[Note: This was completed and posted to the internet at 3:44pm CST, on 4/20/11. A version with pictures will be posted a bit later today.]
LOST CODA:
THE BEAT GOES ON AND ON AND ON
IN THE LOST LEARNING COMMUNITY,
FOCUSED ON THE LARGER PUZZLE STILL IN PLAY
Now that the lost Lost 'call sheets' have finally been found, it's time to piece together the coda that was left on the cutting room floor due to a lack of sufficient air time given to Cuse and Lindelof for the series finale....
Returning from commercial break, after the 'extended family' reunion scene in the church and the white light 'Stargate ascension' homage with Jack and friends walking off into the starlight/sunset, we next witness a series coda 'melange' of intercut scenes hinting at the larger puzzle still (and perhaps always) in play.... a larger puzzle tapestry narratively being woven in and across time, spanning Earth and the Universe, writ and written large....
.... We 'pinkflash' forward to the future... Night time on the island, with Charlie Hume and Ji Yeon enjoying a beach-blanketed teenlove soiree, fully and fulgently bathed in the eerie purplish light of a full moon. A dreamy romantic embrace, framed against the canvas of a star-filled heaven... now abruptly punctuated by a brightly shining shooting star, moving closer and closer with fiery flames defining a glowing ovoid shape, crackling with energy as it pierces the IslandExoticMatterWall...
....Quaking landfall, with blinding bursts of 'PK Dick' pink light washing over the entire island, wave upon wave of suffusing illumination.... Flashes before their eyes fade as acuity returns.... Charlie and Ji Yeon gaze awestruck, upward, drinking in a dramatically different starscape... They have been transported across space to the Crab Nebula... and across time.... But is it to the distant past.... or some far-flung future....? As they creep closer to the hypnotically-shimmering entrenched ovoid, a rhythmical hum morphs to a complex aural moire, and.... (Heh-heh-heh).... We next cut to see....
.... Walt and Michael exchanging sweat-soaked smiles, working the soil with crude tools, preparing for another spring planting on the island... Vincent ambles over, brushing a moist muzzle against Walt's dirt-caked ankle.... The camera pulls back to reveal a fresh new band of castaways working the field... As the hot tropical sun beats down on their glistening backs, a castaway's crude hoe punctures the stolid silence with a clanging metallic note, striking something very, very hard just beneath the surface of the newly exposed soil....
Shouts exchanged, tools dropped, frantic jostling while everyone crowds around to witness the careful excavation of... a weirdly patinated metallic surface embossed with strange ancient symbols, definitely not of this Earth.... More calloused, sunburned hands join in to scrape the moist dank earth away.... A faint circular outline begins to emerge.... a window... an entrance...? Walt reaches through Michael's outstretched arm, tracing the outline with his forefinger.... as an unsettlingly organic wail forms and transmutes into a glowing, vibrating, swirling synesthetic aural/visual melange..... Dread-washed faces signal unspoken fears.... What have they done?.... Have they inadvertently rebooted some dark ancient device? Walt turns to Michael, channeling deeper and darker concerns.... Have they truly awakened... the Sleeper?.... Is it now, finally.... ALIVE...?
....and the final cut, to Hurley and Ben, hurtling headlong back to the past on the island, adorned in full technicolor dreamcoat regalia.... Chatty sidewaysmode beachside banter halts as they round a corner only to find... one of the Atlantean castaways strenuously sifting sand, pocketing bits of flotsam and jetsam....
Mutual recognition prompts greetings turning naturally to the nature of the items now in hand.... Ben watches as the color drains from Hurley's face.... A battered old pocket watch with "N. Tesla" barely visible as Hurley pries it open to read the inscription.... A shard of glazed, crazed pottery adorned with Aramaic inscriptions.... A faded scrap of thick fibrous paper covered in bold-font cyrillic text, with "Nina Kulagina", "Blavatsky", and "Crowley/Enoch" barely visible as smudged blue-inked marginal notations....
Hurley pauses as he ponders the final object.... a scuffed bronze coin sending bone-chilling signals through his chicken-fed mind and body.... On one side the coin reads.... "Amerikadeutscher Volksbund" and "Vril-ya", with a strangely familiar striped flag with field of stars replaced by a swastika, and as Hurley gingerly turns the coin over in his sweating palm, he sees that above the date of 1947 the phrase "In Der Fuhrer We Trust" falls just below the unmistakable, indescribable, unthinkable mustachioed visage of that one-time wannabe watercolorist, now painting his way through a revised American history in distinct shades of red....
Ben stutters through a staccato of ums and ahs as Hurley finally catches his breath.... offering a final, fitting line.... "Dude, we've got some work to do..."
....Fade to black..... Cue the LOST tumbling, focusing title card and trademark M. Giacchino theme.... and roll the final credits....