Blade Runner

Blade Runner

Paranoid Androids?

Science fiction or conspiracy theory? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

Dan Hobart

Philip K. Dick was an extraordinary man. He was also, after his encounter with “God” in 1974 (or “Zebra,” or “VALIS” as he later referred to the Almighty Dude himself), an extraordinarily paranoid man. As I sat and pondered the meaning of Blade Runner, I couldn’t help wondering what PKD’s interpretation of Ridley Scott’s interpretation of Dick’s 1968 book Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? might be. What if his interpretation stemmed from him falling for a fringe-fundamentalist neo-Christian belief given his paranoia as a result of his experience in ’74? Surely such an interpretation would put the “mental” in fundamentalist? I suddenly found myself “Illuminated,” and allowed such a Phil to type through my fingers. Behold . . .

PKD’s Hypothetical Interpretation of Ridley Scott’s Liberal Interpretation of Phil’s 1968 Book Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Ever heard of the Illuminati? Their primary goal is the formation of a New World Order, with one world government and a single religion for all to follow. Sounds delightful. The catch is—the New World Order is theirs, as is the totalitarian government and the (compulsory) religion which is their own creation based on an inverted bastardization of the Bible called the Kabala. They also have their hand in most other religious fragments so as to dilute the already-clouded beliefs of a spiritually confused society. So, world domination then—much like your average James Bond supervillain.

Blade Runner is an apocalyptic film. It may not follow the Book of Revelation to the letter (who on earth can?) but its gloom-sodden atmosphere is one in which people live without hope. It’s hard to miss the spiritual vacuum portrayed on screen. The desperation underpinning the love between Deckard and Rachael suggests not only that they do not have long, but neither does the human race. As with our history, the hand of Illuminist manipulation is subtly apparent in Blade Runner’s vision of the future.

One clue comes from the huge advertising blimps which ominously loom overhead: “This announcement has been brought to you by the Shimago-Dominguez Corporation. Helping America into the New World.” Advertising as the biggest presence in the sky—bigger than God—illustrates the continual and exponential rise of commercialism to the exclusion of all else. Various interpreters of Revelation consider the “Babylonian whore” to be commercialism itself, and the setting of the film in Los Angeles only serves to suggest that LA is Babylon.

On to the Tyrell Corporation. Not only does the splendor of its headquarters suggest its place at the top of the commercial pyramid—it actually is a pyramid. Turn over your one-dollar bill to see a similar example underneath the all-seeing eye of Horus, and the words “Novus Ordo Seclorum” (“new order of the ages”). Horus is one target of Illuminati worship, as are the other Egyptian gods Isis and Osiris. Right at the start of the film (according to the script) is a macro, full-screen image of Holden’s eye. Not that you’d know it; even on endless subsequent viewings it seems quite abstract. Together with Tyrell’s pyramid, that image creates the watermark of Blade Runner’s own currency—the theme of hopelessness and emptiness brought on by the rise of commercialism, itself manipulated by the Illuminati to facilitate apathy among the “unenlightened.”

Tyrell himself confirms this: “Commerce is our goal. More human than human is our motto.” Illuminists worship creation rather than the Creator, and like most who do not recognize their own limits, they seek to become gods. Thus the replicants, created by Illuminists to better humans in every way—except for emotional maturity and lifespan. But they cannot last as long as their God-created counterparts.

The replicants represent rebellious Illuminati children, indoctrinated from birth through fear, torture, and mind control to pursue the goals of the order. The inevitable outcome of such conditioning is confusion and instability, not to mention hatred for their “parents,” their abusers. When Roy Batty comes face-to-face with Tyrell, he learns that his life cannot be extended, then kisses him on the lips and kills him. In that order then, he (1) learns that his involuntary participation in the Illuminati means he cannot enter heaven. This is a lie spun by the “father of lies.” (2) The kiss signifies his dependence on the group he has rejected, a common ailment of ex-Illuminists. (3) This is man’s reaction to years of built-up abuse, not to mention the realization of his true lifespan. “It’s not an easy thing to meet your maker.”—Roy’s apprehension is justifiable considering his ultimate destination once his physical body has died.

Deckard represents a man in the process of making the wrong choice, unwillingly bound to the Illuminati like a debtor to his creditors. Note how he tries to walk out on that first meeting with Brian, only to be told “if you’re not cop, you’re little people.” Brian is explaining that if he’s not Illuminist, he’s one of the billions of “expendable” ones that will have to go when the Illuminati put their population-thinning plans into effect.

So after watching her “take the pleasures from the serpent that once corrupted man.” Deckard murders former-Illuminist (now hedonist) Zora, before doing the same to Leon, the confused child. He then arrives at the home of J. F. Sebastian—yet another unwilling participant with a limited lifespan—where he finds and kills Pris, before entering the final epic confrontation with Roy.

Roy—having killed his Illuminist creator and torturer—brings himself up to speed on the Bible. First he metes out a little Old Testament revenge on Deckard by breaking his fingers, then he unnecessarily re-enacts the crucifixion by driving a nail through his palm. Finally, he literally and figuratively “saves” Deckard by showing him the same mercy Christ showed mankind a couple thousand years previously by giving up his own life. In doing so Roy is himself saved—as we see when the dove (his spirit) ascends to the heavens in the only instance where we actually see them.

Earlier Roy had spelled out the choice (to himself as well as to Deckard) in plain English: “6 . . . 7 . . . go to hell or go to heaven.” Seven is God’s number, and six is the number of man. He then elaborates: “It’s quite an experience to live in fear. That’s what it is to be a slave.” All Illuminists are really slaves, and many others are in bondage to commercialism and the media—two of the Illuminati’s favorite tools.

The message hits home. Deckard grabs Rachael, an Illuminist child with false memories (a very common symptom of Illuminati conditioning), and gets the “hell” out of there. Their destination is unimportant for the moment. They get out . . . and don’t take ”the mark.”

As for Gaff, he is what Deckard would have become—sympathetic to the “sheep” but ultimately powerless as another person who made the wrong choice. “It’s too bad she won’t live . . . but then again who does?” Clearly, he was never aware of the other choice.

Despite the Illuminati’s best efforts, the history they have forged and the future they work so hard to bring about will “. . . be lost in time like tears in rain,” as Judgment Day reveals the true winner—as written in Revelation 1900 years ago.

* * *

And then I regained control of my fingers and found myself de-possessed. Keep a pew warm for me if you’re up there, Phil—you truly were an inspired man. Now, where’s my sodium pentothal? :::

Dan Hobart lives in England and at www.daninthemix.com. He is an aspiring screenwriter.
posted by editor ::: September 20, 2004 ::: philms ::: (1) Comments