There's some reason to consider this, but it'll first take some working through "Cabin Fever" and the multitude of narrative and mythical mirror-twinned and paralleled coordinates. Every now and then an episode like "Cabin Fever" helps the audience (and probably the writers) get a snapshot of just where and how these coordinates are related, and they're so prevalent in this episode, this piece could almost be written in two columns to map out the conjunctions.
Start at the macro level, with the overall shape of the narrative. The first three seasons went through the Lostaways first encounters with the Others; their first encounters with the Tailies and the DHARMA Initiative; and the Survivors clash with the Others. The end of the third season seemed to be some kind of hinge where the second half of the narrative — the next three seasons — reflexes back upon the first three seasons. That means some of those original coordinates will be revisited, but since we're working back, not in the same way. Now we're seeing role-reversals and narrative mirror-twinning that expands beyond characters into groups, scenes, themes, and even structure (flashbacks and flashforwards).
There once were the Others and the DHARMA Initiative, two factions in a struggle over the island who protected the island from outsiders who mean the island harm. Now the survivors have split into their own two groups caught up in a minor struggle over domain, and they all in turn side with the Others (at least Ben) to protect the island against a new group of outsiders, the Freighties. The Survivors have taken on the role of the Others.
A number of episodes from this season contain scenes that mirror moments from previous seasons, thematically tying the scenes together (again in a very mirror-twin fashion). Consider the scene from "Confirmed Dead," when Jack and Kate walk Miles and Faraday through the jungle; when Miles's scanner starts to beep, he pulls his gun and wants to follow the signal (turns out it's Vincent). Jack tells him to put the gun down, that he has people in the jungle with guns aimed at their Freightie heads, and a warning shot is let out from the jungle. This mirrors the scene from the second season episode "The Hunting Party" where Jack, Locke and Sawyer meet Tom out in a clearing, guns drawn. Tom tells the Lostaways to put the guns down, but Jack challenges him, saying (like Miles) that he doesn't believe Tom had anyone else out in the jungle with him. At that Tom yells "Light 'em up!", the Others light their torches, and they find themselves surrounded by people with guns. It's the same plot, but the roles have been reversed. Likewise, "The Constant" pointed back to "Flashes Before Your Eyes," and the tenth episodes of each season has so far concerned themselves with parental themes ("Raised By Another," "The 23rd Psalm," and "Tricia Tanaka is Dead"). There are many more such connections; just take a look at the books appearing in the narrative for some roadsigns.
The flashforwards are also working their way backwards, so the flashforwards earlier in the season occurred later in the narrative time of the off-island Oceanic Six, and those flashes are working their way back to when they first made it off the island. While one narrative timeline (the island) heads in one direction, the other narrative timeline (the flashforwards) work in the opposite direction; one heads from order to disorder (the island), and the other leads from disorder to order (the flashforwards). This would be a good place to review the concepts of entropy and the arrow of time, but that's been written about here before, so let's not take too long a sidetrack. But it's worth noting that in thermodynamics, entropy tracks the direction of energy moving from order to disorder, which is also how we measure time. Nineteenth century Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell, who built on the work of Michael Faraday and whose namesake was used for the Maxwell Group in the alternate reality game Find 815, had a famous thought experiment about how thermodynamic entropy (and time) could be reversed — Maxwell's Demon. Think about that when we watch the island narrative time moving in one direction, into increasing disorder, and the flashforward time moving in reverse, into increasing order; the narrative itself is demonstrating one of the principle subtexts.
The clearest mirror-twining in "Cabin Fever" is with Locke and Ben. For some time now, the power dynamic of the scientific Jack and the spiritual Locke has shifted to a new dynamic between Locke and Ben (which also plays into the focus shift from the Survivors to the Others, and the Survivors as the Others). Locke was recruited by Ben and the Others last season, and had to sacrifice his father, Cooper, to prove his intentions. Ben has played on Locke's nascent sense of exceptionalness, and it's now clear that the Others have been trying to recruit Locke for some time; Ben, typically playing all sides of an issue, at once helps by bringing Locke into the fold, and also attempts to take Locke out because he represents a threat to Ben's leadership. Ben seems to recognize both the parallels, and the differences.
Locke and Ben were both born prematurely into single-parent homes, and both mothers are named Emily, but Ben's Emily died, whereas Locke's Emily gave him up for adoption. As boys, both were quiet and had displayed a certain facility for learning (especially science), but the one who was recruited to the island rejected his calling, while the one who ended up on the island embraced it. They both have some kind of psychic sync with the island; whether that's through Jacob or has something to do with the island itself remains to be seen.
But one thing is becoming increasingly clear: Ben is a pretender to the island throne. We got the intriguing suggestion that he was ordered to commit the purge, presumably by Jacob, but we also know Ben seems to always have more reason to bend the truth than disclose it, so this isn't certain. Did Ben orchestrate his own coup for leadership, or was he somehow chosen by the Others? And what might have been if Locke had just picked the book instead of the knife when Richard visited him as a boy? Or if Locke had just gone to science camp when he had the chance? Because if Locke had chosen correctly, Locke would have been on the island and most likely already the de facto leader of the Others by the time of Ben's birthday purge.
Richard came to young Locke with a very Professor X offer of an education at a school for extremely special kids. The test Richard gave Locke (and we assume was not administered to Ben) is one the current Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, describes as given to him when he was two years old. The 13th Dalai Lama died in 1933, the year Lhamo Thondup (Tenzin Gyatso) was born, and a retinue of Tibetan Buddhist monks set out in search of his reincarnation. The idea is that once the Dalai Lama dies, his spirit would be reborn in another individual, who is then sought out and trained in order to fulfill his highest capacities as a spiritual and political leader.
The Tibetan Bardo Thodol (Book of the Dead) describes the process an individual undergoes when they die and enter the afterlife. Someone who has sufficiently prepared his mind/concentration/soul will be able to avoid the journey and catch the early exit to nirvana; otherwise, increasingly unnerving tests await the individual. How one lived life (one's karma), helps determine whether a person will be reborn as a human, animal, or in some sort of heaven or hell. The realm to be reborn into, especially for a Dalai Lama, is the human realm, as it provides the best environment to work towards enlightenment.
Sidenote: The friend of the real Richard Alpert, Timothy Leary, thought the Bardo Thodol was the best expression he'd found of the psychedelic experience; he, along with Ralph Metzner and Richard Alpert, wrote a kind of guidebook to psychedelics based on the Bardol Thodol called The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
Two years after Thubten Gyatso died, his corpse still lying in-state, his head strangely changed positions, and was found facing northeast rather than south. So the monks headed northeast, and after some other signs and omens, they came across little Lhamo Thondup and gave him a particular test: They showed him a number of items, some of which belonged to the 13th Dalai Lama. If the boy recognized the items as his, that would be evidence that the Dalai Lama had been reborn. When they showed the boy the collection of items, he immediately claimed that items belonging to Thubten Gyatso were his, and that's how Lhamo Thondup became Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama. That's just what the ageless Richard Alpert did with young John Locke.
Sidenote: The Mystery Tales comic book Richard laid out had a sneaky clue with the floating city and the question 'What is the secret of the mysterious "HIDDEN LAND?"' At the end of the episode, Locke reports that he's supposed to move the island. How? Maybe Jonathan Swift can help. In the third book of Gulliver's Travels, Gulliver finds a floating city, Laputa. Its inhabitants are quite educated in mathematics, astronomy and technology, and they make their city float through magnetism. They also consistently fail to put their knowledge to practical use, and end up in a war.
However, Locke wasn't quite ready. Locke's namesake, the 17th century philosopher, wrote about how the mind and education in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) and Some Thoughts Concerning Education (1693). He argued (after Plato) that the mind was a blank slate, tabula rasa, and a child's particular aptitudes should be acknowledged and encouraged. The environment a child is exposed to would in large part determine the shape of that child's mind and how he forms and associates ideas. If little John Locke had not been raised in the insecurity of the foster care system, he may not have been preoccupied with asserting his physical strength over his mental strength. If young Benjamin Linus had been raised by a less overbearing and abusive father, he may not have grown up to look for every exploitable angle that would benefit him in any given situation.
But even as a boy, Locke let his desire overcome his reason, and after some deliberation over the items Alpert presents, Locke chose the sand (correctly), the compass (correctly), and the knife (incorrectly). Given Locke's will to physical vigorousness (despite his failure at it), the weapon may symbolize the combative power that Locke wanted to identify with, whether or not he knew it belonged to him already. Alpert leaves rather angrily when Locke chooses incorrectly; he seems to know that Locke is indeed the person he's looking for, but perhaps Locke needed to demonstrate his true self on his own terms. It's interesting that on the island, Locke is almost never without his knife.
The item that young Locke passed over was a dusty tome called Book of Laws. There is no author given on the cover, and no identifying markers other than its being an old edition. Try looking up Book of Laws in any database, and see how many hits you get-there's almost no way to narrow it down to any specific book, with any specific meaning relating back to Lost. The most common book with a title like that might be Aleister Crowley's Liber Al vel Legis (The Book of the Law), which he claimed was dictated to him by some kind of non-local consciousness named Aiwaz while he was in Cairo. Crowley was a late-Victorian-era British theosophist and occultist who was a member of a number of secret societies and esoteric orders (the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, Ordo Templi Orientis, A∴A∴, possibly a Freemason, and founder of the Abbey of Thelema). He was also an aristocrat and with racist tendencies who played up to his media-forged image as the 'wickedest man in the world.' Through the occult, sexuality, and drug use, Crowley indulged in the very things that drove his buttoned-up society into fits.
Contemporary theosophy isn't quite the dime-store occultism generally presented in contemporary culture. It's a pantheistic wisdom tradition approach to spiritual development, sometimes with a heavy focus on consciousness, ritual and magic (or magick), and recruits tales of lost lands like Atlantis and Lemuria. Practitioners like Crowley were interested in assimilating as much knowledge from as many spiritual approaches as possible in order to forge a new esoteric system for their contemporary world; theosophists embraced rather than rejected links across different traditions, and sometimes referred to themselves as scientific illuminists — the motto Crowley adopted was "The method of science — the aim of religion." Theosophy and its cognates has a mixed history in the modern world, attracting some extraordinary people (Carl Jung, Mohandas K. Gandhi, W.B. Yeats — who, incidentally, couldn't stand Crowley) and abhorrent opportunists (some Nazis, Charlie Manson). It persists today in organizations like the Rosicrucians and what's left of Crowley's own Thelema movement, and is somewhat expressed in Freemasonry, among other places.
The complicated symbols and rituals found in theosophical circles are not intended to be the focus in themselves, but functions for accessing intention and gaining knowledge of the psyche or spirit. The ritual experience itself is then supposed to open a window into the inner self and expose its connectedness to the greater world (or something like that). In other words, the symbols themselves aren't the point; the experience of working with and through the symbols is. The use of symbols to access possibly hidden knowledge is nothing new to Lost or its audience; arguably, part of the function of these symbols is to generate interaction and discussion amongst the audience, not to find some final meaning.
In 1904, Crowley was in Cairo, Egypt, and had been ritually invoking the falcon-headed Egyptian god Horus when his wife became possessed and told him he would be contacted. (Note that the god shares the same name as the dead wood-chopping mathematician.) Crowley followed his wife's instructions, and over three days, he was supposedly contacted by a representative of Horus named Aiwaz. Aiwaz dictated the Liber Al to Crowley, which he recorded through a kind of automatic writing. The book laid down the main precepts of Thelema (Greek for will), "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law"; "Love is the law, love under will"; and "There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt." This doesn't quite mean do whatever you want; Crowley tries to explain how each individual's destiny (that fickle bitch) is influenced by that individual's past experiences, upbringing, and own nature — which actually echoes the philosopher John Locke's argument regarding education and the association of ideas. According to Crowley, then, both Ben and Locke shouldn't reject their respective histories and natures, but intensely employ them as a general guide to life (don't tell Locke what he can't do).
Liber Al describes how each age of 2,000 years is governed by a different star, or god. First was Isis, the earth mother who gave rise to matriarchal governments; then was Osiris, the father who represented love, death, resurrection and patriarchal governments; now, Crowley (or Aiwaz) argues, is the coming of Horus, child of Isis and Osiris who represents "the individual as the unit of society" (which is why one needs to recognize one's own will). In his commentary, Crowley claims this age as already underway, and is marked by the neglect of sin, the loss of sexual inhibitions and the rise of bisexuality, and a drive towards progress without taking precautions to guard against larger fears that haunt civilizations (like filling gulf coast wetlands that act as hurricane buffers, building on earthquake zones, and political blowback). The weak and humble will be crushed in this age, he says, in a kind of might-makes-right move; democratic societies will fail, and war will take civilians as well soldiers. In some ways he was prescient, but sort of in the way Nostradamus was.
Crowley set out to build a system around Liber Al, and continued communicating with esoteric emissaries from the other world. About fourteen years after the Cairo incident, Crowley was visited by another being called Lam, who was invoked to continue what Aiwaz started. Here's where things get more twisted up with Lost; Crowley did not refer to Lam much in his own work, but he did draw Lam's portrait for the frontispiece of Madame Blavatsky's 1919 book The Voice of the Silence, with this caption: "Lam is the Tibetan word for Way or Path, and Lama is He who Goeth, the specific title of the Gods of Egypt, the Treader of the Path, in Buddhistic phraseology. Its numerical value is 71, the number of this book." Lam was Crowley's Lama. What's more, theosophy had taken root in the United States by the late 19th century, and one of its more famous adherents was L. Frank Baum, author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, another foundational text of Lost. His text has provided people of a mystical mindset many hours of symbolic scavenger-hunting enjoyment, which was not lost on the creators of the 1939 MGM film. Many have noted the similarities between the names 'Aiwaz' and 'Oz,' as well as Crowley's drawing of Lam and Oz himself from the film.
The Oz references have been prevalent throughout Lost for some time now; just take Benjamin, who was both Henry Gale and the man behind the curtain. The final episodes of the fourth season, by the way, are titled "There's No Place Like Home." So through Locke's unchosen Book of Laws and Aleister Crowley's Book of the Law, we find our way back to Horus/Horace, enacting one's will, the concept of the Tibetan Lama, and The Wizard of Oz.
But let's try another book: Among other things, Lost is about colonization. The Others were the natives of the place, while the DHARMA Initiative played the role of colonizers, bringing the modern world to the wild place. Eventually colonizers become natives of a sort, others arrive in the position of colonizers, and a cycle of conflict and cooperation is revisited. One of the more well-known colonial efforts, at least from a Western perspective, was the Plymouth Colony of Massachusetts (1620-1691), famous for its scarlet letters and its bloody war with the Wampanoag, Pokanoket, Narraganset, Pequot, and other tribes when the colony expanded too far into native territory.
The Plymouth Colony recorded its own legal guidelines in the 1636 Book of Laws, which was reprinted in 1658, 1672 and 1685. One of the arguments for this being the referenced text from "Cabin Fever" is that law books tend to be hefty; Liber Al is only around 20-some pages long, the book Richard produces is quite a bit larger than that. Among other things, Book of Laws forbade settlers from acquiring land from any natives without prior permission from the General Court; the settlers traded with the natives, and often traded iron goods for land, but they knew if they moved too far into native territory, they risked squeezing out the natives and sparking incursions.
Which is what happened by 1675, when a Wampanoag leader came to power who didn't trust the colonists. His name was Metacomet, but the settlers called him King Philip. Metacomet's father and brother had maintained a certain peace with the settlers for half a century. After Metacomet's brother died under suspicious circumstances, Metacomet came to power and openly mistrusted of the colonists, including their penchant for converting the natives to Christianity. The short of it: As the colonists expanded their territory, word got out that Metacomet may be planning to attack the edges of the newly-acquired land. The person who relayed the message to the colonists, a native Christian convert who also advised Metacomet, was murdered before the claims could be checked out. Three Wampanoags were convicted and subsequently hanged.
In "The Hunting Party," Tom addressed the "misunderstanding" between the Survivors and the Others: "Right here there's a line. You cross that line, we go from misunderstanding to something else." Hanging the three Wampanoags was seen as an assault on native sovereignty, and one of the first New World wars over colonization was on, King Philip's War. In terms of the numbers killed, it was proportionally one of the bloodiest wars in American history. In their book King Philip's War: The History and Legacy of America's Forgotten Conflict, Eric Schultz and Michael Touglas report that some seven of every eight Native Americans involved, and 35 of every 60 settlers, were killed in the one-year struggle. King Philip's War was effectively a colonial Purge.
By the way, guess who the Greek god of colonization is (hint: He has a candy bar).
(Hang in there; this is all coming back around to Keamy.)
Mirror-twinned counterparts are as prevalent in mythology as in Lost, and mythology forms a good deal of the the connective tissue in the Lost narrative. The Greek and Egyptian cultures interacted for ages, and certain figures from one pantheon shared characteristics with figures from the other pantheon, and over time the figures often merged. Just as Ben and Locke are counterparts, mirroring each other's aptitudes and weaknesses, Apollo had his own similar cognate in the Egyptian god Horus and his own mirrored counterpart in the Greek god Dionysus.
Apollo was associated with the sun, order, harmony, and colonization — colonization, from the point of view of the colonizer, is about forging an order that adheres to a particular worldview. How Apollo becomes associated with a chocolate indulgence is anyone's guess; it's Apollo's counterpart Dionysus who represents indulgence. And just as Apollo has an Egyptian cognate in Horus, so does Dionysus in Horus's father Osiris. Both Dionysus and Osiris were emblems of resurrection, both had similar mystery cults that revolved around a sacrament, and the Greek historian Diodorus Siculus draws a number of other similarities, including their cultivation of wine. Osiris is to Horus as Dionysus is to Apollo; Crowley's Age of Horus, then, is effectively the Age of Apollo.
But for all the order and stability Apollo brings, Dionysus disrupts it through ecstasy and resurrection; Jack tries to be Apollonian and controlling, while Christian is more Dionysian and won't stay dead; in fact, there seems to be a lot of something like resurrection going around, with Christian, Charlie and Claire, and certainly with Mikhail. This Apollonian/Dionysian dichotomy can also be read along narrative lines, coordinating entropy with mythology; the flashforward narrative time, heading towards order, would be Apollonian, while the island narrative time, heading towards disorder, would be Dionysian.
Apollo and Horus share one other coincidental link through the Roman poet Horace. As the counter to Dionysian excess, Apollo represented moderation; at his oracle at Delphi, two inscriptions were seen on the walls, "Know Thyself" and the anti-Dionysian golden mean, "Nothing in Excess." Horace was a flippant and ironic poet who liked to give advice in some of his work; he was famous for denying any afterlife, so one had to seize the day, but he deplored excess, so if one is seizing the day, one should do it in moderation. Did I mention Horace played with irony? (Horace the poet may have denied an afterlife, but we have yet to learn if Horace Goodspeed does.)
In his second book of Odes, Horace demonstrates these positions in two concurrent poems to depressives, X and XI. In X, Licinius has been acting out, so Horace tells him "Steer not too boldly to the deep / Nor, fearing storms, by treacherous shore / Too closely creep." In other words, nothing in excess. In XI, however, Quintius is becoming a recluse due to his depressed state, and Horace tells him to get out there and drink up "a life so simple" — seize the day. Ode X would be good advice for Ben, and in the flashback Abaddon basically tells the wheelchair-ridden Locke what Horace tells Quintius; get out there and have a walkabout before you lose your chance.
The coordinates so far: the Dalai Lama, the Book of Laws, Aiwaz, Lam, Oz, Horus, Apollo, Dionysus, Osiris, and Horace (forthcoming: Set, Cerberus, Anubis, Mercury, Mars, Mayans, dogs, birds, and private military companies). Of all these points, Horus may be the most complicated; he represented the daytime sky, had a twin named Set who represented the night sky, his eyes were said to represent the sun and the moon, and he existed in various forms long before Osiris. But over a few thousand years, Horus was assimilated into a pantheon shift where he became Osiris's son and Set's nephew. This shift occurs around the unification of two lands, Upper and Lower Egypt (upper=southern, lower=northern), which is allegorized in the battle between Set and Horus. Similar to Jacob and Esau, and Ben and Widmore, Set challenged Osiris dominion over Upper Egypt. But rather than make a bad bargain with Osiris (as Jacob did with Esau), Set murders him, tears his body to pieces, and scatters the bits around the country. Skip ahead a bit, and Horus is raised in Lower Egypt by his now-mother Isis to avenge this murder, and in a battle with his uncle, Set injured Horus's left eye; that eye became representative of the phases of the moon, while his right eye becomes a symbol of protection:
That might be worth keeping in mind when we see the iconic shots of an eye opening (or of Mikhail's missing eye).
In the Egyptian pantheon, Horus's defeat of Set represents the unification of the two parts of the land. We definitely have a Horus figure on the island, a dead mathematician who repeats himself, but a Set figure may be up for grabs. But like the other gods, Set had a Greek counterpart, Typhon (from which we get 'typhoon'), and Typhon had a kid — Cerberus, one of the names for Smokey as seen on the Swan Station blast door wall. In the shifting pantheon, Set is also the father of Anubis, guide of the dead and our guide to Keamy.
Anubis is the canine-headed god who guides the newly-dead through the underworld. Have we seen Vincent lately? Vincent seemed to recognize the newly-dead Christian in one of the mobisodes. But Anubis had a Greek counterpart in Hermes/Mercury (the same), the messenger, trickster, thief, god of boundaries, travelers, luck, and half-sibling to Apollo. Mercury met the newly-dead and helped them over into the afterlife. His name is also the root for merchant and mercenary — and we have our mercenary in Martin Keamy, the traveling death-messenger.
It's been pointed out here and elsewhere that Keamy's last name is a homophone for a Mayan glyph for death, Cimi. The name Martin also derives from Mars, the god of war. Keamy is a quiet, treacherous killer; his cool, detached approach to dealing death echoes the past warlord Mr. Eko (who in some ways mirrored the Cormac McCarthy character Judge Holden from Blood Meridian). Another link back to ancient Mesoamerican cultures comes by way of dogs; just as the canine-headed Anubis (cognate of Mercury) guides people into the afterlife, the dogs themselves do the guiding in Mesoamerican mythologies. It could get interesting if Keamy ever meets Vincent.
Keamy's tattoos have sparked some interweb chatter. The actor, Kevin Durand, came with the tattoos, but we've already seen how Matthew Fox's pre-Lost tattoos were worked into Jack's biography. Durand had the bear claw/snake/compass tattoo at least by his 2007 role as an assassin in the film Smokin' Aces, and the interweb lore is that Kevin got the bird tattoo — a Native American symbol he called it — on his own.
The discussion around the bear claw/snake/compass tat is that it bears an uncanny resemblance to the controversial private military company, Blackwater International; Keamy's tattoo has the colors reversed, a more elaborate compass surrounding the bear claw, and of course the snake in the middle (Ben has already mentioned Keamy's work for mercenary organizations in Uganda).
If you search the web for ancient Native American thunderbird petroglyphs, you'll see images that are pretty similar to Keamy/Durand's bird tattoo, including some with the split tail. But the bird tattoo, could pose an interesting narrative possibility.
Keamy is beyond anything else a predator. The bird outline on his shoulder most closely resembles a swallow, because of the split tail. Swallows are hardly deadly, but one species of predatory raptor has a similar tail, the swallow-tailed kite. There are two branches of this species, one prevalent in Central and South America, and one found in Africa, including Guatemala (where the Mayan come from) and Uganda (where Keamy worked as a mercenary). Consider the motifs of twins, pairings, and counterparts: A 1997 study of Guatemalan swallow-tailed kites found they only lay two eggs at a time, and the older, larger chic always kills its sibling. Will Keamy get a flashback/flashforward? If so, it will be interesting to see if he had a sibling, and if he killed that sibling on his path to becoming death for hire.
Finally, "Cabin Fever" was an episode about how Locke was exceptionally special, perhaps with a capacity to out-lead Ben. At one point Ben thinks Locke psyched Hurley into continuing on through the jungle, but Locke denies it: "I'm not you." "You're certainly not." (Of course we have seen Locke pull a Ben Brain Bender when he got Sawyer to kill Cooper, much as Ben got Sayid to become a killer for him.) There have been three episodes about the exceptionality of certain figures: one on Walt (season one, "Special"), one on Ben (season three, "The Man Behind the Curtain"), and one on Locke (season four, "Cabin Fever"). Locke and Walt shared a particular connection that isn't really there between Ben and Locke (or presumably Ben and Walt). Narratively, "Cabin Fever" and "Special" are linked as the only two episodes where a person is hit by a car and survives, and they both happen to be parents (Michael and Emily). What's more, "Cabin Fever" was episode 11 of season four, 411; "Special" was episode 14 of season one, 114.
411 | 114
Even the episode numbers are mirror twins of each other.
We'll get an entirely new take on twins soon enough, when we find out more about the Orchid Station and how there were two Dr. Ray's hanging around at the same time, one dead on the island and one on the freighter.
(A storm blew out power and satellite connection on Thursday night, so I wasn't able to see the episode until late Friday/early Saturday; I and mother nature apologize for the lateness.)
Books mentioned in this post
J. Wood is the author of Living Lost: Why We're All Stuck on the Island