"That's a nice-looking chest," Philo mumbles to himself, and Zoë quirks an eyebrow down at him. "I think it looks great!" He runs a diagnostic, and after a few minutes of watching Zoë walk like an Egyptian, he turns on his iPod and cycles through a sort of Jars Of Clay jam, the Colonial Anthem, and then a much better song, grinning. He watches her dance while the music plays, and then decides to dance with her. She follows his movements, eventually picking up her own moves, and while he dances with his robot, she's dancing with him. The cutest boy in the world.
The test of the machine is the satisfaction it gives you. There isn't any other test.
If you were a boy and I were a girl, we couldn't ever dance like this: He's dorky, un-self-conscious in his abandon, in a way no human would ever get to see; she starts out stiff and childlike, but slowly gives in to the rhythm, moving her hips. For a second there's no fear, just people; she can pretend that he's smiling back at her, and she's just a girl. She sees a face nobody will ever see. They smile, dancing, and look into each other's eyes, and when the song is done, her limbs go limp. He looks at her for a moment before shaking it off and getting embarrassed again ("Quit feminizing it!") and walks back to the screen.
(But whose grave is she dancing on? Zoë's, yes. And her loneliness, and his. But also yours, and mine, and all the 60 billion children of Gaius Baltar. One day.)
Youngblood bitches about their anachronistic shitty computers, dropping huge sheets of confiscated e-sheets on Duram's desk; he's so frustrated it's a little bit scary. When she asks, he hisses about how "we" let Ben Stark go, and she's like, "Again with this?" You can tell it really stings. He apologizes and says they're all responsible, and she drags a chair around his desk to chat, pointing out that by that reasoning they're all responsible for the bad wheat crop on Aerilon. He wonders why she's just as single-minded as he is, and she just goes, "Looks to me like Gemenese scum are luring good Caprican kids into a killer cult. Anyone doing that needs to be destroyed." He agrees; it is way intense. It is also nice to hear somebody shit-talk Gemenon once in a while. (Not to mention nostalgic; my frenemy/hero Sarah Porter's probably not even born yet.)
Ruth's chopping the shit out of some chicken carcasses when Joe gets home; she lets us know that Joe's joined the whole Boycott Graystone thing and gotten rid of all Willie's toys, so she gave him some jacks. Jacks made from, she says, the finger bones of Tauron children who lose at jacks. Chop! He stares at her and she totally laughs at him, because he's kind of a d-bag and obviously they are from the chicken feet. They announce Daniel's appearance on the TV, and Ruth very subtly pushes Joe to once again check on Sam's murder progress. She is just chilling. Joe's like, "I'm taking care of it" but she still goes -- chopping meat with her huge cleaver the entire time -- "You know, the dead don't really die until their death is avenged. My daughter and your daughter are caught between life and death." He tries to just as subtly tell her he's working on it, but she's not convinced he's not going to flake out, because of course he's going to flake out.