Yes, I Could Be A Cylon And Not Know It

Eight years ago ...

John 12:1-11                                                               April 6
social service; power walking; living w/each other   10904.06
204.7 lbs.


For the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always. 8


Genesis 3 - Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which the LORD God hath made. And he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?


This weekend's been an adventure, with Martha and Mary at bowling in Grand Forks and tying for 13th place while I had the kids (except when Grandma, Grandpa, Breanna, and Josceline offered to watch or I asked them to so I could get a haircut Saturday morning and attend Donna Randash's senior recital) and Sunday afternoon when Pastor Gerald and I were in the Palm Sunday drama at Bethany during the town procession with the cross. And tonight's the second night in a row that Sarah and Jeffrey have been . . . I don't know if they're just sick or scared or something else entirely. I just hope I'm missed as much when I'm gone for a weekend as the whining of my kids (and me a wee bit) indicates that Mommy is, as well as listened to. Still, the play with the microphone and the caterpillar was fun and I'm not always the bad guy . . .


Kosetler, Arthur. Darkness At Noon. Translated by Daphne Hardy. New York: Scribner, 1968.


ISBN 9781416540267


Originally published in 1941, this novel's main character Nicholas Rubashov is a pastiche of those in the Soviet Union the author personally knew, those who'd been faithful from the beginning, who'd been tried and executed after very public and very lengthy trials. Rubashov's eventually convinced of his guilt in the very system he helped create and in moves reminiscent of "Nineteen Eighty-Four"s own backstory, he seeks to make amends for his failure to the Party any way he can. It's a novel that doesn't on reflection seem to be about a lot, but it doesn't need to be for it says a lot too.


Operating on two three-hour snatches of sleep ...


Actually, isn't that line ALSO from George Orwell's novel "1984"? I remember when I was reading Darkness At Noon comparing the novel's main character to Rutherford, one of the Party members Winston recalls having been prominent in the final days of the Revolution, the one especially known for his political cartoons. Of course, as is wont for all political revolutionaries building up to a police state, Rutherford along with Jones and Aaronson soon became counter-revolutionaries (read: traitors) and the mechanisms of Oceania were soon used to break Jones, Aaronson, and Rutherford down and force them to conform to the political orthodoxy of Big Brother.


Jones, Aaronson, and Rutherford. That is a great name for a law firm.


In fact, I think I use it as a British one in one of my unfinished novels. But I digress. No, not really. As I said above, I wasn't able to sleep through the night last night and I do not know why, there are just days like that. I like to think it's not because of what I read and what I do, but as I reflect on reading Jeffrey Carver's novelization of Battlestar Galactica (ISBN 0765355167) that I picked up at ReStore yesterday ... I'd forgotten how bleak and "naturalistic" the SciFi series was. Don't get me wrong, Martha and I watched it and enjoyed it; in fact, it's one of the few series we both agree we like AND it's science fiction, so there is hope!


It's not enough to just live. You have to have something to live for.


And a human population reduced from thirty-three billion (the novel gives this figure pre-Cylon attack, I don't remember if the series does; essentially, a little over four Earths' worth of people scattered among twelve planets and their colony worlds, or maybe not since the humans are among the Twelve Colonies) to just under fifty thousand in a matter of hours definitely needs something to live for beyond kicking Cylon chrome! If you're familiar with this series from the 2000s, you know that the thing they would "live for" was finding Earth, the home of a mythic (maybe) Thirteenth Colony. To answer the maybe, you've got to watch, I will not spoil it for you!


Or me. Or the Cylons.


Because in the series not only did human beings originally create the Cylons as domestic servants, but also they inadvertently gave them the ability to improve themselves. Which they used to improve themselves to the point they could hide among humans; in fact, one of the series premises is that there's now no way other than telling the obvious robotic ones apart who is and who isn't a Cylon ... in fact, you could be a Cylon and not know it! Remember, this was a post-September 11 attack series and you're getting everybody suspecting everybody else and wondering aloud and otherwise whether someone who disagrees with the political or military leadership (when they're not disagreeing with each other) is doing it to divide you and yours with less than noble intentions.


I didn't mean to go on like that. I did get another book, but that's the subject of tomorrow's Ensign.


So that's your excuse to come back! That, and Sarah enjoyed her tour of Ramstad Middle School yesterday where Josceline (the sixth grader there, her cousin) saw her twice but Sarah did not see her ... from what I remember of my own middle school days, fall 1983 to spring 1986, it's easy to get lost in the shuffle. I met Martha, Sarah, and Jeffrey with some of our extended family at church last night for our final Wednesday night Lenten service -- there isn't one on Holy Week -- and came in to sing the final hymn and go home with the kids while Martha had choir practice. Which was long, for the choir's big showoff ... excuse me, their Easter program is on Palm Sunday in a few days and I can't argue they could use it!

So say we all,

David