Cylon In The Library!

The gentleman I saw the other day was a late middle aged, shambolic wreck of a fellow. Tall, lean, and dressed in a filthy blue sweat shirt and jeans. His graying, dandruffy hair straggled down the back of his head and when he smiled his snaggle tooth glinted in the buzzing library fluorescent lighting. He hobbled about on a greasy crutch, which I noticed he was always using when in the library, like he was an elderly Tiny Tim.

“I used to be an actor,” the gentleman croaked. “You know that? Back in the day, I was a star.”

“You don’t say,” I smiled, politely, as, really one must.

“Yahh. I’ll show you. This was me!” He reached into his linty pocket and pulled out a dog-eared scrap of paper, folded many times over. With shaky fingers, he unfolded the paper, revealing the photograph of…. A Cylon from the 1970s.

“That’s me!” the gentleman cackled, pointing at the Toaster (though pedantic fans will point out that The Cylons weren’t called “toasters” until the new 2003 series). I looked fondly at the Cylon. Yes, the photo certainly showed the glittering, gold metallic carapace of one of the monsters from outer space. The great enemy of mankind!

What was less clear was whether the gentleman before me was the chap INSIDE the Cylon. For, as you must know, Cylons are totally metal robots, sealed from the tops of their heads to the bottom of their booties. And you could no more tell that this crazy old loon was inside the Cylon than you could say he wasn’t. He MIGHT have been the Cylon, of course.

After all, in a world where carpenters rise from the grave anything is possible. But, for all I know, anyone could be inside that metal costume. Nevertheless, I smiled and gushed, which appeared to be what the chap wanted. Really, I suppose it is possible the man could have been a Cylon, back in the day. Why not? Or he could have imagined it. In many ways, I think that it would be even sadder if the chap HAD been a 1970s Cylon and was now reduced to near-homelessness, hobbling around the library all day on a crutch. How the mighty have fallen! How we all fall! If he was truly a Cylon, he might have been the most important fellow I have ever met, though.