It’s Gonna Be The Future Soon

One of the main elements of the science fiction genre is the future. Looking to the future extends far beyond just the world of Science Fiction, but to speculative fiction, religion, the business and military worlds, and indeed, is a question that everyone inevitably asks, can we predict what will happen next? George Friedman’s latest book, The Next 100 Years: A Forecast for the 21st Century purports to just that. While Friedman makes a number of interesting, and at times, good points, the resulting work is deeply flawed in its reasoning. I’ve since reviewed this book for io9 – much of the summary for the book can be found here.

There are three major points that I took issue with when it came to this book, which are instrumental to the book’s findings: lack of sources, an overemphasis and reliance on history and the assumption that the world will return to similar political connections that characterized the Cold War. However, while this is the case, Friedman imparts a very important lesson through this book, reminding the reader that history and nations work with a sort of cause and effect mentality, where x event causes y reaction over z time. Major events take years to build and grow, and an essential thing for the reader to keep in mind is that the world and political structure can change over the course of twenty to thirty years.

This book has no index, notes or sources anywhere in the book, which is odd, considering the number of places that there should be some sort of citation, such as a UN report citing declines in birthrates, or historical information on the political stance of a country. The result of this is a lengthy opinion piece that gets stranger and stranger as the decades pile up. Unfortunately for the book, this does nothing to help with the book’s credibility, despite the author’s credentials, and essentially turns it into an extended op-ed. With no scholarly information to back up the author’s assertions, the book rests on the idea that the author knows just what he is talking about, and given some of the things that he comes up with, I am more inclined to file this under fiction, rather than non-fiction.

Much of the book’s reasoning seem fairly flawed to me. Friedman, right off the bat, suggests that what he terms the US-Jihadist war (This should probably be Western-Jihadist war, in all actuality) is merely a small problem that will go away within a couple of years. I’m not well versed in the intelligence community or up on the current information, but I would imagine that that’s as far from the truth as you can get. The conflict that’s ongoing in the Middle East is one that has been brewing for years, even decades. Israel, Palestine, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan and others close by have long-seated issues with the United States and the Western world, fueled by extremists who believe that our way of life is detrimental to theirs, and have literally been killing themselves to try and stop us. This is not a problem that will vanish without many of those underlying problems being corrected, which I don’t see happening. Furthermore, Friedman fails to take into account how things will change with time – the importance of petroleum, for example, which is not a sure thing. What will the effects of climate change legislation have on nations, and how will changes in these resources affect countries. Furthermore, South America, Oceania and Africa are barely mentioned throughout the book.

Friedman hangs his hat on this one assumption – that the global war on fundamentalist terrorists will go away, and that the world will resume tensions that were in existence during the Cold War. He predicts that Russia will consolidate its power and a Russian bloc in Europe. While there are indications that this is happening, I don’t believe that it will be anything like what happened before, and that the US will essentially enter another Cold War. Furthermore, down the road, he predicts that the eventual demise of Russia will lead to the rise of Japan, Turkey and Poland, which I find somewhat more unlikely, at least with Poland and Japan.

Much of his reasoning in these instances depends upon historical record and what has gone on before with these countries. He notes that Japan, despite its recent pacifism, will return to warlike routes and eventually challenge the United States. Turkey will do the same. I find Turkey’s case slightly more reasonable, because of its diplomatic ties, stability and economy. In addition to these two countries, he also cites German and Russian tendencies to war. This to me is a particularly dangerous assumption, because countries and cultures are redeemable, as seen with Japan. Countries will not go to war or suddenly become aggressive simply because they have done so in the past. Japan has become incredibly tame, with a culture and multiple generations of people to support that. Germany similarly. Warfare, as Clausewitz notes, is an extension of political policy, and with a culture that is largely against war and conflict supporting a political structure, a highly militant Japan rising again seems unlikely. Friedman’s assertions that by the middle of the century, with lunar bases and ‘Battle Stars’ operated by the United States, are on the face ridiculous. (The cost alone of creating the International Space Station, which houses 6 scientists is in the trillions – the prices for stations that house people in the hundreds is magnitudes higher. Even then, with a mindset of defense against other nations, this still doesn’t fly.) But, even then, the idea that the Japanese will bomb these US facilities in a Pearl Harbor-esque attack on Thanksgiving evening is just nothing sort of laughable. History certainly has its place, but it cannot be used reliably to predict the future with an instance such as this. Analyze trends and motivations, yes, but using a country’s prior methods of warfare, in this manner, is pure fiction.

This is unfortunate, because the book is presented as fact and not necessarily as an exercise in history or how to think about how these events might work in the future. The result is a ridiculous and absurd argument for a return to older political thinking from people who were immersed in that world for so long.

Review: The Windup Girl

Paolo Bacigalupi’s debut novel The Windup Girl is a frightening, realistic and brilliant look at the near future of the world. Taking place in Thailand at some point in the future, Bacigalupi paints a picture of a world that is caught between several major problems: climate change has affected the lives of many people around the world, and in turn, has brought a rise in global agricultural corporations, and global energy resources have been depleted, forcing major changes in the way people live their lives, and how a world-wide economy functions with different resources. Corporations have run amok with trying to maintain their profit margins, and released a number of plagues upon the world that devastated the planet’s ecology upon which we all depend, and because of their actions, remain just a single step ahead of the latest mutation of blister rust and other assorted plagues. Thailand is a country that has thus far weathered the storm – the Royal government has maintained a fierce isolationist policy to keep the country from succumbing. As a result, Thailand has a precious resource that western companies desperately want: a genebank, containing thousands of new strains of crops that could be utilized to combat the ongoing struggle against plagues and hunger world-wide.

The story follows several discrete storylines and characters, each with their own motivations and demons. Anderson is a ‘calorie man’, a westerner who ostensibly manages a factory that manufactures kink-springs, a renewable power source. Jaidee is a member of the Environmental Ministry, tasked with maintaining a barrier between Thailand and the rest of the world and the dangers that it poses. Emiko is a windup, a genetically engineered woman, designed by the Japanese for servitude and for sex, who has been abandoned in Thailand and fears that she will be mulched (killed and burned for energy). In addition to these main characters, there are a number of other background characters who are just as complex as their counterparts. In a nut-shell, Anderson has come to Thailand on the behalf of a major Agricorporation that is hoping to gain a foothold in the country in order to obtain rights to the country’s gene banks. While he is ostensibly looking for ways to combat the plagues, Thailand officials believe that the corporations have far more sinister and selfish motivations for the gene banks. While in the country, he has to walk a narrow line to stay in the country, as the Environmental Ministry intends to keep Thailand free.

Captain Jaidee is a leading member of the Environmental Ministry, and throughout the book, it is clear that the country is not necessarily unified in its position to remain away from the rest of the world. Limited trade and imports occur through the actions of the Trade Ministry, which is at frightening odds with the Environmental Ministry, to the point where open bloodshed and crimes are committed on both sides to try and force their position upon the rest of the country, which eventually interrupts into violence, which helps to push forward some of the plans that Anderson and others have laid to gain more traction into the country.

Emiko’s titular character is somewhere between the various storylines. As an artificial biological construct, she is a representation of what is wrong with the outside world in the eyes of a secular nation that believes heavily in the value of one’s soul and rebirth. To the Thai people, she is a soulless being, one who is against nature, and essentially lumped in with the problems of the world. Thus, Emiko, who is unsuited for Thailand’s climate with reduced pores (she overheats easily) and a body structure that makes her stutter while moving, which makes her a literal odd woman out, and thus a target to the Environmental Ministry (also known as White Shirts for their uniform) who see her as a threat to the country’s independence.

Futuristic worlds are a common element in Science Fiction, but it is very rare to have one that is so deeply realized as Bacugalupi’s Thailand, one that takes the current state of existence for the country and extrapolates into the future with hypothetical events. The portrait that he paints of the world is very scary indeed, and the constructed world has reacted accordingly though a number of levels. What makes this novel so interesting is just how everything fits together. There are economic elements that make sense, social, biological and political, all of which are not mere exposition in a prologue in the novel, but where they are an active part of the storyline. This, in a way is one of the best examples of show, don’t tell, a writing exercise that I remember from creative writing courses. What is even better (or sobering, depending on how you look at it), this world makes sense. I can see major corporations putting profit ahead of common sense, and I can see the world going to hell in much more vivid detail now. Furthermore, Bacugalupi posits the power struggle between various departments of government, each with their own agendas and motives, both at odds with one another, which trails up through to the very end of the book.

There’s a strong look at morality and ethics when it comes to bioengineering and the eventual fate of the species, and how our role fits within a society such as what we see in the future. Emiko, a Windup, is shunned, hated, in reaction to what she was, and what she represented: something highly unnatural. By the same token, there are holes in that sort of feeling, as one character confronts towards the end of the novel. One thing that particularly stuck in my mind was how much of evolution is an unnatural, random occurrence, verses how much of it is conscious decisions that any sort of creature makes that better enhances their chances of survival? In this world, survival is predicated on the work of gene rippers and scientists who remain just a couple of steps against plagues – it is noted that the windups are built for a purpose, and that they are immune to most problems in the world because of their unique design. Like the clashes in the Thailand government, there is a larger struggle at stake, survival, with both sides making valid arguments for their continued existence. In a sense, this story is a look at how the human race might choose to survive, and enter a new stage of development. To me, this is a very profound element to the story.

When all is said and done, there is one big theme that goes through and through with this book: survival. Each element of the book deals with this very issue, from the ultimate survival of the human race in a hostile world, to the immediate survival of several characters who are neck deep in political and economic conspiracy to the various branches of government who want to see their vision of the future for their country to survive the coming turmoil.

What truly stands out for this book is the rich detail and fantastic prose. I’ve purposely taken my time with this book so that I could absorb as much as I could. What Bacugalupi puts together is a superior story, one of the best science fiction novels that I have read in a long time, one that takes the best from well thought out characters, plausible economics and science and a complicated story.

Stargate Universe

On Friday, the SyFy channel unveiled its latest addition from the Stargate franchise, Stargate: Universe to high ratings, showing that the third series has a good potential at life for the newly relaunched channel. This new version is an enormous leap forward for the series, evolving characters, storylines and the entire universe in which the show is set to bring about what looks to be a very promising addition to both the franchise and the genre.

Stargate: Universe opens quietly, with several location shots of space and the Destiny, the ship on which the show will be taking place, with an eventual cut to the familiar image of an active Stargate. A single soldier flies through the opening (Lt. Matthew Scott), falling and quickly checking his surroundings. What happens next is a mad rush of people and equipment. There is no explanation, no introduction of characters or their situation. It proves to be one of the most compelling moments in the franchise to date, and is so out of character for the Stargate Universe that this could very well be a different show, unrelated to the Stargate franchise, one that utilizes only one of the elements of the original show to any large degree, the titular Stargate.

The rest of the episode is shown through alternating scenes, the frantic scenes onboard the Ancient ship and the moments leading up to their predicament. Notable characters, such as Daniel Jackson, Jack O’Neill and Samantha Carter all make short cameos, which helps transition this universe from the familiar world of SG-1. I was happy to see that the characters got their moments, (they did the same for Atlantis), but I was equally happy that these appearances were just placeholders, showing that the franchise and storylines moved on after SG-1, and that there were other things to explore. The episode storyline is also very different from what longtime viewers of SG-1 or Atlantis might expect, both in story and execution. With the unconventional start to the episode, we go back to see Eli Wallace, a typical geek-type, solves a puzzle on an MMORPG and is visited by O’Neill and Dr. Rush, who tell him that the puzzle was to help solve a problem that the SGC was having off world. Eli is brought to a spaceship (where we see Daniel Jackson at his best, explaining things in long form) and brought to Icarus Base, where Rush is working out an equation to uncover the meaning behind the 9th chevron of the Stargate. Because of the planet’s unique properties, this is the ideal place to study, for power reasons. Shortly after the delegation’s arrival, the planet is attacked and the team, with Eli’s help, is able to dial the new address with the 9th Chevron, bringing the storyline to The Destiny, an Ancient ship designed to explore, but that is also falling apart.

Thus, the series begins, not with the very typical elements that defined the earlier shows, but with even more basic ones – air supply (the first three episodes are called Air, Parts 1, 2 and 3, with 3 airing next Friday) food and water, with the very survival of the people, all unprepared for this unexpected journey. This is a huge change from the two prior series – the characters were laid out, the story generally involved a new planet or technology, and everyone was home by supper. This changed over the evolution of the shows, but by and large, this formula didn’t change all that much. This, on the other hand, takes the formula and throws it through the Stargate. While this isn’t BattlestarGate like a lot of people had thought, it’s clear that SyFy has realized that the method of storytelling that Battlestar Galactica utilized would work well for this show, and from all appearances, it’s been utilized very well.

What I liked most of all was that this isn’t a rehash of SG-1 like Stargate Atlantis was. SG-1 was a very fun show, one that really grew with time, but a show that really held to many of the same conventions throughout. Thus, it was consistent, but as viewers tastes in shows matures, the show did not. Atlantis was essentially a rehash of SG-1, just with different characters in a different galaxy, but with many of the same stories and even situations carrying over. This show, on the other hand, seems to seek out a very different path with the overall intent of the storyline, going over some new territory and retreading some very basic older ground.

What the show does to the franchise is that it removes many of the assumptions that the earlier shows held. Travelling to another planet, after a while, became very routine and as such, much of that energy and enthusiasm vanished in the first couple seasons, and were aptly replaced by the major storylines that developed. This is in no way a bad thing, but it was a noticeable thing. With Universe, that sense is back, but with it is much of the danger and feeling of the unknown. Where SG-1 sprinted through stories, Universe is taking the slower and more deliberate route, which should be more realistic, but more interesting to the modern viewer.

Like in SG-1, the core of the story is exploration; really capturing what I believe is the central essence of Science Fiction, exploration. This is demonstrated after the refugees from the base find themselves on the ship, and it is explained that they can fulfill something important while onboard, exploring the universe around them, essentially making the best of what is a really terrible situation. This is where the show delves into new territory, with a race for survival for basics – security and air. This was explored a bit in Atlantis, but not nearly with as much urgency as here. SGC members tread around the ship, almost getting killed when they open the wrong doors, and they race to repair the atmospheric conditions on board by plugging a couple of leaks that they find and fixing the air scrubbers. This is something that never seemed to happen in the original shows, and to some extent, it feels a little more like the original film upon which the shows are based. This is something that will most likely continue with the rest of the series, as the characters begin to inventory what they have – tape, paper, but not much when it comes to necessities. Hugo Award winning author John Scalzi has been brought in as a consultant, and noted that the crew has a finite number of resources, such as bullets and food, and that this figures into the style of the show.

What is also very promising for the rest of the series is the characters. While initially reading over the early plots and character descriptions, I wasn’t very hopeful for how the show looked. Fortunately, SyFy has assembled a very promising cast of characters, each with their own moments in the limelight as the story progressed in the first episode. There is enough background hinted at for each character for a whole multitude of upcoming stories, somewhat along the lines of what was done in LOST, which is good. We have a number of characters that really aren’t the cut and dry, good and bad sort of characters. Rather, we’re treated to numerous shades of gray, and I’m not sure where these characters will end up by the end of Season 1. Of the entire cast, however, Dr. Nicholas Rush, played by Robert Carlyle is the most intriguing, with a hinted tragic past and unclear motivations, and will clearly be a person to watch during future episodes. A number of the other characters are also quite interesting, and I am eager to see what they do with a couple of them.

Universe, when it was first announced, was not a show that I was looking forward to. Early news reports did not look good, and even with the first trailers, I wasn’t won over by the premise. It was not until I began to hear that this show would be different, not only in how it was shot, but how it was structured, that I began to take more of an interest, and watching the results, I was amazed at how the franchise had grown up to what I saw before me. This is a good move for SyFy and the Stargate franchise, because it shows that the story can move onto different story models and styles, rather than essentially rehashing much of the same, as Atlantis did with SG-1. Atlantis failed after only five seasons, compared to SG-1’s massive run of ten seasons. Indeed, the eventual failure of SG-1 is most likely the same as Atlantis’s - the show simply did not change enough from the original model, even with a fairly new cast and set of storylines that would have carried it into future seasons. Universe seems to be that change that the franchise has so desperately needed, one that retains the familiar aspects of the shows that we know and love, but with newer elements that have been shown to work very well in a number of newer shows.

Air, Parts 1 and 2, are a fantastic start to the new show, and if they are any indication of how this season will fare, it will be very interesting indeed. Already, it is amongst the best two hours in the entire franchise, and I have a feeling that the rest of the show will put Universe as one of the better shows in the franchise, if not the best of the three. I am now eagerly awaiting the rest of the season.

The Decemberists and the Hazards of Love (9-20, Burlington, VT)

I never got around to formally reviewing The Decemberist’s latest album, The Hazards of Love, when it was released this past spring, but when I saw that they were coming up Vermont, I elected to hold off until I’d watched them in person and kill two birds with one stone.

The Decemberists is a group that I admittedly have a hard time with. They were largely introduced to me through a now-ex girlfriend, bringing back some memories that I’ve not really thought about for a long time. Initially, I really disliked these guys to begin with. I hadn’t gotten to the point where I would sit down and process songs – I just didn’t like the sound. That changed when I listened their first major record, The Crane Wife, which I really enjoyed. Listening to them a bit more, I really got into their lyrics and began to enjoy some of their earlier songs as well, although I still think that the Crane Wife is one of their best albums to date.

The Hazards of Love, then, was an interesting experience. Initially, I wasn’t as fond of it. It was a little too out there, I remember thinking, after my first listen through it. A friend of mine told me that he liked it more, because of the prog-rock roots and connected nature of the entire album. This prompted me to go back and listen to it a couple more times with this in mind, plus a little research through the internet to some of the themes and references throughout, and I enjoyed it a lot more.

The Hazards of Love was initially conceived as a rock-musical, of sorts. Several additional singers (Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond, Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond and Jim James of My Morning Jacket) were brought in to sing the various ‘parts’ that make their appearances throughout the story. The first song really sets the story in motion, when Margaret, voiced by Stark, comes across a shape-shifting fawn, and they fall in love. She then becomes pregnant and goes off to find William (the fawn). We later learn that his mother, the Forest Queen had cast a spell upon him (this is influenced by a number of mythologies – she had saved his life in a river when he was a baby) and he can only remain human during the night. The Queen caught William, and he bargains her for a single night of freedom to be with Margaret. The Queen agrees, at a cost – one night, and after that, his freedom is hers.
We’re then introduced to the character of the Rake, who’s killed his children and when he comes across Margaret, he kidnaps her and takes her to the Annan Waters (the same river where William was rescued). The Queen comes across the Rake, and knowing that Margaret is the only thing that can take William from her, she offers to take Margaret and the Rake across to cause everyone some misery. The Rake continues to escape, but is haunted by the ghosts of his children, and in the struggle, William catches up, and kills the Rake. However, to cross the river the first time, William offered up his body to the waters once again, and when they attempt to cross, and together, they drown in the river.

Like the rest of the Decemberists songs, this is a very complicated album. The themes alone are characteristic of the group, as are their lyrics, and after working out just what this album is about, I absolutely love it. When I finally realized the good parts of the Decemberists, their lyrics, complicated stories and sound, I really got into it, and this is much the same case here. The Hazards of Love is a stunning, complicated and beautiful album. I highly recommend giving it a good solid listen – be warned, this is the sort of album that requires you to really pay attention to the lyrics.

Last night, The Decemberists appeared at the Flynn Theater in Burlington, Vermont, opened by Laura Veirs and the Hall of Flames. The Flames were decent, but a newer band that really sounded like they were learning their sound. At times, they sounded fairly good – when all were singing together. Veirs on her own felt very unsupported, and out of place. Hopefully we’ll hear a bit more from them, improved, in the future.

The Decemberists as a group are a fantastic live act, and the Flynn was a fantastic place to see them live. Unfortunately, my phone died, and I was unable to take down the set list. According to Colin Meloy, they intended to play The Hazards of Love in its entirety, but because Becky Stark’s flight was cancelled, they improvised, playing a mixed set of old and new songs. There were a number of notable songs that they played, from 16 Military Wives, Apology Song, The Crane Wife 3, as well as a couple of older, more obscure ones that I didn’t know the names off the top of my head.

One of the things that really impressed me was at how much of the show was a group act, not Colin Meloy supported by the remaining band members. Throughout the show, given the nature of the album and their songs, it seemed like the sound was put together by everyone, each with an integral part that made the result what it was. While Meloy was certainly one of the more visible parts of the group, it’s a group effort, through and through.

I was also impressed with the sheer energy and drama that they brought forth from the stage. The group was already fairly theatrical, from what I’d heard, but once again, given the nature of Hazards, there was certainly a bit of acting between some of the singers during those songs. Shara Worden provided a stunning stage presence with her other-worldly like appearance of the Forest Queen, as well as her cover of Crazy On Me, originally by Heart. I really wish that I had been able to see the full performance of Hazards, because I suspect that would really be something to see. Hopefully the group will feel the need to make it up to Burlington, and return again in the near future.

Review: Old Man’s War

Now that I’m done with my Master’s, I’ve been finding myself with lots of free time. Fortunately, I’ve amassed a small pile (okay, quite large) of books that I’m starting to tackle. Right close to the top was Old Man’s War, by John Scalzi, which was recommended to me by a number of io9 readers after releasing a list of top military SF books and films. I hadn’t included this book because I was unfamiliar with it, but after reading it, it certainly deserves a place on the list.

Old Man’s War was Scalzi’s first science fiction novel, and for it, he won the John Campbell Award for best new writer. The story follows John Perry, a seventy-five year old man on Earth who has joined the Colonial Defense Force (CDF). People of his advanced age are specifically recruited because of their lifetime of experiences. He receives a new body, bonds with new fellow recruits and goes into training to become an advanced soldier. Humanity has spread to the stars, and its numerous colonies are largely under constant threat from other alien races throughout the galaxy. Perry goes into action with his unit against numerous races in a number of various battles, before a fateful final battle that leaves him the only survivor.

This is a fun read. Scalzi does a good job conceptualizing a futuristic warrior, the training and captures the battlefield and training bond between soldiers. A constant theme that is explored throughout the book is the idea of fighting for humanity, as a race, despite being a radical variation of said race, while not fighting specifically for a unified government or planet. The soldiers go from fighting for a grand concept such as the survival and foothold of the human race to something much smaller and more concrete, fighting for the survival of their unit.

Fans of military science fiction will really enjoy this book for the tech and action. Scalzi sets some fantastic battles throughout the story, and does a good job linking some of them together along with John Perry’s reaction to warfare and his role that he’s playing. A particular draw of military science fiction is the advanced super soldier, and Scalzi’s green, cat-eyed, rapidly healing and computer interfaced soldiers are nothing new to the genre, but they are fun to read about, and provides just enough new twists to the concept to make it modern and interesting.

On the whole of it, the book is a very standard military science fiction novel. It is a fun read, but it has a number of flaws throughout that substantially weakened the novel. The first of these is the title of the novel, and the gimmick that is relied on – the use of old men and women as soldiers, because supposedly their lifetime of experiences will help with their combat experience. This is only touched upon in the book – it’s noted that soldiers have a lifetime of experiences to undo, and throughout the novel, Perry only references his old life back on Earth a handful of times. There’s very little practical help that a long life really provides for a soldier, save for one, and that’s the link to humanity and earth, but even then, that is not utilized in a way that it really could have been, and all in all, older soldiers are really no different than younger ones, given the tech and upgrades that they receive. Furthermore, the end of the book sees the introduction of the Ghost Brigades, experimental soldiers who have grown up fighting, who seem to be generally more effective than the regular soldiers. This entire aspect of the book left me wanting for more.

The last quarter of the book felt incredibly rushed to me. An alien race has utilized a new technology that proves to be devastating to the human ships during one of the final conflicts in the novel, and Perry is assigned to help the Ghost Brigades capture the devices on the planet. This to me seemed to have very little relation to the experiences that Perry had accumulated throughout the book, breaking an overall good story and character arc, and it misses the vital arguments above that would have helped link Perry’s motives in the military with the rest of the human race. Instead, it was a final bang and exposition to which the book ends and it left me both disappointed that there wasn’t some revelations to be found from the characters, and that it seemed to just exist for the sole purpose of the next book, titled The Ghost Brigades.

Scalzi falls into a trap that a lot of military science fiction writers seem to fall into: take soldiers, enhance them, and then turn them loose against alien foes. Essentially, most military science fiction novels utilize military doctrine and tactics that seem to be right out of the Second World War 2 or Vietnam, with little exploration to how the military actually works, and how military tactics change to reflect new technology. Infantry warfare is one of the earliest types of warfare, and I honestly find it difficult to believe that it will exist in the future as it is portrayed. There is no mention of other styles of fighting, such as maneuver warfare that pairs up infantry with armored forces, or the capabilities of air power against infantry forces. A quick survey of warfare in the past couple of decades will show that both are as equally important as infantry forces. Indeed, this is the future, with far advanced technology – what advances might there be in the next hundred years, and how will that inevitably impact warfare as we know it? People with guns in hand fighting as they do in this book is a fairly unrealistic method that places characters in an extreme situation to extract some sort of revelation – that never really comes – from the protagonist.

Furthermore, while Scalzi has put forth a fairly well worn and conceptualized universe, the entire system of the CDF and colonies isn’t fully explained or realized in the book. There doesn’t seem to be any unified system of government between the colonies, and the CDF is deployed at a moment’s notice to wherever there are problems with one of the colonies. For a massive government waging constant war against aggressors, it seems illogical that there doesn’t appear to be any sort of overall plan or guiding strategy that both utilizes diplomacy to secure its borders and military force as a way of enforcing those borders, if you’re a student of Clausewitz. Military forces are not deployed willy-nilly in the real world, without extensive benefits to that government. Here, the colonies seem to be fighting holding actions, with some allies, to hold onto their planets. The absence and outright rejection of diplomacy in this world seems even more illogical.

That all being said, this is an interesting, fun and light read for anybody who is inclined to read military science fiction. While the book doesn’t really add anything significant to the subgenre, that’s not necessarily the requirement for a good read in the genre. I am interested to see where Scalzi will take this world and characters, and as such, I’ve already picked up The Ghost Brigades. Hopefully some of the issues will be corrected at some point in the upcoming novels in his series, and if not, it’s not detrimental to the world that has been set up.

Of Mice and Mobile Armored Assault Platforms

A number of websites have begun to herald a change in the science fiction genre recently, with the recent releases of Moon and District 9 earlier this summer. I was a huge fan of Moon - I thought that it was an absolutely fantastic film, one that captured the essence of the entire genre in wonderful fashion. However, District 9 is a worthy companion for Moon this summer.

Where Moon was quiet, sterile and patient, District 9 is much of the opposite. Taking place sometime around the present, the world has lived with the presence of an alien race on the planet for nearly two decades, when a massive alien ship appears over South Africa. Inside is millions of insectoid aliens, sick, dying and weakened, who are transported down to the surface, where they are first put into temporary shelters until a suitable place can be found for them. This never happens, so a slum of sorts is formed, District 9.

When the story picks up, tensions have risen in the last twenty years, so the aliens (referred to as Prawns) are being relocated to a new home – District 10. A private security company, Multi-National United, seems to have been placed in charge of their protection and keeping, and is working on evicting the aliens to their new home. An MNU employee, Wikus van der Merwe, portrayed by actor Sharlto Copley, is promoted to command the field units in charge of relocating the aliens. During the course of the day, Wikus is sprayed with a fluid by mistake, which begins a process of mutations that blends human and prawn DNA. Thus begins a nightmare for Wikus, who is in turn hunted by Nigerian gangsters and MNU security forces, who both want to study him in order to utilize the alien’s weapons.

The film is shot in a very unconventional manner, partially handheld camera work, security cameras, news footage, which gives the entire film a very raw and rapid feel throughout, which really suits the tone and style of the film, and gives it a unique look and feel. The director, Neill Blomkamp, is a first time-director for a film of this scale, although he was initially attached to the now-defunct Halo film (and I think that he would be the perfect director for the project, when it comes back).

Another element that really succeeds from this film is the portrayal of the aliens. For once, aliens are truly alien, not just humans with a different appearance. The Prawns are insectoids, with a vastly different understanding of society, and the differences in cultural norms is what seems to drive much of the conflict – different values, such as property and personal possession seem to be relatively unknown elements to the aliens, and this leads to incidents. Their awareness of the surrounding events seems to be limited as well, with some exceptions, which makes them very easy to take advantage of, as MNU seems wont to do. The aliens here aren’t saviors, superior or anything like that, they’re just alien.

In a similarity with Moon, a big storyline with the film is Multinational United, the security firm that has more corporate motives that surpass what is ethical or moral. In Moon, the company would just clone its worker, Sam Bell. In this film, they go a step further, experimenting with Prawns to attempt to utilize their energy weapons and technology. When Wikus is transformed, one executive notes that his one body will be worth billions to the company, and they go about vivisecting him before he escapes. Corporate greed and corruption seems to be an especially powerful theme these days, with companies such as Enron, Blackwater and bailed out banks still making the news.

But what really makes the film is Wikus. He is as unconventional a main character as I’ve ever seen. When we first see him, he is a small, quiet man being interviewed by an unseen camera man. He stumbles over his words, fiddles with objects and is easily distractible, and seems as surprised as everyone else in the room when it is announced that he will be in charge of the field operations of the mission. He reminds me of one of the characters from Monty Python, a clueless husband who doesn’t realize that his beautiful wife is having sex with the marriage counselor in the same room while having a meeting. He is, essentially a mouse in a much larger world. This is evidently seen when he comes across one of the special operations teams, and butts heads with its leader, who shoves him out of the way.

With his accident, there is an emotional, as well as a physical and physiological change within him. As he is infected with the fluid that transforms him (and thus making him a target), Wikus is forced to go on the run and go against everything that he’s known. While in a position of authority over the Prawns, he is essentially xenophobic, condescending and racist towards the aliens, but without any real intent – he operates as he always has, as he’s always known. His dismissal of the aliens is casual, because that’s what’s expected of him. During and after his physical transformation, Wikus is thrust into a role that he never asked for, and never wanted. Chased by members of the criminal underworld and his own company, he seeks refuge in the only place that becomes available to him – District 9. He allys himself with the scientist who had the fluid in the first place, who, as it turns out, is attempting to leave the planet, and the fluid was a necessary component of his ship. The story progresses logically from here – faced with this need, the two pair up and liberate the fluid from MNU, and the action picks up.

Wikus’s story is not necessarily the singular purpose of the film. Throughout, there is a much darker, and highly relevant theme of racism that really puts the film on the map. In the opening of the film, there is a sequence of events that turns the public tide against the aliens. All too often, the presence of extra-terrestrials visiting humanity have a dramatic effect – they are either invading, or they are here for humanity’s rescue. In this instance, they are neither, and because of this, they are not wanted, by anyone. One person in the film says that if they were from a different country, it might be different, but they were from another world. In essence, this is an immigration issue of very different proportions, but an immigration issue none-the-less, and it is fascinating that this film came out of South Africa, which has so recently dealt with apartheid. Around the world, this film can come to represent the plight of immigrants. I can see people in Palestine, South Africa, the American southwest and numerous other places around the world relating to this sort of film, or at least gleaning some message from it.

I’m at a loss to see how this film was made for only $30 million dollars. It carries itself with a much more sophisticated and good looking appearance, from the complicated CGI of the aliens to the action scenes. This has the feel of a much larger movie, and I honestly hope that this film, along with Moon, will be the start of a much bigger trend towards more original science fiction on a smaller budget. What Blomkamp has done is put together a superior movie, blending the best in character development, overall message and unconventional storytelling that really makes District 9 a tribute to the genre. Like Moon, it takes common themes and turns them on their heads, creating a different movie, and because of that, we have a film that will no doubt be looked upon as a fantastic addition to Science Fiction.

Review: The Magicians

Within the fandom genre, I consider myself a fan of Science Fiction over Fantasy. I’m more intrigued in the sheer variety that Science Fiction presents itself with as well as the notion of humanity (or whatever other race portrayed in any given story) pulling itself up on its own two feet with emperical science. Yet, I find myself coming back, time and again, to fantasy works for the absolute sense of escapism and wonder that I often feel with the books that I pick up. I tend to be particularly picky with fantasy books because it is very rare that a fantasy book will evoke some sort of feeling like that from me.

It is because it didn’t do this, I think, is what I really liked from Lev Grossman’s latest novel, The Magicians. In this fantastic addition to the fantasy genre, Grossman puts together a book that is radically different than just about every other fantasy novel out there, breaking a lot of the very common elements that seem to define the fantasy genre. On a first glance, The Magicians doesn’t seem to be very different from any number of well known fantasy books. A boy in his teens is brought to a magical academy, where he learns the various arts of magic, in a school that is hidden from the rest of the world. Without presupposition, anyone would immediately label this as any part of the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. Within the modern day world that Grossman puts together, Quentin, our protagonist, and his friends, are fans of the Fillory series that sees a family of children stumble into a magical world where they often help to fight for good and right in an epic quest. Again, someone would identify this plot as that of C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia. While this book certainly has been influenced by these, and more – J.R.R Tolkien’s epic The Lord of the Rings is mentioned a couple of times, not to mention the game Dungeons and Dragons, it cleverly turns many of the ideas and themes that defined these pillars of the fantasy genre on their heads.

Grossman’s fantasy world is no different than our own. This story takes place largely in our world, with the normal staples referenced for proper placement, but with a side world of magic. Unlike the rediculously cartoonish version that J.K. Rowling presents (which, even as a fanboying 13 year old, never made sense to me), Grossman’s alternative world functions in much the same way – magic is dull, time consuming and work. The people who study at colleges for magic study (such as Brakebills, in New York), graduate and enter the dull working world and fail to see that their lives have become essentially meaningless. There is a fantastic quote in the book that stuck with me:

“This wasn’t Fillory, where there was some magical war to be fought. There was no Watcherwoman to be rooted out, no great evil to be vanquished and without that everything seemed so mundane and penny-ante. No one would come out and say it, but the world wide magical community was suffering from a serious imbalance: too many magicians and not enough monsters.” (Grossman, 210)

What Grossman has essentially done, was insert real life into fantasy. The mundane aspects are there, but along with that is the cynicism and skeptical nature that one feels for life the more you learn from it. This book comes at a particularly interesting point in my own life where I find the text to be highly relatable. We enter college and expect to change the world, only to find that real life is far more dull than anybody bothered to tell us. The Magicians carries with it a resentful, sullen approach to fantasy, something completely contrary to the grand themes that most fantasy novels portray. Indeed, the main action and villain in the book hardly appear at all; just once early on, and in the last quarter of the book, when the characters stumble upon their quest. Even then, their quest is not a noble one, it is scattered, disorganized and brutal, where they turn out to be pawns in a far larger story that helps to tie the entire book together.

There are other elements to fantasy that Grossman stumbles upon that seems to be largely untried ground, at least with some modern works, the effects of magic and power upon a magician. While books such as Lord of the Rings look to the corrupting influence of power, Grossman expands this a bit and utilizes the theme throughout the story. His characters are unhappy creatures through most of the book, and one character hits it right on the head when they note that magicians are different because they are in pain, and from that pain comes the willpower and drive to succeed and make magic. Another character looks back towards the end of the book and wonders at the sheer power that the students are exposed to so early on, and speculates as to just what type of influence that would have upon them. But, for all the corrupting influences that magic might have upon its users, it is clear by the end of the book, when Quentin has retreated from its teachings, that there is still an irresistible pull and wonder to it that makes it hard to walk away from.

I like this approach to a story, changing the entire focus. In essence, it is Harry Potter, grown up. When I first read Rowling’s series, I was in the middle of high school, and couldn’t have made any critical points about the book if my life had depended upon it. Now, it is as if those major elements have undergone the same sort of transformation and growth that I’ve gone through in the past decade or so since I first read the books. Grossman’s fantasy is darker, far more adult and much more interesting from a storytelling perspective, I think, than all of Rowling’s series put together.

Reading over other reviews of this book, I can see a number of critics and reader who just don’t get the purpose of the book. While it does appear to be very similar to the aforementioned Harry Potter and Narnia series (there is no way to escape comparisons here), it is the themes and tone that sets this book far apart from them. The Magicians presents a far more realistic setting in a fantasy world, because that suits the characters, casting away the usual black and white morality with one that is far more gray. There are few clear cut moral resolutions here. Every character is damaged in their own way – Quentin, tired of life from early on, Alice, who has grown up with parents who are unable to see their meaningless purposes in life, Penny, who is so standoffish that he is an outsider, Janet, who is so consumed with herself that she must be the center of all problems and Eliot who is consumed with greed and lust. Throughout, the characters are often confronted not with a clear and present danger, but with the simple problem of finding their way in the world as role models and loved ones let each other down, or as childhood standbys turn out to be far more than they appear, such as what happens with the Fillory series within the book.

The Magicians is a thoughtful, interesting and dark read. Like his predecessors in the genre, Grossman has put together a highly imaginative and creative tale. While I often turn to fantasy because of its escapism, I was absolutely enraptured with its view of the modern world through a slightly different lens, one that I can not only relate to, but agree with almost completely. While I’m usually a Science Fiction fan, this book completely captivated me throughout, and is likely going to be on my list of top fantasy works.

Book Review: Explorers House

While growing up, a staple around my family’s house was the National Geographic Magazine. I have many fond memories of paging through the magazines throughout the years, for the fantastic pictures from all around the world as well as their fantastic maps that seemed to come with every issue. Even to this day, I refuse to throw out any copies that I come across. Indeed, I have a large box in the bottom of my closest of back issues, with a handful from the early 1960s, a couple from the mid-1990s and some from the past decade. The National Geographic is a wonderful magazine, one that has both inspired and opened my eyes to the world.

This made the most recent book that I’ve finished, Explorers House: National Geographic and the World It Made, by Robert Poole, such a fun read over the past month. Chronicling the history of the organization, Poole examines the chain of events that helped to shape the iconic, yellow bordered magazine over the past century or so that it has been around.

In 1888, a group of men gathered in the Cosmos Club in Lafayette Square in Washington DC to organize a group that would foster knowledge, geography and an understanding of the world to members, and in doing so, launched one of the greatest organizations that has ever existed. After a short meeting in which the Society’s name and bylaws were created, the group began to meet regularly, where they would host speakers, moving from place to place. The official magazine was commissioned later in that year, a collection of maps, charts and articles, and was irregularly published for the first couple of years.

Things turned around for the struggling group in 1899, when Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the Telephone, along with Edwin Grosvenor, who would take on the Society and work to expand it far beyond its origins in Washington DC. The Bells and the Grosvenors would become dynasties throughout the magazine’s history, to the point where Gilbert Grosvenor, part of the fifth generation involved with the Society, is still the head of the board of directors. Poole moves through the history of the magazine largely focusing on the intertwined nature of the Grosevnor family and the National Geographic magazine, charting its rather colored and spectacular history, examining all aspects in concise, and at times, somewhat am apologetic manner, especially during eras where magazine articles reinforce racism or anti-semitism at various points throughout.

What is most remarkable is the changes that the magazine has undergone, and how it was an exemplary medium from the start. The magazine is only the most visible part of the Society, which issues grants for scientific and exploration endeavours, as well as working to educate about the world around us. The Magazine, which went from a small part of the Society, became a much more important part of the Society’s growth over the years, introducing pictures, and through it, the rest of the world to the United States through the efforts of its reporters and photographers. Photography is what the magazine is known for, and this is indeed a great focus of the book, which notes how the magazine changed as technology improved. As new editors and overseers of the Society came and went for the magazine, each seemed to leave a lasting impression on the magazine, through the style of writing and reporting, photography and overall outlook for the magazine, which garnered millions of subscribers because of its quality reporting and photographs.

Going back over some of the earlier issues that I have stashed away is absolutely fascinating, especially when compared to the more current issues. The writing style of the ones from the 1960s tend to be in more depth, longer, written in the first person and tends to be far more upbeat in topic, while newer issues take on a far more critical look at the world around us, examining conflicts and problems around the world in shorter, more report-like articles. One thing that has remained constant between them is the stellar photography that helps to reveal the world.

Explorer’s House is a fantastic read about a fantastic organization, one that has touched many points in history, from the discovery of the North Pole, the first ascent up Mount Everest, the first man on the Moon and almost everything in between. With magazines and newspapers around the world seeing drops in readership and advertising revenue with the introduction of new media, it will be a hard time for the magazine, but I for one am inspired to resubscribe after lapsing for years.

Album Review: Nothing Rhymes With Woman

My favorite group, Carbon Leaf, is back with their third major label record, Nothing Rhymes With Woman, the followup to their fantastic Love Loss Hope Repeat, released in 2006 on Vanguard Records. Over the past three years, they’ve been touring in support of that album, while working on new material. They’ve come up with what is possibly one of my favorite albums from the group, (although Echo Echo, their last independent release will always be my absolute favorite), and Nothing Rhymes With Woman showcases the best of what Carbon Leaf has to offer.

Where Love Loss Hope Repeat was fairly consistent throughout when it came to tone and theme, Nothing Rhymes With Woman is far more varied, and at my first listen, it felt like a step backwards. However, with several more plays through the disc, I’ve come to believe that the album has a far more nostalgic theme to it. Where Love Loss Hope Repeat was tightly structured around the idea that falling in love and out of it again is akin to the passing of the seasons, it came with a fairly dark and somewhat somber feel to the album as a whole. Nothing Rhymes With Woman feels far more free and lively in comparison, if a bit less connected together when it comes to the overall sound and feel to the album.

In a way, this album feels like it should fall between Indian Summer and Love Loss Hope Repeat. There’s a share of the more thoughtful, lyrical songs, such as Mexico, Lake of Silver Bells, Pink and Snowfall Music, more lively, free songs, such as Indecision, Miss Hollywood, Cinnamindy, What Have You Learned, and X-Ray, while there’s a couple harder songs such as Another Man’s Woman and Meltdown.

This is also the first foray for the group with their two new members, Jason Neal and Jon Markel, who replaced Scott Milstead and Jordan Medas on drums and bass, respectively. The change doesn’t seem to have effected the group all that much, although I can somewhat detect some differences there, but nothing overly noticeable. The other three members, Barry Privett, on vocals, Terry Clark and Carter Gravatt, both on guitar, sound excellent as ever – their overall sound feels tighter, more mature and overall is easily at their best – this is something that I’ve noticed on the numerous concerts that I’ve attended for these guys, and it’s fantastic to hear it translate into this album so readily.

The overall feel to this album is that it is nostalgic, looking back to good times. Indeed, the opening track, Indecision, contains the lines: “I face the trail of the old lonesome pine, I catch a glimpse, flickers of brilliance, straight ahead for what’s left behind. Long days, fade away, I hope to see them again.” and “I may get lost but I’ll know where I’ve been.” Lonesome Pine was a track from Echo Echo, and I can’t help but wonder if this album is an attempt to go back to that style – a number of songs, such as Indecision, Lake of Silver Bells and Drops of Rain feel as if they could fit on that album quite easily.

The idea of nostalgia is prevalent throughout the album, and there are two tracks in particular that really highlight this - X-Ray, which looks back to the rosy boyhood days on summer vacation, something that I myself remember fairly fondly, and Pink, which looks at a woman dying of cancer, looking back to the days before her illness. Looking back towards better days isn’t necessarily a bad thing – in this album, it shines, as each song looks back towards good times gone by, as well as some bad ones, but there’s a parallel feeling that there’s more to come, that there’ll be more to look upon in the future. I especially got this feeling with What Have You Learned, a quasi-breakup song that looks at the failure of a relationship, but also looking at what good can come from such an event in one’s life.

Of all the songs on the album, my absolute favorite is Lake of Silver Bells. It’s a gorgeous song that starts off smoothly before everything kicks into high gear about a minute into the song. This is the perfect song to drive along with the windows down, the volume up, and falls well within Carbon Leaf’s tendencies to write very descriptive and lyrical songs, and it feels very much like the album that I like the most, Echo Echo, for much of those reasons. Thus far, it’s easily the best album that I’ve listened to all year, and undoubtedly (and I’m a bit biased here) one of my favorites for the year.

Download Lake of Silver Bells. (It’s okay, the record company okayed this one.)

But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate

I almost hardly know where to start with a review such as this. Battlestar Galactica is finally over, after an unprecedented run over the past five or so years. Over the course of four seasons, a miniseries and film, Galactica has far and above exceeded expectations, and will likely be known as one of the greatest Science Fiction television shows to appear on our screens, indeed, one of the best television programs to have ever been created. There will be spoilers for the finale of this episode, so be warned.

The final episode has come amidst years of speculation and expectations, and was something that seems almost impossible to have been able to successfully wrap up a show with so much momentum and story behind it; yet, while watching on Friday night, I found my expectations blown away and replaced with genuine surprise throughout. There were many things that I had essentially accepted would happen – I predicted that Adama would die aboard the Galactica in a blaze of glory, that Lee and Kara would be finally united, that we would have a fundamental happy ending for the show, something to redeem the last four seasons of misery and heartbreak for the colonial survivors. But, in the way that good stories often are, Ron Moore and his fantastic team of writers have crafted something more. None of those predictions happened – Adama survived (although the Galactica was destroyed, for sure), Kara and Lee go their separate ways and the result is a fulfilling end, something far better than what I had predicted.

From the miniseries, Battlestar Galactica has remained a show that was consistently good, and one that held broad appeal to a wide audience. On the surface, for the first couple of seasons, the show was mainly a science fiction adventure, with space ships, action, robots and the vague notion that the fleet would continue on towards earth, giving the show’s creators an easy out once the show started to wind down. But at the end of Season 1, the seeds of something far greater started, with the discovery of Kobol, which brought the show to something much more interesting, injecting religion, destiny, fate and a number of other heady concepts into the plotlines.

The finale itself has been described as brilliant, fullfilling and uneven by a number of reviewers, and each point has its merits. The finale is indeed well done, and a fantastic end to the series, but it is at the same time uneven, with the first half essentially an entire season’s work of special effects work, and some of the best action that we’ve seen in the entire series, from ground combat against Cavil’s forces, to some spectacular space sorties (although I have to say, my favorite space battles include the Battle of the Asteroid in Season 1, and the opening battle for Season 4). This first episode essentially brings everything to an exciting head, and brings out some of the best in the most unlikely characters. Baltar has his heroic moment after his talk with Lee about his self-centered nature, Cavill agrees to negotiate, and Boomer sacrifices herself to hand over Hera. It is here that we essentially learn the nature of the shared visions between Baltar, Roslin, Athena and Caprica 6. The climax of this part helps to fulfill Kara’s destiny as well, giving purpose to the song that she has been hearing, and brings the story to its natural conclusion that has been building since the miniseries: she brings the fleet to Earth. Not the bombed out and uninhabitable Earth that they discovered earlier in the season, but the Earth that we now call our home.

Starbuck has been one of show’s hallmark characters since the beginning, initially, because the character had been turned from a male in the original to a female in the new version, which caused much uproar from fanboys before subsiding. Since early in the show, Starbuck has been singled out as a special character, one with a growing significance over the course of the show, the highlight of this coming with her ‘death’ in the Season 3 episode Maelstrom, and her rebirth at the end of the episode Crossroads.

Kara Thrace’s story arc has been an interesting one throughout the show, especially between her tent pole episodes You Can’t Go Home Again, Scar and Maelstrom. Her story is complex, and where it would have been easier for Moore & co. to have simply explained away her special nature as being a Cylon, they resisted this temptation and made her something more – her true nature is never explained away, but in the finale, when Starbuck simply vanishes into thin air, her true nature almost doesn’t need to be explained – there is a certain mystery and allure to her character that enriches the experience, and I believe that a straightforward explanation of her character would cheapen that.

Gaius Baltar is possibly one of the characters that has changed the most over the course of the series, beginning his life as a brilliant scientist who rejects the notion of a supreme being and religion, to someone who not only accepts the idea, but embraces it and that he holds a purpose in a larger picture. He fills the role between the side of faith and religion and reason and science.

Intertwining with Balter’s evolution has been the presence of model # 6, known as Caprica. For the first chunk of the series, she really only existed in Baltar’s head, until later on, when the Cylons split, and a number were captured or fled to the fleet. Capica, the flesh and blood model, likewise saw Baltar in her head. Both stated that they had destinies, that they had a place in god’s plan. To someone like Baltar, this provided both amusement for the audience, but also an excellent story mechanism that helped drive his character, and provided some of the initial development. In the end, this ties together with Hera’s fate, as well as the hallucinations that Sharon and Roslin saw.

Hera was a central part of the story from fairly early on, and she is essentially responsible for the last story arc of the series, with her capture and experimentation, and the subsequent rescue that the remains of the Colonial Fleet mounted to get her back. This has been building from the end of Season 1, where we learned that an upcoming hybrid child would have enormous consequences for the fleet. While a lot of the fanbase suspected that there was something to this, such as that she had abilities or something along those lines, this was something more simple, more elegant – Hera united the fleet and Cylon/Human factions, and brought forth a new era on their new home.

Halfway through Season 4, Kara leads humanity to Earth, where they find it bombed out and uninhabitable, after having found Kobol and New Caprica and left them. Having left Earth for new pastures, Starbuck once again brings humanity to salvation by randomly jumping the Galactica to safety after the battle with Cavill’s forces, jumping right on top of the Moon and is joined shortly thereafter by the rest of the fleet, hundreds of thousands of years in our past.

As Adama notes to Roslin, Earth is an idea, and this is their Earth. In a way, this explains why the colonists never settled on the Kobol and New Caprica after the fall – this wasn’t their Earth. Obviously, the story wasn’t finished, but neither location would have provided any fulfilling conclusion to the human race – neither location was Earth. Earth, in this show, essentially provided humanity with hope, a reason to continue, and a home in which the slate was wiped clean, where they could completely start over. Kobol had too much history wrapped up in it, too much blood, while New Caprica was a convenient stopping point to appease political pressures, while sporting an unpleasant climate. The second Earth, our Earth, represented everything that Kobol and New Caprica didn’t – a rebirth of society. The refugees rejected technology and in essence, everything that had happened before, to break the cycle and bring about Six’s conclusion that humanity would not follow the same path that is had been consigned to before.

The last five minutes of the show proves to be the most on the nose and profound when it comes to delivering any sort of message in the show, as the episode jumps forward 150,000 years to modern day New York City, while Baltar’s 6 and 6’s Baltar (whom we now know are Angels or similar messenger) observes that society has become decedent with commercialism and technology, much like it had before in Kobol, the first Earth and Caprica, part of the repeating nature of parts of the show’s mythos: “All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.” Yet, as Caprica notes, any complex system that tends to repeat itself will have its anomalies. The real question at the end of the episode, of course, is did the colonists break the cycle, or did they merely slow it down?

The balance between science / technology and human maturity is a theme that has long been used in science fiction. Numerous writers have talked about the subject, noting that our ability to create is often not outpaced by our ability to utilize our creations wisely. Such has been the case in Galactica’s world, where humans create, but are ultimately destroyed by their creations, as we see throughout the show on Capria, Kobol and the first Earth. As the episode draws to a close with Jimi Hendrix’s version of All Along The Watchtower, we are treated to a short series of clips of modern day robots, which had an odd prophetic feel to it – will we, in this world, follow in the footsteps of stories past, or, will we follow in Six’s prediction that we will be the anomaly in god’s complex series of systems?

The episode Crossroads ended with a Galactica version of Bob Dylan’s fantastic song All Along the Watchtower, and so this episode ended with Hendrix’s version, playing on a boom box in Times Square. While this was a bit of an odd choice for a musical selection for the show, there are many elements of the song that make this a fitting choice, one that has a lot of meaning wrapped up within it – in particular, the imagry of a god overlooking his creation, with its subjects trying to figure things out within – this fits very closely with the show, especially with this conclusion, to the song. It is an appropriate and fantastic way to conclude this fantastic show.

So Say We All.