“I’m going to die on Friday,” Cassie said.
Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, stared across her desk at the high school student. Why was she going to die? Was this about suicide? Was it paranormal (as is common for Buffy in this TV show’s world)?
Doing her best detective work, Buffy ends up saving Cassie from being sacrificed to a demon (twice), and even catches a crossbow dart in mid-air that had been hurled toward Cassie’s face. Assuming the day was saved and safety restored, the two say a few final words to each other.
“See? You can make a difference,” Buffy encourages.
“And you will,” Cassie responds somberly, scrutinizing Buffy. Then she collapses to the floor.
The prophetic girl died that Friday from heart irregularities inherited unknowingly. Cassie had told Buffy multiple times throughout the show that there was nothing she could do; she didn’t know how or why she would die on Friday, just that she would.
All of the other predictions she made throughout the episode came true. So why did I, as a viewer, believe that Cassie would be wrong this one time about her death? Part of it, of course, is because Buffy The Vampire Slayer is still a TV show where super-heroic things happen and many times that means that against all odds, the super-heroin, Buffy, saves the day and puts everything right. Part of it, too, is that all of the other predictions Cassie makes are inconsequential: staining a shirt, getting a B minus on a test, etc.
Maybe it's easy to predict the small-stakes events. There's enough ambiguity to excuse the predictions away as coincidence. Who knows? Perhaps when we convince ourselves that a prophecy is actually a prophecy, we act in a way that makes it happen.
When it comes to mortality, however, I feel a resistance to believe a prophecy like the one in the episode. I don't think we (generally) want to know how we will die or even that we will die. Whether a prophecy or a diagnosis, it is exceptionally uncomfortable to consider your ending.
As someone with a chronic illness that will likely cause my ending, I found this particular episode rather powerful. Buffy closes the episode by solemnly talking through the experience with her friends.
“Cassie didn’t know? Then it was fate?” her friend, Willow, asks when Buffy reveals that Cassie’s mom never told her about the potential heart condition.
“Then she was gonna die no matter what, wasn’t she?” Another friend, Xander, says. “It didn’t matter what you did.”
“She just knew,” Buffy says quietly. “She was special. I failed her.”
Buffy’s sister interjects: “No. You didn’t, ‘cause you tried. You listened, and you tried. She died ‘cause of her heart, not ‘cause of you. She was my friend ‘cause of you. I guess sometimes you can’t help.”
“So what then?” Buffy asks. “What do you do when you know that? When you know that maybe you can’t help?”
Technology and Gods
I think we lean on technology a lot like we anciently relied on gods. Borrowing the scholarship of Dr. Dan McClellan (I don’t yet have specific references to provide here, but I will be revisiting this topic when I do), one of the common functions of ancient gods was to provide special knowledge.
As mortals, we have limits on our sight—both physical sight and our ability to “foresee” or plot out future events. For sighted people, being unable to see can make us uncomfortable. Coming face-to-face with death, especially our own, is like another level of blindness—we can’t physically see past it, we can’t perceive anything else beyond that point.
We long for prophets that can give us a heads up when something painful is coming. What's the weather going to be like while I'm traveling? Am I making the right decision? What's the answer? Whether the prophecy comes from a god, an ancestor, a seer, or technology, we crave the state of knowing. At least, that’s been my experience.
Many commenters on my YouTube videos have shared painful stories of undiagnosed symptoms, plaguing people for years. The unknown is torturous. Why can’t the doctors tell me what’s wrong? Why can’t we name this thing that is affecting my life?
So in the case of Buffy and Cassie, is it any better? Cassie knew she was going to die—she had the special knowledge and she knew it was certain. The character was portrayed as a previously brilliant student, a curious mind, and an explorer at heart. Once her death was revealed to her, she declined. Grades plummeted, depression crept in. She mourned all of the things she wished could have been in her future.
Paradox
There is no comfort here. Whether in knowing or not knowing, there is no comfort.
That doesn’t mean there is no peace, nor hope. However, I think we’re quick to grasp for answers and shallow appeasement when we consider our humanity and our mortality.
I return to Buffy’s question: What do you do when you know that you can’t help?
Knowledge did not prevent Cassie’s death. “Fate” was not thwarted. What’s the point, then? When disasters strike, when tyrants are elected, when sickness infiltrates, when you no longer have control, what do you do?
I feel the temptation to wrap this up beautifully, but I think this uncomfortable paradox is worth mulling over. Don’t let yourself fixate on an answer this time. Just consider.