Bauer never meets his maker, because the main thing the maker has made is his own unmaking. Cliff-hangers, hackneyed betrayals, and feebly ironic reversals - the gears grind to assure you that the only god lubricating the machine is the absence of a god. Every time Jack Bauer is given fifteen minutes to reach the drop off point, you can hear the gentle high-concept whisper of the argument from design erasing itself. The clock counting down is the guarantor of autonomy, the uninterrupted, self-contained material of narrative. The creators are rigidly outside the action, which runs blithely away under its own power, like a watch dropped in a field. Creators haunt their creations, more as ghosts than as intentions.įor example, in 24 there are no ghosts and no intentions.
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