Vozzek69, Robz888, and Pearson Moore take on the toughest unanswered questions
What were Walt's powers? What was the Island's purpose? The most popular Lost essayists on the Internet took on the seven questions DarkUFO readers considered the most important. Agree or disagree, we know you'll find their responses enlightening.
In a poll conducted three weeks ago ("Which of these mysteries would you like to see discussed", posted on 8/07/2010) we asked readers to choose the top unresolved mysteries of Lost. These were the mysteries, as rated by DarkUFO readers:
1. What were Walt's powers, and where did they come from? 10.31%
2. What would have happened had the Smoke Monster left the island? 10.05%
3. What is the Island's purpose? 9.33%
4. Why did the Egyptian hieroglyphics (in Dead is Dead) depict the smoke
monster seemingly hundreds of years before we saw it created? 9.18%
5. What happened when Juliet set off the bomb (or did she?) 7.01%
6. Why did Richard Malkin (the psychic) warn Claire that no one but she could raise Aaron? 6.3%
7. What was the significance of Jacob's Cabin?
We are delighted to provide below short essays by Vozzek69, Robz888, and Pearson Moore on the top outstanding questions of the series.
The Birdman of Mittelos: Protector of the Island, Walter Lloyd
by Pearson Moore
[Question #1: What were Walt's powers, and where did they come from?]
His story seems familiar somehow...
Hurley: You refer to the prophesy of the one who will bring balance to the Island.
You think it's this... boy?
Locke: He can see things before they happen.
Kate: Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know?
Sun: He can help you.
Locke: The Source is unusually strong in him.
Sun: He was meant to help you.
Korah Matah, Korah Rahtahmah...
At some point scholars may wonder whether George Lucas predicted the appearance on the Island of a knife-wielding young man who saw the future, who never lost a game of backgammon, but I leave that discussion to others. If you want to hear more of Duel of the Fates, it's available here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaiEHNv2g6w
The discussion above never happened, of course--at least not in the form I present. But many similar discussions, fraught with confusion and angst, did occur regularly throughout Seasons One and Two.
Several characters in LOST were described as "Special", but these were almost always single occurrences. For instance, Boone said of his sister, Shannon, "She's smart and special, in a lot of ways." No one else ever referred to Shannon as being "Special", however--not even Sayid, her Constant. Of the many who were described as special, only three individuals were repeatedly referenced in this manner, by multiple Island denizens. Locke was foremost among the three, with nine citations as "Special". Another was the Island itself. The third character considered "Special" was a most unusual and gifted young man.
Walter Lloyd, at ten years of age, never lost a game of backgammon. At his command, the rain stopped (Lost 1.03). He knew Locke was trying to gain entry to the Swan Station, even though he had never seen the hatch, never heard anyone discuss it (Lost 1.22). He appeared to Shannon in a vision, though his body was several kilometres away in Dharmaville (Lost 2.01). When a parent or guardian upset him, his anger caused birds to die, even before he came to the Island (Lost 1.14). It was Juliet's discovery that Walt's thoughts had somehow killed around a dozen birds that precipitated Ben's hasty decision to return Walt to Michael's custody (Lost M.06). Ben gave the boy back to his father, saying, in spectacular understatement, young Walt "was more than we bargained for."
Walt and Locke shared much more than the simple distinction of being considered "Special" by several of their comrades. They both enjoyed backgammon, though Walt was by far the master of the game. Both of them were skilled with the throwing knife. They enjoyed each other's company, and recognised in each other kindred interests and abilities. But the particular in which they both evinced unusual character was their pre-disposition to Island leadership.
Locke had subconscious awareness of the Smoke Monster, long before his feet trod the Island's sandy shore, even as a child of five (Lost 4.11). Walt controlled the behaviour of birds, months before the crash of Flight 815 (Lost 1.14). Locke and Walt were uniquely special because of their strong connection to the only other individual repeatedly described as special: The Island. They were marked for leadership in service of the Island. Locke gave up his life, the most expensive and difficult of the "sacrifices the Island demands". Walt was destined to leave, wondering if he would ever be granted passage back to his Island home. "I kept hopin' one day someone would come back for me." (Lost Epilogue).
Where did Walt's powers come from? The answer is very simple: The powers of the Island's future Protector came from the Island itself. Walt, from the day of his birth to Michael and Susan, was destined to become the Protector of the great repository of humanity.
The Island is in the hands of a boy, not old enough to drive in some countries. But there are no more capable hands, no better guardian of all that is sacred to the human tradition, to our heritage and destiny as civilised human beings, than Walter Lloyd, Protector of Mittelos.
PM
August 24, 2010
Prolegomena to Any Future Course Correction
by Pearson Moore
[Question #2: What would have happened had the Smoke Monster left the island?]
What would have happened had the Smoke Monster left the Island?
If the Smoke Monster had somehow managed to leave the Island it would have been because he had surrendered supernatural power. Perhaps with the re-ignition of the Light he would have regained power, but we cannot be sure of this. Based on historical precedent, however, I feel the question retains full force regardless of the nature of the beast's powers, regardless, too, of the extent to which the Monster shared in our character as human beings.
All told, some one hundred million souls lost their lives because of the two-legged monstrosity that led Germany from 1933 to 1945. The demonic nature of this beast would seem to exclude him from membership in the class of fauna called mammals, let alone the species known as Homo sapiens. Unfortunately, Adolf Hitler was entirely human, and his Aryan followers were eager to carry out the most heinous crimes against humanity. Supernatural powers are not pre-requisite to a life as the devil's representative on earth. From the mountains of evidence presented by the genocidal barbarians of the Third Reich, any one of us, given the proper conditions, could become the next Adolf Hitler.
I imagine one such as the Smoke Monster could have cajoled and prodded and convinced with the same oratorical exuberance and xenophobic hatred as the third-rate landscape painter from Braunau-am-Inn, Austria. Modern history, replete with genocides in Cambodia, Uganda, Rwanda, and throughout Eastern Europe, does not provide us with strong examples of humane intervention.
But I am hopeful. I chose my pen name, Pearson, to honour Canadian Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson, who won a Nobel Peace Prize for creating and implementing the United Nations Peacekeeping Force. And though the world seemed not to care about Rwanda, one of Pearson's philosophical children, Lt. General Roméo Dallaire, head of UN Peacekeeping Forces during the genocide (and also a Canadian), refused to leave Rwanda when the UN commanded him to do so. Dallaire stayed on, doing what he could to prevent the atrocities.
People like Lester Pearson and Roméo Dallaire, people of courage, are rare in this age. But I believe there will always be people like this, men worthy of being called men, women of courage and conviction, sufficient to course correct, and to put people like Hitler in shackles and chains, lock them in prison, and throw away the key.
What would happen were the Smoke Monster to escape the Island? We would defeat him and imprison him--or kill him.
PM
August 24, 2010
Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten:
The Cultural Purpose of the Island
by Pearson Moore
[Question #3: What is the Island's purpose?]
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
The supreme adherent of the Rules of Life was Dr. Jack Shephard. But once on the Island, Jack's boy-scout mentality seemed no longer to apply. Jack had to trade science and rules for faith and hope, and in the process lost his poise, lost his sanity, nearly lost his life. He was obliged to surrender the certitude and safety of his society's privilege for chaos and danger as his Island's Protector. He discovered the irony of his journey at the Source; that which he believed he had surrendered in the end he was sworn to protect: the founding precepts of civilisation. Everything he learned in kindergarten.
The Island's purpose is to serve as repository and guardian of the rules of humanity. The survivors' purpose was to protect the Island and its precious, life-giving cultural treasure. Our purpose was to make sense of it all, to distill enduring kindergarten sensibilities from the post-graduate chaos of the Casimir Effect, the Valenzetti Equation, the tropical polar bears, the malevolent masses of sentient smoke. And to do all that we had to keep our thoughts focussed on the one sure truth spanning six years: Destiny. Purpose. The final objective. Res qui nos omnes servabit.
LOST is a journey. We began that journey in the first sphere, at twelve thousand metres, just a bit higher than the tallest mountains, sipping vodka on the rocks courtesy of Flight Attendant Cindy Chandler. This mountaintop view of the rational world was an appropriate, Danteque location from which to begin an arduous journey through eight more spheres that would bring us to the Source.
Surviving the crash was the introduction to a strange Island world that brought life and death by means unknown and unimaginable. The crippled and dying were instantly cured, while the innocent were hunted down and killed by a formless black death. The Island (Season One) was the second sphere. It was in this sphere that we learned why the crash occurred.
LOCKE: Do you really think all this is an accident -- that we, a group of strangers survived, many of us with just superficial injuries? Do you think we crashed on this place by coincidence -- especially, this place? We were brought here for a purpose, for a reason, all of us. Each one of us was brought here for a reason.
JACK: Brought here? And who brought us here, John?
LOCKE: The Island.
The survivors had a purpose. That purpose was to be found on the Island, and somehow in service to the Island.
Confusing as it was, this introduction to the second sphere was not nearly as disorienting as the third sphere, explored in Season Two. It was in the third sphere, in the Swan Station, that Jack was forced to confront the limitations of his scientifically rigid mind. Faith, not science, was the surest and most powerful guide to understanding Island phenomena. By the end of Season Two, no one, not even Locke, had faith enough to prevent the implosion of the Swan Station. Desmond alone knew the action that was required, and he turned the reset key, preventing the Island's destruction.
The lessons of Season Two are absolutely essential to our full enjoyment and understanding of LOST. Reality cannot be understood through logic. Logic and science are inherently flawed tools, useful only in proving models (artificial, simplified, imaginary constructs) of reality, not reality itself. It is the failure to accept this truth that has prevented millions around the world from appreciating the last 150 minutes of the series.
A lack of logic does not imply lack of sure destination or purpose. In fact, if this essential premise is not employed as firm anchor, the events of the subsequent four seasons will seem entirely disconnected from each other. We must go into Season Three with faith and purpose as our sure guides.
In the fourth sphere (Season Three) we began to appreciate the social ramifications of Island life. The Hostiles believed the Dharma Initiative's activities so contrary to Jacob's plan that they murdered all of them--women, men, and children--en masse. The social aspect of Island life was essential to long-term survival.
With the fifth sphere (Season Four) we began to appreciate the effect of Island phenomena on the behaviours of physics. The Island bends space and light and time itself. The Rules of the Island have greater effect than any law; they are the expressions of a supernatural will to which even the "laws" of physics must yield.
In the sixth sphere (Season Five) we confronted political reality. Who was in charge of the Island? Ben Linus? Alvar Hanso? Richard Alpert? Stuart Radzinsky? Charles Widmore? Or was it ille qui nos omnes servabit, Jacob?
Lack of guidance regarding the identity of the Island's ruler mirrored the dearth of information about the antagonist. Who was the bad guy? Ben Linus? The Smoke Monster? Eloise Hawking? Ambiguity surrounding both of these important matters was not accidental but intentionally and emphatically built into the underlying structure of the series. Darlton went to great lengths to suppress any idea that the Smoke Monster had a name. He remained nameless.
Arriving at the identity of LOST's antagonist is the subject for a very long essay. However, we know who made the rules on the Island. The most important of the Island's Rules are literally etched in stone, and remain unchanged regardless of the identity of the person holding the title of Protector. The Island itself makes the Rules.
More importantly, we know what was necessary in order to make that determination. At this point in the story our active participation, in ways we are not used to providing for entertainment we believe should be feeding us, is essential. We must string together the disparate parts of LOST on our own. In fact, as I have argued elsewhere (http://pearsonmoore-gets-lost.com/LaMort_et_laVie_enVert.aspx), we, the participant-audience, must supply the narrative structure. LOST is not drama, but metadrama. We are not "viewers", but participants.
The Innermost Spheres
Season Six threw us into the seventh sphere, a realm of pure spirit. Those called to defend the Cork Stone--the physical vessel bearing the cuneiform inscriptions of humankind's most ancient and enduring precepts of civilisation--had to be transformed at every level of their being, and most especially in the spiritual dimension.
The Cork Stone was the ninth sphere. What lay beyond the stone was a tenth plane of existence, referred to as the Source. We have no words to describe the Source. There is no name, no reliable point of reference. When Moses put the question in the third chapter of the Hebrew book of Exodus, the response he received was, "I AM WHO AM." There is no reference for the Source. The Source is the point of contact with the Divine. We might think of it as something akin to the Burning Bush, but the comparison is feeble. The Burning Bush was a divine apparition in a form suitable to Moses' human understanding. The Source is raw, unfiltered divine power. It is the Burning Bush, but it burns not only with bright light, but with heat, with angry red judgment, with the full majesty and fury and terror of a million suns, with the complete force of divine will.
Much as the gaseous atmosphere surrounding our planet prevents deadly solar radiation from frying our bodies and disfiguring our nucleic acids, and transforms the cosmic energy into life-giving heat and light, so too the Cork Stone, properly placed over the Source, transforms raw energy into the Light that makes civilisation possible.
There is but one way to meet the Source, and that is through an eternal commitment. Theology expresses this commitment as something called "Covenant". In Judeo-Christian-Muslim tradition, one of the most important covenants was expressed as a set of Ten Commandments etched on stone tablets. The physical instrument of Covenant in LOST is the Cork Stone, inscribed in ancient cuneiform script with the most important lessons of human civilisation. We meet the Source by coming into Covenant with the Source. The Cork Stone is humanity's statement of commitment to the ideals of civilisation. By dropping the Cork Stone into the centre of the Source, we establish the only possible connection between that which is human and that which is divine, and that connection is predicated on and creates the fertile ground for the unceasing propagation of human civilisation. The pledge of civility is our Covenant with the Divine.
The Island has but one purpose, and that is to serve as repository and guardian of the ideals of civilisation.
PM
August 24, 2010
Culture Shock in Mittelos: Cerberus Versus Anubis
by Pearson Moore
[Question #4: Why did the Egyptian hieroglyphics (in Dead is Dead) depict the smoke monster seemingly hundreds of years before we saw it created?]
Vizier Ptah-Hotep says, "We are like the gods in bearing, but not in essence. We carry ourselves on two legs, as the Greats are wont to do, but the gods who control our fate govern desert wind, river current, ocean tide, sun and moon. They are the hippopotamus-god of the fertile Nile, Tawaret; the ram-god of the yearly inundation, Khnum; the jackal-god of the desert underworld, Anubis; the--"
Socrates, no longer in control of his amusement, bursts into unrestrained laughter. Ptah-Hotep, governor of Memphis and first lieutenant to Pharaoh himself, frowns in contempt of the toga-clad barbarian's insulting behaviour.
Ptah-Hotep takes a deep breath. "I do not belittle the Great Ones of Mount Olympus. Why do you--"
"I respect your culture." Socrates has pulled himself together, reclining again on the governor's guest couch. A mischievous grin crosses his face. "But is it any wonder Alexander the Great conquered your nation in the course of two short battles? You and your menagerie of farm yard animal-gods! We train hawks to do our bidding on the hunting field. Our kings keep jackals as house pets at their feet. True gods bear human faces, for we are like unto the gods in essence and in--"
"Stop!" Ptah-Hotep's stern eyes drill into Socrates. "Stop this blasphemy at once! Human faces, perhaps. Full likeness of the gods? Never! This is sheer blasphemy, and gods like your Pan, with the body and genitals of a goat--why, it's blasphemy, pornography, an affront to everything civilised, a--"
"An affront!" Socrates' eyes grow big, his jaw drops open. "I tell you, Pan is the most noble of the gods, he--"
"He's a goat, nothing more. Sticking his staff into anything that moves, raping any woman who crosses his--"
"Not a goat, Mister!" Socrates rises to his feet, hands on hips. "I'll tell you about affronts to civility, Governor! I'll tell you. On the island of Mittelos, near Atlantis, your people erected a statue to your ridiculous hippo-god, Tawaret. And worse! In your silly temple you carved a depiction of Cerberus, not with three heads, but with a single head--the countenance of Pan himself! As if that weren't bad enough, you gave him not a proper goat's body, but the body of a snake!"
Ptah-Hotep's anger disappears, replaced by a single raised eyebrow, pursed lips and eyes betraying deep concern. "Pan's visage, yes. But that is no snake's body, my philosopher friend. And this Cerberus, this three-headed dog of Mittelos, destroys, does not protect. And it is not man, but woman. A she-goat who expresses only contempt for human beings. 'They come, they fight, they destroy, they corrupt,' she says."
"A woman?"
Ptah-Hotep nods. "She's inhabited the Island for thousands of years." He takes a deep breath. "Our people say she calls herself 'Protector', but she takes the form of smoke. Black Death, they call her. She-goat of the Greeks."
Socrates frowns. "That hardly seems fair."
"Oh?"
"We only came to the island of Mittelos four hundred years ago, about the time Alexander conquered your nation. How could your artists possibly depict her as a Greek god? It's not fair."
Ptah-Hotep shrugs. "What is fair? You barbarians came and took over the island, proclaimed yourselves our people's masters. Would you say that's 'fair'? Our priests carved the image of this ancient she-goat with the likeness of Pan, with a body of smoke, bowing down to the jackal-god, Anubis, bowing down to our superior Egyptian culture, bowing to--"
"This is preposterous!"
"You may think what you wish, my Hellenic friend. But I speak the truth. This she-goat, this Black Death, destroyed an entire Roman village on--"
"The Romans are on Mittelos now, too?" Socrates returns to the visitor couch.
Ptah-Hotep reclines on his own ornately-carved couch and faces the Greek visitor.
"Yes. They arrived forty years ago. Shipwreck, I'm told." A sly smile crosses his face. "They speak Latin."
Socrates' knit brow shows his disbelief. "Not Greek? Even after the village was destroyed?"
"Not everyone speaks Greek, my friend."
"Pfah." Socrates wrinkles his nose. "Everyone in the world speaks Greek--except the Romans. Even the people they conquered."
Ptah-Hotep exhales and shrugs. "Like it or not, a few survived the Black Smoke's rampage, after she killed them, burned down their village, filled in their deep underground diggings--al l in a single afternoon [Lost 6.15, "Across the Sea", end of Act Five]. And they all speak Latin. Even the she-devil."
Socrates frowns, looks down at the floor, shakes his head. "It is a sad day when an entire island adopts the language of a murderous, conquering hoard like the blood-thirsty Romans. A sad day, indeed."
Ptah-Hotep nods. "On that we can certainly agree, my friend. The Romans are most uncivilised."
"Indeed." The bearded philosopher's lips move into a contented smile. "Thousands of years hence, the world will have forgotten the barbarous Romans. They will remember ours as the two greatest civilisations."
Ptah-Hotep grins. "My sister, Beset, has said as much."
"She looks well, for a woman with child."
"Thank you. It will be our first. A boy we hope. Beset and I prayed fervently to Tawaret on our wedding night."
"A boy..."
"Yes." Ptah-Hotep opens his mouth wide. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot my earlier promise. Where are my manners?" He rises to his feet, turns to the servant girl. "Sekhet, summon your young brother, Ammon."
The girl bows and turns around, takes quick steps through the doorway to the courtyard.
"I trust you will find our accommodations satisfactory , Socrates."
Socrates nods and smiles with genuine warmth. "Thank you. Your hospitality has already made me forget the uncivilised Romans."
__________
The conversation above is imaginary. The Egyptian philosopher Ptah-Hotep reigned as Governor of Memphis during the Fifth Dynasty (2465 B.C. to 2323 B.C.). Socrates lived in and around Athens from approximately 469 B.C. to his execution in 400 B.C.
Short Answer: The Smoke Monster, as "Mother" existed on the Island for hundreds or even thousands of years before the Man in Black was born on the Island. As revealed in "Across the Sea", Mother destroyed the Roman village in a single afternoon.
PM
August 24, 2010
The Aaron Conspiracy
by Pearson Moore
[Question #6: Why did Richard Malkin (the psychic) warn Claire that no one but she could raise Aaron?]
Aaron Littleton was special, but not for any reason left unexplained. You may choose to believe that the question of Aaron's significance ended with the Season Three episode "?" (Lost 2.21), in which Richard Malkin admitted he was a fraud.
Aaron certainly had no inherent connection to the Island, as was confirmed by Damon and Carlton during their New York Times "Times Talks" interview three months ago (see their response to the question of Aaron here: http://video.nytimes.com/video/2010/05/21/arts/television/1247467896423/times-talks-looking-back-on-lost.html). I trust Damon and Carlton, I believe Aaron's story contains no hidden messages, but I also believe his story did not end with Season Two.
Aaron was special, but only because he was a catalyst to a most important character, whose actions were critical to the outcome of the story. Richard Malkin had no ability to see into Claire's future. But he had the same motivations as any other human being. Someone or something bribed, coerced, or convinced him to fabricate a story that would, regardless of cost, get the very pregnant Claire Littleton onto Flight 815. Whether he knew the plane would crash is irrelevant. All he knew with certainty, from the Island's agent (Christian Shephard? Jacob?) or from Island-induced dream, is that Claire had to board that plane. Her guilt about Aaron had to be amplified, because at some point, her own father would steal her baby, or convince her to surrender the child to his care (Lost 4.10). Her guilt, fear, anger, and confusion would have to lead her over the brink of insanity.
Aaron's need for a real mother--for his biological mother--and Claire's need for her son, intensified by her need to recover her long-lost sanity, were the weapons of war, the tools of psychological coercion applied with ruthless and unyielding resolve toward a single, earth-shaking goal: to wear down and force to her knees the one whose destiny would be realised in the firing of a single bullet on a cliff of black volcanic ash. The Aaron Conspiracy had one simple goal: To force Kate Austen back to the Island, there to pick up a rifle and slay the Smoke Monster with a bullet to the chest.
That was the conspiracy, the plan hatched by agents of the Island, who knew They Are Coming (Lost 5.17). There is more to this story. I invite those interested to take a look at my essay on Christian Shephard (http://pearsonmoore-gets-lost.com/WhiteRabbit.aspx), which treats the Aaron Conspiracy in greater detail.
PM
August 24, 2010
by Pearson Moore
[Question #1: What were Walt's powers, and where did they come from?]
His story seems familiar somehow...
Hurley: You refer to the prophesy of the one who will bring balance to the Island.
You think it's this... boy?
Locke: He can see things before they happen.
Kate: Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know?
Sun: He can help you.
Locke: The Source is unusually strong in him.
Sun: He was meant to help you.
Korah Matah, Korah Rahtahmah...
At some point scholars may wonder whether George Lucas predicted the appearance on the Island of a knife-wielding young man who saw the future, who never lost a game of backgammon, but I leave that discussion to others. If you want to hear more of Duel of the Fates, it's available here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaiEHNv2g6w
The discussion above never happened, of course--at least not in the form I present. But many similar discussions, fraught with confusion and angst, did occur regularly throughout Seasons One and Two.
Several characters in LOST were described as "Special", but these were almost always single occurrences. For instance, Boone said of his sister, Shannon, "She's smart and special, in a lot of ways." No one else ever referred to Shannon as being "Special", however--not even Sayid, her Constant. Of the many who were described as special, only three individuals were repeatedly referenced in this manner, by multiple Island denizens. Locke was foremost among the three, with nine citations as "Special". Another was the Island itself. The third character considered "Special" was a most unusual and gifted young man.
Walter Lloyd, at ten years of age, never lost a game of backgammon. At his command, the rain stopped (Lost 1.03). He knew Locke was trying to gain entry to the Swan Station, even though he had never seen the hatch, never heard anyone discuss it (Lost 1.22). He appeared to Shannon in a vision, though his body was several kilometres away in Dharmaville (Lost 2.01). When a parent or guardian upset him, his anger caused birds to die, even before he came to the Island (Lost 1.14). It was Juliet's discovery that Walt's thoughts had somehow killed around a dozen birds that precipitated Ben's hasty decision to return Walt to Michael's custody (Lost M.06). Ben gave the boy back to his father, saying, in spectacular understatement, young Walt "was more than we bargained for."
Walt and Locke shared much more than the simple distinction of being considered "Special" by several of their comrades. They both enjoyed backgammon, though Walt was by far the master of the game. Both of them were skilled with the throwing knife. They enjoyed each other's company, and recognised in each other kindred interests and abilities. But the particular in which they both evinced unusual character was their pre-disposition to Island leadership.
Locke had subconscious awareness of the Smoke Monster, long before his feet trod the Island's sandy shore, even as a child of five (Lost 4.11). Walt controlled the behaviour of birds, months before the crash of Flight 815 (Lost 1.14). Locke and Walt were uniquely special because of their strong connection to the only other individual repeatedly described as special: The Island. They were marked for leadership in service of the Island. Locke gave up his life, the most expensive and difficult of the "sacrifices the Island demands". Walt was destined to leave, wondering if he would ever be granted passage back to his Island home. "I kept hopin' one day someone would come back for me." (Lost Epilogue).
Where did Walt's powers come from? The answer is very simple: The powers of the Island's future Protector came from the Island itself. Walt, from the day of his birth to Michael and Susan, was destined to become the Protector of the great repository of humanity.
The Island is in the hands of a boy, not old enough to drive in some countries. But there are no more capable hands, no better guardian of all that is sacred to the human tradition, to our heritage and destiny as civilised human beings, than Walter Lloyd, Protector of Mittelos.
PM
August 24, 2010
Prolegomena to Any Future Course Correction
by Pearson Moore
[Question #2: What would have happened had the Smoke Monster left the island?]
What would have happened had the Smoke Monster left the Island?
If the Smoke Monster had somehow managed to leave the Island it would have been because he had surrendered supernatural power. Perhaps with the re-ignition of the Light he would have regained power, but we cannot be sure of this. Based on historical precedent, however, I feel the question retains full force regardless of the nature of the beast's powers, regardless, too, of the extent to which the Monster shared in our character as human beings.
All told, some one hundred million souls lost their lives because of the two-legged monstrosity that led Germany from 1933 to 1945. The demonic nature of this beast would seem to exclude him from membership in the class of fauna called mammals, let alone the species known as Homo sapiens. Unfortunately, Adolf Hitler was entirely human, and his Aryan followers were eager to carry out the most heinous crimes against humanity. Supernatural powers are not pre-requisite to a life as the devil's representative on earth. From the mountains of evidence presented by the genocidal barbarians of the Third Reich, any one of us, given the proper conditions, could become the next Adolf Hitler.
I imagine one such as the Smoke Monster could have cajoled and prodded and convinced with the same oratorical exuberance and xenophobic hatred as the third-rate landscape painter from Braunau-am-Inn, Austria. Modern history, replete with genocides in Cambodia, Uganda, Rwanda, and throughout Eastern Europe, does not provide us with strong examples of humane intervention.
But I am hopeful. I chose my pen name, Pearson, to honour Canadian Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson, who won a Nobel Peace Prize for creating and implementing the United Nations Peacekeeping Force. And though the world seemed not to care about Rwanda, one of Pearson's philosophical children, Lt. General Roméo Dallaire, head of UN Peacekeeping Forces during the genocide (and also a Canadian), refused to leave Rwanda when the UN commanded him to do so. Dallaire stayed on, doing what he could to prevent the atrocities.
People like Lester Pearson and Roméo Dallaire, people of courage, are rare in this age. But I believe there will always be people like this, men worthy of being called men, women of courage and conviction, sufficient to course correct, and to put people like Hitler in shackles and chains, lock them in prison, and throw away the key.
What would happen were the Smoke Monster to escape the Island? We would defeat him and imprison him--or kill him.
PM
August 24, 2010
Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten:
The Cultural Purpose of the Island
by Pearson Moore
[Question #3: What is the Island's purpose?]
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
The supreme adherent of the Rules of Life was Dr. Jack Shephard. But once on the Island, Jack's boy-scout mentality seemed no longer to apply. Jack had to trade science and rules for faith and hope, and in the process lost his poise, lost his sanity, nearly lost his life. He was obliged to surrender the certitude and safety of his society's privilege for chaos and danger as his Island's Protector. He discovered the irony of his journey at the Source; that which he believed he had surrendered in the end he was sworn to protect: the founding precepts of civilisation. Everything he learned in kindergarten.
The Island's purpose is to serve as repository and guardian of the rules of humanity. The survivors' purpose was to protect the Island and its precious, life-giving cultural treasure. Our purpose was to make sense of it all, to distill enduring kindergarten sensibilities from the post-graduate chaos of the Casimir Effect, the Valenzetti Equation, the tropical polar bears, the malevolent masses of sentient smoke. And to do all that we had to keep our thoughts focussed on the one sure truth spanning six years: Destiny. Purpose. The final objective. Res qui nos omnes servabit.
LOST is a journey. We began that journey in the first sphere, at twelve thousand metres, just a bit higher than the tallest mountains, sipping vodka on the rocks courtesy of Flight Attendant Cindy Chandler. This mountaintop view of the rational world was an appropriate, Danteque location from which to begin an arduous journey through eight more spheres that would bring us to the Source.
Surviving the crash was the introduction to a strange Island world that brought life and death by means unknown and unimaginable. The crippled and dying were instantly cured, while the innocent were hunted down and killed by a formless black death. The Island (Season One) was the second sphere. It was in this sphere that we learned why the crash occurred.
LOCKE: Do you really think all this is an accident -- that we, a group of strangers survived, many of us with just superficial injuries? Do you think we crashed on this place by coincidence -- especially, this place? We were brought here for a purpose, for a reason, all of us. Each one of us was brought here for a reason.
JACK: Brought here? And who brought us here, John?
LOCKE: The Island.
The survivors had a purpose. That purpose was to be found on the Island, and somehow in service to the Island.
Confusing as it was, this introduction to the second sphere was not nearly as disorienting as the third sphere, explored in Season Two. It was in the third sphere, in the Swan Station, that Jack was forced to confront the limitations of his scientifically rigid mind. Faith, not science, was the surest and most powerful guide to understanding Island phenomena. By the end of Season Two, no one, not even Locke, had faith enough to prevent the implosion of the Swan Station. Desmond alone knew the action that was required, and he turned the reset key, preventing the Island's destruction.
The lessons of Season Two are absolutely essential to our full enjoyment and understanding of LOST. Reality cannot be understood through logic. Logic and science are inherently flawed tools, useful only in proving models (artificial, simplified, imaginary constructs) of reality, not reality itself. It is the failure to accept this truth that has prevented millions around the world from appreciating the last 150 minutes of the series.
A lack of logic does not imply lack of sure destination or purpose. In fact, if this essential premise is not employed as firm anchor, the events of the subsequent four seasons will seem entirely disconnected from each other. We must go into Season Three with faith and purpose as our sure guides.
In the fourth sphere (Season Three) we began to appreciate the social ramifications of Island life. The Hostiles believed the Dharma Initiative's activities so contrary to Jacob's plan that they murdered all of them--women, men, and children--en masse. The social aspect of Island life was essential to long-term survival.
With the fifth sphere (Season Four) we began to appreciate the effect of Island phenomena on the behaviours of physics. The Island bends space and light and time itself. The Rules of the Island have greater effect than any law; they are the expressions of a supernatural will to which even the "laws" of physics must yield.
In the sixth sphere (Season Five) we confronted political reality. Who was in charge of the Island? Ben Linus? Alvar Hanso? Richard Alpert? Stuart Radzinsky? Charles Widmore? Or was it ille qui nos omnes servabit, Jacob?
Lack of guidance regarding the identity of the Island's ruler mirrored the dearth of information about the antagonist. Who was the bad guy? Ben Linus? The Smoke Monster? Eloise Hawking? Ambiguity surrounding both of these important matters was not accidental but intentionally and emphatically built into the underlying structure of the series. Darlton went to great lengths to suppress any idea that the Smoke Monster had a name. He remained nameless.
Arriving at the identity of LOST's antagonist is the subject for a very long essay. However, we know who made the rules on the Island. The most important of the Island's Rules are literally etched in stone, and remain unchanged regardless of the identity of the person holding the title of Protector. The Island itself makes the Rules.
More importantly, we know what was necessary in order to make that determination. At this point in the story our active participation, in ways we are not used to providing for entertainment we believe should be feeding us, is essential. We must string together the disparate parts of LOST on our own. In fact, as I have argued elsewhere (http://pearsonmoore-gets-lost.com/LaMort_et_laVie_enVert.aspx), we, the participant-audience, must supply the narrative structure. LOST is not drama, but metadrama. We are not "viewers", but participants.
The Innermost Spheres
Season Six threw us into the seventh sphere, a realm of pure spirit. Those called to defend the Cork Stone--the physical vessel bearing the cuneiform inscriptions of humankind's most ancient and enduring precepts of civilisation--had to be transformed at every level of their being, and most especially in the spiritual dimension.
The Cork Stone was the ninth sphere. What lay beyond the stone was a tenth plane of existence, referred to as the Source. We have no words to describe the Source. There is no name, no reliable point of reference. When Moses put the question in the third chapter of the Hebrew book of Exodus, the response he received was, "I AM WHO AM." There is no reference for the Source. The Source is the point of contact with the Divine. We might think of it as something akin to the Burning Bush, but the comparison is feeble. The Burning Bush was a divine apparition in a form suitable to Moses' human understanding. The Source is raw, unfiltered divine power. It is the Burning Bush, but it burns not only with bright light, but with heat, with angry red judgment, with the full majesty and fury and terror of a million suns, with the complete force of divine will.
Much as the gaseous atmosphere surrounding our planet prevents deadly solar radiation from frying our bodies and disfiguring our nucleic acids, and transforms the cosmic energy into life-giving heat and light, so too the Cork Stone, properly placed over the Source, transforms raw energy into the Light that makes civilisation possible.
There is but one way to meet the Source, and that is through an eternal commitment. Theology expresses this commitment as something called "Covenant". In Judeo-Christian-Muslim tradition, one of the most important covenants was expressed as a set of Ten Commandments etched on stone tablets. The physical instrument of Covenant in LOST is the Cork Stone, inscribed in ancient cuneiform script with the most important lessons of human civilisation. We meet the Source by coming into Covenant with the Source. The Cork Stone is humanity's statement of commitment to the ideals of civilisation. By dropping the Cork Stone into the centre of the Source, we establish the only possible connection between that which is human and that which is divine, and that connection is predicated on and creates the fertile ground for the unceasing propagation of human civilisation. The pledge of civility is our Covenant with the Divine.
The Island has but one purpose, and that is to serve as repository and guardian of the ideals of civilisation.
PM
August 24, 2010
Culture Shock in Mittelos: Cerberus Versus Anubis
by Pearson Moore
[Question #4: Why did the Egyptian hieroglyphics (in Dead is Dead) depict the smoke monster seemingly hundreds of years before we saw it created?]
Vizier Ptah-Hotep says, "We are like the gods in bearing, but not in essence. We carry ourselves on two legs, as the Greats are wont to do, but the gods who control our fate govern desert wind, river current, ocean tide, sun and moon. They are the hippopotamus-god of the fertile Nile, Tawaret; the ram-god of the yearly inundation, Khnum; the jackal-god of the desert underworld, Anubis; the--"
Socrates, no longer in control of his amusement, bursts into unrestrained laughter. Ptah-Hotep, governor of Memphis and first lieutenant to Pharaoh himself, frowns in contempt of the toga-clad barbarian's insulting behaviour.
Ptah-Hotep takes a deep breath. "I do not belittle the Great Ones of Mount Olympus. Why do you--"
"I respect your culture." Socrates has pulled himself together, reclining again on the governor's guest couch. A mischievous grin crosses his face. "But is it any wonder Alexander the Great conquered your nation in the course of two short battles? You and your menagerie of farm yard animal-gods! We train hawks to do our bidding on the hunting field. Our kings keep jackals as house pets at their feet. True gods bear human faces, for we are like unto the gods in essence and in--"
"Stop!" Ptah-Hotep's stern eyes drill into Socrates. "Stop this blasphemy at once! Human faces, perhaps. Full likeness of the gods? Never! This is sheer blasphemy, and gods like your Pan, with the body and genitals of a goat--why, it's blasphemy, pornography, an affront to everything civilised, a--"
"An affront!" Socrates' eyes grow big, his jaw drops open. "I tell you, Pan is the most noble of the gods, he--"
"He's a goat, nothing more. Sticking his staff into anything that moves, raping any woman who crosses his--"
"Not a goat, Mister!" Socrates rises to his feet, hands on hips. "I'll tell you about affronts to civility, Governor! I'll tell you. On the island of Mittelos, near Atlantis, your people erected a statue to your ridiculous hippo-god, Tawaret. And worse! In your silly temple you carved a depiction of Cerberus, not with three heads, but with a single head--the countenance of Pan himself! As if that weren't bad enough, you gave him not a proper goat's body, but the body of a snake!"
Ptah-Hotep's anger disappears, replaced by a single raised eyebrow, pursed lips and eyes betraying deep concern. "Pan's visage, yes. But that is no snake's body, my philosopher friend. And this Cerberus, this three-headed dog of Mittelos, destroys, does not protect. And it is not man, but woman. A she-goat who expresses only contempt for human beings. 'They come, they fight, they destroy, they corrupt,' she says."
"A woman?"
Ptah-Hotep nods. "She's inhabited the Island for thousands of years." He takes a deep breath. "Our people say she calls herself 'Protector', but she takes the form of smoke. Black Death, they call her. She-goat of the Greeks."
Socrates frowns. "That hardly seems fair."
"Oh?"
"We only came to the island of Mittelos four hundred years ago, about the time Alexander conquered your nation. How could your artists possibly depict her as a Greek god? It's not fair."
Ptah-Hotep shrugs. "What is fair? You barbarians came and took over the island, proclaimed yourselves our people's masters. Would you say that's 'fair'? Our priests carved the image of this ancient she-goat with the likeness of Pan, with a body of smoke, bowing down to the jackal-god, Anubis, bowing down to our superior Egyptian culture, bowing to--"
"This is preposterous!"
"You may think what you wish, my Hellenic friend. But I speak the truth. This she-goat, this Black Death, destroyed an entire Roman village on--"
"The Romans are on Mittelos now, too?" Socrates returns to the visitor couch.
Ptah-Hotep reclines on his own ornately-carved couch and faces the Greek visitor.
"Yes. They arrived forty years ago. Shipwreck, I'm told." A sly smile crosses his face. "They speak Latin."
Socrates' knit brow shows his disbelief. "Not Greek? Even after the village was destroyed?"
"Not everyone speaks Greek, my friend."
"Pfah." Socrates wrinkles his nose. "Everyone in the world speaks Greek--except the Romans. Even the people they conquered."
Ptah-Hotep exhales and shrugs. "Like it or not, a few survived the Black Smoke's rampage, after she killed them, burned down their village, filled in their deep underground diggings--al l in a single afternoon [Lost 6.15, "Across the Sea", end of Act Five]. And they all speak Latin. Even the she-devil."
Socrates frowns, looks down at the floor, shakes his head. "It is a sad day when an entire island adopts the language of a murderous, conquering hoard like the blood-thirsty Romans. A sad day, indeed."
Ptah-Hotep nods. "On that we can certainly agree, my friend. The Romans are most uncivilised."
"Indeed." The bearded philosopher's lips move into a contented smile. "Thousands of years hence, the world will have forgotten the barbarous Romans. They will remember ours as the two greatest civilisations."
Ptah-Hotep grins. "My sister, Beset, has said as much."
"She looks well, for a woman with child."
"Thank you. It will be our first. A boy we hope. Beset and I prayed fervently to Tawaret on our wedding night."
"A boy..."
"Yes." Ptah-Hotep opens his mouth wide. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot my earlier promise. Where are my manners?" He rises to his feet, turns to the servant girl. "Sekhet, summon your young brother, Ammon."
The girl bows and turns around, takes quick steps through the doorway to the courtyard.
"I trust you will find our accommodations satisfactory , Socrates."
Socrates nods and smiles with genuine warmth. "Thank you. Your hospitality has already made me forget the uncivilised Romans."
__________
The conversation above is imaginary. The Egyptian philosopher Ptah-Hotep reigned as Governor of Memphis during the Fifth Dynasty (2465 B.C. to 2323 B.C.). Socrates lived in and around Athens from approximately 469 B.C. to his execution in 400 B.C.
Short Answer: The Smoke Monster, as "Mother" existed on the Island for hundreds or even thousands of years before the Man in Black was born on the Island. As revealed in "Across the Sea", Mother destroyed the Roman village in a single afternoon.
PM
August 24, 2010
The Aaron Conspiracy
by Pearson Moore
[Question #6: Why did Richard Malkin (the psychic) warn Claire that no one but she could raise Aaron?]
Aaron Littleton was special, but not for any reason left unexplained. You may choose to believe that the question of Aaron's significance ended with the Season Three episode "?" (Lost 2.21), in which Richard Malkin admitted he was a fraud.
Aaron certainly had no inherent connection to the Island, as was confirmed by Damon and Carlton during their New York Times "Times Talks" interview three months ago (see their response to the question of Aaron here: http://video.nytimes.com/video/2010/05/21/arts/television/1247467896423/times-talks-looking-back-on-lost.html). I trust Damon and Carlton, I believe Aaron's story contains no hidden messages, but I also believe his story did not end with Season Two.
Aaron was special, but only because he was a catalyst to a most important character, whose actions were critical to the outcome of the story. Richard Malkin had no ability to see into Claire's future. But he had the same motivations as any other human being. Someone or something bribed, coerced, or convinced him to fabricate a story that would, regardless of cost, get the very pregnant Claire Littleton onto Flight 815. Whether he knew the plane would crash is irrelevant. All he knew with certainty, from the Island's agent (Christian Shephard? Jacob?) or from Island-induced dream, is that Claire had to board that plane. Her guilt about Aaron had to be amplified, because at some point, her own father would steal her baby, or convince her to surrender the child to his care (Lost 4.10). Her guilt, fear, anger, and confusion would have to lead her over the brink of insanity.
Aaron's need for a real mother--for his biological mother--and Claire's need for her son, intensified by her need to recover her long-lost sanity, were the weapons of war, the tools of psychological coercion applied with ruthless and unyielding resolve toward a single, earth-shaking goal: to wear down and force to her knees the one whose destiny would be realised in the firing of a single bullet on a cliff of black volcanic ash. The Aaron Conspiracy had one simple goal: To force Kate Austen back to the Island, there to pick up a rifle and slay the Smoke Monster with a bullet to the chest.
That was the conspiracy, the plan hatched by agents of the Island, who knew They Are Coming (Lost 5.17). There is more to this story. I invite those interested to take a look at my essay on Christian Shephard (http://pearsonmoore-gets-lost.com/WhiteRabbit.aspx), which treats the Aaron Conspiracy in greater detail.
PM
August 24, 2010
What Were Walt's Powers, and Where Did They Come From?
Walt's powers have been one of more difficult puzzles to decipher. I think this was partly due to Malcom David Kelly growing his way out of the role (an unfortunate lack of foresight), but mostly due to the writers switching gears with their overall vision for the island's storyline.
As some of you know, my feelings since the finale have been pretty strong. I'm convinced that the writers and producers originally had *everyone* dead in the crash of flight 815, with the island serving as some sort of afterlife or place of reckoning (intentionally avoiding the use of Purgatory here) where our characters could resolve their past life's issues. One by one they'd make peace with their faults and shortcomings, and one by one they'd suddenly recognize where they were (i.e. Boone's last words: "Look at where we are...") One by one they'd eventually be allowed to move on, usually through 'death', at the exact moment they saw the truth.
The last character to realize this would of course be the most stubborn: Jack. The show would end with him realizing that he's dead, lying down exactly in the spot where the show began, and closing his eye. This is how I believe the writers always envisioned the show would end, and I give them credit for staying true to that perfect ending... despite having to lie about the show NOT being afterlife-based.
And why did they lie? Because the show was a hit. Because the show absolutely rocked, and because no one predicted how big of a phenomenon it would be. The death and afterlife references were so thick in seasons one and two that Purgatory instantly became a favorite theory. And rather than admit that most viewers had already guessed the show's plotline, the writers had to switch gears and begin taking LOST in different directions - directions designed to show you how 'real' some things were, but at the same time, keeping up the level of mystery and mysticism that made the show such a hit.
So yeah, they lied. They even told us they lied, by writing an episode called "The Lie". The main character, Jack, looks out into our living rooms that episode and says "We had to lie." It wasn't an apology so much as an indirect admission, heavily cloaked (like everything else on the show) behind obvious metaphors and double entendres.
To me, this now makes it difficult to interpret many aspects of the show - especially early on - such as with Walt. After watching LOST's finale, going back and asking "What did this mean" isn't so good a question as "Where were they *originally* going with this?" Keeping that in mind, Walt's powers become a lot more of a mystery. I find myself trying to put together a mismatched puzzle. If you take what they initially showed us, what they didn't show us (Lost mobisode 6), and what they eventually did with Walt's storyline, it's almost impossible to say what Walt's powers were all about.
Going back to the idea that everybody died in the plane crash, it made sense early on that the children would be taken away. They were young, they were innocent, and they had little or nothing to resolve. Zach, Emma, Walt, and even Aaron - if these were souls in an afterlife situation they would be automatically allowed to move on, no penance or redemption required. That whole thing just plain fits.
Then again, you could also say the children were taken because they were the most powerful and potentially dangerous. I've long compared the island to the dark cave on Dagobah: what's in there? Only what you bring with you. Children would of course bring the most wild and vivid of all imaginations to the island. Walt could've brought the polar bears simply by reading his magazine, just as he made it stop raining so he father would look for his dog, or when he summoned the bird in his flashback.
Yet Walt's flashback is what confuses most people. It's easy to swallow the idea that the island is making magical things happen, but Walt seemed to have these powers *before* getting on Flight 815. Does this make him special in a unique way that no other character has demonstrated?
Perhaps. But if you're going under the assumption that everyone died in the first few moments of the show, even the flashbacks should become suspect. For example, doesn't it seem more than a little convenient that each characters' flashback always corresponded neatly to on-island events... as if teaching that character a lesson about repeating the past? It's entirely possible the flashbacks were also manipulated or even created by the island, designed to show these characters the right path. This would explain how objects, items, names, places, people, events, and entire lines of dialogue get repeated and duplicated, over and over again, within each character's flashbacks and on-island experiences.
Back to Walt. Early on, it seemed he was destined to be a very crucial part of the show. Ditto for Aaron, a character who was associated with sinister visions and end-of-the-world type prophecies. Yet both these story arcs seemed to be dropped very suddenly, as if they were never really important at all. Walt got conveniently shipped off-island with Michael, and the Aaron/Claire thing went from creepy-cool to a very forgettable childcare storyline that detracted from more important events. We never knew what was up with Walt, and we never got final word as to why Aaron was so damned important.
So what gives?
In my opinion, these stories were dropped in lieu of LOST's rapidly shifting gears. When the writers decried that the show's viewers were all seeing dead people, they needed to build future credibility in the form of 'real world' events and off-island imagery. In abandoning the idea that the island was the afterlife (an afterlife they'd eventually rebuild in season six as the ALT-world, enabling them to end the show the way they always wanted), Walt and Aaron's stories were pieces of a previous puzzle; they no longer fit into the new storyline. Factor in puberty hitting Malcom over the head with a crowbar, and you've the recipe for LOST's most obvious of all loose ends.
Now... if you ask me what they originally intended with Walt, that's a lot harder to figure out. It sure seemed like they were grooming him to oppose Locke, and I think that would've been pretty cool. If you remember, things were very black and white back then. Walt could've easily replaced Jack when it came to the final showdown, but I guess we'll never know.
In the end, I think Walt's powers were an extension of the same powers everyone else on the island had... just a bit more powerful due to his lack of being corrupted by life. If Charlie brought heroin to the island, it was to test his resolve. If Eko brought his brother's plane, it was to test his repentantance. Jack brought Christian, Sawyer brought Cooper... the list could go on and on. But Walt, a seemingly innocent kid, has no baggage to bring to the island at all. Maybe this gives him such a strong connection to the island's inner workings that he becomes dangerously close to figuring out exactly where everyone is, and what they need to do to move on.
This may be why Ben takes him. Eventually, we see Ben's people are very concerned with NOT interfering with certain aspects of free will and choice. They draw lines in the sand that shouldn't be crossed. If Walt became suddenly aware of what was really going on, he could endanger the journey of self-discovery that everyone else was supposed to make on their own. Maybe Ben knew this. Even after capture Walt was still plenty dangerous, which is why they distracted him with Room 23.
What Was The Island's Purpose?
I guess I answered this question a lot in the previous section, but to me the island's purpose was always the same: teaching its inhabitants whatever they needed to learn in order to 'move on'. With each of their previous lives filled with unresolved issues, every main character on the show was both physically and metaphorically LOST.
There's not much reason to get into the religious implications of 'moving on'. Whether it be moving to a heaven-based existence or moving on to live another life, LOST is intentionally vague about what happens after Christian opens those double doors. They also touched upon every major religion over the course of the show, ending the final episode with distinct images of all of them.
I think there's a lot to be gained by Christian Shephard's final speech, especially the part where he tells Jack "This is a place that you all made together." Examining the characters on LOST, most of them were loners. They were lonely, they were outcasts, and they were often disassociated from society. What better-suited place for these people than a deserted island, cut off from the rest of the world, whether by thousands of miles or even different layers of reality.
So yes, I'm of the opinion that they were all dead in the plane crash. The island was a place unknowingly co-created by everyone who woke up on the beach in S1E1. Maybe this version of the afterlife looked this way because everyone remembers flying over the Pacific: a deserted island would be both a believable and logical choice here. Together they worked out their individual problems, and learned to "live together" instead of dying alone. Ultimately, for these people, I think trusting and relying upon each other - as well as the friendships and solidarity they formed over six seasons - were some of the bigger lessons in getting each character to recognize what they needed to move on.
Playing Devil's advocate on myself, we have Christian's other words: "I'm real. You're real, everything that's ever happened to you is real." This seems to indicate that what we saw on the island was real-world (albeit very strange) happenings, and that only the ALT-universe of season six was the place 'created by everyone'. Sorry, but I don't buy into this. It seems a very convenient way to wrap up the show by substituting their original storyline for a pseudo-afterlife that took place only in season six. Disagree with me if you will, but it feels almost like Christan is trying too hard to convince me here... as if those lines of dialogue were meant to sway viewers into thinking they knew all along that they'd end the show this way. And although I personally love the way they ended LOST, I also don't think for a minute that everything - at least as far as their definition of "reality" is concerned - was as they originally intended it to be.
Getting back to the island's purpose, it was definitely a place for resolution. I think it consisted of whomever and whatever was brought to its shores, and this included people, places, names, objects and items. While our characters existed upon the island, it looked exactly as they would see it. It contained things they've unknowingly brought onto it, from Richard's Black Rock to Eko's brother's plane, perhaps even put there by the island to morally and emotionally test them.
Yet although the island does seem to teach lessons (through flashbacks, flashforwards, or even on-island events), it also seems obsessed with allowing choice and free will. So very often we've seen characters who *know* things, very important things, yet for some reason they're unable to divulge certain pieces of information. From Ben's constant secrecy to ghost-Charlie's cryptic visit to Hugo, people are always supposed to figure things out on their own. It's akin to John Locke tying up Boone and putting the knife just beyond his reach: he gives him the tools to free himself (again, physically and metaphorically), but John can't cut the bonds for him. The moth reference sums LOST up quite nicely, as interference is apparently not an option.
I guess if the island's purpose is some sort of afterlife redemption, what would be the point of cheating? Showing someone his or her faults isn't the point here - these people have to come to their own conclusions and learn from their own mistakes. And when the journey is over, it's over. Boone, Shannon, Ana Lucia, Eko, Charlie... we all saw people who died shortly after resolving the bigger issues of their pre-island lives. At times I got the distinct impression these people were removed from the island to keep the rest of the characters still in the dark, yet maybe they were allowed to watch things from the sidelines and occasionally interact. This could explain the whispers too, and in a much more detailed way than the writers threw at us.
Personally, I never saw the island as a real place. Even when we shown the off-island scenes (like the Oceanic Six world) I questioned the validity of what we were being shown. So many things on the island were largely symbolic, like making the island's successor drink from the stream before taking things over. Everyone always WAKING UP on the island... the sub-ride that no one ever saw from beginning to end without going unconscious... these weren't real ways to get to and from a real island, they were only vehicles for bringing people in (and back) to a place where they still had unresolved issues.
Everyone who left the island, including Desmond and Frank, somehow ended up back there to finish what needed to be finished. And before you go pointing to Aaron or Ji Yeon, you could make the argument that a) they're kids, and don't have any unresolved issues, but more likely b) if everyone died when the plane first crashed, then they never technicially existed in the first place - on island or off (there's actually a ton of evidence for this).
Whether you believe the island was real or unreal, it's intentions were always to educate. This was LOST's central theme: getting past daddy issues, mommy issues, and 'I have the hots for my sister' issues. The characters were always shown on-island parallels to their pre-island lives designed solely to make them see one important thing: the truth. Mirrors were used many times throughout the show so characters could get an honest, third-person glimpse of exactly where they were. This contributed to many big revelations, especially toward the end, where things got more and more obvious.
What Was The Significance of Jacob's Cabin?
This is one of LOST's more obscure mysteries - another one that seemed extremely important but never fully got fleshed out. Unlike some of the other mysteries however, I think the writers had a legitimate direction they were taking with Jacob's Cabin. To me, it seemed more like they just ran out of time to tell that part of the story.
Everything I write from here on out is pure conjecture on my part, backed up by what I consider to be evidence that we were given. Feel free to agree or disagree, but here's my take on things:
The Jacob's cabin we saw never housed Jacob. It's possible he used it prior to our storyline (it was probably good to get out of that foot for a while...), but the person we saw trapped in Jacob's cabin seemed to be the dark man himself. I was almost sure we'd get some kind of backstory as to how he got in there, and how the circle of ash was being used to keep him IN, and not OUT. Unfortunately however, we never really got the details on that.
Now if the dark man was somehow trapped in Jacob's cabin, the biggest problem is this: how can that be possible if we saw the smoke monster the entire time? And while I don't have a 100% foolproof answer to that, I'd have to say it just *felt* that way to me. Going out on a limb, maybe the dark man lost the ability to take the form of people (via dead bodies) during his time in the cabin. Because once we saw that the circle of ash had been broken, we definitely saw a lot more crazy stuff in the form of monster-Yemi, monster-Alex, and at times, monster-Christian Shephard.
At one point during season six, Richard (or Ilana?) tells everyone that Flocke "can't change shape anymore", as if he'd lost that ability. If I remember correctly, this came right after they buried John Locke's body. So maybe certain aspects of the dark man's abilities are affected by certain things we don't really know about. So many rules, so little time.
Back to the cabin. Somehow, during Ben's misguided reign as leader of the Others, he mistook the man in the cabin for Jacob. Not really sure how that happened, but both Ben and Richard seemed to think the cabin originally belonged to him.
The man who said "help me" seemed to be trapped *temporally*, and that kicked off the whole time-slipping/time-traveling thing. If you watch the scene in which Ben takes Locke to the cabin, everything rewinds and resets itself (including the broken lantern) to a time before they entered the door at all. It's a mystery as to why this person would need help, unless it was the dark man asking to be freed of the circle of ash. I also LOVE the idea that the person stuck in that chair was the trapped and tormented consciousness of Anthony Cooper - the same Cooper we saw who lost his mind in the ALT-universe after crashing in Locke's plane. He's such an evil bastard that he has to do penance in that chair.
When Locke returns to the cabin a second time, we see evil Christian Shepard. This is most definitely the dark man, "speaking for jacob". Ilana and Bram further reinforce this theory when they arrive at the cabin in season five. Seeking Jacob, their words "someone else has been using it" seemed to indicate they knew Jacob was no longer residing there, and so they burned it down as a precaution. The cabin gets defined almost as a tool here, one that can be used for either good or evil.
One of the cabin's biggest mysteries was who the hell Hugo saw when he looked through that window. I'm admittedly stumped on that one, and I never could come up with a rational answer. I think the significance of this scene is that Hurley can actually see the cabin at all. In that respect he shared a kinship with Locke, at a time when Ben was feeling disappointed and angry that island newcomers were gaining contact and insight that he was never privy to.
In any event, the cabin became less and less important as LOST's conclusion drew near. The characters of Jacob and the dark man were a lot more interesting, and the island events took up a lot more screen time. Like Ilana's untold relationship with Jacob, I think much of the cabin's details were left on the writing room floor. I wish LOST's producers would eventually come clean about what the cabin was, what it was supposed to mean, and most of all, exactly who it was that we saw in it.
Walt's powers have been one of more difficult puzzles to decipher. I think this was partly due to Malcom David Kelly growing his way out of the role (an unfortunate lack of foresight), but mostly due to the writers switching gears with their overall vision for the island's storyline.
As some of you know, my feelings since the finale have been pretty strong. I'm convinced that the writers and producers originally had *everyone* dead in the crash of flight 815, with the island serving as some sort of afterlife or place of reckoning (intentionally avoiding the use of Purgatory here) where our characters could resolve their past life's issues. One by one they'd make peace with their faults and shortcomings, and one by one they'd suddenly recognize where they were (i.e. Boone's last words: "Look at where we are...") One by one they'd eventually be allowed to move on, usually through 'death', at the exact moment they saw the truth.
The last character to realize this would of course be the most stubborn: Jack. The show would end with him realizing that he's dead, lying down exactly in the spot where the show began, and closing his eye. This is how I believe the writers always envisioned the show would end, and I give them credit for staying true to that perfect ending... despite having to lie about the show NOT being afterlife-based.
And why did they lie? Because the show was a hit. Because the show absolutely rocked, and because no one predicted how big of a phenomenon it would be. The death and afterlife references were so thick in seasons one and two that Purgatory instantly became a favorite theory. And rather than admit that most viewers had already guessed the show's plotline, the writers had to switch gears and begin taking LOST in different directions - directions designed to show you how 'real' some things were, but at the same time, keeping up the level of mystery and mysticism that made the show such a hit.
So yeah, they lied. They even told us they lied, by writing an episode called "The Lie". The main character, Jack, looks out into our living rooms that episode and says "We had to lie." It wasn't an apology so much as an indirect admission, heavily cloaked (like everything else on the show) behind obvious metaphors and double entendres.
To me, this now makes it difficult to interpret many aspects of the show - especially early on - such as with Walt. After watching LOST's finale, going back and asking "What did this mean" isn't so good a question as "Where were they *originally* going with this?" Keeping that in mind, Walt's powers become a lot more of a mystery. I find myself trying to put together a mismatched puzzle. If you take what they initially showed us, what they didn't show us (Lost mobisode 6), and what they eventually did with Walt's storyline, it's almost impossible to say what Walt's powers were all about.
Going back to the idea that everybody died in the plane crash, it made sense early on that the children would be taken away. They were young, they were innocent, and they had little or nothing to resolve. Zach, Emma, Walt, and even Aaron - if these were souls in an afterlife situation they would be automatically allowed to move on, no penance or redemption required. That whole thing just plain fits.
Then again, you could also say the children were taken because they were the most powerful and potentially dangerous. I've long compared the island to the dark cave on Dagobah: what's in there? Only what you bring with you. Children would of course bring the most wild and vivid of all imaginations to the island. Walt could've brought the polar bears simply by reading his magazine, just as he made it stop raining so he father would look for his dog, or when he summoned the bird in his flashback.
Yet Walt's flashback is what confuses most people. It's easy to swallow the idea that the island is making magical things happen, but Walt seemed to have these powers *before* getting on Flight 815. Does this make him special in a unique way that no other character has demonstrated?
Perhaps. But if you're going under the assumption that everyone died in the first few moments of the show, even the flashbacks should become suspect. For example, doesn't it seem more than a little convenient that each characters' flashback always corresponded neatly to on-island events... as if teaching that character a lesson about repeating the past? It's entirely possible the flashbacks were also manipulated or even created by the island, designed to show these characters the right path. This would explain how objects, items, names, places, people, events, and entire lines of dialogue get repeated and duplicated, over and over again, within each character's flashbacks and on-island experiences.
Back to Walt. Early on, it seemed he was destined to be a very crucial part of the show. Ditto for Aaron, a character who was associated with sinister visions and end-of-the-world type prophecies. Yet both these story arcs seemed to be dropped very suddenly, as if they were never really important at all. Walt got conveniently shipped off-island with Michael, and the Aaron/Claire thing went from creepy-cool to a very forgettable childcare storyline that detracted from more important events. We never knew what was up with Walt, and we never got final word as to why Aaron was so damned important.
So what gives?
In my opinion, these stories were dropped in lieu of LOST's rapidly shifting gears. When the writers decried that the show's viewers were all seeing dead people, they needed to build future credibility in the form of 'real world' events and off-island imagery. In abandoning the idea that the island was the afterlife (an afterlife they'd eventually rebuild in season six as the ALT-world, enabling them to end the show the way they always wanted), Walt and Aaron's stories were pieces of a previous puzzle; they no longer fit into the new storyline. Factor in puberty hitting Malcom over the head with a crowbar, and you've the recipe for LOST's most obvious of all loose ends.
Now... if you ask me what they originally intended with Walt, that's a lot harder to figure out. It sure seemed like they were grooming him to oppose Locke, and I think that would've been pretty cool. If you remember, things were very black and white back then. Walt could've easily replaced Jack when it came to the final showdown, but I guess we'll never know.
In the end, I think Walt's powers were an extension of the same powers everyone else on the island had... just a bit more powerful due to his lack of being corrupted by life. If Charlie brought heroin to the island, it was to test his resolve. If Eko brought his brother's plane, it was to test his repentantance. Jack brought Christian, Sawyer brought Cooper... the list could go on and on. But Walt, a seemingly innocent kid, has no baggage to bring to the island at all. Maybe this gives him such a strong connection to the island's inner workings that he becomes dangerously close to figuring out exactly where everyone is, and what they need to do to move on.
This may be why Ben takes him. Eventually, we see Ben's people are very concerned with NOT interfering with certain aspects of free will and choice. They draw lines in the sand that shouldn't be crossed. If Walt became suddenly aware of what was really going on, he could endanger the journey of self-discovery that everyone else was supposed to make on their own. Maybe Ben knew this. Even after capture Walt was still plenty dangerous, which is why they distracted him with Room 23.
What Was The Island's Purpose?
I guess I answered this question a lot in the previous section, but to me the island's purpose was always the same: teaching its inhabitants whatever they needed to learn in order to 'move on'. With each of their previous lives filled with unresolved issues, every main character on the show was both physically and metaphorically LOST.
There's not much reason to get into the religious implications of 'moving on'. Whether it be moving to a heaven-based existence or moving on to live another life, LOST is intentionally vague about what happens after Christian opens those double doors. They also touched upon every major religion over the course of the show, ending the final episode with distinct images of all of them.
I think there's a lot to be gained by Christian Shephard's final speech, especially the part where he tells Jack "This is a place that you all made together." Examining the characters on LOST, most of them were loners. They were lonely, they were outcasts, and they were often disassociated from society. What better-suited place for these people than a deserted island, cut off from the rest of the world, whether by thousands of miles or even different layers of reality.
So yes, I'm of the opinion that they were all dead in the plane crash. The island was a place unknowingly co-created by everyone who woke up on the beach in S1E1. Maybe this version of the afterlife looked this way because everyone remembers flying over the Pacific: a deserted island would be both a believable and logical choice here. Together they worked out their individual problems, and learned to "live together" instead of dying alone. Ultimately, for these people, I think trusting and relying upon each other - as well as the friendships and solidarity they formed over six seasons - were some of the bigger lessons in getting each character to recognize what they needed to move on.
Playing Devil's advocate on myself, we have Christian's other words: "I'm real. You're real, everything that's ever happened to you is real." This seems to indicate that what we saw on the island was real-world (albeit very strange) happenings, and that only the ALT-universe of season six was the place 'created by everyone'. Sorry, but I don't buy into this. It seems a very convenient way to wrap up the show by substituting their original storyline for a pseudo-afterlife that took place only in season six. Disagree with me if you will, but it feels almost like Christan is trying too hard to convince me here... as if those lines of dialogue were meant to sway viewers into thinking they knew all along that they'd end the show this way. And although I personally love the way they ended LOST, I also don't think for a minute that everything - at least as far as their definition of "reality" is concerned - was as they originally intended it to be.
Getting back to the island's purpose, it was definitely a place for resolution. I think it consisted of whomever and whatever was brought to its shores, and this included people, places, names, objects and items. While our characters existed upon the island, it looked exactly as they would see it. It contained things they've unknowingly brought onto it, from Richard's Black Rock to Eko's brother's plane, perhaps even put there by the island to morally and emotionally test them.
Yet although the island does seem to teach lessons (through flashbacks, flashforwards, or even on-island events), it also seems obsessed with allowing choice and free will. So very often we've seen characters who *know* things, very important things, yet for some reason they're unable to divulge certain pieces of information. From Ben's constant secrecy to ghost-Charlie's cryptic visit to Hugo, people are always supposed to figure things out on their own. It's akin to John Locke tying up Boone and putting the knife just beyond his reach: he gives him the tools to free himself (again, physically and metaphorically), but John can't cut the bonds for him. The moth reference sums LOST up quite nicely, as interference is apparently not an option.
I guess if the island's purpose is some sort of afterlife redemption, what would be the point of cheating? Showing someone his or her faults isn't the point here - these people have to come to their own conclusions and learn from their own mistakes. And when the journey is over, it's over. Boone, Shannon, Ana Lucia, Eko, Charlie... we all saw people who died shortly after resolving the bigger issues of their pre-island lives. At times I got the distinct impression these people were removed from the island to keep the rest of the characters still in the dark, yet maybe they were allowed to watch things from the sidelines and occasionally interact. This could explain the whispers too, and in a much more detailed way than the writers threw at us.
Personally, I never saw the island as a real place. Even when we shown the off-island scenes (like the Oceanic Six world) I questioned the validity of what we were being shown. So many things on the island were largely symbolic, like making the island's successor drink from the stream before taking things over. Everyone always WAKING UP on the island... the sub-ride that no one ever saw from beginning to end without going unconscious... these weren't real ways to get to and from a real island, they were only vehicles for bringing people in (and back) to a place where they still had unresolved issues.
Everyone who left the island, including Desmond and Frank, somehow ended up back there to finish what needed to be finished. And before you go pointing to Aaron or Ji Yeon, you could make the argument that a) they're kids, and don't have any unresolved issues, but more likely b) if everyone died when the plane first crashed, then they never technicially existed in the first place - on island or off (there's actually a ton of evidence for this).
Whether you believe the island was real or unreal, it's intentions were always to educate. This was LOST's central theme: getting past daddy issues, mommy issues, and 'I have the hots for my sister' issues. The characters were always shown on-island parallels to their pre-island lives designed solely to make them see one important thing: the truth. Mirrors were used many times throughout the show so characters could get an honest, third-person glimpse of exactly where they were. This contributed to many big revelations, especially toward the end, where things got more and more obvious.
What Was The Significance of Jacob's Cabin?
This is one of LOST's more obscure mysteries - another one that seemed extremely important but never fully got fleshed out. Unlike some of the other mysteries however, I think the writers had a legitimate direction they were taking with Jacob's Cabin. To me, it seemed more like they just ran out of time to tell that part of the story.
Everything I write from here on out is pure conjecture on my part, backed up by what I consider to be evidence that we were given. Feel free to agree or disagree, but here's my take on things:
The Jacob's cabin we saw never housed Jacob. It's possible he used it prior to our storyline (it was probably good to get out of that foot for a while...), but the person we saw trapped in Jacob's cabin seemed to be the dark man himself. I was almost sure we'd get some kind of backstory as to how he got in there, and how the circle of ash was being used to keep him IN, and not OUT. Unfortunately however, we never really got the details on that.
Now if the dark man was somehow trapped in Jacob's cabin, the biggest problem is this: how can that be possible if we saw the smoke monster the entire time? And while I don't have a 100% foolproof answer to that, I'd have to say it just *felt* that way to me. Going out on a limb, maybe the dark man lost the ability to take the form of people (via dead bodies) during his time in the cabin. Because once we saw that the circle of ash had been broken, we definitely saw a lot more crazy stuff in the form of monster-Yemi, monster-Alex, and at times, monster-Christian Shephard.
At one point during season six, Richard (or Ilana?) tells everyone that Flocke "can't change shape anymore", as if he'd lost that ability. If I remember correctly, this came right after they buried John Locke's body. So maybe certain aspects of the dark man's abilities are affected by certain things we don't really know about. So many rules, so little time.
Back to the cabin. Somehow, during Ben's misguided reign as leader of the Others, he mistook the man in the cabin for Jacob. Not really sure how that happened, but both Ben and Richard seemed to think the cabin originally belonged to him.
The man who said "help me" seemed to be trapped *temporally*, and that kicked off the whole time-slipping/time-traveling thing. If you watch the scene in which Ben takes Locke to the cabin, everything rewinds and resets itself (including the broken lantern) to a time before they entered the door at all. It's a mystery as to why this person would need help, unless it was the dark man asking to be freed of the circle of ash. I also LOVE the idea that the person stuck in that chair was the trapped and tormented consciousness of Anthony Cooper - the same Cooper we saw who lost his mind in the ALT-universe after crashing in Locke's plane. He's such an evil bastard that he has to do penance in that chair.
When Locke returns to the cabin a second time, we see evil Christian Shepard. This is most definitely the dark man, "speaking for jacob". Ilana and Bram further reinforce this theory when they arrive at the cabin in season five. Seeking Jacob, their words "someone else has been using it" seemed to indicate they knew Jacob was no longer residing there, and so they burned it down as a precaution. The cabin gets defined almost as a tool here, one that can be used for either good or evil.
One of the cabin's biggest mysteries was who the hell Hugo saw when he looked through that window. I'm admittedly stumped on that one, and I never could come up with a rational answer. I think the significance of this scene is that Hurley can actually see the cabin at all. In that respect he shared a kinship with Locke, at a time when Ben was feeling disappointed and angry that island newcomers were gaining contact and insight that he was never privy to.
In any event, the cabin became less and less important as LOST's conclusion drew near. The characters of Jacob and the dark man were a lot more interesting, and the island events took up a lot more screen time. Like Ilana's untold relationship with Jacob, I think much of the cabin's details were left on the writing room floor. I wish LOST's producers would eventually come clean about what the cabin was, what it was supposed to mean, and most of all, exactly who it was that we saw in it.
What would have happened had the Smoke Monster left the island?
Here’s my two-word answer: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. The Man in Black probably would have lost his ability to shapeshift into Smokey, permanently remained in Locke’s form, aged naturally, and died.
I have reasons for this position, but first, let’s look at the evidence to the contrary. The major conflict in season 6 was the Man in Black vs. the Candidates, each trying to escape the island and kill the other. Charles Widmore supplied the tension most directly, offering two separate warnings that the MIB’s escape would bring dire consequences. He told Jin that if MIB left the island, everyone they knew and loved (including Jin’s off-island daughter) would “cease to be.” Widmore also told Desmond that Penny, Charlie Hume, and everyone else would die if MIB left the island.
It’s important to be clear here: Widmore claimed that if MIB left the island, at a minimum, every Lost character would die. It’s crystal clear that this is what he meant. What I’m not clear about is whether everyone else in the world was going to die, too. The question is, what sort of disaster phenomenon would be triggered by MIB leaving the island? If we’re thinking along science fiction lines, there could be some sort of timeline negation that causes everyone who was related to the island to “cease to be”. Under this theory, the damage may have been limited to only Lost characters. But if we’re thinking along more fantasy/mythological lines, I could propose a theory whereby everyone in the world has some of the island’s “light” inside them, and by leaving the island, the “darkness” would permanently put out the light, causing it to go out everywhere and kill the whole world, based on things Mother had said. I truly don’t know which interpretation was intended (and since I think they’re both a lie, it doesn’t really matter), but Widmore either believed that every character who was remotely involved with “Lost” was going to die, or possibly everyone in the whole world. With such stakes, how could anyone root against stopping MIB?
Charles Widmore’s pronouncements are at least somewhat support by the actions of Jacob and his ancient Mother. I can only assume that Widmore got his information on MIB from Jacob (who supposedly visited Widmore and sent him back to the island). So either Jacob told Widmore that everyboy was going to die, or Widmore made this up. Why would he invent such a lie? It would have to be because Jacob told him that stopping MIB from leaving was really, really important. So in either case, Widmore believed that stopping MIB was important because Jacob told him so.
We know that Jacob wanted to prevent MIB from leaving. This was, after all, a main function of the candidates—remembered the wine bottle? It keeps the darkness from escaping. We also saw MIB ask Jacob to let him go in the final flashback of “Ab Aeterno”, and Jacob refused, even if it meant death.
So why did Jacob think MIB staying put was so important? Well, it’s gotta be dear old Mother. She was always deadset against MIB leaving, going so far as to obliterate his escape plan and kill all the people who had been working on the wheel/energy pocket project with him. Note: we don’t know for sure that Mother was the one who did this, nor do we know how she did it (that was a lot of destruction for one person). I’m going to assume, however, that Mother did do it (and even explain how), in part because I have no other good theories about it. Seriously, my next best guess is that a pack of time-travelling polar bears smashed MIB’s plans, which signals both that it may be time for me to retire from Lost theorizing, and that Mother is probably the most likely offender. The question, then, is how did she do this, and why was it so important for her to keep MIB on the island?
I assert that Mother was a Smoke Monster, too. She knew what would happen if you venture too far down into the Source—she knew because she had done so herself. It’s really the most plausible explanation for how she had the strength to totally ruin the excavation site and kill all the Romans. It also nudges some pieces into place.
Mother was in charge of protecting the island, a task she inherited from her mother and others before her. She knew she would have to pass on this task, and she wanted MIB to take over for her. He was clever and manipulative in all the ways Jacob wasn’t. And while Jacob’s loyalty to her was useful, she didn’t think he could be as effective. Unfortunately, MIB wanted to leave the island, even though he was most suited to take over the job. So Mother set into motion a chain of events that would end with her getting the best of both worlds in terms of her succession. Jacob inherited the official leadership role. But by angering the MIB, and then allowing him to kill her, Mother anticipated Jacob’s reaction. She expected that because of how deeply Jacob cared about her, he would take revenge on his brother by throwing him down the Source. This turned MIB into the Smoke Monster, and effectively made him the policeman of the island. He would always make the island an unsafe place for unwelcome guest. She didn’t want him to leave the island, not because something horrible would happen to everyone in the world, but simply because she wanted to protect the island, and the Smoke Monster’s continued presence there kept the island’s wayward inhabitants in line.
Ultimately, I think the conflict between MIB and Jacob/candidates occurred not because one side was evil and the other was good, but because of a centuries’ old long con that pitted them against each other in order to keep the island safe.
Does this deflate the mythological struggle that was the final season? Eh, I don’t think so, because I don’t think overcoming MIB was the real struggle, but rather a symptom of a larger problem. For centuries, the people on the island—Jacob, MIB, Richard Alpert, Eloise Hawking, Charles Widmore, the Others, Benjamin Linus, Dogen—had followed a set of mystical rules that none of them properly understood. They didn’t know why they were following them (or even what they were, entirely), but they feared the consequence for breaking them would be the end of the world. The button-pressing in the Swan may have been a metaphor for this—for years, people pressed that button. They didn’t know why it had to be done that way, why the button had to be pressed, but they had to have faith that if they didn’t do it, the world would end.
“Maybe there’s a better way.” This is what Ben tells Hurley near the end of the finale, referring to how to be the leader of the island. This statement was the entire point of Lost, I think, and a sign that our heroes had finally prevailed. At long last, some group of people—the survivors of the crash of Oceanic 815—had overcome a set of predetermined, ruinous destinies and freely chosen to do things a better way. And so Lost leaves me in a triumphant place, even if the Smoke Monster’s departure never posed the world any significant threat.
What is the Island's purpose?
I know that many of you probably think this is the “big question,” so I hope I’m not disappointing you by spending only a little time on it. I think the Island’s purpose is subjective depending on how you approach the show. If you liked it for the quirky science fiction mystery stuff (best encapsulated in seasons 2, the end of 4, and 5), then it’s just an island with an electromagnetic core that causes freaky stuff to happen.
I’ve been reflecting all summer on what made Lost special for me. And though I really, really, really liked the science fiction stuff, ultimately, the characters are what made the show for me. Lost’s characters were just so great. The show featured at least twenty people whom I was emotionally invested in, and no other show on television matches that. Other shows have good characters, but only Lost had John Locke AND Desmond AND Ben AND Sawyer AND Juliette AND Hurley AND Charlie AND Richard Alpert AND Mr. Eko and on and on and on. Try it for yourself: think about how many characters you absolutely love on Lost compared to other shows you watch.
Since Lost’s most compelling feature was, in my opinion, the characters, then the island’s purpose, for me, must relate to them. The island was the world in which the characters became more perfect people before heading to the next world. Many people ask whether everyone died in the crash and have always been dead all along. This question is interesting on a physical level, but emotionally, it’s the same thing either way. The characters had always been moving through stages of their lives—we saw them in flashbacks. They died and were reborn when they came to the island, just as they died and were reborn when they left it for the flash-sideways.
Consider John Locke, specifically. John died when his father stole his kidney. That level of his life was complete, and he failed it. He was duped, and he passed into the next world a broken man with another chance to perfect himself. Again, he failed. His father pushed him out of a window, and he died and was reborn again—this time, even worse off. And then he died and was reborn on the island, to grow and adapt and find himself and establish meaningful relationships with other people that he would carry on into the next life. And then he died again, and was reborn, this time in two pieces: his body, trapped on the island, the slave to some other bitter old man; and his soul, crippled once again. Then the body died when Kate and Jack killed MIB, and John’s soul could die on the operating table of the flash-sideways. Then, rebirth, in the form of a fully-realized John Locke: happier, wiser, and able to walk.
The island, then, was but one step in this journey, albeit a critical one. It was a world more magical than the sad, flawed lives the characters had lived before the island, and yet a world still less special and perfect and beautiful than the next one, where they all entered the white void redeemed.
What happened when Juliet set off the bomb (or did she?)
This may be the most significant unresolved question on Lost with no good answer. For the entire sixth season, we were led to believe that Juliet’s detonation of the bomb created an alternate reality where the island was destroyed in 1977, everyone’s lives were different, and the plane didn’t crash. This turned out to be a lie. Juliet did not create an alternate reality; the flash-sideways we were shown were actually an afterlife of sorts occurring after the natural deaths of the characters in the primary (and only, as it turns out) chronology. That much is clear.
However, what actually did happen is a bit confusing. We know the effect of Juliet’s actions. The Incident transpired just as it always had—nobody actually “changed” the past. Dr. Chang lost his arm but survived. Radzinksy also survived, and would later commit suicide. The Swan site became a temperamental bed of electromagnetism that would need to be discharged every 108 minutes. No nuclear explosion destroyed the island or killed anyone on it, not even Juliet, who was inches from the bomb. Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Miles, Jin, dying Sayid, dying Juliet, and Hurley were teleported 30 years into the future, to the evening of Jacob’s murder at the hands of Ben. Rose, Bernard, and Vincent were also teleported, despite being nowhere near the Swan.
How do I explain that? Eh, I get creative. We know from Daniel that within the science of the show, heavy exposure to radiation and electromagnetism produces strange results like temporal displacement. We know that the pocket of electromagnetism at the Swan site is very, very strong—far stronger than the Orchid, which is itself capable of moving the island and propelling its inhabitants through time. Based on this, I can suggest a few possibilities.
Perhaps the electromagnetic anomaly absorbed the nuclear blast entirely, shielding everyone from its harmful effects. The combination of these two powerful forces emitted energy that caused all those who had previously traveled through time (those who were most susceptible to such energy) to jump once again.
Perhaps more likely, the bomb simply did not go off. The white flash that occurred when Juliet struck it for the eighth time was simply a time flash brought on by electromagnetic activity. The bomb never went off and remained at the bottom of the shaft. It may have even still been next to Juliet when Sawyer dug her out. Maybe the electromagnetism moved the island to a safe location away from the nuclear blast at the exact right moment. Let’s not forget that turning the Orchid wheel caused both the island to move and the Losties to flash through time.
Another possibility is of course a more mythological answer: it was Jacob’s doing. If we remember the rules, the candidates can’t kill themselves. Jack couldn’t detonate the bomb because it would have killed him and that violates the rules. That doesn’t explain why Juliet couldn’t have detonated the bomb, though, so it’s not a perfect answer. But the rules are vague at best, as are Jacob’s exact powers. Maybe he had the ability to summon the candidates upon his death (“They’re coming”).
All I can say for sure is that the island was not destroyed by a nuclear explosion, and no alternate timeline exists. Some strange combination of scientific and possibly magical island properties saved everyone, including the island itself, from a nuclear detonation, and sent the Losties hurtling through time again.
What were Walt's powers, and where did they come from?
SPOILER: I can’t answer this question without addressing what happened in the Season 6 DVD Epilogue “New Man in Charge”, so if you don’t want to know what happens, you’ll probably have to skip this section until you’ve seen it.
I didn’t have a great answer to this question until “New Man in Charge,” actually. As those who’ve seen it know, Ben goes to get Walt, who lives in Santa Rosa, haunted by his strange past and lonely present. They make amends and Walt decides to come back to the island. On the drive to the airport (or submarine dock or whatever they’re using these days), Hurley tells Walt that he has a job offer for him. I would assume that this job is in fact Hurley’s job—and Jack’s job before him, Jacob’s job before him, Mother’s job before him, etc.—of protecting the island.
This offers a nice explanation to Walt’s powers. We know that Jacob had special abilities. His touch was magic, he could make Richard not age, etc. It would hardly make sense for this to be unique to Jacob, so Jack probably had powers, too. Well, he died before he got to try too many of them out. Hold on though... Jack's powers manifested even before he took Jacob’s place! How so, you ask? Think about it: Jack’s touch was magic. He was a world-renowned spinal surgeon. He helped people make miraculous recoveries, including his wife. Hurley had special powers, too. He won the lottery using the favorite numbers of his predecessor’s predecessor. He could commune with the dead.
My point is, these people’s special abilities manifested before they actually became leaders of the island. Perhaps Walt’s are no different. He can make apparitions of himself appear (Jacob may have done that, too). He can manifest his thoughts, like making the bird fly into the window and summoning the polar bear after reading the comic. This power could have something to do with the wish fulfillment powers that other island deities like Jacob and the MIB claimed to have (not to mention the magic box). So my explanation for Walt’s powers is this: He has them because he will take Hurley’s place as leader of the island.
This would mean that to some degree, the line of succession was set, and Jacob was wrong when he said whoever wanted the job could have it (or he was lying and knew that Jack would volunteer). Whoever had special powers was always meant to inherit the role. Recall that Richard first became interested in Ben when the boy admitted to seeing his dead mother. John Locke’s miraculous recovery (as well as his history of time travel) made him a person of interest, too. Powers and abilities made a person “special” (the name of Walt’s only centric episode), and suggested that this person may take up the mantle of protector of the island.
I should add that I’m very happy with this resolution to Walt’s character. I had always felt like the complete abandonment of Walt’s storyline was the least forgivable unaddressed issue on Lost. Walt was a main character of season 1, and to leave him totally unresolved seemed unfortunate. But “New Man in Charge” establishes that Walt is island-bound. Remember that Walt, like John, liked the island. He became close with his father there, he matured there. For him, it will feel like going home. And after a lengthy internship under Hurley, I feel confident that Walt will continue heading toward that “better way” of running the island, away from disastrous, ancient, tribal rules and rivalries.
This point was also covered by the other segment of “New Man in Charge,” where Ben visits the Dharma food drop loading station and shuts it down. We meet these two poor saps who had been loading and shipping food for over 20 years, though they had no idea why or what they were doing, and that there was really no reason for it anymore. This shows that even Dharma was not immune from the allure of decades’ long ritualism. Luckily, this also comes to an end. “There’s a new man in charge,” Ben tells the workers. This further drives home the point that Hurley and Ben—and hopefully Walt—are finding a better way to do things. So the last few scenes of Lost are, in my opinion, completely triumphant.
Since this is starting to feel like a goodbye of sorts, let me run two things past you: If you want to keep in touch and stay notified of any articles I write on Lost and other subjects, please friend me on Facebook. Also, I just finished an internship and am looking for a journalism-related job: if you are in that line of work and know of any openings, I would appreciate it if you let me know via Facebook. Much obliged! I Now, I hope this isn’t the last time I write something about Lost (Entire series rewatch with blogging commentary? Yes? Maybe?). If it is, I’ve enjoyed every minute of watching, discussing, and writing about the show. We’ve all been passengers of a doomed Oceanic flight together, and now we’ve landed safely in Los Angeles. But just like our friends in the church at the end of the finale, we’ve taken home some awesome memories and unbreakable friendships. Until the island calls us back, Namaste.
Here’s my two-word answer: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. The Man in Black probably would have lost his ability to shapeshift into Smokey, permanently remained in Locke’s form, aged naturally, and died.
I have reasons for this position, but first, let’s look at the evidence to the contrary. The major conflict in season 6 was the Man in Black vs. the Candidates, each trying to escape the island and kill the other. Charles Widmore supplied the tension most directly, offering two separate warnings that the MIB’s escape would bring dire consequences. He told Jin that if MIB left the island, everyone they knew and loved (including Jin’s off-island daughter) would “cease to be.” Widmore also told Desmond that Penny, Charlie Hume, and everyone else would die if MIB left the island.
It’s important to be clear here: Widmore claimed that if MIB left the island, at a minimum, every Lost character would die. It’s crystal clear that this is what he meant. What I’m not clear about is whether everyone else in the world was going to die, too. The question is, what sort of disaster phenomenon would be triggered by MIB leaving the island? If we’re thinking along science fiction lines, there could be some sort of timeline negation that causes everyone who was related to the island to “cease to be”. Under this theory, the damage may have been limited to only Lost characters. But if we’re thinking along more fantasy/mythological lines, I could propose a theory whereby everyone in the world has some of the island’s “light” inside them, and by leaving the island, the “darkness” would permanently put out the light, causing it to go out everywhere and kill the whole world, based on things Mother had said. I truly don’t know which interpretation was intended (and since I think they’re both a lie, it doesn’t really matter), but Widmore either believed that every character who was remotely involved with “Lost” was going to die, or possibly everyone in the whole world. With such stakes, how could anyone root against stopping MIB?
Charles Widmore’s pronouncements are at least somewhat support by the actions of Jacob and his ancient Mother. I can only assume that Widmore got his information on MIB from Jacob (who supposedly visited Widmore and sent him back to the island). So either Jacob told Widmore that everyboy was going to die, or Widmore made this up. Why would he invent such a lie? It would have to be because Jacob told him that stopping MIB from leaving was really, really important. So in either case, Widmore believed that stopping MIB was important because Jacob told him so.
We know that Jacob wanted to prevent MIB from leaving. This was, after all, a main function of the candidates—remembered the wine bottle? It keeps the darkness from escaping. We also saw MIB ask Jacob to let him go in the final flashback of “Ab Aeterno”, and Jacob refused, even if it meant death.
So why did Jacob think MIB staying put was so important? Well, it’s gotta be dear old Mother. She was always deadset against MIB leaving, going so far as to obliterate his escape plan and kill all the people who had been working on the wheel/energy pocket project with him. Note: we don’t know for sure that Mother was the one who did this, nor do we know how she did it (that was a lot of destruction for one person). I’m going to assume, however, that Mother did do it (and even explain how), in part because I have no other good theories about it. Seriously, my next best guess is that a pack of time-travelling polar bears smashed MIB’s plans, which signals both that it may be time for me to retire from Lost theorizing, and that Mother is probably the most likely offender. The question, then, is how did she do this, and why was it so important for her to keep MIB on the island?
I assert that Mother was a Smoke Monster, too. She knew what would happen if you venture too far down into the Source—she knew because she had done so herself. It’s really the most plausible explanation for how she had the strength to totally ruin the excavation site and kill all the Romans. It also nudges some pieces into place.
Mother was in charge of protecting the island, a task she inherited from her mother and others before her. She knew she would have to pass on this task, and she wanted MIB to take over for her. He was clever and manipulative in all the ways Jacob wasn’t. And while Jacob’s loyalty to her was useful, she didn’t think he could be as effective. Unfortunately, MIB wanted to leave the island, even though he was most suited to take over the job. So Mother set into motion a chain of events that would end with her getting the best of both worlds in terms of her succession. Jacob inherited the official leadership role. But by angering the MIB, and then allowing him to kill her, Mother anticipated Jacob’s reaction. She expected that because of how deeply Jacob cared about her, he would take revenge on his brother by throwing him down the Source. This turned MIB into the Smoke Monster, and effectively made him the policeman of the island. He would always make the island an unsafe place for unwelcome guest. She didn’t want him to leave the island, not because something horrible would happen to everyone in the world, but simply because she wanted to protect the island, and the Smoke Monster’s continued presence there kept the island’s wayward inhabitants in line.
Ultimately, I think the conflict between MIB and Jacob/candidates occurred not because one side was evil and the other was good, but because of a centuries’ old long con that pitted them against each other in order to keep the island safe.
Does this deflate the mythological struggle that was the final season? Eh, I don’t think so, because I don’t think overcoming MIB was the real struggle, but rather a symptom of a larger problem. For centuries, the people on the island—Jacob, MIB, Richard Alpert, Eloise Hawking, Charles Widmore, the Others, Benjamin Linus, Dogen—had followed a set of mystical rules that none of them properly understood. They didn’t know why they were following them (or even what they were, entirely), but they feared the consequence for breaking them would be the end of the world. The button-pressing in the Swan may have been a metaphor for this—for years, people pressed that button. They didn’t know why it had to be done that way, why the button had to be pressed, but they had to have faith that if they didn’t do it, the world would end.
“Maybe there’s a better way.” This is what Ben tells Hurley near the end of the finale, referring to how to be the leader of the island. This statement was the entire point of Lost, I think, and a sign that our heroes had finally prevailed. At long last, some group of people—the survivors of the crash of Oceanic 815—had overcome a set of predetermined, ruinous destinies and freely chosen to do things a better way. And so Lost leaves me in a triumphant place, even if the Smoke Monster’s departure never posed the world any significant threat.
What is the Island's purpose?
I know that many of you probably think this is the “big question,” so I hope I’m not disappointing you by spending only a little time on it. I think the Island’s purpose is subjective depending on how you approach the show. If you liked it for the quirky science fiction mystery stuff (best encapsulated in seasons 2, the end of 4, and 5), then it’s just an island with an electromagnetic core that causes freaky stuff to happen.
I’ve been reflecting all summer on what made Lost special for me. And though I really, really, really liked the science fiction stuff, ultimately, the characters are what made the show for me. Lost’s characters were just so great. The show featured at least twenty people whom I was emotionally invested in, and no other show on television matches that. Other shows have good characters, but only Lost had John Locke AND Desmond AND Ben AND Sawyer AND Juliette AND Hurley AND Charlie AND Richard Alpert AND Mr. Eko and on and on and on. Try it for yourself: think about how many characters you absolutely love on Lost compared to other shows you watch.
Since Lost’s most compelling feature was, in my opinion, the characters, then the island’s purpose, for me, must relate to them. The island was the world in which the characters became more perfect people before heading to the next world. Many people ask whether everyone died in the crash and have always been dead all along. This question is interesting on a physical level, but emotionally, it’s the same thing either way. The characters had always been moving through stages of their lives—we saw them in flashbacks. They died and were reborn when they came to the island, just as they died and were reborn when they left it for the flash-sideways.
Consider John Locke, specifically. John died when his father stole his kidney. That level of his life was complete, and he failed it. He was duped, and he passed into the next world a broken man with another chance to perfect himself. Again, he failed. His father pushed him out of a window, and he died and was reborn again—this time, even worse off. And then he died and was reborn on the island, to grow and adapt and find himself and establish meaningful relationships with other people that he would carry on into the next life. And then he died again, and was reborn, this time in two pieces: his body, trapped on the island, the slave to some other bitter old man; and his soul, crippled once again. Then the body died when Kate and Jack killed MIB, and John’s soul could die on the operating table of the flash-sideways. Then, rebirth, in the form of a fully-realized John Locke: happier, wiser, and able to walk.
The island, then, was but one step in this journey, albeit a critical one. It was a world more magical than the sad, flawed lives the characters had lived before the island, and yet a world still less special and perfect and beautiful than the next one, where they all entered the white void redeemed.
What happened when Juliet set off the bomb (or did she?)
This may be the most significant unresolved question on Lost with no good answer. For the entire sixth season, we were led to believe that Juliet’s detonation of the bomb created an alternate reality where the island was destroyed in 1977, everyone’s lives were different, and the plane didn’t crash. This turned out to be a lie. Juliet did not create an alternate reality; the flash-sideways we were shown were actually an afterlife of sorts occurring after the natural deaths of the characters in the primary (and only, as it turns out) chronology. That much is clear.
However, what actually did happen is a bit confusing. We know the effect of Juliet’s actions. The Incident transpired just as it always had—nobody actually “changed” the past. Dr. Chang lost his arm but survived. Radzinksy also survived, and would later commit suicide. The Swan site became a temperamental bed of electromagnetism that would need to be discharged every 108 minutes. No nuclear explosion destroyed the island or killed anyone on it, not even Juliet, who was inches from the bomb. Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Miles, Jin, dying Sayid, dying Juliet, and Hurley were teleported 30 years into the future, to the evening of Jacob’s murder at the hands of Ben. Rose, Bernard, and Vincent were also teleported, despite being nowhere near the Swan.
How do I explain that? Eh, I get creative. We know from Daniel that within the science of the show, heavy exposure to radiation and electromagnetism produces strange results like temporal displacement. We know that the pocket of electromagnetism at the Swan site is very, very strong—far stronger than the Orchid, which is itself capable of moving the island and propelling its inhabitants through time. Based on this, I can suggest a few possibilities.
Perhaps the electromagnetic anomaly absorbed the nuclear blast entirely, shielding everyone from its harmful effects. The combination of these two powerful forces emitted energy that caused all those who had previously traveled through time (those who were most susceptible to such energy) to jump once again.
Perhaps more likely, the bomb simply did not go off. The white flash that occurred when Juliet struck it for the eighth time was simply a time flash brought on by electromagnetic activity. The bomb never went off and remained at the bottom of the shaft. It may have even still been next to Juliet when Sawyer dug her out. Maybe the electromagnetism moved the island to a safe location away from the nuclear blast at the exact right moment. Let’s not forget that turning the Orchid wheel caused both the island to move and the Losties to flash through time.
Another possibility is of course a more mythological answer: it was Jacob’s doing. If we remember the rules, the candidates can’t kill themselves. Jack couldn’t detonate the bomb because it would have killed him and that violates the rules. That doesn’t explain why Juliet couldn’t have detonated the bomb, though, so it’s not a perfect answer. But the rules are vague at best, as are Jacob’s exact powers. Maybe he had the ability to summon the candidates upon his death (“They’re coming”).
All I can say for sure is that the island was not destroyed by a nuclear explosion, and no alternate timeline exists. Some strange combination of scientific and possibly magical island properties saved everyone, including the island itself, from a nuclear detonation, and sent the Losties hurtling through time again.
What were Walt's powers, and where did they come from?
SPOILER: I can’t answer this question without addressing what happened in the Season 6 DVD Epilogue “New Man in Charge”, so if you don’t want to know what happens, you’ll probably have to skip this section until you’ve seen it.
I didn’t have a great answer to this question until “New Man in Charge,” actually. As those who’ve seen it know, Ben goes to get Walt, who lives in Santa Rosa, haunted by his strange past and lonely present. They make amends and Walt decides to come back to the island. On the drive to the airport (or submarine dock or whatever they’re using these days), Hurley tells Walt that he has a job offer for him. I would assume that this job is in fact Hurley’s job—and Jack’s job before him, Jacob’s job before him, Mother’s job before him, etc.—of protecting the island.
This offers a nice explanation to Walt’s powers. We know that Jacob had special abilities. His touch was magic, he could make Richard not age, etc. It would hardly make sense for this to be unique to Jacob, so Jack probably had powers, too. Well, he died before he got to try too many of them out. Hold on though... Jack's powers manifested even before he took Jacob’s place! How so, you ask? Think about it: Jack’s touch was magic. He was a world-renowned spinal surgeon. He helped people make miraculous recoveries, including his wife. Hurley had special powers, too. He won the lottery using the favorite numbers of his predecessor’s predecessor. He could commune with the dead.
My point is, these people’s special abilities manifested before they actually became leaders of the island. Perhaps Walt’s are no different. He can make apparitions of himself appear (Jacob may have done that, too). He can manifest his thoughts, like making the bird fly into the window and summoning the polar bear after reading the comic. This power could have something to do with the wish fulfillment powers that other island deities like Jacob and the MIB claimed to have (not to mention the magic box). So my explanation for Walt’s powers is this: He has them because he will take Hurley’s place as leader of the island.
This would mean that to some degree, the line of succession was set, and Jacob was wrong when he said whoever wanted the job could have it (or he was lying and knew that Jack would volunteer). Whoever had special powers was always meant to inherit the role. Recall that Richard first became interested in Ben when the boy admitted to seeing his dead mother. John Locke’s miraculous recovery (as well as his history of time travel) made him a person of interest, too. Powers and abilities made a person “special” (the name of Walt’s only centric episode), and suggested that this person may take up the mantle of protector of the island.
I should add that I’m very happy with this resolution to Walt’s character. I had always felt like the complete abandonment of Walt’s storyline was the least forgivable unaddressed issue on Lost. Walt was a main character of season 1, and to leave him totally unresolved seemed unfortunate. But “New Man in Charge” establishes that Walt is island-bound. Remember that Walt, like John, liked the island. He became close with his father there, he matured there. For him, it will feel like going home. And after a lengthy internship under Hurley, I feel confident that Walt will continue heading toward that “better way” of running the island, away from disastrous, ancient, tribal rules and rivalries.
This point was also covered by the other segment of “New Man in Charge,” where Ben visits the Dharma food drop loading station and shuts it down. We meet these two poor saps who had been loading and shipping food for over 20 years, though they had no idea why or what they were doing, and that there was really no reason for it anymore. This shows that even Dharma was not immune from the allure of decades’ long ritualism. Luckily, this also comes to an end. “There’s a new man in charge,” Ben tells the workers. This further drives home the point that Hurley and Ben—and hopefully Walt—are finding a better way to do things. So the last few scenes of Lost are, in my opinion, completely triumphant.
Since this is starting to feel like a goodbye of sorts, let me run two things past you: If you want to keep in touch and stay notified of any articles I write on Lost and other subjects, please friend me on Facebook. Also, I just finished an internship and am looking for a journalism-related job: if you are in that line of work and know of any openings, I would appreciate it if you let me know via Facebook. Much obliged! I Now, I hope this isn’t the last time I write something about Lost (Entire series rewatch with blogging commentary? Yes? Maybe?). If it is, I’ve enjoyed every minute of watching, discussing, and writing about the show. We’ve all been passengers of a doomed Oceanic flight together, and now we’ve landed safely in Los Angeles. But just like our friends in the church at the end of the finale, we’ve taken home some awesome memories and unbreakable friendships. Until the island calls us back, Namaste.