The X-Files: In the (Very) Beginning

 A young woman is seen running in panic through a forest at night. She seems to be running away from some danger, but, in fact, is running towards it. And, though the threatening figure is blurry and indistinct, it is unmistakably male.

This is the world into which The X-Files draws the viewer. It is a natural world of ancient trees and shape-blurring mists. It is a world that was there before and will be there after man has done all the violence that he must do. It is not a world for defenceless, inappropriately dressed young women to be running though at night; yet it is not the world that poses the greatest danger to her life. This world is indifferent to the fate of this human creature. What is one little life as compared to the immensity of the forest?

What is one little life as compared to the mind-numbing vastness of the universe in which this immensity of the forest is as nothing?

What is one little life to the men who gather at the scene of this young woman's violent death?

Against the immensity of the forest, does one single life really matter?

Not to the forest!

But, then, it is not just a forest, is it?

It is a particular forest - the Collum National Forest, Northwest Oregon. The immensity of the natural world has been condensed down to a mere locality which can be named and owned. The forest has been stripped of all that is natural. Whereas, in nature, it is life itself, in the human realm it has been given a purpose, even if that purpose is only to represent something important, not to the forest, but to ourselves. It is not just a forest, but a National forest, a symbol to the people of the nation that not only do we now own the natural world but that we are magnanimous enough to let it continue to be. It is no longer forest per se.

Having taken possession of the forest, we have imposed upon it our meanings.

What is a forest? In the human psyche, a forest is a place of danger. Because the foliage of the trees prevent sunlight penetration, the darkness of the trees is a scene of terror, both imaginary and real. Little Red Riding Hood encounters the Big Bad Wolf in the forest. Hansel and Gretel are abandoned in the forest by their father. Frodo must pass through the Old Forest on leaving the safety of the Shire. And, for one young woman, Collum National Forest is the place her life is taken from her.

To be fair, we should acknowledge Robin Hood and his Merry Men as forest dwellers who came to the aid of the poor and Lothlorien offered succour to Frodo and his Fellowship of the Ring. So, forests are not entirely dangerous.

But, then, nothing is ever just itself!

Not only should we Trust No One, we should trust no thing, either.

A name - in this case, Collum National Forest - implies a single whole, an entity that can be grasped and understood. But, surely, this is illusion (and, quite possibly, delusion)? Is a forest a sing entity or is it a collection of many individual entities? Is Billy Miles simply the son of Detective Miles? Or is he a long-term patient experiencing a "waking coma"? Or is he the abductor and killer of four of his classmates? All identities slip and slide.

Can we ever be sure that what we see is what we're looking at?

Upon seeing this forest, we might be forgiven for not realising that what we see is not actually what we are looking at. Collum National Forest does not actually exist. The forest we see is not actually in Oregon. The very same forest we see now (supposedly in Oregon) will, in a few weeks time, be situated just outside New Jersey. While we may never be able to actually see what we are looking at, we must learn that what we see may be many more things than merely that which we think we are looking at.

The coroners and detectives we see at the crime scene are duty-bound to find the killer. However, one of their number will actively seek to deceive and obfuscate the investigation. Another, who we can't see at the scene, has previously presented false evidence to this end. Even when we should be sure of what we see, we are not seeing what we look at.

This is our world, a world into which we are born as a natural part of it but one which cannot contain our need to see more than all that there is to look at. It is hardly surprising that the detective behaves as he does, for, despite "knowing something", how is he to comprehend that that which he sees, when he visits his son, lying in a persistent vegetative state in hospital, is not merely this but, also, that which needs to be stopped before more lives are taken?

In such an uncertain world, it is little wonder that we seek so ardently for one who can offer us hope of seeing what there is to be seen. Figures like the detective - one of the most popular genres in modern visual and written fiction - are supposed to provide this clarity of vision. They have the ability to see through the deception and obfuscation to the identity of the guilty party. They bring order to the chaos.

Except in this forest!

Detective Miles only provides the name of the victim; withholding that of the perpetrator.

Clearly this detective is not one who can provide the reassurances we seek. There have been other who came out, "spent a week, enjoyed the local salmon which, with a little lemon twist, is just to die for" but, "without explanation", were called back in. The forces arrayed against our wanting to see what we are actually looking at are powerful indeed.