Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: A+ | 1 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT Agnus Dei
By Jacob Clifton | Season 2 | Episode 22 | Aired on 01.25.2001
"This section?" Aeryn in love, Aeryn and John; Aeryn knocking him to the ground in Moya's cells, helmet gone; Aeryn kissing him, Aeryn triumphant, Aeryn smiling. Radiant. John's eyes snap open like a blade going through. "Keep this?" John closes his eyes again.
Jothee attempts to console Chiana; he's well hot, but there's nothing you can do. "It's too bad we don't get to spend more time together," says Jothee. "My whole life I never stayed in one place long enough to...build any real relationships." And Chiana? "I always stay too long." Think about that for a second; to be unwelcome everywhere you go, just for being yourself. Literally, among her people, but then everywhere else too. Continually fucking up, hurting the people that you love, and never quite understanding how it happens. How it's happening, right now, under D'Argo's eyes. There's a downside to innocence. "I always stay too long." The things she does to herself without admitting she has any agency at all. Their heads are bowed; Chiana leans against him, forehead to forehead. Jothee leans in to kiss her, and Chiana pulls back at the last second -- is she psychic? -- as D'Argo enters. "Jothee? Chiana? Let's stay close. Once we find out about John, we should discuss our future." They agree.
Tocot pulls a memory: a swirling blue-white vortex, Farscape 1 disappearing at the wave, disappearing into wonder. "Whoa! Wormholes! That's it!" Tocot whistles and bleeps: "Good job...from you?" John laughs, manic now, broken. Tocot's confused: "I should desist?" There's no way for him to know what he's asking, how many things he just said. A failure of language. John nearly grins: "No frellin' way."
Grunchlk runs through a corridor in the facility, in a deadly hurry. You get to think for a second it's good news. It's that second that starts up all the crying again. A Peacekeeper cadre follows, in full gear. Braca leads them to him.
Tocot draws a tendril out; John abruptly begins speaking gibberish. It's shocking, scary, bizarre. His eyes go wide and after a moment, it subsides. "What the frell was that?"
Four Commandos rush into the vault, flanking Braca: "Return to the Marauder. Inform Scorpius we've successfully maintained our zero presence profile. Now!"
"Very...bad. Speech close to...neural implant." John begins to worry, finally. Finally a spark. It's like Aeryn going blind, this. John's verbal, there's never been a moment or a pain that he didn't turn into words, or a joke, or a story. If Pilot's arms are the way he talks to Moya, and Aeryn's eyes are the way she deals with the world, then John's only connection to this alien environment is speech. Without God's translator microbes and that smooth-talkin' Crichton charm, he's nothing. After memories there's very little they can take from you without killing you. "You're gonna take my memories, and I'm gonna talk gibberish? Why not just take my mojo while you're at it?" Why not chop a wormhole in half again? Tocot assures him that everything will get put back where it goes once the chip is gone. "What the hell ...there's no one I really want to talk to." If John's connection to the world is his constant talking, then there's no point now. There's no world now. "Not much worth remembering." Hugin and Munin. Thought and Memory. Telling and Remembering. The future and the past, everything: gone. Without love, without connection, those things are just ones and zeroes, garbage, gibberish. It's other people that make language worthwhile; you need someone to tell those stories and memories to, for them to have any weight at all. And that's what Harvey takes. Tocot pulls out a monster huge drill. "Take the damn thing out." And the drill begins to spin.
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