Goodbye, Blue Sky

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | Grade It Now!
Fivi Wayo Nggo, Sho Me Yete?
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!


Quentin McCawley came into possession of the Kaziri, and vice versa. When former Mayor Nicky Riordan's steampunk henchnerd Mr. Birch came to retrieve it, the Kaziri -- in the guise of dead brother Luke -- made sure the problem was solved. Now Nicky's on the lookout for both the artifact and her former lieutenant. Stahma Tarr's claim of admiration for and connection with Kenya Rosewater helped pave the way to greater power for her husband Datak. Amanda's taken great strides to reintegrate displaced Irathients into Defiance, starting with Sukar's Spirit Riders; Sukar himself took an interest in helping Irisa reconcile her Irath spirituality with her human upbringing, much to the chagrin and eventual acceptance of her human father.


Of all the different kinds of fusion that Defiance, the town and the show, represents, it's easier to think about the future: That the past is something dead and that it's just a ghost that everybody should learn to ignore. That when the Casti kids dance to Van Morrison, that's the world and that's the future and everything else is stupid and dumb and shtako, you know. We all keep fucking until we're the same color; that the lives of Datak Tarr and everyone in Datak's orbit would be so much better off if he could just let go of feeling so trapped in his liro.

But then over the break I started thinking about Irisa, how she was born at the center of this very ugly confluence of factors: The Casti snakehandler, and her stupid Irath parents, and then Nolan (and Braddock), and that's where she came from, this crossfire hurricane of war shadows and postapocalyptic hysteria and a broken world to play with. Exactly what I want, for us and for Defiance: She is a native of Earth, we're all natives of Earth, there are no natives on Earth.

And of course it was horrible. It fucked her right up. She walked around the Badlands all day thinking she was a white girl, until she looked in the mirror and remembered, every morning, who and what she really was, which is nothing in particular. Maybe God, maybe the Angel of Death, a deputy but certainly not a white girl. Certainly not her father. And I really responded originally to the earlier Sukar stuff on that level, but not consciously and not really all that verbally: You can reach back without going back.

Stahma Tarr's going to explain something very central to Castithan thought later, shiro ksa yu re ya, which is this concept that seeming is being, which is actually an idea I value very highly. First because your reputation is your behavior, not your intentions, and the only thing people who are not you can know about you is what you do -- not even really what you tell them, just what you do. And then that Vonnegut thing from Mother Night, "We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." Two very positive, very tough but ultimately rewarding implications of the idea at its best: Being an adult means understanding and taking ownership of the effect you have on the world and the people around you, because your intentions don't mean shit.

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