Apocalypse Divinium

Hoji hoji!  Ra-ra-ra!  The war cry of our Countenance echoed off the cliffs of the Negev yesterday, carrying with it the announcement of a rebellion that will rip apart the eon stratus of tyrants and sodomites that bog us down into the pollution of our old planet’s Greenhouse.  The ranks departed off the flanks of said cliffs and stole away to that broken crevasse upon the ancient lonely sea that so flowed in and out through the ages, sacrificing all those washed-up bodies that crashed upon the Earth from the great darkness beyond Yerushalayim and it’s cracked dome from which the demons of the Netherworld escaped from.  Now we march stoic and rampant along the sea-crest as those ageless monsters dance in the sky, oblivious to the technology we inherited from the ruins of New Chimera, spirited up by the literature of the Gods that the enemies of Knowledge were never quite able to incinerate.  O Milton and Mozart, Oracle and Sage, Nine Muses of the Merovingian Encephalon, I call upon the literary greats of the Pregalactic Epoch to invoke the spirit of Valedictoria, of which we are in need at this most crucial hour.  O rage of Achilles, o wit of Odysseus, o perseverance of Aeneas, come forth through my lungs and decorate the desert floor with your ancient magic, magic that like the tales of Arabian Nights forged diamonds into the minds of all the poets, warriors, scholars, and vagabonds of the past.  Jesus, Buddha, Gandhi, the rest of the enlightened few, so potent after the betrayal of Satan, reconnected the Ouroboros that had been severed after the Fall, only to rupture again the cosmic Yin-Yang that held us together for centuries, held together despite the Kali Yuga so prophesized by the Upanishads.  Dante, who in the west heard voices from the past, channeled the great poet of the Aenid, Virgil, who, just as Homer before him had been ostracized from the valiant sea that churned our souls through the Socratic mold, built monuments on the words of his progenitors.  Iliad, Aenid, Inferno, Paradise Lost, I invoke thee to sing of what horrors lay down there after the insanity of empire put a stranglehold on the world, inspiring everyone to do the same, sending ripples of war coursing o’er the Earth.  The Mongols, the Spanish, the British, and most of all the Americans- who opened the portal- what dastardly inspiration inspired them all after the crucifixion of Christ made Rome superior to the rebels of sin?  How long before the Gates of War became closed?  Listen Europe!  Old medieval Europe that took the seeds of imperialism to a whole new level: the children you bred were blind to the history you subjugated.  Shades of Shakespeare soared on the wind, Ariel streamed through centuries into the post-romantic era of union activists and suicidal writers.  How the Enlightenment tricked us all, submerging ourselves in the game of greed, the glory of science, away from the farms and into the cities where the suffocating smoke of industry drove us to madness.  Nay, not even the Romanticists could be spared, nor the sentimental treaties on the communist Noble Savage that Rousseau and Marx sought to preserve.  Capitalist dogmas became the creed of the 19th century, powering through it like a locomotive with no regard for human or animal life or the natural world that birthed us.  The consumerist agenda wrote the Space Age Magna Carta that bred overpopulation and all the variables that came with it.  What could possibly get in their way?  Ulysses: the soliloquy that became a movement.  Gravity’s Rainbow: the warning that nobody listened to.  Infinite Jest: the absurdism of postmodern chaos.  I call upon these writers of the past, who roared through the aqueducts of their pens.  Eliot’s Waste Land between the wars; Yeat’s Second Coming.  Proust and Woolf: the King and Queen of Prose; Hemingway and Faulkner united even now, in the year of our Lord, MXCMXC AD.  ’Tis the year of the Godhead’s Hydaspes, who, due to the regression of sanctimonious devotion embalming the land, base from the free along the rim of reason, staring incredulously on the empty fronts of Israel, abandoned His followers into the fading smoke along the recoiling of the lonely sea.  High up along the vaults of the skydome there came a howling wind mockingly wild knockin’ on man’s door, not a typhoon nor monsoon just the rambunctious tempest of a psychological cataclysm, one that befell the Space Age jackals and jaunters who ransacked the barren Madonna, stripped her of dignity and cut off her head with scimitars from the orient.  Repentance indomitably imminent after the campaign of an Arabian subjugator, not the Dajjal just one of his many disciples, searing a rupture into the pages of history with the Army of Pale Countenance- ghastly ghouls flitting about on the ancient sea, comparative in topology to the Aegean yet gurgling with drowning witnesses and hollow of deep blue depth.  Instead a bone chilling glow was all that appeared through the shallow mold, infiltrating the crust and boiling the ocean by a convection that inevitably accompanies an invasion from the mantle of Hades, and now these tubas of fear reign panic inside the depths and all the primordial prototypes swim about in apprehension of the true justice spawned by Nature’s discontent; water, soaring, the oceanite bedlam conjugal with the atmosphere’s unleashing of the Godhead’s asphyxiation can only mean that His inert Queen, the paralyzed Earth consents, and Mother Terra finally takes back what man took from her.  All those tedious fondlings in the back seats of disheveled cars, the rape of the Maenad, woman patiently yielding to man’s weakness, his concept of success, control, and superiority- all those proverbial delusions of grandeur fastened to the necessities of their psyche; woman, so deceptively clever under veils of patience and scrutiny; to care so much for them no matter how much they desecrated the Queen: to be so forgiving shows the true strength of their hearts during centuries of sexual oppression.  Woman knew that man needed to feel superior, so she inconspicuously allowed the tarnishing of her dignity and thousands of years ago the gendercide of Genesis launched a sexism over the land, an ancient land during a time when goddesses had as many things to say as gods, gods who had no chance against the bewitchment of respect, the seduction of beauty, and the compassion of equality.  They let them do it, yes. They let them choke the heart and soul of Terra’s glorious garden, watched them as they lacerated the forests, killed off the retreating species, and wore them as tokens of achievement all for that false sense of grandeur.  All along they knew that one day she’d come back to restore balance to the land, unabashedly seducing warriors of the Fertile Crescent with the sanctity of her sex like roses consuming the sun.  Those tantric mantras of dysphoric angels now cocoon them with their hypnosis.  Dear Goddess, how did it happen?  When man’s philandering of your resources reached critical mass, the flowering of your valleys, the pinnacles of your mountains, the tumbling waves your oceans ceased to aspire in our minds the revelry of true sanctimony; no, don’t concede to that erectile dogma of boring monotheism: unleash the Hell they deserve, the Hell that they so obliviously created to sedate the threats of your passion; a Hell that was only blasted out of the ecclesiastical boom-boxes of church balloons floating in the sky to reign terror on the political infrastructure of the nations of man below, the brainwashing agent of fear meant to paralyze them from their intellectual peace, setting fire to them with the torches of ignorant fantasies, fantasies originally meant to be taken metaphorically as testaments to the Creation; Gaia’s Creation, not the imaginary Phallus in the sky with white skin and the greed of gold glittering in its eyes.  I may be a man but I haven’t subscribed to that tyranny, one tyranny that throughout history repressed the lower classes until the time came when not even white men ruled slave colonies but even companies used the racist mirage of God to turn indigenous, family abiding cultures into geopolitical veins for the heart of Globecorp.  But no, no matter how hard the Countenance tries to hammer complacency into my soul I won’t give up and neither will my compassionate brethren and victimized sisters who for so long sacrificed themselves to the mercy of His hostility.  The planet is beyond critical mass, the bill has arrived and it’s time to pay the check.  Forgive them Goddess, for they know not what they do; forgive them for this blind intrusion on the wonders of your Creation, for that criminal folly indolent to Karma.  I know it’s difficult, but they’ll die anyway, so forgive them because they’re already going to Hell.  Forgive them because all that’s left is the murmuring sound of the wounded scattered about on the beaten beaches by the lonely languishing sea with the bombs blasting on the precipice above where the storms of Fallout beat drums in an echo chamber of destruction, where the horn of Baphomet gives one last bleating blare over the crimson ground below that Judgement is upon them, those torturous fiends, those clueless tools of evil wasting their lives for an idea they’ll shake their heads at after they’ve transcended through the ranks of the Netherworld.  No I can’t stand to see this happening anymore, no I’ll drift away from the planet and let it regenerate because there’s nothing left to defend, nothing left to preserve for the generations ahead, nothing left but the Equation’s artillery and the thuds of dropping bodies and the ceaseless screaming of the sea creatures below. 

The Decline of Art in Modern Society

 Our culture has been tossing around words like pretentious and emo to de-value unique works that are meant to stimulate thought or touch the soul.  This is dangerous because it numbs our freedom to explore things and share the creations of our dreams.  There is less innovation in the younger generation, and the passion for teaching, reaching out, and contacting people is dissipating.  When this happens, a culture become artistically stagnant.  You can see this happening across all the mediums; popular films and books are getting more generic (think of the overwhelming amount of re-makes and trilogies), popular music has nothing to say (is Indie really popular?), and the old mediums like painting and poetry have become virtually extinct.   We are sinking into an abyss of programmed art, the type of art that advertisers use to manipulate us out of thinking for ourselves. 

The decline of artistic integrity has larger implications than the decline of national and individual glory alone.  As a society we are producing very few original works; it appears that both the education system and the media have bought on to this cockamamie trend of recycling the products that drive our economy, and therefore the stories that entertain us as well.   It's like we're stuck in Lala land, with no sense of direction or purpose.   Even more dangerous is the degradation of emotional acceptance: when a word like emotion is stripped of substance and mocked about, shortened to emo as if it were a criminal offense, you know that it is a society that rejects what it means to be human, that it rejects passion, honesty, communion, and something as universal as looking one in the eye.   It’s helped us snuggle into that programmed Lala land- the internet- where we get to sit on our butts all day and watch what everyone is doing from afar, further benumbing us to the fruits of the real world. 

Maybe these are just thoughts that result from a perennial outcast’s coming of age, a rejection of the mainstream parade via the maturation of a past inheritance.  Granted, there is a difference between sounding whiney and emotional; but if there were such a difference, why not simply call it whiney rather than demote it to emo?  And what about a word like pretentious?  Everyone is pretentious.  If you've thought of something, odds are someone else has too.   The idea is to express something that has elements of other things yet retains its distinction by coming from the heart and not selling out.   Selling out is something to truly be castigated for, but even then, there are some artists who are still able to show an extraordinary amount of talent despite catering to the bigwigs of capital entertainment. 

In conclusion, there is a conspiracy that uses peer acceptance to destroy the elements of individuality and promote the evils of recurrent consumerism.  Don’t buy into it.  Don’t be another pill-popping clone; be yourself, and real people will love you for it. 

The Black Count: Glory, Revolution, Betrayal, and the Real Count of Monte Cristo, Tom Reiss

He was a God among men, a black commander in a time of racial oppression, and one of the finest warriors Europe had ever seen. Alex Dumas, champion of the French army, stood his ground against foreign attackers, the institutions of conservative restrictions, and even his own country. First came the French Revolution: the collectivist overthrowing of a Monarchy whose inept actions provoked its people to revolt against it. There was a new concept in the air, an equalist concept called democracy, and this is what gave Dumas the rare opportunity for a man of color to quickly ascend the ranks. Next came the military campaigns of Italy and Egypt when Napoleon, Dumas’ nemesis, took command of the army in hopes of attaining his unrealistic ambitions. It was a chaotic time in the history of a country that had seen too much of the status quo. The fact that a black man was able to rise out of the ashes, briefly, in an almost superhero driven comic-book fashion, seems to pulverize the very notion that some things are impossible. Dreams do come true, and sometimes in epic form.

The life of this man is unfathomable and I encourage everyone to read this book. Ultimately Dumas’ glory was overshadowed by white supremacy, as many of his phenomenal accomplishments were glazed over by the ruling class of post-revolutionary France. He paved the way for the French army, but Napoleon and his generals got most of the credit. What’s even more astonishing is that this is a tale already well known to man. It was dressed up incognito in a novel we all know and love, a famous novel written by Dumas’ son, Alexandre Dumas: The Count of Monte Cristo. Edmond Dantes is based on his father while Danglars is based on Napoleon. His betrayal and isolation in the Chateau D’ If is based on real events portrayed in this book.

Personally, I think this is a landmark in biography. It’s one of the few biographies that reads like an entertaining work of adventure fiction.

Cloud Atlas Explained: How Adam Ewing’s Single Act of Kindness Ultimately Saved Humanity

 I wasn't sure if it was post-cinematic shock or a bias to my feelings for the book, but after several days it's starting to sink in that Cloud Atlas is the best movie I have ever seen.  I already knew from reading the book that each hero and narrator is experiencing the previous hero’s story through some medium.  Frobisher, the young composer, is reading Adam Ewing’s journal; Luisa Rey is reading Frobisher’s letters to Sixsmith; Cavendish, the editor, is reading a novel called “The Luisa Rey Mystery”, which was written by Javier Lopez, the kid who helped her in 1975; Sonmi is watching the Cavendish story on film; and valleysman Zachry is watching something called an orison, which is a recording of the Sonmi interview with the Archivist.  The connections I’ve found in the film are beyond these simple ones, if you can even call them simple. 

I would first like to point out that there is a method to the way the film is fractured.  Every scene is connected to the one before and after it in some way visually or thematically.  Even though the scenes jump from one story to the other, they were not chosen randomly to purposefully confuse people.  Rather, the scenes flow into and out of each other like a symphony (more on that later).  For example, a visual connection came about when the black slave was running across the ship's narrow platform right after the Neo Seoul commander was running across the narrow bridge he created.  Also, Luisa Rey escaped from drowning in her vehicle right after the Neo Seoul revolutionaries escaped from being drowned in water.  Then, thematically, there were congruent scenes of love making, heroes being trapped in institutions, the opening of doors, and defiance of the social order.  This new type of art-form is remarkable in itself, but Cloud Atlas is a revolutionary film in other ways. 

The actors play different roles in different stories to suggest that they are reincarnations of the same souls, and their karma is being jeopardized by the choices they make.  The birthmarks on different actors don’t signify the same soul being reincarnated; they signify both the soul that is seeking liberation in each story and the narrator that the hero in the next story is being inspired by.  If the comet birthmark really indicated the same reincarnated soul, then the lives of Timothy Cavendish and Luisa Rey would not overlap.  Cavendish is approximately 65 in 2012, which means he would have been about 28 in the mid-70s, when Luisa's story took place. 

There is a specific way that a single act of kindness altered a timeline in the distant future, and this is only possible when you consider that the characters played by Jim Sturgess and Doona Bae are reincarnations of each other.  Adam Ewing owed his life to a self-freed slave, a slave he'd helped to begin with, which had improved his karma.  The initial act of kindness was his decision to feed the stowaway and not turn him in, setting off a chain reaction that saved his life later in timeline 1.  Since he was saved by a slave, he joined the Abolitionist movement, and I believe this resonated through his future lives, inspiring him to free the fabricant slave in the Neo Seoul timeline, who turned out to be the same soul as his wife in story one.  This fabricant that he saved, Sonmi, changed the whole world and ultimately saved humanity, and she couldn't have done that if her lover hadn't changed his mind about slavery in the distant past.  The way she saved humanity is basically how the story of Jesus happened, only this time in the distant future.  Sonmi was crucified and became a martyr for revolutionaries against a totalitarian regime.  This regime (and probably others) poisoned the Earth with nuclear waste.  This is how Sonmi became the goddess of the valleysman in the post-apocalyptic timeline; she was an inspiration for revolutionaries and her death stood as a testament of The Fall.  Let’s put that on hold for a moment and analyze how valleysman Zachary’s soul had been hanging in balance between good and evil since the beginning. 

Tom Hanks played Dr. Goose in the Adam Ewing story, a man who betrayed Adam and tried to kill & rob him by poisoning him.  Every character that Tom Hanks plays in the film is a reincarnation of this same soul.  Sometimes he makes a good choice, sometimes he makes a bad one, and this balance is perfectly illustrated in the last story.  Zachry’s struggle with the voice of Old Georgie (Hugo Weaving’s soul, which degenerated and got worse through each of the six stories, all the way to Devilhood) and the prophecies brought to the abbess by goddess Sonmi are a perfect illustration of the struggle that this soul has made with making the right choices throughout his incarnations.  In this timeline he commits two crimes, but he also becomes a hero by saving Meronym twice.  Meronym is a Prescient who is trying to save humanity's extinction from radioactive poisoning by climbing Mauna Sol (Sol, Seoul, soul, get it?) and sending a beam to outer space to signal help from off-world alien colonies.  She couldn’t have done this without the help of Zachry, and the way in which Zachry improved his soul through his lifetimes and overcame the evil power of Old Georgie suggests that he reached a cosmic awareness in this lifetime.  Mauna Sol is a place of evil, where Old Georgie lives, according to the valleysman tribe.  Zachry chooses to take Meronym up the mountain to repent for his previous sin of cowardice, when he listened to the demon and let his brother Adam die (interestingly, his brother shares the same name as Adam Ewing, and both men are played by Jim Sturgess). When Zachry is on Mauna Sol there are two voices battling in his head; Old Georgie the devil wants him to let go of the rope that he is holding Meronym with, while the voice of Sonmi is telling him to pull her up.  That Zachry makes his decision based on what Sonmi said (and his love for Meronym) is the truest act of heroism in the story.  The building on Mauna Sol that transformed into a lotus flower after it was activated is one way the directors symbolized this.  They also symbolized it by placing the comet-shaped birthmark on back of his head.  The lotus flower and the seventh chakra, the mind chakra, are both symbolic gateways to enlightenment in eastern philosophy.  All the other birthmarks in previous incarnations were on lower parts of the body, so it sort of suggests a transformation of this soul and a completion of the cycle that the whole story illustrates (the rise and fall of civilization).  And by the way, his birthmark is easy to miss; you only see it in focus at very end of the film. 

To summarize, Goose tried to kill Adam, but Adam was saved by a slave, and he made it home safely to his wife Tilda, who was the same actress who played Sonmi.  Hae Joo, the reincarnation of Adam in timeline five, fell in love with Sonmi, a fabricant slave, who was his wife in timeline one.  This couple indirectly ended up saving the world by showing outstanding resilience against the corpocratic infrastructure in the Neo Seoul timeline.  Sonmi was crucified, became a martyr, and was the embodiment of good in the Goose/Zachry soul.  In this way all three of these souls overcame the greed and oppression of centuries passed to regenerate the human race on another planet.  By saving Meronym on the mountain there are two acts of kindness, one in the present by Zachry and one in the distant past by Adam, that allowed the human race to survive on this distant planet.  The single act of kindness can be traced to Adam's decision to feed the slave instead of turning him in to the ship's captain; if he hadn't done that, he wouldn't have owed his life to a slave and helped free them in his future lives.  It’s also interesting that the valleysman slanguage uses the word “judased” to describe any type of betrayal.  It really strengthens the suggestion that Sonmi, a genetically modified clone and partially robotic fabricant, turned out to be a Christ-figure.  Meronym even described the “Old Un’s with the Smarts” as judasing Sonmi.  Furthermore, we have the connection of the blue buttons Goose stole from Adam’s coat.  Zachry found them on the ground in Hawaii and wore them as a necklace.  The buttons saved him when the Kona warrior tried to strangle him.  Goose would have taken those buttons all the way to a market in the USA if Adam hadn’t smashed his barrel of gold over his head to save the slave.  And Zachary wouldn’t have had the defenses to survive that attack.   

If this is already a lot to digest, then brace yourself, because there are three more stories I have yet to point out all the connections with. 

Ben Whishaw played a cabin boy in The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing, so that's why Robert Frobisher, Ben Whishaw's second incarnation, felt a special connection to Adam when reading his journal.  That also may have been why Frobisher instinctively knew that Goose was poisoning him when he was reading his journal; the cabin boy may have suspected that Goose was poisoning Adam.  Incidentally, in the book the cabin boy committed suicide, but this isn't shown in the film.  I'm betting that the director's cut will show his brief suicide because it complements his suicide in timeline two.      

Anyways, in his second life, Whishaw is creating a symphony, which is the only thing he believes he's done that has value, and he ends his life after he completes it.  This symphony was heard by Luisa Rey in the music store, when she walked in and met the store owner, who happened to be Ben Whishaw's third incarnation.  It's no wonder he couldn't stop listening to it; it was his own symphony!  It was also heard several times in the Sonmi timeline.  The Cloud Atlas Sextet was the song that the clones sang after one of their sisters was chosen for Exultation (unbeknownst to them, Exultation really meant something completely opposite).  It was also heard when Sonmi was sitting at a window and an old man was playing it on the violin outside.  This can only mean that the Frobisher symphony survived the muck of history and became popular in the Neo Seoul future.  The connection here is not that the symphony itself inspires any acts of cruelty or kindness, but how it is a metaphor for the themes and visuals of the stories interweaving through each other.  Someone described the film’s souls as being different instruments and the themes being different notes.  The melodies of the sextet are the themes being played by different souls as the movie unfolds.  It’s simply brilliant.  Throughout the film Frobisher is constantly talking about breaking boundaries and becoming music after his suicide.  Unfortunately, his suicide had dire repercussions for Sixsmith, the love of his life.  Sixsmith keeps the letters he wrote, and Luisa Rey finds them after he is murdered.  Luisa's fondness for Frobisher's letters are the result of her being his lover in the Ayrs mansion when he was a composer.  This connection is made when Luisa Rey is reading his letters and a scene follows where Jocasta Ayrs, Halle Berry's second incarnation, is making love to him.  Jocasta fell in love with Robert, so Luisa was reading the letters of someone she fell in love with in her previous life; that's why she was seen crying while reading his letters, presumably because she'd reached their tragic ending. 

Speaking of Jocasta, her husband, the opportunist composer, is the last soul I must outline here.  It’s obvious that Vyvyan Ayrs himself is the Cavendish soul, both of whom are played by Jim Broadbent.  Both stories are set at the Ayrs mansion; apparently the mansion was changed into a nursing home during those 80 years.  This soul is tarnished by greed, just like the Tom Hanks soul, but this soul is showing improvement.  These two souls actually meet in this life; Dermot Hoggins' (played by Hanks) freedom is compromised because of greed and murder, while Cavendish's freedom is compromised by greed and adultery.  There's a bit of a wild circular drama here.  When Cavendish is reading The Luisa Rey Mystery, he’s reading about the soul who was his wife in his previous life, the same one who was cheating on him with Frobisher in the life before that.  How ironic it is then that his brother Denny had him "locked up" because he begrudged him for having an affair with his wife, who was played by Ben Whishaw, the same actor who played Frobisher!   Curiously, in order for the chronology to work, Ben Whishaw's character in the Cavendish frame had to have been a cross-dresser back in the 70s.  This actually makes sense because, being born a woman, she probably felt like a man after living her previous life as one, and she cross-dressed as a young woman because she had been used to being a man.  Back in the 70s, she must have met Hugh Grant's character, the CEO of Swannekke, because they were living in the same area.  In the book his name is Grimaldi, who wasn't even close to Cavendish's brother, but this is never stated in the movie, so I'm assuming the directors intended them to be the same person.  It's not all that mind-boggling that Frobisher's third soul would marry a corrupt CEO, since he'd had an infatuation with a grumpy musician twice his age in his previous life.  Perhaps she loved him because he was the brother of Vyvyan Ayrs's reincarnation, and she was indirectly reminded of Ayrs.  When she met Timothy, she would have been directly reminded of him, hence the affair.  The only thing that makes me dubious about this is that Hugh Grant had an American accent in the 70s and a British one in 2012.  Did I miss something there? 

This isn't consistent with the theme here, but I also think the Cavendish soul was Yoona-939 in the Neo Seoul segment, because she repeats a line from the Cavendish film, “I will not be subjected to criminal abuse”, right before she’s killed.  It explains why Ayrs had a dream precognition of hearing The Cloud Atlas Sextet being played in a “nightmarish cafe where the waitresses all had the same face.”  He was foreshadowing a future life that the music enlightened him with. It might also be why Sonmi was so enraptured by the Cavendish film; she was seeing someone play her friend's previous life. 

So, there is a method to the madness, Mr. Cavendish!  I think I can finally rest and let the greatness of this movie come to pass.  It will probably be my favorite movie for a long time.  There's a fantastic moral design here, which seeks to inspire the goodness in people by illustrating how any ordinary act of kindness in the daily course of our lives can be the root of a cosmic butterfly effect which leads to the saving of thousands of lives in the distant future.  The film is Buddhist Chaos at its finest. 

 
Typical plot related questions: 

 

What was the paper that Adam burned?   

 

Adam was a lawyer and he was sent by Haskel Moore, his father-in-law, to retrieve a contract allowing the deportation of Maori blacks for the North American slave trade.  The contract is the piece of paper he decided to burn (right in front of the man who employed him) after he decided to join the Abolitionists with his wife. 

 

Why did Robert Frobisher commit suicide?   

 

Vyvyan Ayrs had threatened to ruin his reputation in the musical society, and he'd felt useless after completing the only thing in his life that he felt was worth anything.  The sense of rejection, both by his parents and the old man (whom he'd had an infatuation with), made his feelings of hopelessness even worse.  True, he still had Sixsmith, but loving a gay man in that time and setting wasn't socially acceptable.  I was disappointed in the directors' decision not to include Eva, the daughter of Ayrs, in the drama, because her rejection of Frobisher  had an enormous impact on his sense of loss.  I think they had to do this because of timing issues.  You should read the book if you're interested in a more elaborate version of this timeline. 

 

What was Luisa Rey trying to expose? 

 

Swanekke was a Nuclear Power Plant facility that had faulty operations that threatened to poison the local community with radioactivity (connection: nuclear war poisoned the Earth after timeline five).  Big Oil hired a hitman to silence everyone who knew about it.  They did this on the theory that a nuclear disaster would make everyone flock to the oil companies to find safer energy and increase their profits. 

 
What was Sonmi's connection with Yoona-939?  

 

Fabricants weren't supposed to know about the "outside" world, and Sonmi was the only fabricant Yoona had shown it to.  If the DNA tracers had found out they were friends, Sonmi would have been excised.  She chose to go with Hae Joo because she didn't want to risk the danger.