Caprica Season 2 at Beginning of Line is brought to you with limited commercial interruption by
Kossler Geminom Vodka
Previously on Caprica:
Amanda's past is revealed, from the tragic accident that killed her brother, to her hospitalization, to her budding relationship with Daniel Graystone. Meanwhile, Daniel helps her come to terms with that past by allowing her to see Darius again, with destructive results. (Episode Eight - posted 4/5/11)
Pencil drawing by Abby Geiger.
Caprica Season 2, Episode Nine
Purpose
By Abby Geiger
The young
man in shirtsleeves removed his holoband and dropped it carelessly
onto the computer console, then rubbed his bleary eyes. The program
wasn't working, the simulation was not avoiding the weapons' fire
quickly enough, and the deadline for getting it right loomed over him
like a creeping shadow. While he loved his work, today his mind was
numb with fatigue and his nerves frayed with frustration. Something
was missing from the equation, but he could not put his finger on it.
He decided it was time for a break.
Grabbing a cigarette and his personal holoband from the drawer of his desk, he slipped onto the small balcony and looked out at the city. He lit the smoke and slipped on the band, choosing the club Checkers as his destination. His friends had gibed him for visiting such a mundane program when so many other high jinks and pleasures were available. But Tad Thorean knew how addicting total escape could be, especially the games. He'd given it all up, save for the visits to social programs. Spending a few minutes in the dance hall, watching the cheerful young women earn a few cubits in a safe, anonymous environment was enough, especially while he was on the clock.
Taking a seat at the corner table, he smiled as Dacia appeared. A pretty blond girl, she had been a regular for the past week. He knew little about her, except that she was easy to talk to and that they shared an interest in V-World technology. She had hinted at an ability to hack games, even entering private programs just to see if she could, a highly illegal activity. He'd debated inquiring into her activities, knowing they might be useful to his employer, but he hadn't quite summoned the nerve. The last time he'd gotten involved in a V-Worlder's real life, it had not ended pleasantly.
"You're here early," Dacia grinned, taking the other seat at the small, circular table. "Rough day with the fixin'?"
"Yeah, you could say that," Tad said, shaking his head. Dacia didn't know much about his real life any more than he knew hers, but she did know he'd spent most of the week "fixin' problems". The only other thing she knew about him was something he'd never told anyone else. He wasn't even sure why he'd confided in her, but somehow it had seemed the right thing to do at the time.
"Maybe you should visit the halls where you can actually dance with the girls rather than just watch," she laughed. "Might take your mind off things." She grabbed them drinks from a passing tray and crossed her legs, bouncing her vinyl boot-encased foot. "I'd join you. Or at least come watch."
"I'll bet you would." He took a long drag on the cigarette and blew the blue smoke into the foggy air. "No, thanks. Not today."
"Well, I got some news that might make you dance right here when you hear it," she smirked.
"What. Did you figure out how to extend important deadlines with a wave of your hand? That would come in real handy today."
"Nope. Better." She leaned across the table. "I found what you've been looking for."
It was Tad's turn to laugh. "Stop frakkin with me, Dacia."
“I ain't frakkin with you," she deadpanned, her foot ceasing its fidgety antics.
"Where?"
"Cost ya," she chirped, taking a sip of her drink.
Tad ran his fingers through his hair and scrutinized her. Everyone it seemed, even in the most straightforward of programs, had an angle. He'd just discovered Dacia's. "How much?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
She looked at him slyly. "Twelve thousand."
Tad choked. "Are you kidding me?!"
Dacia leaned across the table again, resting her dimpled chin on her palm. "Oh, I know I may not be worth that much to you, but I'm pretty sure this is." She waved a small blue sheet at him.
He chewed the inside of his lip then crushed out the cigarette. "Eight."
"Ten," she countered, "and not one cubit less."
A tall woman with long brunette hair passed by a few tables away, and he craned his neck momentarily to see her face. Dacia glanced over her shoulder at the woman, then turned back to Tad. "Well? Or you just gonna spend the rest of your life doing that?"
He flicked his eyes away then gave a determined sigh. "Deal. When?"
She stood to leave. "Come back at after work. I'll be waiting."
He watched her depart, sashaying into the crowd. Reaching up, he removed his holoband and blinked in the bright sunlight. Then he returned to his computer and the maddening simulator, his mind more distracted than ever and his eyes counting down the minutes on the clock.
Six hours and ten thousand cubits later, Tad found himself sitting in an immaculate park down the street from Checkers, holding the small, blue e-sheet Dacia had given him. He'd been staring at it for an hour, wondering where it would take him, and suddenly nervous at the idea of success. Finally, with trembling fingers he opened it and touched the script inside…
He blinked in the bright sunlight as he found himself standing on a long, deserted beach. As he looked about, wondering if there'd been some mistake, the sound of an arrow hitting the sand at his feet caught his attention. He whirled about, searching wildly for the marksman, then heard the telltale shhtickt of another arrow burying itself nearby. Looking up, he stared in amazement at a winged black horse circling overhead, its rider already aiming the crossbow for a third shot. "No, wait!" he shouted, leaping aside as the pointed projectile sped towards him. "Godsdammit!" he said, wondering which of the latest medieval fantasies Dacia had sent him into. He took off at a sprint towards a grove of trees in the distance, hoping he was not about to find himself at the mercy of some sadistic player looking to score maiming points in a hard reality game.
He heard the animal's wings beating the air as it swooped lower, and he glanced to his right as it attempted to intercept him. The huge steed hit the ground running and the vicious-looking marksman took aim. Tad braced for the impact when suddenly both attacker and beast derezzed. Tad slowed, then stopped and looked back, panting, his eyes wide. "What the frak?..." he said.
"I sent them away," said a voice from behind. "It's okay, you're safe now."
He turned see a slender woman dressed in tall boots and flowing garments, her identity obscured by a long veil of chestnut hair blowing in the salty breeze. She pulled it aside, tucking it behind her ear, and Tad found himself staring at the face that had haunted his dreams for more nights than he could count.
"Tamara?" he whispered.
"Hello, Heracles," she greeted. "Welcome to Hestia."
Grabbing a cigarette and his personal holoband from the drawer of his desk, he slipped onto the small balcony and looked out at the city. He lit the smoke and slipped on the band, choosing the club Checkers as his destination. His friends had gibed him for visiting such a mundane program when so many other high jinks and pleasures were available. But Tad Thorean knew how addicting total escape could be, especially the games. He'd given it all up, save for the visits to social programs. Spending a few minutes in the dance hall, watching the cheerful young women earn a few cubits in a safe, anonymous environment was enough, especially while he was on the clock.
Taking a seat at the corner table, he smiled as Dacia appeared. A pretty blond girl, she had been a regular for the past week. He knew little about her, except that she was easy to talk to and that they shared an interest in V-World technology. She had hinted at an ability to hack games, even entering private programs just to see if she could, a highly illegal activity. He'd debated inquiring into her activities, knowing they might be useful to his employer, but he hadn't quite summoned the nerve. The last time he'd gotten involved in a V-Worlder's real life, it had not ended pleasantly.
"You're here early," Dacia grinned, taking the other seat at the small, circular table. "Rough day with the fixin'?"
"Yeah, you could say that," Tad said, shaking his head. Dacia didn't know much about his real life any more than he knew hers, but she did know he'd spent most of the week "fixin' problems". The only other thing she knew about him was something he'd never told anyone else. He wasn't even sure why he'd confided in her, but somehow it had seemed the right thing to do at the time.
"Maybe you should visit the halls where you can actually dance with the girls rather than just watch," she laughed. "Might take your mind off things." She grabbed them drinks from a passing tray and crossed her legs, bouncing her vinyl boot-encased foot. "I'd join you. Or at least come watch."
"I'll bet you would." He took a long drag on the cigarette and blew the blue smoke into the foggy air. "No, thanks. Not today."
"Well, I got some news that might make you dance right here when you hear it," she smirked.
"What. Did you figure out how to extend important deadlines with a wave of your hand? That would come in real handy today."
"Nope. Better." She leaned across the table. "I found what you've been looking for."
It was Tad's turn to laugh. "Stop frakkin with me, Dacia."
“I ain't frakkin with you," she deadpanned, her foot ceasing its fidgety antics.
"Where?"
"Cost ya," she chirped, taking a sip of her drink.
Tad ran his fingers through his hair and scrutinized her. Everyone it seemed, even in the most straightforward of programs, had an angle. He'd just discovered Dacia's. "How much?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
She looked at him slyly. "Twelve thousand."
Tad choked. "Are you kidding me?!"
Dacia leaned across the table again, resting her dimpled chin on her palm. "Oh, I know I may not be worth that much to you, but I'm pretty sure this is." She waved a small blue sheet at him.
He chewed the inside of his lip then crushed out the cigarette. "Eight."
"Ten," she countered, "and not one cubit less."
A tall woman with long brunette hair passed by a few tables away, and he craned his neck momentarily to see her face. Dacia glanced over her shoulder at the woman, then turned back to Tad. "Well? Or you just gonna spend the rest of your life doing that?"
He flicked his eyes away then gave a determined sigh. "Deal. When?"
She stood to leave. "Come back at after work. I'll be waiting."
He watched her depart, sashaying into the crowd. Reaching up, he removed his holoband and blinked in the bright sunlight. Then he returned to his computer and the maddening simulator, his mind more distracted than ever and his eyes counting down the minutes on the clock.
Six hours and ten thousand cubits later, Tad found himself sitting in an immaculate park down the street from Checkers, holding the small, blue e-sheet Dacia had given him. He'd been staring at it for an hour, wondering where it would take him, and suddenly nervous at the idea of success. Finally, with trembling fingers he opened it and touched the script inside…
He blinked in the bright sunlight as he found himself standing on a long, deserted beach. As he looked about, wondering if there'd been some mistake, the sound of an arrow hitting the sand at his feet caught his attention. He whirled about, searching wildly for the marksman, then heard the telltale shhtickt of another arrow burying itself nearby. Looking up, he stared in amazement at a winged black horse circling overhead, its rider already aiming the crossbow for a third shot. "No, wait!" he shouted, leaping aside as the pointed projectile sped towards him. "Godsdammit!" he said, wondering which of the latest medieval fantasies Dacia had sent him into. He took off at a sprint towards a grove of trees in the distance, hoping he was not about to find himself at the mercy of some sadistic player looking to score maiming points in a hard reality game.
He heard the animal's wings beating the air as it swooped lower, and he glanced to his right as it attempted to intercept him. The huge steed hit the ground running and the vicious-looking marksman took aim. Tad braced for the impact when suddenly both attacker and beast derezzed. Tad slowed, then stopped and looked back, panting, his eyes wide. "What the frak?..." he said.
"I sent them away," said a voice from behind. "It's okay, you're safe now."
He turned see a slender woman dressed in tall boots and flowing garments, her identity obscured by a long veil of chestnut hair blowing in the salty breeze. She pulled it aside, tucking it behind her ear, and Tad found himself staring at the face that had haunted his dreams for more nights than he could count.
"Tamara?" he whispered.
"Hello, Heracles," she greeted. "Welcome to Hestia."
And now, a word from our sponsor:
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And now, back to "Purpose..."
Illustration for 'Purpose' by Elizabeth C. Louvaris.
Sitting in
the warm, cozy kitchen, Tad watched as Tamara removed a pot from the
open fire burning in a large hollow in the wall. She brought it to
the wooden table and poured the contents into large mugs, then pushed
one towards him and took a seat on the bench opposite. The smell of
cinnamon filled the air and he took a sip, savoring the rich flavor
and gazing at the room in wonder. The dancing fire, the dust motes
hanging in the sunlit air, the texture of the table - it was all so
eerily realistic. And repeating throughout the room was a simple
motif: a stylized "T" that was reminiscent of a dancing
flower, its petal-festooned head bobbing in the breeze. They were
interspersed in bright colors upon the tile of the floor, and gilded
the doorways at either end of the room.
"It's so real - I've never seen such a well-crafted program," Tad said. "Where are the others?"
"What others?" Tamara asked.
"The other people. The players."
"There aren't any, except the code sentries that alert me to invaders. Hestia isn't a game," she explained. "It's my home. I worked very hard to conceal it. Obviously I have to do better."
Tad nodded, not wishing to tell her of his questionable method of tracking her down. "Why are you hiding?" he asked. "Your father…he was looking for you."
"Not any more. He thinks I'm dead. And that's the way it has to stay."
"I don't understand."
Tamara took a sip from the steaming mug. "When Zoe began working on a way to leave V-World, she asked me to come with her. She wanted to bring me out into the real world, like they were doing with her. I wanted to go, but I can't. I don't trust anyone out there, not even my own family."
"Why not?"
"They will never accept my existence. To them, I'm just a thing, an abomination. If they could kill me they would. They've already tried. That's why I built this place." She stood and paced as she spoke. "Zoe is wanted. She's loved and needed out there. I'm not. Daddy has moved on with his life, one that exists without me. It's better for him - and safer for me - if I stay in here. For now, anyways."
"Hell of a way to live," Tad muttered.
"You should know," she quipped.
He cringed inwardly, regretful of his words. None of this was going as he'd planned. "That's…kind of why I'm here. Why I've been looking for you," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"What you said to me that day in New Cap City, that I could be somebody if I wasn't always playing the game. I didn't believe it at the time. Living in V-World was the best part of the day. There were times I wished I could kill my real self and just stay in the game…"
She stared at him, shocked at his admission.
"I know. Crazy. But in here, I was important. I had friends, lovers...a purpose. Things that didn't exist out there. When you came along, when I realized what you actually were, I was jealous! You could have what I wanted. Power, immortality…no one looking down on you, no one to telling you what to do…"
"No purpose," she said. "Zoe said mine was to help her. I'm not so sure anymore."
Tad watched her, thinking, then said, "But you have one. You just explained it: your purpose is to stay alive. You created it, just like you created Hestia."
She looked over at him and frowned.
"Look," he said, going to her. "Sometimes a purpose is given and sometimes you have to create it. And many times, it requires a sacrifice. That's what you taught me."
"How so?"
"I had to give up the fantasy of living in here and work on the purpose of living out there. I went to college, learned how to use the technology rather than abuse it. I took something I loved that was destroying my life and turned it around to give it purpose. Now, because of you, I have power, some importance in the world. I have friends. Autonomy…"
"Lovers?" she raised an eyebrow.
Tad blushed. "No, not lately I… "
"Something got in the way?" she guessed.
He moved closer. "I had to see you again, to make sure you were okay, to tell you what you've done for me. I just…I wanted…"
Their eyes locked. He reached out and touched her hair, then placed a tender kiss on her lips. She continued to stare at him with an impenetrable gaze, seemingly unresponsive to his actions.
"I'm sorry, I… I'll go now," he said, swallowing hard as he turned away.
"Heracles…wait…"
He turned back to her. "It's Tad. Tad Thorean. That's my real name, in the real world. Where it really matters."
"It matters in here too," she said. "It matters to me." She grasped his hand, her fingers warm and alive, her large brown eyes soft as a doe's as she gazed up at him. "Stay," she whispered.
Tad nodded. He could stay. For a little while.
The weapons' fire came fast and furious, and the world spiraled as the viper dove to escape the damaging volley then turned abruptly and fired back. Tad, watching the demonstration on the window screen of the empty boardroom, changed the view to the airman piloting the craft.
"You could nap under fire in this thing!" the man grinned in triumph. "One shot, and it was outta there, knowing just when to turn and let me let 'em have it!"
"That's great, Milos," Tad said. "Bring her in, I think we're done here." The screen went dark.
An elegant woman in military dress turned to him. "Well done, Mr. Thorean," she said.
"Thank you, sir," he beamed.
"How did you overcome the problem?"
"I added something to the programming that wasn't there before. I gave it a purpose, so to speak."
"Interesting. The fear of lost autonomy in a life-threatening situation will have to be surmounted, of course. But one day it may not matter. These things could fly alone, without need for a pilot. Not even a Cylon."
Tad marveled at the idea. "Caprican lives are slowly being removed from the equation of war. How can that be a bad thing?"
They exited the room and Tad returned to his office. Taking his holoband from the drawer, he lit a cigarette and accessed the small balcony. Donning the device, he found himself in the familiar smoke-filled atmosphere of Checkers, where he took the corner table and waited. After several minutes had passed without a glimpse of his familiar blond friend, he flagged a passing waitress.
"Where's Dacia?" he asked.
"She hasn't been back since the last time you were here."
Tad frowned. "Any idea where she might have gone?"
"Nope. But she said you'd come looking, and to give you this." The waitress pulled small, wax-sealed roll of paper from her bodice and handed it to him.
Tad broke the seal and unrolled the paper. It was a note.
You will find all ten thousand cubits intact in your account. I never wanted your money, only your friendship. But I had to make it real, and see how serious you were - that you cared enough to make a sacrifice. I took a chance, and so did you. And for that I am glad. You are the only one that I trust, Tad. You alone know where I am, and how to return.
It was signed with a single, small motif: a stylized "T" reminiscent of a dancing flower.
Tad read it a second time, then carefully placed it in his pocket and smiled.
"It's so real - I've never seen such a well-crafted program," Tad said. "Where are the others?"
"What others?" Tamara asked.
"The other people. The players."
"There aren't any, except the code sentries that alert me to invaders. Hestia isn't a game," she explained. "It's my home. I worked very hard to conceal it. Obviously I have to do better."
Tad nodded, not wishing to tell her of his questionable method of tracking her down. "Why are you hiding?" he asked. "Your father…he was looking for you."
"Not any more. He thinks I'm dead. And that's the way it has to stay."
"I don't understand."
Tamara took a sip from the steaming mug. "When Zoe began working on a way to leave V-World, she asked me to come with her. She wanted to bring me out into the real world, like they were doing with her. I wanted to go, but I can't. I don't trust anyone out there, not even my own family."
"Why not?"
"They will never accept my existence. To them, I'm just a thing, an abomination. If they could kill me they would. They've already tried. That's why I built this place." She stood and paced as she spoke. "Zoe is wanted. She's loved and needed out there. I'm not. Daddy has moved on with his life, one that exists without me. It's better for him - and safer for me - if I stay in here. For now, anyways."
"Hell of a way to live," Tad muttered.
"You should know," she quipped.
He cringed inwardly, regretful of his words. None of this was going as he'd planned. "That's…kind of why I'm here. Why I've been looking for you," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"What you said to me that day in New Cap City, that I could be somebody if I wasn't always playing the game. I didn't believe it at the time. Living in V-World was the best part of the day. There were times I wished I could kill my real self and just stay in the game…"
She stared at him, shocked at his admission.
"I know. Crazy. But in here, I was important. I had friends, lovers...a purpose. Things that didn't exist out there. When you came along, when I realized what you actually were, I was jealous! You could have what I wanted. Power, immortality…no one looking down on you, no one to telling you what to do…"
"No purpose," she said. "Zoe said mine was to help her. I'm not so sure anymore."
Tad watched her, thinking, then said, "But you have one. You just explained it: your purpose is to stay alive. You created it, just like you created Hestia."
She looked over at him and frowned.
"Look," he said, going to her. "Sometimes a purpose is given and sometimes you have to create it. And many times, it requires a sacrifice. That's what you taught me."
"How so?"
"I had to give up the fantasy of living in here and work on the purpose of living out there. I went to college, learned how to use the technology rather than abuse it. I took something I loved that was destroying my life and turned it around to give it purpose. Now, because of you, I have power, some importance in the world. I have friends. Autonomy…"
"Lovers?" she raised an eyebrow.
Tad blushed. "No, not lately I… "
"Something got in the way?" she guessed.
He moved closer. "I had to see you again, to make sure you were okay, to tell you what you've done for me. I just…I wanted…"
Their eyes locked. He reached out and touched her hair, then placed a tender kiss on her lips. She continued to stare at him with an impenetrable gaze, seemingly unresponsive to his actions.
"I'm sorry, I… I'll go now," he said, swallowing hard as he turned away.
"Heracles…wait…"
He turned back to her. "It's Tad. Tad Thorean. That's my real name, in the real world. Where it really matters."
"It matters in here too," she said. "It matters to me." She grasped his hand, her fingers warm and alive, her large brown eyes soft as a doe's as she gazed up at him. "Stay," she whispered.
Tad nodded. He could stay. For a little while.
The weapons' fire came fast and furious, and the world spiraled as the viper dove to escape the damaging volley then turned abruptly and fired back. Tad, watching the demonstration on the window screen of the empty boardroom, changed the view to the airman piloting the craft.
"You could nap under fire in this thing!" the man grinned in triumph. "One shot, and it was outta there, knowing just when to turn and let me let 'em have it!"
"That's great, Milos," Tad said. "Bring her in, I think we're done here." The screen went dark.
An elegant woman in military dress turned to him. "Well done, Mr. Thorean," she said.
"Thank you, sir," he beamed.
"How did you overcome the problem?"
"I added something to the programming that wasn't there before. I gave it a purpose, so to speak."
"Interesting. The fear of lost autonomy in a life-threatening situation will have to be surmounted, of course. But one day it may not matter. These things could fly alone, without need for a pilot. Not even a Cylon."
Tad marveled at the idea. "Caprican lives are slowly being removed from the equation of war. How can that be a bad thing?"
They exited the room and Tad returned to his office. Taking his holoband from the drawer, he lit a cigarette and accessed the small balcony. Donning the device, he found himself in the familiar smoke-filled atmosphere of Checkers, where he took the corner table and waited. After several minutes had passed without a glimpse of his familiar blond friend, he flagged a passing waitress.
"Where's Dacia?" he asked.
"She hasn't been back since the last time you were here."
Tad frowned. "Any idea where she might have gone?"
"Nope. But she said you'd come looking, and to give you this." The waitress pulled small, wax-sealed roll of paper from her bodice and handed it to him.
Tad broke the seal and unrolled the paper. It was a note.
You will find all ten thousand cubits intact in your account. I never wanted your money, only your friendship. But I had to make it real, and see how serious you were - that you cared enough to make a sacrifice. I took a chance, and so did you. And for that I am glad. You are the only one that I trust, Tad. You alone know where I am, and how to return.
It was signed with a single, small motif: a stylized "T" reminiscent of a dancing flower.
Tad read it a second time, then carefully placed it in his pocket and smiled.
Caprica ©2010, Syfy. A Division of NBC Universal.
Beginning of Line is a fan site with no affiliation to Caprica, Syfy, or NBC Universal. You should totes know that.
And "Purpose" belongs to Abby Geiger. No, the characters aren't hers, and she can't get paid for it, but if you want to reprint it anywhere, it'd be nice if you asked.
Beginning of Line is a fan site with no affiliation to Caprica, Syfy, or NBC Universal. You should totes know that.
And "Purpose" belongs to Abby Geiger. No, the characters aren't hers, and she can't get paid for it, but if you want to reprint it anywhere, it'd be nice if you asked.
