The Demagogue and the Demi-Monde

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

In American English, John Rateliff notes, Dunsany’s The Demagogue and the Demi-Monde would probably be called The Politician & the Prostitute:

A demagogue and a demi-mondaine chanced to arrive together at the gate of Paradise. And the Saint looked sorrowfully at them both.

“Why were you a demagogue?” he said to the first.

“Because,” said the demagogue, “I stood for those principles that have made us what we are and have endeared our Party to the great heart of the people. In a word I stood unflinchingly on the plank of popular representation.”

“And you?” said the Saint to her of the demi-monde.

“I wanted money,” said the demi-mondaine.

And after some moments’ thought the Saint said: “Well, come in; though you don’t deserve to.”

But to the demagogue he said: “We genuinely regret that the limited space at our disposal and our unfortunate lack of interest in those Questions that you have gone so far to inculcate and have so ably upheld in the past, prevent us from giving you the support for which you seek.”

And he shut the golden door.

Rateliff adds:

It was tales such as this one, I think, that won him the admiration of Mencken, who thought of him more as a satirist than a fantasist. People always write about Dunsany’s elevated style, as if he had only one note in his repertoire, not realizing how good he was at plainspeech when he wanted to be; his best plays often juxtapose the two to good effect, as here.

Destination Moon

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

I recently watched Destination Moon, the 1950 film about — what else? — a manned rocket flight to the moon.

Unlike most 1950s sci-fi flicks, this is a work of serious science fiction with no rubber-suited monsters. Robert Heinlein contributed to the script and served as technical advisor — which might also explain why the atomic rocket gets built by private industry and launched early, against a local demagogue’s court order.

Because many concepts of space travel were so new to the public, the film features an expository film within a film, starring a major Hollywood actor — Woody Woodpecker:

Sean Bean as Lord Stark

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009

George R.R. Martin reports that Sean Bean has been cast as Lord Eddard Stark in HBO’s pilot of A Game of Thrones:

For the movie fans out there, Sean Bean needs no introduction. I mean, what the hell, he was Boromir and he was Sharpe, he was terrific in both roles, and in a hundred other parts besides.

Some E-Books Are More Equal Than Others

Friday, July 17th, 2009

Some e-books are more equal than others, David Pogue explains, in a story that had me checking the date to confirm that it’s not April 1:

This morning, hundreds of Amazon Kindle owners awoke to discover that books by a certain famous author had mysteriously disappeared from their e-book readers. These were books that they had bought and paid for — thought they owned.

But no, apparently the publisher changed its mind about offering an electronic edition, and apparently Amazon, whose business lives and dies by publisher happiness, caved. It electronically deleted all books by this author from people’s Kindles and credited their accounts for the price.

The “juicy, plump, dripping irony”:

The author who was the victim of this Big Brotherish plot was none other than George Orwell. And the books were “1984” and “Animal Farm.”

That makes it sound like a marketing gimmick.

Lovelace – The Origin

Thursday, July 16th, 2009

I can’t believe I just found out about Sydney Padua’s Lovelace comic. It feels like it was written specifically for me — Ada Lovelace and Charles Babbage fight crime! And economic collapse!

Quick, to the Difference Engine!

How Teenagers Consume Media

Monday, July 13th, 2009

Morgan Stanley’s European media analysts asked Matthew Robson, one of the bank’s 15-year-old interns from a London school, to describe his friends’ media habits:

His report proved to be “one of the clearest and most thought-provoking insights we have seen. So we published it,” said Edward Hill-Wood, head of the team.

None of his “findings” should be surprising:

“Teenagers do not use Twitter,” he pronounced. Updating the micro-blogging service from mobile phones costs valuable credit, he wrote, and “they realise that no one is viewing their profile, so their tweets are pointless”.

His peers find it hard to make time for regular television, and would rather listen to advert-free music on websites such as Last.fm than tune into traditional radio. Even online, teens find advertising “extremely annoying and pointless”.

Their time and money is spent instead on cinema, concerts and video game consoles which, he said, now double as a more attractive vehicle for chatting with friends than the phone.

Mr Robson had little comfort for struggling print publishers, saying no teenager he knew regularly reads a newspaper since most “cannot be bothered to read pages and pages of text” rather than see summaries online or on television.

What stuntmen think are the best stunt films of all time

Thursday, July 9th, 2009

Kevin Conley asked stuntmen what they considered the best stunt films of all time:

The Matrix Trilogy: Hard to put a Keanu vehicle at the top of any list, but the film changed the business for stuntmen. As they explain it, producer Joel Silver traveled to China to beg a reluctant Yuen Wo-Ping, the action director for such kung fu classics as Iron Monkey and Fist of Legend, to choreograph the fighting in this movie, and Wo-Ping set ridiculous demands in the hopes that Silver would just go away: a huge budget, a ridiculous salary, and six months of training with the actors and stuntmen. Much to his surprise, Silver agreed to everything, and when the series became a blockbuster, the practice of hiring stuntmen for lengthy training and rehearsal periods took off.

Stagecoach: Stunt folk don’t watch the whole movie anymore, since now you can just check out the most famous and dangerous stunt ever on the Internet. Yakima Canutt, doubling an Apache, rides up to a team of horses, leaps over the lead horse onto the hitch between them, gets shot off, falls to the ground, slides between the hooves of the running horses and under the axles of the stagecoach wheels. In Zorro’s Fighting Legion and Idaho, Yak catches onto the back of the wagon then climbs up and over it and gets into a fistfight with the driver, but in Stagecoach, the most successful of the three movies, he skips that part and just lies dead on the dry bed of Monument Valley.

Read the whole list.

The Hunt For Gollum

Tuesday, July 7th, 2009

The Hunt For Gollum is a 40 minute independent film inspired by The Lord of the Rings.

Naturally I found myself most interested in the behind-the-scenes story of how they made the film.

Angel Shrugged

Monday, June 29th, 2009

Amy Wallace interviewed “the world’s favorite angel” before her death — about Ayn Rand:

How did you first learn of Ayn Rand’s interest in you? I gather she got in touch in the late ’70s, when Charlie’s Angels was one of the biggest hit shows ever to appear on TV?

Ayn contacted me with a personal letter (and a copy of Atlas Shrugged) through my agents. Even though we had never met (and never did), she seemed to think we must have a lot in common since we were both born on the same day: February 2nd.

Why did Rand say she was so determined to see you in the role of Dagny Taggart, the female heroine in Atlas Shrugged?

I don’t remember if Ayn’s letter specifically mentioned Charlie’s Angels, but I do remember it saying that she was a fan of my work. A few months later, when we finally spoke on the phone (actually she did most of the speaking and I did most of the listening), she said she never missed an episode of the show. I remember being surprised and flattered by that. I mean, here was this literary genius praising Angels. After all, the show was never popular with critics who dismissed it as “Jiggle TV.” But Ayn saw something that the critics didn’t, something that I didn’t see either (at least not until many years later): She described the show as a “triumph of concept and casting.” Ayn said that while Angels was uniquely American, it was also the exception to American television in that it was the only show to capture true “romanticism” — it intentionally depicted the world not as it was, but as it should be. Aaron Spelling was probably the only other person to see Angels that way, although he referred to it as “comfort television.”

Did Ayn have any favorite episodes of the show?

I have to admit that I don’t think Ayn was a big fan of the stories themselves because she kept saying that someday somebody would offer me a script (and a role) that would give me the chance to “triumph as an actress.” Ayn wanted that script to be Atlas Shrugged and that role to be her heroine, Dagny Taggart. But because of the challenges in adapting and producing the novel for television, several years went by and the script and role that Ayn hoped I would someday be offered turned out to be The Burning Bed and the role of Francine Hughes instead. And so, in an unexpected way, Ayn’s hope or expectation for me did come true. Looking back, she seemed to see something in me that I had not yet seen in myself.

Had you read Atlas Shrugged or any of her other famous books? What was your familiarity with the Rand world view?

At the time that Ayn contacted me about Atlas Shrugged, my only real familiarity with her work was the movie version of her previous novel, The Fountainhead, with Gary Cooper. I remember liking the movie because it was unique in that the characters seemed to be the embodiments of ideas as opposed to real flesh and blood people with interests and lives. Now that I think about it, I think that’s why Ayn was drawn to Charlie’s Angels. Because the characters that Kate, Jaclyn and I played weren’t really characters (the audience never saw us outside of work) as much as personifications of the idea that three sexy women could do all the things that Kojak and Columbo did. Our characters existed only to serve the idea of the show (even “Charlie” was just a faceless voice on a speaker phone).

But I also responded to The Fountainhead because, as an artist (a painter and sculptress) myself, I related to the architect’s resistance to make his work like everyone else’s — which was, of course, what Ayn’s own art was all about. And that resistance to conformity is probably one of the reasons that she was so determined to see me play Dagny: At the time I would have been the completely unexpected choice.

It sounds as if you and Rand got along pretty well.

Later, when I read Atlas Shrugged, I was reminded of my first and only conversation with Ayn and how some of the characters in her novel(s) take an immediate liking to each other, almost as if they had always known each other — at least in spirit. And this was the feeling I got from Ayn herself, from the way she spoke to me. I’ll always think of “Dagny Taggart” as the best role I was supposed to play but never did…

The Language of Clear Thinking

Saturday, June 27th, 2009

Alfred Korzybski famously said that the map is not the territory. This is the key point of his general semantics: we should be conscious of the abstractions we use.

If we try to reason from the “essence” of something, in true Aristotelian style, we might abstract away meaningful complexity. If we apply binary logic, we may label things true or false when they are largely true or largely false, or likely true or likely false. Korzybski thus recommended what he called null-A, or non-Aristotelian logic.

The language we use also introduces many questionable abstractions, and Korzybski believed that ambiguous language lent itself to unclear thinking. Most infamously, he railed against unclear use of the verb to be, which led a former student of his to suggest a modified form of English, E-Prime, which eliminated to be entirely:

To exist or not to exist,
I ask this question.
— modified from Shakespeare’s Hamlet

Proponents of E-Prime believed that it would do more than clarify communication; they believed it would clarify thought. This is an example of the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, which suggests that language influences thought, and that some languages might lead to clearer thinking. That was the rationale behind Loglan, the logical language, with its grammar based on predicate logic.

These ideas soon found their way into Golden Age science fiction. A.E. von Vogt had his protagonists overcome their totalitarian foes through clever use of intuitive, inductive logic in The World of Null-A. (Peter Chung’s animated Æon Flux shares many motifs with The World of Null-A.)

Robert Heinlein also embraced many elements of general semantics, especially the notion of languages designed to improve thinking. In The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, the self-aware computer receives its precise instructions in Loglan — which makes Loglan sound like a variant of Prolog. Heinlein took the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis much further in his short story, Gulf, which posits a new language used by a race of supermen. The language, Speedtalk, uses every phoneme (sound) used in any human language, not the small subset that belongs to any one language, and maps every word in Basic English to its own phoneme.

Basic English also shows up in H.G. Wells’ The Shape of Things to Come as the lingua franca of the future. Similarly, it inspired the Newspeak of Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. (It doesn’t take much to turn Wells’ utopian ideas upside-down.)

Nyrath has much more to say about future languages, but I thought I’d end with this amusing bit of geekery:

Raphaël Poss (AKA “Kena”) took the obvious step and adapted the Tengwar alphabet to the Lojban set of phonemes. As Mr. Poss puts it: “…it is far more natural to write Lojban with a logical writing system…. the tengwar system inherently contains some main Lojban morphology rules, making Lojban easier to learn when it is written with tengwar.”

Ten Books Lexington Green Wants To Read Again

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

Lexington Green has too little time to read, let alone re-read, but he lists ten books he wants to read again — and I share my thoughts:

    1. Charles Norris Cochrane, Christianity and Classical Culture: A Study of Thought and Action from Augustus to Augustine – Green’s list starts with an old work new to me.
    2. Eric Rucker Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros – I enjoyed Eddison’s work immensely, but I can’t recommend it, because it is far from accessible. Written in the 1920s, it is a work of fantasy from before the genre existed as such, and it mixes archaic English, a Norse mythological style, bits of Greek and Roman myth, a setting called Mercury, with no meaningful relationship to the planet, and peoples called Demons, Witches, Goblins, etc., that are not in any sense demons, witches, goblins, etc., but ordinary men. It’s hard to explain.
    3. Robert A. Heinlein, The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress – Green mentions how strongly Starship Troopers affected him as a boy, and how well it held up years later. I felt the same way. So, when I heard that Heinlein had written a more-or-less libertarian science-fiction novel, I assumed it would be right up my alley — but, regrettably, Moon is not on my re-read list.
    4. Homer, The Iliad – Everyone has to re-read The Iliad, right?
    5. George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four – I need to read Animal Farm more than I need to re-read Nineteen Eighty-Four.
    6. Quentin Reynolds, They Fought For The Sky: The Dramatic Story of the First War in the Air – Sounds intriguing.
    7. Thomas Sowell, Knowledge And Decisions – I usually enjoy Sowell’s writing, and a number of EconTalk podcasts have reminded me to read his Hayekian classic.
    8. Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace – Does anyone have time to read Tolstoy’s classic more than once?
    9. Evelyn Waugh, The Sword of Honour Trilogy – The name Evelyn Waugh always struck me as exceedingly English — like Wooster and Jeeves — and I never paid it much attention until I read about the then-upcoming James Bond film, Quantum of Solace, which borrowed its title from an Ian Fleming story that only used James Bond as part of its framing story, so Fleming could write an Evelyn Waugh-style story and get it published.
    10. H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds – Wells’ early science-fiction stories have held up amazingly well — and much better than Verne’s “harder” science-fiction. It’s hard to stay amazed by a submarine and by waterproof doors lined with India rubber.

Zenpundit calls the list of books you read over and over again your quantum library. He borrowed the idea:

The Quantum-Library is the layer that co-exists as a member of both the Library and the Anti-Library. It is something you may have read, but when read again with a different perspective it exists in another form.

I suspect that many, many folks have Tolkien in their quantum library — and Green does, apparently outside his current top ten:

The Lord of the Rings is a poetic / mythic / epic depiction of the defense of the West (especially England and its medieval inheritance) against tyranny and evil. Where most writers view the West through an Enlightenment frame, and see it as Antiquity then an interregnum followed by Modernity, Tolkien more accurately sees it as Antiquity + Christianity + Teutonic folkways and love of freedom. Modernity he has little use for. It is also a depiction of the working of Providence in History through the instrumentality of individual responses to grace, the primacy of the virtues, especially humility, and the unity of prayer and action (e.g. Sam’s prayer for water and sunlight that turns the course of the war in ways he cannot know) and hence anti-Hegelian, anti-Marxist, anti-determinist, anti-economistic.

Common Misconceptions about Space Travel

Thursday, June 18th, 2009

A “nearly wise” science-fiction fan has compiled this list of common misconceptions about space travel — some obvious, some not, some grammatical, some not:

  • Space is not an ocean. In particular, space is not two-dimensional, there is no friction in space, and spacecraft will not have their decks laid out as if they were seagoing vessels.
  • Space is three dimensional. Spacecraft are not limited to moving on a surface like a boat, they can go “up” and “down.” They are not even limited like a aircraft, the latter is limited to how far up and down they can go. A spacecraft can theoretically fly to infinity in any given direction.

    There is no limit on their orientation either. If you saw the Starship Enterprise approaching the Starship Intrepid and one was “upside down” with respect to another, you might think this was wrong but in reality there is nothing preventing this. Even worse: the nose of the other spacecraft might not even be pointed in the direction the ship is flying.

  • Rockets are not boats. With a scientifically accurate rocket, the direction of “down” will be in the same direction that the rocket exhaust is shooting. In other words, a spacecraft will have the general internal arrangement of a skyscraper, not that of a passenger airplane.
  • Rockets are not fighter planes. It is impossible to make swooping maneuvers without an atmosphere and wings.
  • Rockets are not arrows. Spacecraft do not necessarily travel in the direction their nose is pointing.
  • Rockets got wings. If your rocket has a multi-megawatt power plant, an absurdly high thrust thermal rocket propulsion system, or directed energy weapons it will need huge heat radiators to purge all the waste heat. Otherwise the rocket will melt or even vaporize. Radiators look like large wings or arrays of panels. The necessity of radiators a real problem for warships since radiators are pathetically vulnerable to hostile weapons fire.
  • Rockets don’t got windows. Spacecraft have no need of windows or portholes, for much the same reason as a submarine.
  • There is no friction in space. In space, if a ship turns off its engines it will maintain its current velocity for the rest of eternity (unless is crashes into a planet or something).

    Acceleration and deceleration are symmetrical. This means if your spacecraft spends an hour accelerating to a speed of 1000 meters per second, it is going to take roughly another hour to decelerate to a stop. You cannot “put on the brakes” and suddenly stop, like you can do with a boat or an automobile. (I say “roughly” because as you accelerate your ship looses mass due to expending reaction mass, so it becomes easier to decelerate. But this is a complicating detail you can ignore for now)

  • Fuel is not propellent. Mass is violently thrown away in the form of the rocket’s exhaust and the reaction accelerates the rocket forward. This mass is of course the “reaction mass.” It is sometimes also called “remass” or “propellant.”

    The “fuel” is what is burned or whatever to generated the energy to expel the reaction mass. For example, in a classic atomic rocket, the fuel is the uranium-235 rods in the nuclear reactor, the reaction mass is the hydrogen gas heated in the reactor and expelled from the exhaust nozzle.

    There are only a few confusing cases where the fuel and the reaction mass are the same thing. This is the case with chemical rockets such as the Space Shuttle and the Saturn 5, which is how the misconception started in the first place.

  • There ain’t no stealth in space. In space, there is no practical way to hide your military spacecraft from detection by the enemy.
  • There is no sound in space. There is no air in space so neither is there sound.
  • Mass is not weight. The Space Shuttle may be floating next to the station with a weight of zero, but it still has a mass of 90 metric tons. If it is stationary and you pushed on it, there will be very little effect.
  • Free fall is not zero gravity. Technically, people in, say, the Space Station are not in “zero gravity.” The gravity at the altitude of the Station is about as strong as it is on Terra’s surface (it is about 93% of full gravity). The reason that everybody floats around is because they are in a state of “free fall.” If you were in an elevator, and the cable snapped, you too would be in a state of free fall and would float around. At least until you hit.
  • No vacuum pops. And if you were suddenly thrown into the vacuum of space without a spacesuit, you would not pop like a balloon.
  • They don’t want our water. Aliens invading Terra to steal our water makes about as much sense as Eskimos invading Central America to steal their ice. Water is one of the most common substances “out there.”

A Political History of SF

Monday, June 15th, 2009

Eric S. Raymond explains the history of science fiction through an unusual lens — politics:

There was also a political aura that went with the hard-SF style, one exemplified by Campbell and right-hand man Robert Heinlein. That tradition was of ornery and insistant individualism, veneration of the competent man, an instinctive distrust of coercive social engineering and a rock-ribbed objectivism that that valued knowing how things work and treated all political ideologizing with suspicion. Exceptions like Asimov’s Foundation novels only threw the implicit politics of most other Campbellian SF into sharper relief.

At the time, this very American position was generally thought of by both allies and opponents as a conservative or right-wing one. But the SF community’s version was never conservative in the strict sense of venerating past social norms — how could it be, when SF literature cheerfully contemplated radical changes in social arrangements and even human nature itself? SF’s insistent individualism also led it to reject racism and feature strong female characters decades before the rise of political correctness ritualized these behaviors in other forms of art.

Nevertheless, some writers found the confines of the field too narrow, or rejected Campbellian orthodoxy for other reasons. The first revolt against hard SF came in the early 1950s from a group of young writers centered around Frederik Pohl and the Futurians fan club in New York. The Futurians invented a kind of SF in which science was not at the center, and the transformative change motivating the story was not technological but political or social. Much of their output was sharply satirical in tone, and tended to de-emphasize individual heroism. The Futurian masterpiece was the Frederik Pohl/Cyril Kornbluth collaboration The Space Merchants (1956).

The Futurian revolt was political as well as aesthetic. Not until the late 1970s did any the participants admit that many of the key Futurians had histories as ideological Communists or fellow travellers, and that fact remained relatively unknown in the field well into the 1990s. As with later revolts against the Campbellian tradition, part of the motivation was a desire to escape the “conservative” politics that went with that tradition. While the Futurians’ work was well understood at the time to be a poke at the consumer capitalism and smugness of the postwar years, only in retrospect is it clear how much they owed to the Frankfurt school of Marxist critical theory.

But the Futurian revolt was half-hearted, semi-covert, and easily absorbed by the Campbellian mainstream of the SF field; by the mid-1960s, sociological extrapolation had become a standard part of the toolkit even for the old-school Golden Agers, and it never challenged the centrality of hard SF. The Futurians’ Marxist underpinnings lay buried and undiscussed for decades after the fact.

Perception of Campbellian SF as a “right-wing” phenomenon lingered, however, and helped motivate the next revolt in the mid-1960s, around the time I started reading the stuff.
[...]
The New Wave’s inventors (notably Michael Moorcock, J.G. Ballard and Brian Aldiss) were British socialists and Marxists who rejected individualism, linear exposition, happy endings, scientific rigor and the U.S.’s cultural hegemony over the SF field in one fell swoop. The New Wave’s later American exponents were strongly associated with the New Left and opposition to the Vietnam War, leading to some rancorous public disputes in which politics was tangled together with definitional questions about the nature of SF and the direction of the field.

But the New Wave, after 1965, was not so easily dismissed or assimilated as the Futurians had been. Amidst a great deal of self-indulgent crap and drug-fueled psychedelizing, there shone a few jewels — Brian Aldiss’s Hothouse stories (1961, retrospectively recruited into the post-1965 New Wave by their author) Langdon Jones’s The Great Clock (1966), Phillip José Farmer’s Riders of the Purple Wage (1967), Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream (1967), and Fritz Leiber’s One Station of the Way (1968) stand out as examples.

As with the Futurians, the larger SF field rapidly absorbed some New Wave techniques and concerns. Notably, the New Wavers broke the SF taboo on writing about sex in any but the most cryptically coded ways, a stricture previously so rigid that only Heinlein himself had had the stature to really break it, in Stranger In A Strange Land (1961) — a book that helped shape the hippie counterculture of the later 1960s.

The Extremely Male Brain

Friday, June 12th, 2009

When I first read about autism-expert Simon Baron-Cohen — whose theory is that autism results from an extremely male brain — his unusual name stuck with me:

If his name sounds familiar, that may be because his first cousin is Sacha Baron Cohen, of Borat fame. “We’re very proud of him in the family,” he says.

An Altrusian Epic

Sunday, June 7th, 2009

The release of the new Will Ferrell movie naturally had me thinking of the original Land of the Lost television show from my childhood. So, when I saw that the Sci-Fi Channel was showing a marathon, I briefly popped over for a chuckle — and the show seemed much deeper than the one I remembered.

I remembered the Sleestaks, of course — vividly — but I did not remember Enik the Altrusian — the “good” Sleestak. In fact, I did not remember most of the science-fiction elements of the show.

Anyway, Enik’s philosophical discussion with the Sleestaks in the Library of Skulls segued into some truly terrible special effects and ham-acting from the older brother character, so I changed channels, unable to take it — but when I did a little reading, I was shocked to find out that the show’s writing had quite a pedigree:

A number of well-respected writers in the science fiction field contributed scripts to the series, including Larry Niven, Theodore Sturgeon, Ben Bova, and Norman Spinrad, and a number of people involved with Star Trek, such as Dorothy “D.C.” Fontana, Walter Koenig, and David Gerrold. Gerrold, Niven, and Fontana also contributed commentaries to the DVD of the first season.

The next day, when Chiller, a station I didn’t even know I had, was playing its own marathon of the show, I gave it a second chance and recorded a few episodes. (I’ve since found the first season on Hulu.)

The special effects and production values are awful, as is most of the acting — so awful that it’s hard to recognize the writing underneath it all, but if you do, you might enjoy an Altrusian epic:

The series moved along, more memorably than anything else seen on kids’ TV, but did not rise to genius level until the sixth episode. “The Stranger” was written by Walter Koenig and not only introduced Enik and explained some of the background of the show, but also worked beautifully as a morality play. Enik criticizes the Marshalls for being creatures of emotion and not logic, the same flaw that destroyed his race. Will steals the magetti, a device Enik claims will help him get home, in a bout of selfishness that seems to prove the Altrusian’s point about humans until Enik uses his mind powers to force the humans to confront their fears. When Rick forces Enik to own up to his own inadequacies of passion and morality, it is a humbling moment for both the principals and the audience, and Spencer Milligan’s performance is flawless, easily making up for the inadequacies of his young co-stars. It’s a shame Koenig did not write for the show again.

Enik only appeared twice more in the season and the Marshalls took their time exploring their world.

I semi-recommend the following episodes: The Stranger, The Hole, The Search, and Circle.