Well, this should make sense to only a few who stumble by . . .
"Once upon a time, in a far-away corner of the galaxy that was typically frequented by the lower-rent kind of life forms, since the people with the big, expensive flying saucers and the stock portfolios and the large expense accounts they used to pay for three-martini-lunches and the anal-probing of a bunch of hapless, hairy ape-like creatures living on a non-descript ball of rock out in the unfashionable suburbs in a totally unnoteworthy spiral arm had much trendier places to be, there lived on a planet named Kobol a rather unremarkable race of beings. Unremarkable, that is, except for the extreme stupidity that seemed to enfold each and every one of them in its loving embrace, like a comfortable blanket on a really cold night. No one knows for sure just exactly where these people came from, though it is strongly suspected that they were descended from a long and distinguished line of food-service workers, telemarketers and, well, village idiots.
"Nor does anyone know for sure what these people called themselves, as they apparently never got around to such basic things as naming themselves. But since that never seemed to bother them all that much, pointing that out can be classified as something of a minor quibble.
"Now, these people had divided themselves into thirteen tribes, each of the tribes taking the name of one of the constellations they saw in their night sky, except for the thirteenth tribe which, being rather contrarian by nature, decided not to take a name at all for the moment. Though none of the other twelve tribes had a clue about it, the people of the thirteenth had hatched an insidious plan to eventually name themselves after a planet they had yet to discover, but let’s not rush things.
"The thirteen tribes lived for a long, long time - made to seem even longer by the complete lack of anything intelligent to say to one another - in peace on the planet Kobol. Of course, they also believed that they lived their with their Gods, who, in an inspired moment of utter banality, they chose to call the Lords of Kobol. Of course, the more rational species in the galaxy don’t believe these Lords were gods at all, but more likely were the only ones of this people who could remember how to tie their shoes and make ice cubes.
"No good thing can last forever, of course, so you just know that all the peace and happiness on Kobol was doomed from the start. Much like a family reunion, in which everyone gets completely potted and the various relatives start hurling insults at each other and talking loudly about who’s husband was sleeping with who’s wife and how unnatural it was for two cousins that close in blood should have those kind of relations, the thirteen tribes on Kobol discovered that they really didn’t like each other all that much. Something about the Sagittarons always leaving the toilet seats up, the Virgons always wanting to borrow money and never repaying it, and the Capricans thinking they were all that and a bag of potato chips, that sort of thing. It eventually got to the point where each tribe bragged to the others that their Lord of Kobol could beat up their Lord of Kobol in a drunken stupor with one hand tied behind their back, and with the Lords of Kobol deciding that they didn’t much like the people of the thirteen tribes, either.
"One day, amid all the prank phone calls and burning dog poop left on people’s doorsteps as proof that one tribe’s Lord was ever so much better and more powerful than another tribe’s, the people of the thirteenth tribe suddenly announced that they were leaving. ’We’ve talked to a real-estate agent,’ they said, ’and we’ve managed to find a nice fixer-upper of a planet that’s a real steal. The only down side is that it’s full of these hairless ape-like things that kind of look like us, and who are tired of getting anally-probed all the time. So we’ve decided to buy them out, and make their planet our new home. We’re going to call it Earth.’ ’Why Earth?’ the other tribes asked. ’Why not?’ the thirteenth tribe answered. ’Well, piss off then, who needs you?’ the other tribes said. ’Um, don’t take this the wrong way,’ the thirteenth tribe said, ’but since we don’t want any of you losers knowing where we’re going, we’re not going to tell you.’ ’Fine,’ the other twelve tribes answered, ’don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Oh, wait, since you all are leaving, can we have your desserts after dinner tonight? It’s going to be a tasty banana cream pie.’ ’No,’ said the thirteenth tribe, and they left.
"Well, the remaining twelve tribes thought that was rather petty of the thirteenth tribe; after all, they weren’t going to be around to enjoy it, and who doesn’t like a tasty banana cream pie? They couldn’t help feeling just a little put out, since there was really no reason to be so rude about it, but the people of the thirteenth tribe always had been a little high-strung. Anyway, they went back to arguing among themselves over who’s Lord could beat up who’s without breaking a sweat - you know, the really important things.
"At some point, just before things on Kobol got really bad, disaster was almost averted when a member of the Caprican tribe, in what can only be described as an evolutionary hiccup, realized what a waste of effort it was for the tribes to be arguing and fighting with each other, and had a revelation about how everyone could go back to living in peace and harmony with each other. He immediately began travelling the planet, preaching his vision to any and all who would listen and, for his efforts, was nailed to a tree. He was then thrown off a cliff, and after that each and every member of the twelve tribes took turns jumping up and down on what remained.
"Sadly, that would be the last thing the twelve remaining tribes did together for a long, long time. The infighting quickly resumed and, as such things are wont to do, soon moved from the short-sheeting of beds to an exchange of nuclear and biological weapons.
"’Oh, bollocks,’ the survivors of the twelve tribes said, as they wandered through the radioactive and disease-ridden ruins, ’we’ve made a complete hash of things, haven’t we? Whatever shall we do now?’ That is when one of the so-called Lords of Kobol, actually a rather shy and unassuming woman named Athena who was rather fond of rainy days and kitten whiskers tickling the small of her back, said ’Hey, I’ve got an idea. There are some nice planets just sitting around over there. How about we build some ships and go to them?’ That was a good idea and, for her effort, the people of the twelve tribes chucked her off a mountain top, thus proving once again that no good deed goes unpunished.
"The twelve tribes then built their ships, one for each of them, and set off for the new worlds in the joyful hope that they could wreck them just as thoroughly as they had Kobol. Remembering that they didn’t much like each other, a point no doubt driven home by the odd shots they traded during the journey, the twelve tribes each decided to colonize a separate planet in their new home star system, which rather coincidentally had twelve habitable worlds in it. That was lucky for the tribes, but not so lucky for the planets, as it turned out. If they had had a choice in the matter, they no doubt would have hung out some ’No Vacancy’ signs or at least suggested that there were really some nicer planets anywhere else that the twelve tribes should go check out and not be in such a rush about things.
"Be that as it may, the twelve tribes settled into their new homes, and this is when they finally got around to deciding on a collective name for themselves at long last. Their first decision was to call themselves the Colonials. Their second decision was to again remoind themselves of just how much they hated all the other tribes, and continue beating up on each other. One might think, of course, that with new planets to inhabit and, ultimately, treat like a septic tank, they might be too busy for things like that, but by now it was a kind of rote behaviour they engaged in because they lacked the wit to think of anything else.
"The problem, of course, is that now the twelve tribes were really, really far away from each other, the fact that star systems are numbingly huge coming as something of a nasty shock to them. They soon grew bored with watching what was essentially an interplanetary game of golf, and looked for new ways to entertain themselves in addition to throwing huge rocks, nuclear bombs and germs at each other. And they soon found something even more fun to inflict on themselves.
"Looking around one day, the Colonials said to themselves, ’Technology? Bah, who needs it? What has it ever done for us?’ Therefore, in a move that would have caused one Charles Darwin, had he known about these people, to completely chuck his theory then and there as a patently absurd idea, the Colonials decided to totally abandon their technology as a useless extravagance that never did anything useful for them.
"The immediate result of this, of course, and one that was completely unforseen by the Colonials themselves, is that billions of them proceeded to die in a mass extinction that makes what happened to the dinosaurs look trivial in comparison. The survivors, being those Colonials who were too stubborn or, let’s face it, too stupid, to die, were reduced to banging rocks together and wondering what went wrong.
"After a few thousand years, it occured to the Colonials that maybe giving up technology hadn’t been such a great idea after all. After thoroughly discussing the issue in an effort not to be hasty, they eventually decided that they might want to give technology a second try after all and besides which, banging rocks together to make tools and, you know, eat, was really hard work and anything else had to be better than that. The problem was, since all the instructions to build machines, tools, mine for ores, make medicines, plant crops and all those good things had been contained in computer disks and the like, and they had destroyed all of those, they were kind of SOL and left to the rather miniscule power of their intellects to figure it all out.
"Nonetheless, the Colonials, each on their own planets, eventually managed to claw their way back up the technological ladder until they had obtained such wonderous machnes as cuisinarts and cell phones, thus once again reaching the pinnacle of their society. And, after each of the twelve tribes reestablished contact with the other tribes, the first thing they did was remember just how much they disliked each other, and started beating up on each other again.
"This time, however, a rather bright Colonial, who in hndsight probably should have been put to a cruel death in an act of infanticide, came up with a new twist. Because stellar systems are so large, he reasoned, and because it’s just so darned boring to spend all that time going from Point A to Point B with nothing to do in between, just so you can drop a large rock or a thermonuclear weapon on someone’s head at Point B, wouldn’t it be ever so much more wonderful if you could have a robot do that? After all, a robot probably isn’t going to get bored and start poking around in the warhead’s guts, just to see how it works and accidentally unleashing a deadly plague on the people you don’t want to kill.
"And so this enterprising Colonial created an intelligent race of robots that were called ’Cylons.’ Not only did the Cylons make excellent soldiers, but they also made pretty handy miners, gardeners, proctologists, waiters, factory workers, telemarketers, and pretty much anything else you can think of. The only problem was, the Colonial who created the Cylons forgot to include an ’OFF’ switch, a critical error that would come back to haunt them all, particularly after the other tribes discovered what a grand convenience having Cylons was and decided to get some of their own."
Next time: What happens when you forget about the "Three Laws" . . .
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