You've heard a lot of people saying a lot of mean things about me lately. Like in last night's episode, that Sam guy said that I cause "nothing but pain." And Lyle accused me of being the prelude to the Rapture — when I don't even listen to Blondie. So I'm here to set the record straight.
So first of all, I apologize for my absence for the past couple weeks. What happened was this: There was a really huge man named Nithbart, who wanted to do some Sontaran Cosplay at Comic-Con — even though he's basically the size of San Diego himself. And I owed him some favors from back when I was just an egg and some stars, so I had to agree to be his helmet. Which... he ate a LOT of overpriced hotdogs, and I ended up having to go disinfect myself.
So what did we miss? Well, basically, I'm covering this town which is trapped in a political power struggle between a bald Snidely Whiplash and a red-haired New Age lady. Big Jim basically admitted in front of everyone that he tried to kill the entire town with swine flu in order to save it, but half the townspeople still support him because he's the only candidate for leadership with "Big" in his name. And it turned out the town didn't need to worry about starvation anyway, because the nice Diner Lady has a house crammed with survivalist stores, enough to feed everyone for months. (That was lucky, and almost as implausible as the random African American dude turning evil at the drop of a hat. But moving on.)
Back to how I'm not really bad. Uncle Sam thinks I'm evil because I've trapped everybody and created a micro-ecosystem in which people are threatened with A) Electromagnetic blarp, B) plagues of insects, C) rain of acid blood, and now D) a deadly dust storm that makes the town's air un-breathable. And also because I seem to be magically reducing the average IQ in Chester's Mill down to fractions, little by little, except for Science Lady.
But I'm not actually evil, and this episode explains why, in the context of my Origin Story: You see, back in 1988, a meteorite crashed into Chester's Mill, and four teenagers found a magic glowy egg inside. Three of the four teens were afraid of the neon egg, because they had seen every science fiction movie ever made in the 80s — but the fourth wanted to protect my magic egg.
Uncle Sam was one of the kids who did not believe in my magic egg, and he's now turned into a psychopath, who wants to kill the four magical children who keep me in place. Either he or Lyle killed Melanie — and now Lyle has turned into a Credence Clearwater Revival-singing, science-teacher-kidnapping maniac. The fourth kid, Pauline, started making paintings that predicted everything that's happened, and also warning about the Dome. Until she faked her own death and moved to the town of Zenith, home of the magic obelisk that everybody dreams about.
Anyway, how those people responded to the Egg is like a metaphor that represents, in a kind of clever metaphorical way, how people feel about me — if you see me as a benevolent, happy dome, then you will be given shiny pink stars and happy bubblegum times. If you see me as a menace, or the wrath of God or whatever, then I will hurt you. I think.
There are sort of three plots in this episode: In the first and least memorable, Big Jim deals with the dust storm, which is over pretty quickly, and uses it as a way to convince incredibly gullible people to follow him yet again.
The other two plots, though, involve delving into my bowels and exploring my greatest heights of pink starry goodness.
Sam and Barbie get trapped in a tunnel that leads to a bottomless pit, which seems to be outside of me entirely. And it represents existential dread and the vanishing point of the self, and the impossibility of imperfect information degrading into total darkness. It's an abyss in which my ultimate meaning is swallowed up like an epistemological Big Gulp.
And the four magic kids (including Melanie, who totally has replaced Angie, no matter what anybody says) get to the bottom of Melanie's story. And basically, we realize that when I told Julia to throw my magic egg into the lake, this was the means by which Melanie (my truest believer back in 1988) would come back to life. And when the four kids all put their hands in together, my egg comes back to them and shows them — what else? — pink stars. I AM a disco.
Oh, and Norrie's jealousy over Joe and Melanie comes to a climax, with a scene where Norrie actually talks like Lumpy Space Princess. "No, I don't lumping love you. Why don't you just lump off?" And Joe does lump off, but then Norrie admits that she's being a jerk, and they make up. Woo.
So let's list all the mystical plot devices that I'm serving up at this point. There are four magic children. Plus Melanie, back from the dead after 25 years, and her locker being weirdly significant. There's pink stars and various other zany symbols. There's Pauline's notebook, which is full of her drawings of life under me from years ago. There's the obelisk in Pauline's new town of Zenith. There's my bottomless pit. There's the butterflies, and Julia being crowned as the Monarch. And there's the glowy egg, and the mini-dome it was inside for a while.
Confused yet? At least it seems as though my egg came here from outer space, inside the meteorite. And after my first contact with humans failed, I remained dormant for 25 years before reactivating when I found four new magic children. And then I surrounded this town and set about doing... something.
The point is, I chose these four kids. Plus Angie, and Julia, who's my Monarch. And I want them to do something for me, but it's really, reallllllly hard for me to explain to them just what that is. But I brought Melanie back from the dead, because I knew Angie was going to bite it, and I needed a spare. So I'm really not a sadistic dome — I just like to be filled up with drama, because it makes my egg glow brighter. That's all.