giving Philo hell about his virtual girlfriend, asking again and again why Rachel wouldn't let him see her in real life. Philo had an idea of himself that looks didn't matter; that he already knew how he felt about this strange girl who dressed like Zoë Graystone and knew all there was to know about AI. It wouldn't matter what she looked like. Drew bought it; everybody buys it. He was surprised and a little impressed about the Zoë part, which Philo'd never told him. He shook out a cigarette and lit a match, and it burned. Zoë's hand jerked angrily and she shivered to herself.
The U-87 hadn't been the same since Daniel tested her. Philo nodded, and reached out for her hand, and promised to take care of her. Drew rolled his eyes, and Zoë smiled. She was a girl in love. Daniel stood in the empty Atlas Stadium, holding a Pyramid ball close. Cyrus urged him, again, to sell the team, and Daniel breathed hard before he finally gave the okay. The last-ditch efforts with the U-87 made him feel like he was going mad, once again treating a glitchy machine like it was the ghost of his daughter. He felt more foolish about that than he did the complete lack of results, so he had to give in.