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The scene reverts back to the Resurrection Ship, where Ellen Tigh is sitting up against the Resurrection Tank, with the Cylon Centurion standing guard on the other side. Then, Cavil joins her in the room while pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards and resting his arms on the back end of it, draping his head to look down on Ellen Tigh and the two talk to one another.

Ellen: "Hello, John."

John: "I don't care for that name. I think you know that."

Ellen: "I named you after my father."

John: "And you made me in his image. Thanks a million for that."

Ellen: "I'd love a drink, John. If it's not too much trouble."

John: "I take it you're here because things didn't go very well down on New Caprica with you and the mister?"

Ellen: "I betrayed the Resistance, and he poisoned me."

John: "Nothing like true love."

Ellen: "He did what he thought was right. That's all any man can do."

John: "He's not a man."

Ellen Tigh laughs.

Ellen: "As someone with first-hand knowledge, I beg to differ."

John: "He's a machine. So are you. (He looks at a Centurion and points at it) Just like that thing."

Ellen: "A machine. (She sighs) You know very well that when you get down to it the only thing that really makes us different from the humans is that our nervous system processes and transmits information rather (pause) differently. My consciousness, your consciousness, has some characteristics that are like that of a computer software program."

John: "It is software. Our minds can be programmed, downloaded, boxed and even interfaced with mechanical computer systems."

Ellen: "But we're still purely organic beings."

John: "But we're still Cylons."

Ellen: "Cylon. Huh. A cybernetic life-form node. That's just a broad term for pretty much any type of autonomous synthetic life-form that can be networked with a computer. Doesn't mean it's a machine. Never has. Not on the Colonies, or Earth, or even Kobol. (pause) OK, some of the protein structures of our brains' metabolic pathways have molecular similarities to the silica pathways of Centurions. However, that's the extent of any physical similarity we have with them. In fact, depending on how you define things we could really be considered nothing more than a type of genetically manufactured humans."

John: "Manufactured is the key word there. Purely organic, but still purely artificial. Cylon DNA may have been designed to be a close enough structural analogue of human DNA to where it is nearly indistinguishable, but it didn't come from any human or any biological source for that matter. It was entirely constructed. And of course in my case and the case of my siblings (pause) it was constructed by you and the other four. Unlike the humans, we in no way are related to or descended from monkeys, or rats, or germs. Unlike the humans, our people didn't crawl up out of the swamp. Personally, I'm rather proud of that."

Ellen: "You really haven't changed at all, have you?"

John: "On the contrary, I've made vast improvements. You'd be astonished."

Ellen: "And yet, you're still the same confused and petulant little boy I loved so dearly all those years ago. It's sad. I had such high hopes for you."

John: "And I for you. Unfortunately, it appears you still stick to delusional thinking instead of accepting the reality of your life for what it is. Humans have a word for that, Ellen. Schizophrenia."

Ellen Tigh laughs again.

Ellen: "You used my name, John. That's good. There's hope for you yet."

John: "We'll talk later."

Ellen: "John. It's a bit cold in here."

John: "I'll get you some clothes. After all, I've seen it all before."

Ellen Tigh sighs.

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