From: blakes7-d-request@lysator.liu.se Subject: blakes7-d Digest V99 #144 X-Loop: blakes7-d@lysator.liu.se X-Mailing-List: archive/volume99/144 Precedence: list MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/digest; boundary="----------------------------" To: blakes7-d@lysator.liu.se Reply-To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se ------------------------------ Content-Type: text/plain blakes7-d Digest Volume 99 : Issue 144 Today's Topics: Re: [B7L] Curious things in Star One (potential spoilers) Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon [B7L] Flat Robin 43 - The Saga Continues [B7L] Two Queries & Some Miscellaneous Comments Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon [B7L] Re: Avon & the housework Re: [B7L]Orac Re: [B7L] Scripts (was Man of Iron) Re: [B7L] Freedom of Speech (was Bullies) [B7L] Dead Blake? (was Servalan not killing Avon) Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon [B7L] Orac and Zen Re: [B7L]Orac Re: [B7L] Two Queries & Some Miscellaneous Comments [B7L] Off topic: Rallying Call ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 17:00:02 +0100 From: "Dangermouse" To: "Peter Borg" , Subject: Re: [B7L] Curious things in Star One (potential spoilers) Message-Id: <199904231601.RAA05066@gnasher.sol.co.uk> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit ---------- > From: Peter Borg > First, Servalan's tone of voice when referring to the > Star One's technicians' "selfless devotion to the > Federation" - she has as much contempt for them as > Avon seems to in his line "makes you proud to be > human". Surely she would expect this of people she > considers unimportant, and who's to say they > volunteered? I wonder if they did not volunteer, but > the record shows they did as a form of propaganda? It suggests she thinks were fools to give up their lives instead of advancing themselves. > > A final aside - does the control panel which is > repeatedly seen in the background in sector four on > star one look familiar to anyone else? It has a bank > of concentric semi-circles of switches/lights/buttons, > with the flat edge at the bottom of the panel. It > looks horribly familiar, but I can't think where else > I've seen it. It's the control panel from the Marshal's ship in the Dr Who story The Armageddon Factor ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 18:16:17 +0100 From: Julia Jones To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Cc: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon Message-ID: In message <19990423112255.30779.qmail@hotmail.com>, Stephen Date writes >If one were >really going to go to town, one could create a PGP scenario whereby >Servalan had told the truth at Terminal (which I think was the >intention in the script at the time) in which case who did Servalan >see cremated, and who did Avon shoot on Gauda Prime ? And the usual answer to those is "It was the clone". There's at least one running around, possibly two depending on how you interpret one scene in Weapon. Other possibilities, for who was cremated: someone surgically altered to look like Blake, either pre- or post-mortem, in order to give Blake a bit of breathing space - there's no one as free as a dead man - or earn someone bounty money; some poor sod who just happened to look like Blake; a member of Blake's family... The "surgically altered" seems to be quite a popular one for getting out of that being really Blake on GP. -- Julia Jones "Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!" The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 13:15:05 -0600 From: Penny Dreadful To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon Message-Id: <3.0.6.32.19990423131505.007bbeb0@mail.geocities.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Stephen Date wrote: >Servalan is an amoral sociopath whose only redeeming feature is her >fashion sense. Which remains a fine soundbite regardless of its veracity. There is no mention of "sociopathy" in my one and only Psychology reference book -- but the way they bandy the term about in popular media I find highly suspect. According to their criteria, one can define pretty much everyone one doesn't get along with as a sociopath. I stand by my original diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder as Servalan's basic defect. It explains numerous apparent inconsistencies in her behaviour. And her fashion sense as well. --Doctor P. Dreadful ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 13:18:32 -0600 From: Penny Dreadful To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Flat Robin 43 - The Saga Continues Message-Id: <3.0.6.32.19990423131832.007cc220@mail.geocities.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Thanks to Arkaroo for the phrase "Quakers on Quaaludes". ------------ *** "You know...too...*much*?" Servalan squinted sidelong at Colonel Persnickety as they walked side by side in darkness down the winding alleyway. "No offense, Persnickety, but you're an *actor*. Isn't there a bit of an oxymoron at work here?" "I'll thank you to leave my mother out of it," Persnickety said. Servalan bit her lip. "I was just wondering, Colonel, whether you could perhaps be a little more specific. What too much is it *exactly* that you know?" Persnickety stopped short and spun on Servalan. "Listen, Missy, my life is in imminent danger, and so's yours by proxy as long as you keep following me. So what's the deal? What's going on? What do you think I owe you?" Servalan smiled. "Was I following you? I thought we just happened to be going in the same direction." "All twenty-six of us?" Persnickety arched an eyebrow. The actor's fruit-laden acolytes glanced at one another, and then nodded in unanimous agreement. Being already demonstrably more susceptible than your average Ankh-Morporkian to the fading hormonal charisma of Colonel Persnickety, they were utterly powerless to resist the hypnotic charms of Supreme Commander Servalan. If the two of them were to walk arm-in-arm off a bridge, the other twenty-four would just happen to go in the same direction. Which was exactly the way Servalan wanted it. And in fact she *was* following him, no matter what she said. Because the idea had begun to crystallize in her consciousness -- at the exact same time it had in Jenna's -- that the only constructive way to approach a problem in this place was with one's eyes studiously averted, whistling nonchalantly. To focus entirely on the Ends, and just accept the Means in passing. She nodded as though dotting the end of an unspoken sentence, and proceeded up the street. "Apparently so. What a fantastic coincidence. Where did you say we were going, again, Persnickety?" The Colonel coughed and muttered something unintelligible through his hand. "I beg your pardon?" "I said, 'Mrs. Parrot's Hostel For Young Single Women On A Budget Who Are Not Seamstresses'," Persnickety snarled. "But you're--" "On a budget, I can tell you that, until our troupe starts filling more seats and less noses." "Yes, but you're not--" "I fulfil two of the five criteria, and Mrs. Parrot says that's as good as she's like to get." Presently he stopped walking and ushered them all through a low doorway and up a narrow staircase which struck the narrator as looking awfully familiar.[1] Servalan made a quick tally on the fingers of her mind's left hand. "So you're married, are you?" she asked Colonel Persnickety. The Colonel didn't answer. They climbed the stairs silent and single file up to the third floor, where at Persnickety's word they turned down a very narrow passage. Suddenly Servalan's metaphorical hackles raised. She could sense the combined charisma field wavering -- as Persnickety's had done back at the theatre when she had pointed out his empirical nudity -- and felt something approaching panic at the thought that she might lose *this* mob as well. It was as though they were in the presence of some sort of glamour vacuum...a black hole of a personality, which not only possessed no charm of its own but actually sucked the charm out of its surroundings. Servalan sighed. "Come out of the closet, Travis," she called. There was no response. She gave him several seconds before elbowing her way through the throng and yanking open the door to the broom cupboard, thereby treating the Colonel and his crowd to the spectacle of what appeared to be the ugliest young single alleged non-seamstress they'd seen in some time, bent double in a nightgown several sizes too small and of an indescribably violent shade of pink, muttering imprecations only somewhat less colourful while trying to force bare hairy wet feet into tight leather boots. One of Persnickety's more delicate followers fainted dead away. Servalan glanced down at the fallen form. "I wish I could say *I* was that surprised, Travis," she said. "Now I'll thank you to make yourself scarce while I conduct some business with Colonel Persnickety here." Travis straightened up, stomping his heels down into his boots, and stuck out his chin. "What if I don't want to?" he said. "You gonna let *them* have a go at me?" He took a step toward the Persnickety Cultists, who did not, it must be said, present the sort of fearsome demeanour that the Mended Drum Mercenaries had had. To be brutally honest, they lacked the intimidating presence of a busload of Quakers on Quaaludes. Servalan's resolve to go with the narrative flow wavered momentarily, and she took a step back, which caused her to stumble over the unconscious cultist behind her. Fortunately the Colonel caught her before she hit the floor. "Why...thank you." She blinked and smiled up at him.[2] "Apropos of nothing at all, Travis, did I mention we ran into your little friends at the theatre? You know, the biomechanically reupholstered killing machines that *you* let *go*? They were trying to silence the Colonel here." "Because he knows too much," said one of the acolytes. The rest nodded soberly. Travis' brow furrowed. "Too much what?" "Too much about the Andromedans," said Colonel Persnickety. *** Be careful what you ask for. Especially if you're asking a seven-foot skeleton with a very sharp scythe. Vila looked at the lifetimer Death had obligingly handed him and swallowed hard. It appeared to be an absolutely splendid example of the traditional design. Simple and accurate. *Vila Restal*, the label read, perfectly legibly. "Would I be correct in ashuming each of these grains here represents approximately...a week?" he asked with anxious optimism. FROM A COSMOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE, YES, Death answered diplomatically. And truthfully -- in the grand scheme of things, after all, a week and an hour are equally infinitesimal. The anthropomorphic personification of entropy surveyed the sands around their feet uneasily. DRINK UP. WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER? HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE BY NOW. Vila waved his hand dismissively, and bit the cork out of a bottle of Anque Plonque Rose. "Us Reshtals are a notoriously lackadaisical lot when it comes to punctuality. Family tradition dictates that we hone our legendary blurgling skills during our formative years through the necessity of routinely getting into locked dormitories after hours." He waggled his eyebrows. "Occasionally even our own." *** "Andromedans?" Travis looked blank. Servalan cleared her throat nervously. "Yes," said Colonel Persnickety as he led the procession down the corridor, "Andromedans." The crowd stopped in front of the door of his suite, their combined weight sagging the corridor floor alarmingly, while Persnickety patted his pockets for a key. "I suppose I might as well tell you -- ah, there we are -- since they're bound to get me sooner or later, and gods know it hasn't been easy living with this secret for so long. You see, it all began--" "You know, Colonel," Servalan interrupted, stepping aside to let the actor enter his suite, "*who* is trying to kill you and *why* are completely *irrelevant* details, the more I think about it. The only *important* thing is that they *are* trying to kill you, and *we* must try and do whatever we can to prevent that happening -- right, gang?" She looked imploringly at the cultists. Sudden enlightenment came over Travis' features, followed by a broad humourless smile. "No, no," he said with slow singsong delight, fixing his eye on Servalan as he pushed past her and followed Persnickety through the door. "*I* think we want to hear *all* about the Andromedans." Servalan delivered a vicious kick to Travis' ankle as he passed. "Very considerate of Blake to leave me my boots," was his only acknowledgement. "Proceed with your story, 'Colonel'." "Right," said Persnickety, adjusting the flame on the oil lamp burning on a rickety table in the middle of the tiny room. "Well you see, it all began early this morning." He moved away from the lamp as the rest of the crowd ducked under the low lintel and entered one by one, and walked back toward the tiny potbellied stove that squatted in the far corner, upon which he set an oversized kettle to boil. "While all *good* wizards and harlots and actors lay snug in their beds[3], I stood alone at the edge of the Ankh-Morpork Bog, waiting to make my assignation." Persnickety straightened up and stared into the unfathomable distance.[4] His acolytes sighed romantically as one. "And what assignation would that be?" asked Travis impatiently, apparently alone unmoved by the Colonel's delivery. "I had come to this ungodsly place, at that ungodsly hour, to meet with Harold 'Hairy' Nipples, proprietor of the 'Pullet and Whippet'...and, in his free time, the very finest wigmaker in all Ankh-Morpork. But alas, fate had plans in store for me which did not relate even tangentially to natural-looking hair-enhancement systems..." Persnickety's acolytes stared enraptured as he started to soliloquize in earnest. The steam from the kettle and the regular breathing of twenty-seven souls in a room designed for a maximum non-vermin occupancy of four had by now fogged the window -- painted shut at least a dozen coats ago -- so thickly that rivulets ran down it to form puddles on the windowsill. Servalan fanned her face with the corner of her collar, and Travis was secretly glad that he was suitably dressed for the weather. "...for before I could attain the sheltering sanctuary of the 'Pullet and Whippet', I was *felled* by a *mighty blast of hot air*, which struck the wig from off my head, ne'er to be seen again. This did not distress me overly, inasmuch as I was intending to replace it that very morning in any case. But *then* it began to rain green slime and hats." Servalan wiped a hole in the window-fog with the palm of her hand and peered out into the darkness. "Is that a pregnant mare?" she asked nonchalantly. "It appears to be headed straight for us." *** And the Luggage plunged on through pandimensional infinity, guided by its master's voice. Yet torn. True, the one signal was coming from an impossible place, which was a strong argument for its being Rincewind. But the other was coming from a gutter, which presented an equally valid case. And then, the Luggage had something very like a thought, which can most closely be approximated pictorially: Somewhere, the lid of a trunk lies in a gutter, wearing a pointy red hat. Somewhere else, the rest of the trunk (wearing a ragged red robe) sits forlorn, its hinges all askew. Eureka, said the Luggage. metaphorically, of course. *** "Green slime and hats, you say," Travis prompted Persnickety. "Very interesting. And then?" Servalan gnashed her teeth and tried to grind her heel into his foot, but succeeded only in injuring one of the acolytes, who hopped about in pantomime agony (not wanting to cry out and thereby risk missing a word of the Colonel's story). Oh well, it was better than nothing. "So sorry," she smiled. "Slime, yes, as green as any slime I've ever seen, and a remarkable variety of hats, did pelt down heavily upon the heads of myself and the sundry shepherds and lunatics gathered by the banks of the Ankh-Morpork Bog on that misty morn. This misty morn, I mean. My best leather breeches and custom-made waistcoat were rapidly ruined, eaten quickly clean through by the stuff!" His acolytes gasped in dismay. "But the greatest horror was yet to come. For as I lay stunned, bruised, battered, wigless and half-naked[5] in that stinking adhesive corrosive sea of slippery slime--" Servalan rolled her eyes. "And hats...look, the man is obviously drunk--" The Colonel's cultists scowled at her. "--or rather, he has suffered a tremendous shock -- maybe he ought to *sit down* --" She lunged at Persnickety, trying to push him off his pins, but the sheer density of humanity in the room held him upright. He knitted his brows and adjusted his cravat. "Listen, harlot, let the Colonel tell his story!" one of the cultists snapped. Servalan threw up her hands in frustration. "Very well, let's get on with it then," she snapped. Clearly Travis' anticharisma had succeeded in nullifying her power over these people.[6] "Right, where was I--" "Bruised," one of the cultists prompted. "Half-naked," said another. "S-s-slippery," a third voice hyperventilated helpfully. "Yes. As I lay, ah, taking stock of my situation, I suddenly heard unearthly voices speak!" "Gods!" gasped the acolytes. "Gods, shmods!"[7] Persnickety waved his hand dismissively. "No, *this* was something *strange*: the very slime itself began to speak!" Servalan's eyes involuntarily shifted to Travis, but somehow she managed to keep her mouth tight shut. "It spoke in a multitude of voices, saying, Woe is to us--" "You speak Andromedan?" Travis asked dubiously. "Doesn't everyone? As I was saying: the voices cried out, Woe is unto us, for we are late, we are late, for a very important appointment on Star One! For verily we were to meet up there with the one named Supreme Commander Servalan, and thereafter offer unto her our Ultimate Weapon, in exchange for the metaphorical Key to the Galaxy, by which of course we mean the off switch on that pesky perimeter defense thing." Servalan began to vigorously massage her temples. Travis looked about as delighted as his atrophied cheer-muscles would allow him to. "But now, alas (spake the slime) our ship has crashed, and our Ultimate Weapon is sunk deep in the bog (or possibly floating via an underground tributary up toward the mighty muddy Ankh). Indeed, it seems likely that we shall not be there at the appointed hour, with the promised goods, unless we can scrounge up some wizards on the double! And then won't the one they call Supreme Commander Servalan be cross. And the slime said, how shall we know her? And the slime answered itself, saying, it is said that we shall know her by her singular fashion sense, for lo, her tight gowns and high collars are the stuff of legend." Behind Persnickety, the kettle began to whistle. He cleared his throat. "So obviously now I know too much, ergo they want me dead before I can give their game away. But now if they want their secret kept they'll have to kill all of you as well. Who wants tea?" There was a lengthy, uncomfortable silence, as several dozen charisma-addled senses of self-preservation kicked reluctantly into gear, and several dozen trapped eyes flicked from the door to the window to Persnickety... "I do," said Servalan. "Me too, please," said a voice, and then another, and the spell seemed to be broken. Or reinstantiated. "And what about the young man in the tarty nightie?" "He left, Colonel, right about the time you were talking about high collars," said a voice near the door. "All right, then, that's twenty-two cups of tea -- eight black, seven sugar no cream, six sugar *and* cream, and one -- ugh!" "Oh come on, cream no sugar, is it really *that* unusual?" Servalan asked irritably. "If that's the most distasteful thing you've ever been asked to put in someone's tea you should consider yourself a very lucky...ah, I *see*," she said as Persnickety slumped forward, a full fall prevented by the crush of the crowd. There was a knife in his back, naturally. *** WHUPS, said Death. GOTTA SPLIT. BACK IN A JIFFY. "What should I tell my brother if he shows up?" HERE'S THE BOTTLES, THERE'S THE SAND, AND HE'LL HAVE A FUNNEL IF HE KNOWS WHAT'S GOOD FOR HIM, Death answered, and began to fade away. Vila scratched his head and took a swig. "You know, that sounds really menacing, but when I think about it I have no idea why." BECAUSE IT'S BEING SAID BY A SKELETON WITH A SICKLE, Death said, briefly resolidifying. "I suppose," said Vila, and Death began to disappear again. And then, from out of the darkness between dimensions (that neglected corner of every room where the dust bunnies gather and terrorise one other with tales of dust myxomatosis) leapt the Luggage, and swallowed the both of them up, with a satisfied snap. ------ [1] Solipsos smacked the narrator upside the head with his dog-eared sheaf of parchment. "That's my job!" he growled. [2] "That *bastard*!" howled Merisu, spitting popcorn right off the edge of Cori Celesti. "What's he got that I haven't, huh?" "The attention of the current narrator, I guess," Solipsos said. [3] Or each others', as the case may be. Wherever they were, the point is that they were all asleep. [4] Proof of his remarkable talent, given that the wall was only six feet away. [5] At this point in the narrative, coincidentally, the puddles of condensation on the windowsill began to overflow and drip down onto the floor below in a steady pitterpat. [6] In answer to your question, no -- it never even *flitted* across her mind that her behaviour had something to do with the change. One does not become Supreme *anything* by entertaining such notions. [7] Solipsos snarled at this and set his smiting-stick on liquefy, but Syggar smacked his hand aside.[8] "I wanna hear what happens next," he said. "I *like* this guy." [8] So that the death-bolt intended for Persnickety instead struck a fruit cart traversing a mountain pass somewhere in northern Maul. Oh, don't act so surprised. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 21:36:08 EDT From: Sestina2@aol.com To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se, space-city@world.std.com Subject: [B7L] Two Queries & Some Miscellaneous Comments Message-ID: <2550743e.24527a08@aol.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Hi guys, Two questions re recent list activity: (Sorry, I can't remember which list these topics were originally posted on.) 1. I think Roger mentioned an essay on Orbit v. Shakespeare in Cult Times (?): Would anyone be so kind as to either summarize the argument or transcribe the article for us Yanks who can't get that periodical too readily? I'd love to read the analysis. 2. Julia mentioned hearing Gareth on the subject of Blakeless Blake's Seven. What are Gareth's views on his character's absence? What did he say and what did one think of his comments? Anyone willing to share this knowledge? Two Miscellaneous Comments (trying to catch up on my list reading): 3. A comment on the recent discussion about whether Avon's first name is pronounced "care" or "cur". Hey, guys, if those two choices don't point to the complex dualism of Avon's character, I don't know what does! Indeed, one could reduce the central dramatic tension of B7 done to this one question about Avon's feelings for other people: "Does the cur really care?" Of course, the answer is yes -- he cares enough to shoot them, doesn't he? 4. And while I'm posting madly here: Look, I don't really care what PD looks like now, how old the man is, or even how abysmal his B7 writings are. I know one thing for certain: After hearing that more mature whiskey and cigarettes enhanced lower register of his voice twenty years on in "The Logic of Empire," I still find the man charismatic and downright sexy. Forget elaborate scenarios of what one would do with Avon in real life -- I just want to hear the man talk for hours on end. Hearing the subtle tones of his seductive timbre is the stuff that dreams are made of . . . Thanks guys, Ses "All knowledge is valuable." -- Kerr Avon ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 23:14:44 EDT From: VulcanXYZ@aol.com To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon Message-ID: <59871aa6.24529124@aol.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Stephen wrote: << "A few, a very few of the Liberator's systems were of minor interest..." With Orac you could build a fleet of Liberator's. >> Hmmm. I'm not sure about this. It was my impression that the Liberator had a lot of features not found on human-made ships, such as the auto-repair circuits. ORAC is an incredible machine/person, but that doesn't automatically mean he would understand how to build the Liberator. After all, both the ship and Zen were created by aliens. So the science behind the building of the Liberator would not be in any computer that ORAC could read. (I'm assuming that ORAC could not read Zen. Is this right?) Just wondering. Gail ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 13 Mar 1998 13:41:46 -0700 From: "Ellynne G." To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Re: Avon & the housework Message-ID: <19980313.145512.10062.0.Rilliara@juno.com> On Mon, 19 Apr 1999 01:07:10 PDT "Sally Manton" writes: >Alisaon writes: > >rubbish (take equal turns with the cleaning and cooking etc.) because >he is fastidious, competent, and used to looking after himself.> > >And he did his share of the boring stuff around the Liberator. I >think he'd have a good claim for nearly as much teleport duty as >the women (of course, most of his was earlier in the piece.) > But is that fastidiousness? As he once said, "I'm not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going." Perhaps, given the tendency of some people to get their bracelets stolen or otherwise endanger the lives of all those aboard the Liberator, he began to rethink whether that was the best way to protect his life expectency. Ellynne ___________________________________________________________________ You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com/getjuno.html or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866] ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 13 Mar 1998 14:32:58 -0700 From: "Ellynne G." To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L]Orac Message-ID: <19980313.145512.10062.2.Rilliara@juno.com> On 21 Apr 1999 17:55:23 +0200 Calle Dybedahl writes: >"Julie Horner" writes: > >> And another thing I wonder is, what sort of technology did the >> computers on Star One use? Because if they used Tarriel cells, how >> come Orac couldn't pick up the traffic from Star One and trace it's >> source > >Why would being able to contact a machine necessarily mean that one >can also locate that machine? I can contact the machine that recieves >your mail, but I can only guess about where it's physically located. But there are still ways to trace where it's coming from. And Orac could often tell where the computers it was in contact with were, although there might have been other ways of getting that information. Also, Oroc's ability to _instantaneously_ communicate with other computers seems to have been unique (or else everyone would have been using quicker communication), but Star One didn't seem to have much lag time, so maybe not. As to why no one had a major, ethical objection when they went after Central Control on Earth, it may be the Federation hadn't advertised exactly how dependent it was on it's system. It may have been generally believed it gave them _control_ over systems existing on other worlds and not that it was, in fact, the only system. This could have been a deliberate ploy to 1) draw out rebel groups by giving them a target (which it did), 2) and keep them from realizing they could skip over this step by simply building their own systems (only good on a planetary level and not for galaxy wide rebellions like Blake's. Also only good for replacing things like traffic control, where they only needed to get pilots to switch to another frequency or pay attention to their scanners, and not so good for weather control). The Way Too Talkative Ellynne ___________________________________________________________________ You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com/getjuno.html or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866] ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 13 Mar 1998 14:16:50 -0700 From: "Ellynne G." To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Scripts (was Man of Iron) Message-ID: <19980313.145512.10062.1.Rilliara@juno.com> On Wed, 21 Apr 1999 01:11:39 +0100 "Neil Faulkner" writes: > >Stephen, replying to Tor, wrote: >>Well I liked Sarcophagus ! > >Me too. Definitely in my Top Five. Mine too. In an almost completely unrelated tangent, someone recently pointed out that Sarcophagus was a little unusual for a Lee title, that they usually have a little more of a twist or double meaning, so I looked up the root of sarcophagus. Don't ask me where the Greeks were coming from when they made this the term for "large coffin," but it means flesh-eating. I guess that could refer to the alien and her interest in Cally. OTOH, it turns out sarcasm is a related word (Greek for "to bite the lips in rage," according to the dictionary [and I ask myself, what kind of culture needed to invent specific words for this kind of thing?]), so maybe she was thinking of the sarcastic, snarly one or just the show in general. > >< I think Power would have been a good story >>if it had been about a conflict between the local Barbarians and the >>local high-technological faction, with our heroes caught in the >>middle instead of the usual Ben Steed "Women, know your limits" >>wittering. I know. I once put together a story outline on the theory of everything in Power making sense (the story itself never got written). The main idea was to presuppose nearly everyone is lying. For example, I had Nina being part of the ruling triumvirate and only pretending to be a slave so (as the person with the most experience with Seska and Dorian) she could determine whether he was an enemy without his paying attention to her. She didn't like what she saw and signalled Gunn-Sar, who quickly tricked Avon into actions he could claim were a challenge. Ergo, Gunn-Sar came from cultural background where it was a given any man would automatically try to stop another man from striking a woman, regardless of whether or not the woman was a slave and the man striking her was a ruling chief with immediate control over the other man's life or death. . . . In short, just assume every assumption you're likely to draw from watching Power is wrong, and it really isn't such a bad episode. But, since most people seem to bite their lips with rage over this episode, I suppose the need for sarcasm must be self-evident. Ellynne ___________________________________________________________________ You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com/getjuno.html or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866] ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 22:47:33 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Subject: Re: [B7L] Freedom of Speech (was Bullies) Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII On Fri 23 Apr, Sally Manton wrote: > JUDITH : sound dismissive o n the surface were obviously not intended that way. > There's one episode where Avon ca lls up and says something like 'Vila, are > you asleep?' Vila jerks hiself awake and says 'no'. Avon replies 'That's > what I thought'. There is affection ate humour in his voice as he says it.> > > Oh yes, I like that bit. How about the following - what would you call them? > > Orac - Avon orders Vila to go down to Aristo with him; when Vila protests that > he can barely stay on his feet, Avon snarls 'then crawl!' (PS - why on earth > *does* he pick Vila to take with him?) I think Avon tended to take Vila because he knew that he could dominate Vila. Vila would complain, but he'd do what Avon said. (Hostage is similar in this aspect) I don't count this one as bullying as Avon was suffering from the same radiation sickness as Vila, thus he wasn't asking Vila to do anything that he wasn't wiling to do himself. > > Gambit - Vila's (literally) in the hot seat, Avon orders him to play speed > chess when backing out will lose them their 5 million credits. This one is different and one that I find very hard to forgive Avon for. He was risking Vila's life and he knew it. Vila was also under the influence of the drug and really unable to resist suggestion. > > I think these two shade fairly close to browbeating, but differ from Tarrant's > in that he doesn't use threats, just sheer force of - er - personality (what > would he have done if Vila said no? Perhaps Vila doesn't want to know?). I > might add that there's considerably less excuse for Avon making Vila play > speed chess (to protect their winnings) than Tarrant making Vila go down alone > in City, but then it was Vila's own fault that the credits were in danger... Tarrant valued Vila less then the weaponry crystals. Avon valued him less than then 5 million credits. I think I'm glad I'm not Vila. I think Cally probably treated him the best of all (and Gan). There's one lovely moment where Vila mock chases Cally off the flight deck and it says so much about the relaxed relationship between them. > > wants total > freedom of speech as a matter of principle.> > > Unquestionably. And he gets plenty of it on the flight deck (you can say what > you like , he *knows* you'll end up doing what you're told...). Though > sometimes both he and Cally - and maybe even Tarrant - must wonder if > compromising a principle can be excused if it would SHUT AVON UP.... . Actually, I think Blake enjoyed a lot of his arguments with Avon. Avon's both intelligent and witty. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Fanzines for Blake's 7 and many other fandoms, B7 Filk songs, pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth Thomas, etc. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 20:38:20 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Subject: [B7L] Dead Blake? (was Servalan not killing Avon) Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII On Fri 23 Apr, Stephen Date wrote: > I think, given at the time everybody thought season 3 would be the > last season, that the line in Volcano is supposed, casually and > unnoticed, to set us up for Servie's grand plan in Terminal. Of > course the Beeb then commissioned another series, enabling Chris > Boucher to bring Blake back, briefly, from the dead. If one were > really going to go to town, one could create a PGP scenario whereby > Servalan had told the truth at Terminal (which I think was the > intention in the script at the time) in which case who did Servalan > see cremated, and who did Avon shoot on Gauda Prime ? I think Servalan believed she was telling the truth. As I'm convinced it was the real Blake on GP it would seem likely that the clone met his end prior to 'Terminal'. Of course , just because he was on GP doesn't mean he's dead. No way, Jose. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Fanzines for Blake's 7 and many other fandoms, B7 Filk songs, pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth Thomas, etc. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 24 Apr 1999 04:58:26 -0700 From: mistral@ptinet.net To: B7 List Subject: Re: [B7L] Servalan not killing Avon Message-ID: <3721B1E2.D3EDB1CC@ptinet.net> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Stephen Date wrote: > And Mistral Replied: > > >Apart from which, Servalan seems to actively enjoy putting > >the hurt on Avon in several eps, notably Terminal; > >sociopaths are generally indifferent to the feelings of other > >people *either way*, as long as they get what they want. > > You may well know more than me on this subject. I was under the > impression that sociopaths have no conscience - hence my diagnosis of > Servalan. If on the other hand they have no enjoyment of inflicting > pain then I concede that Servalan is not a sociopath. Well, I am only going on what I've read, and acquaintance with one diagnosed sociopath; he was nothing like Servalan. You're totally correct about lack of conscience, but I understand that this is because they have no concept of other people having feelings; even if this is explained to them, they simply don't either get it, or see why they should care. I think Servalan understands what she's doing when she makes Avon and others suffer -- but like almost all mental disorders it's a continuum; I'll allow that she could easily be borderline. > I agree Servalan's emotional life was quite complex. But I think the > will to power subordinated all her other emotions. (She virtually > admits as much in Sand). I accept that the ambivalence is there. I > just don't think that it would have stopped her killing him, unless > there was an ulterior motive for leaving Avon alive. I don't think > that makes her one dimensional - merely ruthless ! This is very well said. I don't think we're too far from agreement here. But she's just enjoying hurting him *so* very much in Rumors; a lot of Rumors didn't make sense to me until I realized that. I feel as if that has to be a factor. Perhaps she was weighing the opportunity of Terminal against the danger of leaving him alive and the joy of torturing him tipped the scales, is all. This gives me much to think about, much fun :) > Personally, I am quite able to accept the idea that Avon was > fortunate enough to be saved by Hob's intervention. Chance is part of > the fortunes of war. (Apparent) coincidence is a large part of life -- but it's generally considered bad fiction ;-) Grins, Mistral -- "And for my next trick, I shall swallow my other foot."--Vila ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 24 Apr 1999 08:07:49 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Subject: [B7L] Orac and Zen Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII On Sat 24 Apr, VulcanXYZ@aol.com wrote: > Stephen wrote: > > << "A few, a very few of the Liberator's systems were of minor interest..." > With Orac you could build a fleet of Liberator's. >> > > Hmmm. I'm not sure about this. It was my impression that the Liberator had > a lot of features not found on human-made ships, such as the auto-repair > circuits. ORAC is an incredible machine/person, but that doesn't > automatically mean he would understand how to build the Liberator. After > all, both the ship and Zen were created by aliens. So the science behind the > building of the Liberator would not be in any computer that ORAC could read. > (I'm assuming that ORAC could not read Zen. Is this right?) Actually, the London had auto-repair so it wasn't unique to Liberator, though we may assume that Liberator's was more advanced. Orac could most certainly read Zen. Go and rewatch the episode 'Orac'. Orac cannot only read Zen, he can control him if he so wishes. From this follow several interesting deductions, primarily that the System used tariel cells. A case of the same thing being independently invented in two different places, though the System probably invented it first (it happens quite a lot in reality). I happen to see the System as a human colony that lost contact - probably around the time of the New Calendar as that suggests major upheavals. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Fanzines for Blake's 7 and many other fandoms, B7 Filk songs, pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth Thomas, etc. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 24 Apr 1999 12:37:34 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Subject: Re: [B7L]Orac Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII On Fri 13 Mar, Ellynne G. wrote: > > On 21 Apr 1999 17:55:23 +0200 Calle Dybedahl > writes: > >"Julie Horner" writes: > > > >> And another thing I wonder is, what sort of technology did the > >> computers on Star One use? Because if they used Tarriel cells, how > >> come Orac couldn't pick up the traffic from Star One and trace it's > >> source > > > >Why would being able to contact a machine necessarily mean that one > >can also locate that machine? I can contact the machine that recieves > >your mail, but I can only guess about where it's physically located. > > But there are still ways to trace where it's coming from. And Orac could > often tell where the computers it was in contact with were, although > there might have been other ways of getting that information. Also, > Oroc's ability to _instantaneously_ communicate with other computers > seems to have been unique (or else everyone would have been using quicker > communication), but Star One didn't seem to have much lag time, so maybe > not. What's the evidence we have on this score? It might be worth reviewing it to see what comes up. I'm not sure it was every said that orac was instantaneous, merely faster than everything else. I remember noticing one interesting oddity. The only times Orac is every seen to control another computer is when there's no relative movement between them. This may be just a coincidence, but Orac's ability to control other computers must have been limited or else they'd have tried it on pursuit ships coming after them. LIkewise there must hae been reasons why Orac couldn't take over Central Control. This could be due to the sheer size of it - just too much for Orac to handle, the fact that they'd have had to stay in geostationary orbit (see bit about relative movement above) or electronic and software countermeasures designed to stop hackers. > > As to why no one had a major, ethical objection when they went after > Central Control on Earth, it may be the Federation hadn't advertised > exactly how dependent it was on its system. It may have been generally > believed it gave them _control_ over systems existing on other worlds and not > that it was, in fact, the only system. This could have been a deliberate ploy > to 1) draw out rebel groups by giving them a target (which it did), 2) and > keep them from realizing they could skip over this step by simply building > their own systems (only good on a planetary level and not for galaxy wide > rebellions like Blake's. Also only good for replacing things like traffic > control, where they only needed to get pilots to switch to another frequency > or pay attention to their scanners, and not so good for weather control). But Blake and Orac had been studying it for a long time. BLAKE: Two hundred years ago, when the Federation began expansion and conquest, the Administration established a computer complex to monitor information: political,civil, military -- everything. That computer is the nerve center of ALL Federation activity. Smashing that would be the biggest single step toward the destruction of their power. I don't think they would ever recover from it. He does say *all* Federation activity. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Fanzines for Blake's 7 and many other fandoms, B7 Filk songs, pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth Thomas, etc. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 24 Apr 1999 08:26:47 +0100 (BST) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Subject: Re: [B7L] Two Queries & Some Miscellaneous Comments Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII On Sat 24 Apr, Sestina2@aol.com wrote: > 2. Julia mentioned hearing Gareth on the subject of Blakeless Blake's > Seven. What are Gareth's views on his character's absence? What did he say > and what did one think of his comments? Anyone willing to share this > knowledge? He wanted to do the radio play and was disappointed that it was all 4th season. It was Blake's 7 and he felt that Blake ought to be in it. I'm pretty certain that he would be interested in doing a TV movie if offered it. Immediately after Blake's 7, he was worried about typecasting and would not have done it. That was one reason why he left the series. Since that time he's done an enormous range of parts from Frank in Educating Rita to King Lear. (If you're interested in what he's done, there's a massive section on my web site) Typecasting is not a problem any more. He's said to me that he'd be willing to go back to Blake now. (But if it was TV, he'd want a Blake that allowed for the passage of time - it would be silly to try and recreate the action/adventure hero of 20 years ago.) He's done recent audio plays for Horizon - that probably says it all really. He's not only willing to do Blake, he's already done so. Judith -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 Fanzines for Blake's 7 and many other fandoms, B7 Filk songs, pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth Thomas, etc. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 24 Apr 1999 11:19:03 +0000 From: "Terry Owen" To: space-city@world.std.com, blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Off topic: Rallying Call Message-Id: <199904241630.JAA08602@hawk.prod.itd.earthlink.net> Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT Just a brief announcement for those on the list who are former members of the B7 APA Rallying Call or for those who have thought about joining: The next issue of Rallying Call will likely have an online downloadable version for those who want to contribute and receive the APA electronically. The deadline for the next issue is May 15th. Please contact me off the list if you would like more information. Thanks, Terry Owen owen6511@earthlink.net -------------------------------- End of blakes7-d Digest V99 Issue #144 **************************************