Now, if you were human, you'd be just about ready to start offering up some false information about the location of the nuke. Some tiny thing that might get you a reward and maybe spare you a few minutes of this. But then I keep forgetting, you're not human. You're a machine.
I know that God loved you more than all other living creatures and you repaid His divine love with sin, with hate, corruption, evil. So then He decided to create the Cylons.
The gods had nothing to do with it. We created you. Us. It was a stupid, frakked-up decision, and we have paid for it. You slaughtered my entire civilization. That is sin. That is evil. And you are evil.
Don't interrupt me. You see, I'm gonna dazzle you with my poor human brain. You see, I think that you're afraid. You're afraid that we're a long way from home. What if you don't transfer all the way back? What if, when you die here, you really die? It's your chance to find out if you're really god or just a bunch of circuits with a bad haircut.
Somebody's programmed you with a fairy tale of God and streams and life ever after but, somewhere in that hard drive that you call a brain is a beeping message: "Error, error, does not compute. I don't have a soul, I have software. If I die, I'm gone."
What is the most basic article of faith? This is not all that we are. The difference between you and me is, I know what that means and you don't. I know that I'm more than this body, more than this consciousness. A part of me swims in the stream. But in truth, I'm standing on the shore. The current never takes me downstream.
I have a soul. I see patterns. I know you, you're damaged. You were born to a woman who believed that suffering was good for the soul, so you suffered. Your life is a testament to pain. Injuries. Accidents. Some inflicted upon others, others inflicted upon yourself. It surrounds you like a bubble. But it's not real, it's just... It's just something she put in your head. It's something that you want to believe because it means you're the problem, not the world that you live in. You want to believe it because it means that you're bad luck. You're like a cancer that needs to be removed. Because you hear her voice every day and you want her to be right.
You kneel before idols, and ask for guidance and you can't see that your destiny's already been written. Each of us plays a role. Each time a different role. Maybe last time I was the interrogator and you were the prisoner. The players change, the story remains the same. And this time, this time, your role is to deliver my soul unto God. Do it for me. It's your destiny. And mine.
