Orb: On the Movements of the Earth

Episode 25

Orb nails its conclusion with a set of big surprises and big thoughts that capitalize on everything the narrative has been building up to. It's not a tidy ending, but it's an appropriate one. While I had little reason to doubt the series' ability to stick the landing, I can't help but feel some relief. This is going in my easy-to-recommend pile. I just told my mom, an avid fan of historical fiction, about it over the weekend. Uoto's story and Kenichi Shimizu's adaptation came together to make a special show that reignited many of my own big thoughts about science, astronomy, and humanity, and I'm eager to share it.

In the opening scene, Rafal's speech to the forum is Orb at its most preachy. It reminds me of Badeni's diatribe about the perils of mass literacy, where you can clearly hear the author's voice behind the character, drawing obvious parallels to the current state of the world. By nature, these bits are more inelegant than the show's broader thematic thoughtfulness, but they're not without merit either. Rafal calls out the modern state of science, which is indeed defined by a high degree of specification. When I joined a PhD program in biochemistry, I remember being taken aback by just how narrow each professor's focus was. People would devote a lifetime to a single molecule. There are good reasons for that, of course, but you do lose a lot of that big picture wonder. Ultimately, I didn't pursue a doctorate because I couldn't muster enough passion in that environment. I like the big picture. I like stretching out. Maybe I'm more like Rafal than I realize.

That's a scary thought, considering what we see him do next. This is the root of Albert's present intellectual anxiety, and it's a potent symbol for the conflict between science's two extremes, which I described last week. I won't recap those points, but I do believe this scene clarifies why Rafal, specifically, returns in this final arc. Even if he's not the same Rafal that we saw in the first arc, he's thematically contiguous, possessing the same blood-soaked conviction in his pursuit of truth. The difference is that the old circumstances turned young Rafal's conviction inward, making him a martyr, while these new circumstances turned his blade in the other direction, making him a murderer. The root, however, remains the same. It's possible Nowak couldn't let Rafal's memory go because he saw a reflection of himself in the boy. The inquisitor cleans his blade with God's grace. The scientist cleans his blade with coolheaded reason. The corpse rots on the floor either way.

These aren't new inquiries from Orb, so it's not like the story is trying to play both sides at the last minute, dulling its daggers. We've already seen plenty of people kill and be killed for both God and heliocentrism. The intent of this final arc is to refine that conflict and place Albert in its crosshairs as humanity's representative. It's appropriate, not ironic, that a man of the cloth gives him the answer we need. Science and spirituality don't need to oppose each other. We don't have to choose sides. We're complicated beings. While the priest invokes Aquinas, I've always been partial to this line from Walt Whitman: “Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself, / (I am large, I contain multitudes.)”

One non-obvious detail is the identity of the priest conversing with Albert. It's not paramount to the episode's messaging that we know who he is—he could have been any faceless priest, and his words would have meant the same thing—but it's narratively satisfying to realize that he's Lev (based on the voice acting credits). Back in Oczy's arc, he was one of Nowak's apprentices, specifically the blond one who followed orders better. We can confirm this when he talks about the friend he left for dead, namely the brown-haired monk who helped Jolenta escape. Lev, too, found himself at a bloody crossroads, and he took the path of least resistance, siding with power and violence. By having him return for this final arc, however, Orb believes that this choice doesn't preclude him from further thought, growth, and redemption (although maybe “penance” is a more appropriate word here). In fact, if we rewind back to the premiere, Lev is the narrator who opens the show with the questions he repeats to Albert before they part ways. He's been asking us to join him in his soul-searching this entire time.

What, then, is the price we have to pay to obtain the truth? Orb has repeatedly answered this question with a single word: blood. Systems of control throughout history have existed in opposition to truth. They rely on its suppression to work. They force its suppression. At the same time, the breathless pursuit of our universe's machinations have been unfathomably disastrous, granting us the power to destroy ourselves several times over. We have to find a line and thread it. To that end, I love Albert's phrasing here: “I'll doubt as I move forward and believe as I turn back.” Doubt and belief by themselves aren't enough, however. We must be restless. We must follow our feelings of thaumazein. Moreover, we need faith. Humankind has been messing this stuff up for all of recorded history. We're in the midst of a societal intellectual backslide that may have consequences for generations to come. But we can't lose hope that we can do better next time.

That's the ultimate morsel of optimism that Orb leaves us chewing on. Oczy, Badeni, Jolenta, Draka, Schmidt, and the rest disappeared into the gaps between history's pages. Albert only knew Rafal as his father's murderer. The contents of “On the Movements of the Earth” were forever lost. The title, however, wasn't. Six words. That's all that remains. And that candle in the darkness is still enough to spark a single question in Albert's mind. It's an ember that becomes Copernicus' eventual treatise. As of writing this sentence, Voyager 1 is currently 167.79960431 AU from the Earth. Who knows what the future will hold. But by focusing on Albert Brudzewski, a relative unknown compared to Copernicus' legacy, Orb emphasizes that progress can come from anywhere. History isn't a straight line. Society is formidable. Reading is a miracle.

Orb begins and ends with questions that have no easy answers, and that's how it should be. Lev says it's in our nature to be curious, to be restless, and to be dissatisfied. We are doomed to think forever, and we are blessed to think forever. Orb embraced the power of those contradictions with its frequently uncomfortable grasp, and that's why I'm going to be thinking about it for a long time. That question mark is here to stay.

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Orb: On the Movements of the Earth is currently streaming on Netflix.

Steve is on Bluesky now, and he's okay with that. He is busy pondering the orb. You can also catch him chatting about trash and treasure alike on This Week in Anime.