Showing posts with label Orion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Orion. Show all posts

Monday, 30 September 2019


“Jack “King” Kirby was the most influential superhero artist of them all, with an imagination and range that sat comfortably inside a visionary tradition running all the way from Hebrew scriptures and epic mythology through William Blake and Allen Ginsberg. Born Jakob Kurtzberg in August 1917—Jack Kirby was the one of his many pennames that stuck—Kirby grew up in a tenement on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. As a member of the Suffolk Street Gang, he was familiar with the thrill of full-on physical conflict in a way that many of his bookish young contemporaries were not. Indeed, unlike Joe Shuster or Bob Kane, who drew fights at a sniffy remove, Kirby dragged his readers directly into the wild flail of fists and boots that typified the real combat he’d experienced. 

His figures captured how it felt to somersault through a crowd of antagonists. His heroes and villains clashed in bony, meaty brawls that could sprawl across page after page. Superman might wrestle a giant ape for a panel or two, but in Kirby’s hands, the fight scenes were a thrilling end in themselves.

Kirby served in World War II as a private first class in Company F of the Eleventh Infantry. He landed on Omaha Beach at Normandy two months after D-day in 1944 and proceeded with his unit into occupied France. There he saw action at the battle for Bastogne, Belgium, enduring frostbite so severe that Kirby almost lost both feet and was finally mustered out with a combat infantry badge and Bronze Star for his trouble. His memories of the war informed his work for the rest of his life, but nonetheless, Kirby portrayed violence as a joyous expression of natural masculine exuberance. 

When American Nazis marched into the building where Simon and Kirby had their studio, demanding the blood of the Captain America creative team, it was Jack who rolled up his sleeves and went to sort them out."

“As the monster-child, Orion, grew to manhood on New Genesis, his life dramatized debates of nature versus nurture, good versus evil, youth versus age, tyranny versus freedom. Kirby was dealing with the big dualities and had assembled his own gleaming pantheon to help him articulate the questions of the age.

Kirby told us that humanity’s better nature would inevitably prevail. That was the story, and we all knew it deep in our hearts. Kindness and understanding could turn even a demon into a holy warrior, but an angel could never be broken to the Devil’s service and would always find ways to soar and to be free. 

The war would never end, but the outcome was never in any doubt.”

The mesmerizing character for me is —  

Darth Maul.

When I saw him, I thought of Satan and Lucifer in “Paradise Lost.” 
I thought of the devil in “Dante’s Inferno.” 
I mean, you’ve really — have brought from 
— it seems to me — 
from way down in our unconsciousness this image of —
of Evil, of The Other.

Well, yeah. 
We were trying to find somebody who could compete with Darth Vader, who’s one of the most, you know, famous evil characters now. 

And so we went back into representations of evil. 

Not only, the Christian, but also Hindu and Greek mythology and other religious icons and, obviously, then designed our own — our own character out of that.

What did you find when you went back there in — 
in all of these representations? 
There’s something …

A lot of — a lot of evil characters have horns
It’s very interesting. 
I mean, you’re trying to build a icon of evil, 
and you sort of wonder why the same images evoke the same emotions.

What emotion do you feel, George, when you look at Darth Maul?

I think the first thing you’re supposed to react to is fear

You’re supposed to go,
 ‘Ooh. You — you wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.'

And I’m not creating a monster. 

I didn’t want to create some ugly — somebody ripped out their intestines and threw them all over their head 
— and it’s — you can’t watch it. 
This is something …

It’s actually mesmerizing.

This is something that is more — 
it works in a different emotional way. 
It’s not repulsive, it’s just — 

It’s something you should be afraid of.

Is the emotion you wanted from him different from the emotion you wanted from Darth Vader?

It’s essentially the same in a different kind of way.

Darth Vader was a — a composite man. 
I mean, he was half-machine, half-man. 

And that’s where he lost a lot of his humanity is that he — 
you know, he has mechanical legs. 
You know — and he has mechanical arms possibly and he’s hooked up to a breathing machine. 

So there’s not much, actually, human left in him. 

This one is all human. 

And I wanted him to be like an alien, but I wanted him to be human enough that we could identify with him, because he’s not a sort of a monster we can’t identify with. He’s…

He’s us.

…he’s — yeah. 

He’s the evil within us.

I’ve had psychotherapists tell me that they use “Star Wars” sometimes to deal with the problems of their child patients. 

And they’ve said that the most popular character among the children is Darth Vader.

Well, children love power because children are The Powerless. 

And so their fantasies all center on having power. 

And who’s more powerful than Darth Vader, you know? 
And, some, you know, will be attracted to Luke Skywalker because he’s the good guy. 

But ultimately, 
We all know that Darth Vader’s more powerful than he is.

And as time goes on, you discover that he is more powerful because— 

He's The Ultimate Father 
Who is All-Powerful.

This is where I disagree somewhat with our friend Joseph Campbell who said that 
The Young Man has to slay his father before he can become an adult himself. 

It seems to me, and I think you’re right on here, that 

The Young Man has to identify — 
has to recognise and acknowledge that 

He is His Father 
Is Not His Father.

You know, Joe used to talk about the basic issues that create 
The Mystery of Life. 

Of, you know, birth and death
and I like to always add, 
 Your relationship with your parents. 

Do you know yet what is going to be the transforming of Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader?


You already know that?

Yeah, I know what that is. 
And it’s sprinkled throughout this episode. 
I mean, the groundwork’s been laid in this episode. 

And the — the film is ultimately about the Dark Side and the Light Side, and those sides are designed around compassion and greed

And we all have those two sides of us and that we have to make sure that those two sides of us are in balance.

I think it’s going to be very hard for the audience to accept that this innocent cherub almost of a boy, who’s playing Anakin Skywalker, can ever be capable of the things that we know happen later on. 

And I’m sure you’ll take care of that but, you know, I look at Hitler and wonder what did he look like at eight years old, or Stalin …

Mm-hmm …

… or …

Well, there are lots of — there’s a lot of people like that. 
I mean, you just — you see them all the time and you — that’s what I wonder. 

I wonder, 
'How can those people possibly exist? How could they live with themselves?
[ VODKA ] 

How could they — you know, what is it in the human brain that gives us the capacity to be as evil as human beings have been in the past and are right now.

Well, you’ve been probing that for a good while now.


Twenty-five years. 
Have you come to any conclusions?

I haven’t.

I only ask to say What I’ve Come to Say, after that, do what you want and I won’t try to stop you.

Deus Ex Machina: 

The program ‘Smith’ has grown beyond your control. 
Soon he will spread through This City as he spread through The Matrix. 
You cannot stop him, but I can.

Deus Ex Machina: 
We Don’t Need You. 
We Need Nothing.

If that’s True, then I’ve made a mistake and you should kill me now.

Deus Ex Machina: 
What Do You Want?


(Zion: Temple entrance)

{Sentinels charge the temple entrance, then suddenly stop}

What are they doing? 

• Morpheus lays down his Weapon •

*to Morpheus* 
What are you doing!?


Deus Ex Machina: 
And if You Fail?

I Won’t.

(Zion: Temple entrance)

{looks up and sees sentinels slowly circling} 

He Fights for Us.

Sunday, 23 June 2019


Jonathan Pryce's costume as Don Quixote is the one Jean Rochefort wore in the 2000 attempt, as seen in Lost in La Mancha. 

Carlo Poggioli, the assistant of Gabriella Pescucci, costume designer for the 2000 version, rediscovered it while browsing for costumes for an opera. 

Pescucci gave her blessing for the costume to finally be used in a film. 

In the end, Lena Mossum, costume designer for the new version, did some adjustments, and the costume fit Pryce perfectly. Gilliam said that otherwise, "with the money in the budget, there's no way [they] could make something as good as what was on screen".

The first thing he did was to clean up some armour that had belonged to his great-grandfather, and had been for ages lying forgotten in a corner eaten with rust and covered with mildew. He scoured and polished it as best he could, but he perceived one great defect in it, that it had no closed helmet, nothing but a simple morion. This deficiency, however, his ingenuity supplied, for he contrived a kind of half-helmet of pasteboard which, fitted on to the morion, looked like a whole one. It is true that, in order to see if it was strong and fit to stand a cut, he drew his sword and gave it a couple of slashes, the first of which undid in an instant what had taken him a week to do. The ease with which he had knocked it to pieces disconcerted him somewhat, and to guard against that danger he set to work again, fixing bars of iron on the inside until he was satisfied with its strength; and then, not caring to try any more experiments with it, he passed it and adopted it as a helmet of the most perfect construction.

Tuesday, 11 June 2019

The Windmills of Reality Fight Back

“In a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a lance in the lance-rack, an old buckler, a lean hack, and a greyhound for coursing. An olla of rather more beef than mutton, a salad on most nights, scraps on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, and a pigeon or so extra on Sundays, made away with three-quarters of his income. The rest of it went in a doublet of fine cloth and velvet breeches and shoes to match for holidays, while on week-days he made a brave figure in his best homespun. He had in his house a housekeeper past forty, a niece under twenty, and a lad for the field and market-place, who used to saddle the hack as well as handle the bill-hook. The age of this gentleman of ours was bordering on fifty; he was of a hardy habit, spare, gaunt-featured, a very early riser and a great sportsman. They will have it his surname was Quixada or Quesada (for here there is some difference of opinion among the authors who write on the subject), although from reasonable conjectures it seems plain that he was called Quexana. This, however, is of but little importance to our tale; it will be enough not to stray a hair's breadth from the truth in the telling of it. 

You must know, then, that the above-named gentleman whenever he was at leisure (which was mostly all the year round) gave himself up to reading books of chivalry with such ardour and avidity that he almost entirely neglected the pursuit of his field-sports, and even the management of his property; and to such a pitch did his eagerness and infatuation go that he sold many an acre of tillageland to buy books of chivalry to read, and brought home as many of them as he could get. But of all there were none he liked so well as those of the famous Feliciano de Silva's composition, for their lucidity of style and complicated conceits were as pearls in his sight, particularly when in his reading he came upon courtships and cartels, where he often found passages like "the reason of the unreason with which my reason is afflicted so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur at your beauty;" or again, "the high heavens, that of your divinity divinely fortify you with the stars, render you deserving of the desert your greatness deserves." Over conceits of this sort the poor gentleman lost his wits, and used to lie awake striving to understand them and worm the meaning out of them; what Aristotle himself could not have made out or extracted had he come to life again for that special purpose. He was not at all easy about the wounds which Don Belianis gave and took, because it seemed to him that, great as were the surgeons who had cured him, he must have had his face and body covered all over with seams and scars. He commended, however, the author's way of ending his book with the promise of that interminable adventure, and many a time was he tempted to take up his pen and finish it properly as is there proposed, which no doubt he would have done, and made a successful piece of work of it too, had not greater and more absorbing thoughts prevented him. 

Many an argument did he have with the curate of his village (a learned man, and a graduate of Siguenza) as to which had been the better knight, Palmerin of England or Amadis of Gaul. Master Nicholas, the village barber, however, used to say that neither of them came up to the Knight of Phoebus, and that if there was any that could compare with him it was Don Galaor, the brother of Amadis of Gaul, because he had a spirit that was equal to every occasion, and was no finikin knight, nor lachrymose like his brother, while in the matter of valour he was not a whit behind him. 

In short, he became so absorbed in his books that he spent his nights from sunset to sunrise, and his days from dawn to dark, poring over them; and what with little sleep and much reading his brains got so dry that he lost his wits. His fancy grew full of what he used to read about in his books, enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, wooings, loves, agonies, and all sorts of impossible nonsense; and it so possessed his mind that the whole fabric of invention and fancy he read of was true, that to him no history in the world had more reality in it. He used to say the Cid Ruy Diaz was a very good knight, but that he was not to be compared with the Knight of the Burning Sword who with one back-stroke cut in half two fierce and monstrous giants. He thought more of Bernardo del Carpio because at Roncesvalles he slew Roland in spite of enchantments, availing himself of the artifice of Hercules when he strangled Antaeus the son of Terra in his arms. He approved highly of the giant Morgante, because, although of the giant breed which is always arrogant and ill-conditioned, he alone was affable and well-bred. But above all he admired Reinaldos of Montalban, especially when he saw him sallying forth from his castle and robbing everyone he met, and when beyond the seas he stole that image of Mahomet which, as his history says, was entirely of gold. To have a bout of kicking at that traitor of a Ganelon he would have given his housekeeper, and his niece into the bargain. In short, his wits being quite gone, he hit upon the strangest notion that ever madman in this world hit upon, and that was that he fancied it was right and requisite, as well for the support of his own honour as for the service of his country, that he should make a knight-errant of himself, roaming the world over in full armour and on horseback in quest of adventures, and putting in practice himself all that he had read of as being the usual practices of knights-errant; righting every kind of wrong, and exposing himself to peril and danger from which, in the issue, he was to reap eternal renown and fame. Already the poor man saw himself crowned by the might of his arm Emperor of Trebizond at least; and so, led away by the intense enjoyment he found in these pleasant fancies, he set himself forthwith to put his scheme into execution. The first thing he did was to clean up some armour that had belonged to his great-grandfather, and had been for ages lying forgotten in a corner eaten with rust and covered with mildew. He scoured and polished it as best he could, but he perceived one great defect in it, that it had no closed helmet, nothing but a simple morion. This deficiency, however, his ingenuity supplied, for he contrived a kind of half-helmet of pasteboard which, fitted on to the morion, looked like a whole one. It is true that, in order to see if it was strong and fit to stand a cut, he drew his sword and gave it a couple of slashes, the first of which undid in an instant what had taken him a week to do. The ease with which he had knocked it to pieces disconcerted him somewhat, and to guard against that danger he set to work again, fixing bars of iron on the inside until he was satisfied with its strength; and then, not caring to try any more experiments with it, he passed it and adopted it as a helmet of the most perfect construction. 

He next proceeded to inspect his hack, which, with more quartos than a real and more blemishes than the steed of Gonela, that "tantum pellis et ossa fuit," surpassed in his eyes the Bucephalus of Alexander or the Babieca of the Cid. Four days were spent in thinking what name to give him, because (as he said to himself) it was not right that a horse belonging to a knight so famous, and one with such merits of his own, should be without some distinctive name, and he strove to adapt it so as to indicate what he had been before belonging to a knight-errant, and what he then was; for it was only reasonable that, his master taking a new character, he should take a new name, and that it should be a distinguished and full-sounding one, befitting the new order and calling he was about to follow. 

And so, after having composed, struck out, rejected, added to, unmade, and remade a multitude of names out of his memory and fancy, he decided upon calling him Rocinante, a name, to his thinking, lofty, sonorous, and significant of his condition as a hack before he became what he now was, the first and foremost of all the hacks in the world. 

Having got a name for his horse so much to his taste, he was anxious to get one for himself, and he was eight days more pondering over this point, till at last he made up his mind to call himself "Don Quixote," whence, as has been already said, the authors of this veracious history have inferred that his name must have been beyond a doubt Quixada, and not Quesada as others would have it. Recollecting, however, that the valiant Amadis was not content to call himself curtly Amadis and nothing more, but added the name of his kingdom and country to make it famous, and called himself Amadis of Gaul, he, like a good knight, resolved to add on the name of his, and to style himself Don Quixote of La Mancha, whereby, he considered, he described accurately his origin and country, and did honour to it in taking his surname from it. 

So then, his armour being furbished, his morion turned into a helmet, his hack christened, and he himself confirmed, he came to the conclusion that nothing more was needed now but to look out for a lady to be in love with; for a knight-errant without love was like a tree without leaves or fruit, or a body without a soul. As he said to himself, "If, for my sins, or by my good fortune, I come across some giant hereabouts, a common occurrence with knights-errant, and overthrow him in one onslaught, or cleave him asunder to the waist, or, in short, vanquish and subdue him, will it not be well to have some one I may send him to as a present, that he may come in and fall on his knees before my sweet lady, and in a humble, submissive voice say, 'I am the giant Caraculiambro, lord of the island of Malindrania, vanquished in single combat by the never sufficiently extolled knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, who has commanded me to present myself before your Grace, that your Highness dispose of me at your pleasure'?" Oh, how our good gentleman enjoyed the delivery of this speech, especially when he had thought of some one to call his Lady! There was, so the story goes, in a village near his own a very good-looking farm-girl with whom he had been at one time in love, though, so far as is known, she never knew it nor gave a thought to the matter. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo, and upon her he thought fit to confer the title of Lady of his Thoughts; and after some search for a name which should not be out of harmony with her own, and should suggest and indicate that of a princess and great lady, he decided upon calling her Dulcinea del Toboso—she being of El Toboso—a name, to his mind, musical, uncommon, and significant, like all those he had already bestowed upon himself and the things belonging to him.

Thursday, 11 April 2019

Family of Origin Issues

Time’s Champion : 
Ah. What are you going to do with her? 

Oh, something will turn up. 
One of the girls has gone to ask her sister if Audrey can stay with her for a few days till I sort something out. 

Do you have any family yourself? 

Time’s Champion : 
— I don't know. 

Oh, I'm sorry. It's the war, isn't it? 
It must be terrible not knowing. 

Time’s Champion : 

Goodbye, Susan — Goodbye, My Dear....
“Goodbye, Susan — Goodbye, My Dear....”
(Ace sits down by The Rev. Mr. Wainwright, a man whose care-worn countenance betrays the deep inner turmoil going on within the creases of his troubled brow.

ACE : 
Funny church, this, isn't it? 

I was just remembering when I was a child. 

My Father was The Vicar here then. 

It seemed such a warm, friendly place in those days. 

ACE : 
Things always look different when you're a child. 

Now I stand in The Church every Sunday, I see all the faces looking up at me, waiting for me to give them something to believe in. 

ACE : 
Don't you believe in anything? 

I used to believe there was Good in The World, 

Hope for The Future. 

The Future's not so bad —

(catches his eye)

Have Faith in Me.

Okay, stop. I don't care how it's been for you. 
This ain't about us commiserating with each other. 
This is about you making things right.
This how you talk to your dad?
Orion :
I don't know cos he ain't been around. 

So don't come walking back in demanding respect, 
'cos that ain't where we are.
What do you need me to say, hmm? 

Because I want to say it.
Okay. You say,
‘Ryan,  I'm sorry. 

I've messed up. 
I haven't been good enough. 
I've let you down a lot. 

And I know that's made Life hard for you. 

And if it meant that over the years, you ever felt lonely or abandoned or didn't know Where to Turn or Who to Talk to or How to Be

Then I'm sorry. Cos... 

'Cos you mustn't ever think that you didn't deserve my love.’
You didn't ever think that..? 

Orion :
Yeah. Why wouldn't you? 

[Maidens Point]

ACE : 
I don't love her!
 She's My Mum — ! 
....and I don't love her! 

What's wrong with me? 
Why can't I stop hating her? 

Time’s Champion : 
You Loved The Baby —

But I didn't KNOW she was My Mum! 

Time’s Champion : 
Love+Hate — Frightening Feelings.

Especially when they're trapped struggling beneath The Surface. 

Don't Be Frightened of The Water. 

(Ace pulls off her snood and dives in, fully clothed)


Audrey. It's all right, darling. 

ACE [OC]: 
I'll Always Love You. 
I'll Always Love You. 
I'll Always Love You. 

It's all right, darling. 
It's all right, darling. 

ACE [OC] :
I'll Always Love You. 

[Maidens Point]

(Ace splashes ashore.

I'm Not Scared Now. 

(They walk back up the shingle to the warning sign, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder

Dangerous Undercurrents, Doctor? 

Time’s Champion : 
Not anymore — Niet!


"That's the sort of thing Grace would have said."

- The Elder

We’ve Passed on All We Know

A Thousand Generations Live on in You, Now —

But This is Your Fight.

All The Lonely People — 
Where Do They All Come From...?

"Again, as from our natural filiation many social relations crop up between us and the rest of the world, so our divine life and adoption establish manifold relations between the regenerate and adopted soul.

Adoption is the Work of Love. "What is adoption," says the Council of Frankfort, "if not a union of love?" 

It is, therefore, meet that it should be traced to, and terminate in, the intimate presence of the Spirit of Love. "

Okay. You say, 
‘Ryan,  I'm sorry. 

I've messed up. 
I haven't been good enough. 
I've let you down a lot. 

And I know that's made life hard for you. 
And if it meant that over the years, you ever felt lonely or abandoned or didn't know where to turn or who to talk to or how to be. 
Then I'm sorry. Cos... 

'Cos you mustn't ever think that you didn't deserve my love.’

(Everyone is asleep except Victoria, who has the gun. The Doctor yawns and Victoria turns the weapon on him. He raises his arms in surrender.

The Cosmic Hobo : 
I'm on your side, remember? 
Hey, why didn't you wake me? 
I should have been on watch half an hour ago. 

I thought you should rest. 

The Cosmic Hobo : 
Why me? 

No reason really. 

The Cosmic Hobo: 
....oh, I think I know. 
Is it because I'm -

Well, if you ARE 450 years old, 
you need a great deal of sleep. 

The Cosmic Hobo : 
Well that's very considerate of you, Victoria, 
but between you and me — 
I'm really quite lively actually, 
all things being considered. 

(The Doctor takes the gun.

The Cosmic Hobo
Are you happy with us, Victoria? 

Yes, I am. 
At least, I would be if My Father were here. 

The Cosmic Hobo
Yes, I know, I know. 

I wonder what he would have thought if he could see me now -

The Cosmic Hobo : 
You miss him very much, don't you? 

It's only when I close my eyes -

I can still see him standing there, before those horrible Dalek creatures came to the house. 

He was a very kind man — 
I shall never forget him. Never. 

The Cosmic Hobo : 
No, of course you won't.

But, you know - 
The memory of him won't always be a sad one. 

I think it will

You can't understand, being so ancient. 

The Cosmic Hobo : 

I mean ‘old.’

The Cosmic Hobo : 

You probably can't even remember your family. 

The Cosmic Hobo : 
Oh yes, I can when I want to. 

And that's the point, really -
I have to really WANT to, 
To bring them back in front of my eyes -

The rest of the time they sleep in my mind, and I forget. 
And so will you. 

Oh, yes you will. 

You'll find there's so much else to think about. 

So remember, our lives are different to anybody else's. 
That's the exciting thing. 

There's nobody in THE UNIVERSE can do what we're doing. 

Now, you must get some sleep 
and let this Poor Old Man stay awake.

Old Grandfather : 
The girl, Vicki, now. 
Did you, did you bring her? 


Old Grandfather : 

She’s waiting outside. 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh, I must get some fresh air. 
Yes, I want to have a talk with that child. 

Are you all right?

Old Grandfather : 
Yes, now don’t fuss especially, 
I’m quite all right, my boy. 
I’m quite all right. 

(The Doctor leaves

Ian, what about Vicki? 
I wish we could take her with us. 
Hmm? Well, we can’t leave her here, can we?


Old Grandfather : 
Thats about what happened, and that’s all. 

Then Bennett murdered my father. 
Then I’ve got nobody. 

Old Grandfather : 
My dear. 
My dear, why don’t you come with us, hmm? 

In that old box? 

Old Grandfather : 
We can travel anywhere and everywhere in that old box as you call it. 
Regardless of space and time. 

Then it is a time machine?

Old Grandfather : 
And if you like adventure, my dear, I can promise you an abundance of it. 
Apart from all that, well you’ll be amongst friends. 
Hmm? Well? 
Now, suppose I leave you here for a moment to think about it, hmm?



Old Grandfather : 

We were talking about Vicki and we were wondering whether —

Yes, do you think er, Vicki —

Old Grandfather : 
Yes, yes, yes, I can see that we’ve all reached the same decision. 
Now, I suggest we try and get the answer from the child, hmm? 
Vicki? Vicki, my dear, come in. 

But its huge! 
And, well, the outside is just, well...

Vicki, are you going to come with us? 

Oh I, I’d like to. 
Yes, if you’ll have me.

(Steven and the Doctor leave their hiding place and rush to the TARDIS as the soldiers begin hammering on de Coligny's door.

Open up! In the King's name! 
Open this door! 

(The TARDIS leaves Paris as the carnage and the slaughter begins.)


Surely there was something we could have done? 

Old Grandfather : 
No, nothing. Nothing. 
In any case, I cannot change the course of history, you know that. 

The massacre continued for several days in Paris 
and then spread itself to other parts of France. 

Oh, what a senseless waste. 
What a terrible page of the past. 

Did they all die? 

Old Grandfather : 
Yes, most of them. 
About ten thousand in Paris alone. 

The Admiral? 

Old Grandfather : 

Nicholas? You had to leave Anne Chaplet there to die. 

Old Grandfather : 
Anne Chaplet? 

The girl! The girl who was with me! 
If you'd brought her with us she needn't have died. 
But no, you had to leave her there to be slaughtered. 

Old Grandfather : 
Well, it is possible of course she didn't die, 
and I was right to leave her. 

Possible? Look, how possible? 

That girl was already hunted by the Catholic guards. 

If they killed ten thousand how did they spare her? 

You don't know, do you? You can't say for certain that you weren't responsible for that girl's death. 

Old Grandfather : 
I was not responsible. 

Oh, no - You just sent her back to her aunt's house where the guards were waiting to catch her. 

I tell you this much, Doctor, wherever this machine of yours lands next I'm getting off. 

If your researches have so little regard for human life then I want no part of it. 

Old Grandfather : 
We've landed. Your mind is made up? 

(The TARDIS doors open.


Old Grandfather : 
My dear Steven, history sometimes gives us a terrible shock, 
and that is because we don't quite fully understand. 

Why should we? 

After all, we're all too small to realise its final pattern. 

Therefore don't try and judge it from where you stand. 

I was right to do as I did. 

Yes, that I firmly believe. 

(Steven leaves the TARDIS without another word.)

Old Grandfather : 
Even after all this time he cannot understand. 

I dare not change the course of history. 

Well, at least I taught him to take some precautions. 

He did remember to look at the scanner before he opened the doors. 

Now they're all gone. All gone. 

None of them could understand. 

Not even my little Susan, or Vicki. 

And as for Barbara and Chatterton. Chesterton. 

They were all too impatient to get back to their own time. 

And now, Steven. 

Perhaps I should go home, back to my own planet. 

But I can't. 

I can't. 

(The TARDIS has landed on Wimbledon Common in 1966. A young girl is running for help. She spots the police box at the roadside and dashes inside.

Old Grandfather : 
Who are you? 

Where's the telephone? 

Old Grandfather : 
What did you say?

The telephone. 
I've got to ring up. 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh, pull yourself together, child. 
I think you've made a mistake. 

Who are you? 
Are you the police? 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh, good gracious. 
Of course not. 

Well, this is a police box. 
It says so outside. 

Old Grandfather : 
Yes, yes. I know. 
But, er, it isn't, if you know what I mean. 
Now run along and find another police box. 
In any case, child, what do you want to do with the police? 

There's been an accident. 
A little boy's been hurt and I've got to phone the police. 

Old Grandfather :
 Oh, well, I'm afraid I can't help you. 
No, you must run along and phone the police somewhere else. 
And the same time phone for an ambulance.

Wait a minute, if this isn't a police box, what is it? And who are you?

Old Grandfather : 
Well, my dear, I'm a Doctor of Science, 
and this machine is for travelling through time and relative dimensions in space. 
Now you - 

Come again? 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh, never mind, my dear, never mind. Run along.

There's something odd going on here. 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh please, child. 

Doctor, quick! 
You've got to take off. 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh, so you've come back, my boy! 

Yes, yes, I've come back. 
We can't go into that now. 
There are two policemen coming over the common towards the TARDIS. 

Old Grandfather : 
Policemen? Coming here? 
Good gracious me! 
They'll want to use the telephone or something like it. 

(The TARDIS doors close and they dematerialise.

Oh, that was close. 

Old Grandfather : 
Well, tell me, young man, what made you change your mind? 

How did you get in here? 

On me feet, same as you did. 

Look, do you realise what's happening? 
We've taken off! We could land anywhere! 

We really travelling? 
Where to? 

But we're travelling in time and space. 
We're not on Earth any more. 
We could land anywhere, in any age. 

Tell us another one.

Doctor, how could you? 

Old Grandfather : 
What else could I do, dear boy? 
You don't want a couple of policemen aboard the TARDIS do you? 
You know, you're the most inconsistent young man? 
Just now you were telling me off for not having that Chaplet girl aboard! 

Ah, that was different! 
This is no joyride you know. 
You may never get home again. 

I don't care. 

What about your parents?

I haven't got any. 
I live with me great aunt, and she won't care if she never sees me again. 

Old Grandfather : 
There now, you see? 
All this fuss about nothing. 

But don't you think she looks rather like my grandchild Susan?

You forget, I've never met your granddaughter. 

Old Grandfather : 
Oh, no, no, no, no, of course not, no. 
Yes, but she does you know. 
What is your name, child? 


Old Grandfather : 

It's Dorothea, really. 
Dorothea Chaplet. 

Yes, but you're not French, are you? 

Don't be daft. 
Me granddad was, though. 

Doctor, it's not possible is it? 
Chaplet? Anne's great, great -

Old Grandfather : 
Yes, yes, it is possible, my boy. 
Very possible. 
Welcome aboard the TARDIS, Miss Dorothea Chaplet. 


Old Grandfather : 
Oh, my dear! My dear!

Next Episode - The Steel Sky

Spiritual Adoption :
(Latin adoptare, to choose.)

Adoption is the gratuitous taking of a stranger as one's own child and heir. 

" According as the adopter is man or God, the adoption is styled human or divine, natural or supernatural

In the present instance there is question only of the divine — that adoption of man by God in virtue of which we become His sons and heirs. 

• Is this adoption only a figurative way of speaking? 

• Is there substantial authority to vouch for its reality? 

• What idea are we to form of its nature and constituents? 

A careful consideration of the presentation of Holy Scripture, of the teachings of Christian tradition, and of the theories set forth by theologians relative to our adopted sonship, will help to answer these questions.

The Old Testament, which St. Paul aptly compares to the state of childhood and bondage, contains no text that would point conclusively to our adoption. 

There were indeed saints in the days of the Old Law, and if there were saints there were also adopted children of God, for sanctity and adoption are inseparable effects of the same habitual grace. 

But as the Old Law did not possess the virtue of giving that grace, neither did it contain a clear intimation of supernatural adoption. 

Such sayings as those of Exodus (4:22), "Israel is my son, my firstborn", Osee (1:10), "Ye are the sons of the living God", and Romans (9:4), "Israelites to whom belongeth the adoption as of children", are not to be applied to any individual soul, for they were spoken of God's chosen people taken collectively.

It is in the New Testament, which marks the fullness of time and the advent of the Redeemer, that we must search for the revelation of this heaven-born privilege (cf. Galatians 4:1). 

"Son of God" is an expression of no infrequent use in the Synoptic Gospels, and as therein employed, the words apply both to Jesus and to ourselves. 

But whether, in the case of Jesus, this phrase points to Messiahship only, or would also include the idea of real divine filiation, is a matter of little consequence in our particular case. 

Surely in our case it cannot of itself afford us a sufficiently stable foundation on which to establish a valid claim to adopted sonship. 

As a matter of fact, when St. Matthew (5:9, 45) speaks of the "children of God", he means the peacemakers, and when he speaks of "children of your Father who is in Heaven", he means those who repay hatred with love, thereby implying throughout nothing more than a broad resemblance to, and moral union with God. 

The charter of our adoption is properly recorded by St. Paul (Romans 8; Ephesians 1; Galatians 4); St. John (Prologue and First Epistle 1:3); St. Peter (First Epistle 1); and St. James (Epistle 1). 

According to these several passages we are begotten, born of God. He is our Father, but in such wise that we may call ourselves, and truly are, His children, the members of His family, brothers of Jesus Christ with whom we partake of the Divine Nature and claim a share in the heavenly heritage. 

This divine filiation, together with the right of co-heritage, finds its source in God's own will and graceful condescension. 

When St. Paul, using a technical term borrowed from the Greeks, calls it adoption, we must interpret the word in a merely analogical sense. 

In general, the correct interpretation of the Scriptural concept of our adoption must follow the golden mean and locate itself midway between the Divine Sonship of Jesus on the one hand, and human adoption on the other — immeasurably below the former and above the latter. 

Human adoption may modify the social standing, but adds nothing to the intrinsic worth of an adopted child. 

Divine adoption, on the contrary, works inward, penetrating to the very core of our life, renovating enriching, transforming it into the likeness of Jesus, "the firstborn among many brethren". 

Of course it cannot be more than a likeness, an image of the Divine Original mirrored in our imperfect selves. 

There will ever be between our adoption and the filiation of Jesus the infinite distance which separates created grace from hypostatical union. 

And yet, that intimate and mysterious communion with Christ, and through Him with God, is the glory of our adopted sonship: "And the glory which thou hast given me, I have given to them — I in them and thou in me" (John 17:22, 23).

The oft-repeated emphasis which Holy Writ lays on our supernatural adoption won great popularity for that dogma in the early Church. 

Baptism, the laver of regeneration, became the occasion of a spontaneous expression of faith in our adopted sonship. 

The newly baptised were called infantes, irrespective of age. 

They assumed names which suggested the idea of adoption, such as Adeptus, Regeneratus, Renatus, Deigenitus, Theogonus, and the like. 

In the liturgical prayers for neophytes, some of which have survived even to our own day (e.g. the collect for Holy Saturday and the preface for Pentecost), the officiating prelate made it a sacred duty to remind them of this grace of adoption, and to call down from Heaven a like blessing on those who had not yet been so favoured. (See BAPTISM.) 

The Fathers dwell on this privilege which they are pleased to style deification. 

St. Irenæus (Adv. Haereses, iii, 17-19); St. Athanasius (Cont. Arianos, ii, 59); St. Cyril of Alexandria (Comment. on St. John, i, 13, 14); St. John Chrysostom (Homilies on St. Matthew, ii, 2); St. Augustine (Tracts 11 and 12 on St. John); St. Peter Chrysologus (Sermon 72 on the Lord's Prayer) — all seem willing to spend their eloquence on the sublimity of our adoption. 

For them it was an uncontradicted primal principle, an ever ready source of instruction for the faithful, as well as an argument against heretics such as the Arians, Macedonians, and Nestorians. 

The Son is truly God, else how could He deify us? 

The Holy Ghost is truly God, else how could His indwelling sanctify us? 

The Incarnation of the Logos is real, else how could our deification be real? 

Be the value of such arguments what it may, the fact of their having been used, and this to good effect, bears witness to the popularity and common acceptance of the dogma in those days.

Some writers, like Scheeben, go further still and look in the patristic writings for set theories regarding the constituent factor of our adoption. 

They claim that, while the Fathers of the East account for our supernatural sonship by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost, the Fathers of the West maintain that sanctifying grace is the real factor. Such a view is premature. 

True it is that St. Cyril lays special stress on the presence of the Holy Spirit in the soul of the just man, whereas St. Augustine is more partial towards grace. 

But it is equally true that neither speaks exclusively, much less pretends to lay down the causa formalis of adoption as we understand it today. 

In spite of all the catechetic and polemic uses to which the Fathers put this dogma, they left it in no clearer light than did their predecessors, the inspired writers of the distant past. The patristic sayings, like those of Holy Scripture, afford precious data for the framing of a theory, but that theory itself is the work of later ages.

What is the essential factor or formal cause of our supernatural adoption? 

This question was never seriously mooted previous to the scholastic period. 

The solutions it then received were to a great extent influenced by the then current theories on grace. 

Peter the Lombard, who identifies Grace and Charity with the Holy Ghost, was naturally brought to explain our adoption by the sole presence of the Spirit in the soul of the just, to the exclusion of any created and inherent God-given entity. 

The Nominalists and Scotus, though reluctantly admitting a created entity, nevertheless failed to see in it a valid factor of our divine adoption, and consequently had recourse to a divine positive enactment decreeing and receiving us as children of God and heirs of the Kingdom. 

Apart from these, a vast majority of the Schoolmen with Alexander Hales, Albert the Great, St. Bonaventure, and preeminently St. Thomas, pointed to habitual grace (an expression coined by Alexander) as the essential factor of our adopted sonship. 

For them the same inherent quality which gives new life and birth to the soul gives it also a new filiation. 

Says the Angel of the Schools (III:9:23, ad 3am), "The creature is assimilated to the Word of God in His Unity with the Father; and this is done by Grace and Charity. . . . Such a likeness perfects the idea of adoption, for to the like is due the same eternal heritage." (See GRACE.) 

This last view received the seal of the Council of Trent (sess. VI, c. vii, can. 11). 

The Council first identifies justification with adoption: "To become just and to be heir according to the hope of life everlasting" is one and the same thing. 

It then proceeds to give the real essence of justification. "Its sole formal cause is the justice of God, not that whereby He Himself is just, but that whereby He maketh us just." 

Furthermore, it repeatedly characterises the Grace of Justification and Adoption as "no mere extrinsic attribute or favour, but a gift inherent in our hearts." 

This teaching was still more forcibly emphasized in the Catechism of the Council of Trent (De Bapt., No. 50), and by the condemnation by Pius V of the forty-second proposition of Baius, the contradictory of which reads: "Justice is a Grace infused into the soul whereby Man is adopted into divine sonship." 

It would seem that the thoroughness with which the Council of Trent treated this doctrine should have precluded even the possibility of further discussion. 

Nevertheless the question came to the fore again with Leonard Leys (Lessius), 1623; Denis Pétau (Petavius), 1652; and Matthias Scheeben, 1888. 

According to their views, it could very well be that the unica causa formalis of the Council of Trent is not the complete cause of our adoption, and it is for this reason that they would make the indwelling of the Holy Ghost at least a partial constituent of divine sonship. 

Here we need waste no words in consideration of the singular idea of making the indwelling of the Holy Ghost an act proper to, and not merely an appropriation of, the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity. 

As to the main point at issue, if we carefully weigh the posthumous explanations given by Lessius; if we recall the fact that Petavius spoke of the matter under consideration rather en passant; and if we notice the care Scheeben takes to assert that grace is the essential factor of our adoption, the presence of the Holy Ghost being only an integral part and substantial complement of the same, there will be little room for alarm as to the orthodoxy of these distinguished writers. 

The innovation, however, was not happy. It did not blend with the obvious teaching of the Council of Trent. It ignored the terse interpretation given in the Catechism of the Council of Trent. It served only to complicate and obscure that simple and direct traditional theory, accounting for our regeneration and adoption by the selfsame factor. 

Still it had the advantage of throwing a stronger light upon the connotations of sanctifying grace, and of setting off in purer relief the relations of the sanctified and adopted soul with The Three Persons of the Blessed Trinity: with The Father, the Author and Giver of Grace; with the Incarnate Son, the meritorious Cause and Exemplar of our adoption; and especially with the Holy Ghost, the Bond of our union with God, and the infallible Pledge of our inheritance.

It also brought us back to the somewhat forgotten ethical lessons of our communion with the Triune God, and especially with the Holy Ghost, lessons so much insisted upon in ancient patristic literature and the inspired writings. 

"The Three Persons of the Blessed Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost", says St. Augustine (Tract 76; In Joan), "come to us as long as we go to Them, They come with Their help, if we go with submission. They come with light, if we go to learn; They come to replenish, if we go to be filled, that our vision of Them be not from without but from within, and that Their indwelling in us be not fleeting but eternal." 

And St. Paul (1 Corinthians 3:16, 17), "Know you not that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? But if any man violate the temple of God, him shall God destroy. For the temple of God is holy, which you are." 

From what has been said, it is manifest that our supernatural adoption is an immediate and necessary property of sanctifying grace. The primal concept of sanctifying grace is a new God-given and Godlike life superadded to our natural life. 

By that very life we are born to God even as the child to its parent, and thus we acquire a new filiation. 

This filiation is called adoption for two reasons: first, to distinguish it from the one natural filiation which belongs to Jesus; second, to emphasize the fact that we have it only through the free choice and merciful condescension of God. 

Again, as from our natural filiation many social relations crop up between us and the rest of the world, so our divine life and adoption establish manifold relations between the regenerate and adopted soul on the one hand, and the Triune God on the other. 

It was not without reason that Scripture and the Eastern Church singled out the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity as the special term of these higher relations. 

Adoption is the work of love. "What is adoption," says the Council of Frankfort, "if not a union of love?" 

It is, therefore, meet that it should be traced to, and terminate in, the intimate presence of the Spirit of Love.