"Our memories are shaped by shared experiences," he thinks aloud. "If I apply a social networking model and cast a wider data net, I might be able to..."
He's right, but he's wrong. He's saying that our lives are generative grammar, built inside us socially, shaped entirely by consensus: That if Caprica knows Tauron never died for them, it won't really have happened. That our memories are the average of everything we're willing to believe. That the Turing Test can be won if you never tell the truth. That our personalities, our souls, are only what we've agreed to be. The roles that we've accepted and the parts of everyone else's lives that we're allowed to occupy. Your daughter was never a terrorist, your wife never left you, Tomas never kissed you goodbye. A perfect world, floating like a sheet of paper. A lonely, tiny, perfect world.
"I want you to make love to me like that night," she begs, false memories bursting in her. "Let me do what I'm good at. Let me please you."
Amanda's not here. It's only Daniel. Maybe that's all there ever was.
To the Guatrau, it's very simple: Sam didn't ask for permission to send weapons to Tauron, and good cause or not this is a trade that belongs to the house of Atreus. Because he was allowed, by Ha'la'tha principle, to kill Demos, that means that his death is now Sam's responsibility. He must show that he will not lie down, on the soil like a dog; and that his honor remains. "But because you acted on this alone, you must take care of this alone. By the end of the day. Or I'll have your stigmata removed with a blowtorch before I wish you safe journey." His beautiful skin, those tattoos, burned apart and singed away. The last time Larry touched it was in anger.
Daniel apologizes to Cyrus; he wasn't there when they created the program, it was only floating on the bands for them. No reason for him to be so angry. Before he can tell him about the social grammar -- the pluribus to every soul's unum, the forest made of tree-like trees -- Cyrus pulls him aside. Sam's guns have been coming from Graystone, predictably: Timecards for a third shift which doesn't exist, and shipping manifests for parts without numbers and without price. Cyrus figures they're passing gray-market holobands, which makes as much sense as anything, but Daniel doesn't want to bother the Ha'la'tha about their latest scam.