Die Me, Dichotomy

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 1 USERS: A+
Agnus Dei

Crais and Talyn mourn, Crais holding a PK data chip. "Yes, Talyn. I too would have like to have shown Aeryn what we learned from this chip. I think it would have made her the happiest soul among us." Um, we'll see about that. I do love how the Peacekeepers in the family mourn her through this: redemption of the Peacekeepers, absolution for all three of them. The sins of history and accident of birth. But because I don't exactly remember the details of that chip, let's instead take a moment to imagine Aeryn Sun as the happiest soul among them. Nothing heavy on her shoulders, blood washed from her hands, nothing but light in her eyes. No rifle, soldier's readiness just a memory. Arms wide open; standing in a field maybe. Somewhere green. Somewhere the land curves up around you to the horizon, so far away you can barely see where the sky ends, and the gravity holds you in its palm; somewhere without any walls at all. Somewhere it can rain.

Zhaan strokes Pilot's face silently. "Everyone else is preparing to move on," says Stark. Quiet. Not twitching at all. Nothing but love, and sadness. "Tragedy often heralds flight," says Zhaan. Also season finales on this show. "What are you going to do, Zhaan?" Not thinking about it: "My concern now is for Moya and Pilot." Not service but stewardship. She's found the Goddess, and She was all around her. There are so few opportunities to be proud of Zhaan, but I'll give her this: she's finally all the more she could have been. And so beautiful: "If you are in agreement, Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan, it would be an honor, and a pleasure, to share the future with you." Zhaan seems about to agree, but she doesn't answer just yet. She's thinking the thought you don't think. Even at his craziest, Stark saying that shit to me would make my knees melt permanently.

Tocot teases out one tendril: "This is what?" Aliens, all of them: enemies and friends, allies and mysteries. All the wonders he has seen. "Critters. More close encounters." And this one? "American politics, Nixon to Clinton. Lose it." Heh. "Here?" All the dogs John's ever loved. "Necessary?" No, but keep it if you can, he says. Love's no longer necessary; home's no longer a possibility. This whole show is a series of goodbyes: if not immediate, then deferred. Family is fragile.

Even Grunchlk and Rygel sit quietly, razed. "The ship you wanted will be on its way here shortly," Grunchlk offers, and Rygel thanks him. "Service paid, service rendered, I guess. Too bad, ay?" Yes. "But that's life," Rygel hums, dejectedly. "Yeah."

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