Another Perfect Day
It's the evening, and she walks in the streets of New-Caprica City. She passes by a few people, dark silhouettes hastening to get home before the curfew. Characteristic light reflections reveal signs of patrolling occupation forces: Centurions on the ground, and Heavy Raiders in the sky; a new metallic ecology brought on this planet several months ago. My people. But she's alone on this world.
Sometimes she hears a suspicious noise, and prepares herself for a thrown stone. Sometimes also, she thinks that she has been recognized. There have been whispers. I tell you it's her. A week earlier, there has been this man, hate and madness in his eyes, his hand starting to reach for an object concealed in his jacket, but not finishing his gesture. Maybe he was thinking that she would be faster than him. In fact, she was lucky, because she hasn't touched a gun since the day she became a Cylon. There have been these kids, and she regularly imagines seeing Boxey when she looks at them. What did they tell him about me? Is he alive? Is he now persuaded that I wanted to kill him, when I accidentally pointed my sidearm at him?
She gets through a last row of shelters, and arrives at a particular tent. She remains hidden by the increasing obscurity that the nearby lamp struggles to fight. And watches. It hurts so much, but she can't help doing it. Through windows and canvas interstices, she locks her gaze on him. I was his, and he was mine. Chief. He doesn't look bad with this beard. In the flickering candlelight, she can identify the other occupants of the tent. She seems happy, is the first thought that comes to her mind when Cally's face appears distinctively enough. She notices that she has unconsciously moved her hands to her belly, but then is distracted by the cries of a baby. I wasn't able to give you that, Galen: a real family.
They are celebrating something. Ah yes. A red dress, and a half-drunk Felix stepping on her feet. She smiles slightly: she has managed to forget the reality, for a moment. The loud laugh of Tyrol's new lover brutally disperses these memory clouds and summons much darker ones. She knows she shouldn't be there. It's late now and dangerous. They do things to Cylons. She remembers her Eight Sister, awaking in the resurrection tub, screaming ceaselessly despite all the efforts of the Nurses, until Cavil shoots her in the head. Double-downloading. Sometimes necessary in case of an extreme painful death. The immediate second downloading resolves habitually the "issue".
She shakes her head. Would Galen hurt me like this? She fears that her sigh has been perceptible, but then realizes that her teeth are clenched, and that she couldn't emit any sound through her lips. A distant bark draws her attention. Maybe D'Anna can't sleep either? If only she agreed to treat the humans like that dog...
She shivers and checks the buttons on her white coat. It's cold, and what happens in that dirty tent doesn't concern me.
She mentally tries to wrap a cloak of indifference around her shoulders, to protect herself, but fails and finds herself immersed in her familiar bubble of loneliness. She makes her way back, to the Cylon area, to where she belongs. And, as every day, she promises herself not to come back. Happy Colonial Day, Chief.