"And so it came to pass, on Christmas Day, that the human race did cease to exist. But even then, the Master had no concept of his greater role in events. For this was far more than humanity's end. This day was the day upon which the whole of creation would change forever. This was the day the Time Lords returned."
Saturn rules the sphere of the Emperor, Trump IV, God the Father, the God of Peter's World, of hard truths and impossible decisions, rules and regulations; who must choose between the open hand and the closed fist, between Chesed and Gevurah, mercy and judgment, Doctor and Master.
Rassilon stands before the Panopticon, staff held high. Behind him stand two Time Lords, backs straight, and two Time Ladies, with their hands over their eyes. And all the Time Lords screaming:
"For Gallifrey! For victory! For the end of time itself!"
I don't know how Pete's World looks to somebody who was born there. That's my secret weapon, but also my weakness. We got glimpses of it: Davros and Cybus showed us how to thrive there. The little boy's father in "Idiot's Lantern" showed us how dangerous it was; Victoria and Mercy Rattigan showed what it can do to you. Pete Tyler, like Wilf is doing now, showed us how to survive it without turning to stone. But the rest of us -- maybe all of us, maybe the real lie of the Age of Steel is that anybody feels comfortable there -- we travel with women. We live in Sunnydale, where there are no fathers. No fixed points, no hard choices. No shooting guns. No empires. Pete's World is what happens when the fathers come back to Sunnydale. And that's the story here: Learning to travel both without losing either.
At the end of Queer As Folk, I'm not ruining anything, but the leads -- having broken every rule; gender and sex and family and marriage and social behavior and criminal law -- they have that Matrix moment where they realize that no matter how many times you break out of the jail, there's another jail. You have to keep going, you have to keep making the world get bigger, cage after cage after cage, because grace is a wave that never breaks. So they go to America, Arizona, where they act like superheroes with guns, and it's a little scary and more than a bit ugly. Which is to say, in this body of work, homosexuality is a metaphor -- on an equal plane with Baxter's death and the TARDIS, meaning it's real and you cannot take away the concrete power of it even as it's working as a metaphor at the same time -- for the experience of freedom. Of realizing that you are already free.