Under The Dome Shows The Worst Scenario For A Hillary Clinton Presidency

Hey, it’s me. The Dome. Sorry I haven’t been around much. I’ve been kind of busy. You know how it is. They wanted to bring me to San Diego Comic-Con and put all of Hall H under me, as a publicity stunt. But then people got all squirrely about my plan to put J.J. Abrams in a cocoon. What? It would have been fun.


Anyway, so I haven’t recapped my show in a while, so let’s check in with episode six, “Caged.” Spoilers, and whatnot.

When I was first asked to star in this show, they pitched it to me as a great human drama. “It’s about this town, see? And the people in the town get trapped under you. And they have to struggle with building a totally self-sufficient society, without access to anything from outside. And they descend into fascism, and become monsters, and it gets all Lord of the Flies.”


It sounded kind of cool, except what was I going to be doing this whole time? Just sitting there, imprisoning people? And that’s how I came up with the idea that I should have more of a personality, like I could change colors and have moods, and get iced over or turn black, or whatever. And that there could be cool stuff, like butterflies and crystal eggs and mini-domes and stuff. And people could wonder what I’m doing, and how I feel, and what I want them to do.

“Fine, fine,” they said. “You can totally do all that stuff. But meanwhile, there’s going to be a whole political storyline as well, as Big Jim Rennie rises to power and appeals to people’s worse natures.”

“Does he appeal to people’s worse natures by offering them disco insects?” I asked.

“Uh, no.”

“Does he tell them that if four people touch his bald head at the same time, they’ll have beautiful visions of pink stars?”


“Not really. He doesn’t ever tell anybody to touch his head.”

“What kind of a leader is he, then?”

These were the kinds of conversations we had, back during season one.

Flash forward to season three, and things are different. They’ve abandoned that whole “Big Jim’s rise to power” storyline, and luckily, it’s all about me. Sort of. They decided to give me a new human representative, Christine Price, who’s doing my bidding among the humans. When she’s not bossing people around at City Hall, she’s hanging out in my special cave, with my magic glowing amethysts and my dayglo tendrils and my goopy precious oxytocin fluid.


Basically, I decided to put everybody into cocoons and then implant them with some kind of alien essence, so that all the people trapped under me could become a kind of hive mind, kinda sorta. Everybody is all nice and well behaved and like pod people—only, it’s cocoon people! Don’t want to get sued—and they’re under control of the leader, Christine. I’m trying to turn these people into the vessels for my alien essences, which came down in the egg in a meteor 25 years ago. With me so far?

Why am I doing this? That’s for me to know, and for you to be utterly confused by, for the next several episodes, or until this show gets canceled. Whichever comes first. Basically, I want everybody to be happy. I crowned Julia as my Monarch and wanted her to unite the Four Hands and use them to fix the town, but that didn’t work. So now I’m going full-on Stepford. I am Landru, you are of the body. It’s awesome!


But what I’m here to tell you today is, it’s still a political metaphor. Big Jim was like a vision of the worst that could happen if a Republican became President—but Christine Price is clearly 100 percent Hillary Clinton. She’s a compassionate control freak, who knows what’s best for everybody and wants everybody to sacrifice for the greater good. She wants the entire town to become part of her politically correct, pinko group-think. And there are Death Panels! Like in this episode, if you become too badly injured, under Christine’s healthcare plan, you have to be put to death. That almost happens to whatsisname, the nerd from Acteon who’s now Norrie’s backup love interest. Also, if you’re an alcoholic woman, you may have to be encouraged to commit suicide, for the good of the “Kinship.”

Communism, the good of the group, self-abnegation, ostracism towards unbelievers and people who disobey, mass hysteria, yadda yadda. The main targets of all this are Joe and Norrie, who are wrongly blamed for injuring whatsisname.


Basically, this episode was all about putting my chosen representative, Christine, into a cage next to the anti-Christine, Big Jim. They’re both prisoners of Acteon, and Big Jim is trying to get answers out of Christine so he doesn’t get himself injected with her blood. (Like you do.) They snarl at each other a LOT, and Christine shows just how manipulative she can be. But in the end, they both escape and everyone else dies.

Meanwhile, Barbie rejects Julia (or does he?) as you can see in the clip up top—and he takes another step towards accepting Christine, while Norrie and Joe become full-on rebels. And once Sam realizes that Christine set up Abbie his alcoholic girlfriend to kill herself, Sam stabs Christine. So she ends up in my cave, covered with tendrils and sapping the last of my amethyst power to restore herself.

But the over-arching theme of the past few episodes has been: As bad as Big Jim’s brand of crazy gallows-building fascism was, living as a peaceful, brainwashed collective under Christine’s matriarchy would be much worse. Why would it be worse? Ummm... because everybody whistles in unison and stands around waiting for orders. Also, Death Panels! And she’s creepy and a faux therapist, and everybody is being turned into a trill or something.


And I guess this means I’m still evil. I thought I was here to help—that’s what everybody kept saying back in seasons one and two. I’m so confused. But at least I get to do something cool next week, judging from the apocalyptic promos:

So the bottom line here? I represent Communism and Death Panels, and probably mandatory warning labels on soft drinks as well. I represent a carbon tax and cap-and-trade, and the nanny state, and political correctness, and moral relativism. I probably also stand for premarital sex and gay marriage. But I’m pretty good at protecting you from a massive meteor strike from space, right?


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Dear The Dome,

You are my favourite reviewer on io9. You just understand meagre human existence like no other. You’re even better than Charlie Jane.

Yours faithfully,
Nomadic Dec

P.S. I think you’re pretty great Charlie, just not The Dome great. How could you ever hope to be, seeming as you encapsulate nothing as grand and ethereal as The Dome? :P

P.S.S Good luck with the book launch next year Charlie, and when is The Dome publishing its own?