As I sit down later tonight to watch (likely straight through) the 4.5th season of BSG, I've conjured up a followup series of sorts – a kind of fanboy present-day-reality-version of season 5.0 – the result of recent basement observations and personal experiences.
Firstly, I should clarify that most of my current world view has come from The Matrix trilogy and the first four seasons of BSG. I believe without hesitation that humankind is under siege by a ruthless combination of ludicrous yuppinoids and a series of incredible technological advancements administered by the most incompetent and ubiquitous Canadian media company in existence, Rogers Communications Inc.
My casting for fake-BSG Season 5.0 is therefore as follows; a handful of people who aren't complete fucking morons are the crew of the Galactica and everyone else is a Cylon bastard. The shiny metal Cylon drones are Rogers Communications Inc. employees, controlled by their zombie king, Dead Ted. The Cylon skin jobs, also bent on our destruction as a race, are everyone else - Dead Ted's pink children, if you will. So, that makes the odds decidedly poorer than in the real show. There are about 30 normal people on our lonely Bufflestar, 45,000 shiny Rogers Cylons and 6 billion skin jobs.
In the opening episode, a faceless Rogers Cylon sends the Bufflestar an ultimatum saying that they need to have a technician come into the store to change over our “analog” interact phone line to a Rogers Cable Network version. A plot to grab control of our systems right out of the original BSG mini-series right? Well, not exactly. The 5.0 Cylons aren't quite as precise as they were back in Season 1. When we called them at the number they provided (paralleling the original yearly Cylon/Human spaceship meeting from the mini-series), they couldn't find our account from any of the info we provided (the account number, the Rogers' phone number or the billing name and address). Toward the end of the conversation, the Cylon's moving red eye burned super brightly for about 4 seconds, overloaded, fizzled in a shower of sparks and then went dark as its now-frozen metal body seized and then slumped in a Mumbai call-centre chair.
Strike one for the humans.
This ongoing battle for human survival is a little different from the real show. The Rogers drones have mysterious incompetence-ray guns that they accidentally fire off in every possible direction at completely random intervals. The skin jobs have learned to replicate themselves with an unbelievable rabbit-like efficiency that has the terrifying effect of a Wiley E. Coyote Acme-brand “just-add-water” instant-boulder mix that gets accidentally dropped in the toilet. The one-two punch of this enemy is formidable to say the least. The only thing going for the Bufflestar crew is a lack of focus by the yuppinoid skin jobs on anything other than themselves (and their offspring) and the incredibly poor aim of the Rogers Cylon drones. We live among them and yet they don't know who we are - a sort of clever reversal of the original series' plot line.
At the risk of folding a bit of the Matrix storyline into an already convoluted plot, a Neo-like human with unusual skills and a peculiar way is mankind's last best hope. As the series evolves, the mysterious “one” will come to understand his incredible power and hopefully make everything better again.
(Spoiler alert!) We're all counting on you Jules.
He is the one.