Thursday, 6 November 2014

Cyberiography

I shall assume that both my readers are familiar with the concept of time travel, so, without further ado, let us whisk our way back to the golden, olden days of 1968. Let us find ourselves before the flickering screens of the nation as, across the land, lonely and furtive figures settle down before the televisual feast that is "Doctor Who: The Invasion". These primitive, isolated enthusiasts, without the kinship of a collective noun or means of interweb communication, would nevertheless, if you could cut their hair and set them loose in an overpriced, windowless convention centre, be virtually indistinguishable from our own good selves.

Even the insides of their minds would be very similar to our own modern minds that we have here today: Many would, we can be sure, imagine that the 'new' Cyberman weren't as uncannily disturbing as the classic old ones. Others, the anthropologists assure us, would almost certainly have complained about the spoilers 'posted' in the rudimentary 'Radio Times' magazine. Maybe some of those ancient Dads thought that the Doctor's assistant looked a tad foxy in her nice period costume. There were those, we can be sure, who thought the new weird Doctor wasn't as good as 'their' Doctor - the nice one with the silky hair....

But I tell you something that's most interesting about those people........ most of them are dead....

That's the trouble with modern age Doctor Who fandom: The dead outnumber the living.....

You can count on one hand the number of people alive today who have seen the whole of 'The Invasion'. In the modern i-transistor age, no earth-borne child of this 21st century will suffer to watch a full seventeen episodes before the first appearance of a Cyberman. Now, with those little fat Darth Vader birds cavorting about on everyone's pocket-telephone, no life is empty enough to wait with baited breathe for a shot of a Cyberman in a wet suit crawling out of a drain.

Time.... moved...... differently ......then..........

So why do we so dutifully replicate their world? Why must it be given that all Cyberman shalt invade via picturesque London landmarks? Why must all dormant Cyberfolk lurk segregated in individual Japanese micro-hotel rooms?

All is a shout out to the past. A homage to those who came before. Prostrating ourselves before the dead.

I'm with Nietzsche on this one:  we really do have it within ourselves to pass beyond the folly of such ancestor worship.

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