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Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
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Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."

Ok this is gonna be a very long, rambling, and probably somewhat disorganized post, so please bear with me.
I'm sure other people have had this same idea as well, but I'm not subscribed to the rebornevo forums and I'm not very active on this subreddit either, so I don't know how frequently it's been discussed outside of the small number of times I've seen it on Twitter, which still was after I had the thought when I first played V12 years ago. Even if it is I still wanted to try and organize my thoughts about it and present all of the evidence that brought me to think this even without engaging much with the larger community.
To jump right into it, the theory that I've been subscribing to for a pretty long time and was very confident in (until realizing some flaws with it) is that Madame X is the incarnation of Nymiera from Maria(nette)'s now dead universe, which is likely the same universe that Clear, Kieran, and potentially the Thunder Warrior Tapu Koko are from. She was defeated by her universe's Indriad but somehow managed to escape with her life, albeit badly injured, and was effectively out of commission, which led to Indriad eventually being able to bring about Storm 9 which would eventually lead to the end the world. Nymiera then likely got help from either her world's Xara and Jean, or Clear and Kieran themselves to construct her suit and escape to the next universe.
There's quite a few reasons I have to think this. I feel like a ton of evidence from throughout the game supports the idea, and I've been making note of them for years at this point. This is gonna be a bit meandering, but it's really difficult to organize thoughts about a plot as complicated as Rejuv's even if you're focusing on only one character, so again please bear with me:

• The most obvious point is that Madame X shows up directly in the prologue, to the Maria that becomes the one we meet in the Chrysalis manor. She clearly already has some amount of control over time at this point as well, meaning she had likely already claimed her world's time diamond but was unable to stop Indriad using it.
• Nymiera clearly still remembers the old world we learn about in the Third Layer. She knows Adrest by name and recognizes his presence within the player, hints at the emergence of the Zeight in the present day, and knows about the Archetype. Madame X, in the first cutscene where she's introduced at Blacksteeple, immediately refers to the player as the Interceptor, and she also clearly recognizes the power the Melia gains from the Archetype in the Bad Future. They in general seem to possess similar knowledge of major concepts like these.
  • Although you could argue that she might simply have learned about these things from Clear and Kieran, the fact that we see Madame X specifically talking to Maria in the prologue shows that she was at least aware of the Archetype already.
• This is an admittedly very small point that is potentially a coincidence, but I still want to acknowledge it: Madame X's suit seems to be evoking the image of a dragon and mostly uses dark colors. The two characters that we know are directly descended from Nymiera, Alexandra and Damian, favor Dragon and Dark type Pokemon, respectively.
• We know that Nymiera dual wielded crystal swords as her primary weapons rather than relying on Pokemon, and Madame X engages in combat almost exclusively with her sword. The only exception that we see is her attacking the player with her Yveltal at Blacksteeple Castle.
• We see the aforementioned crystal swords, as well as the corpse of Hazuki's Aegislash, within the storage room of the Chrysalis Manor, which all but confirms that Nymiera and the Defenders of Aevium were soundly defeated by Indriad in this timeline and he claimed their weapons as trophies.
  • As a small thought on the full fate of her world's defenders: Vivian was already dead because of the botched ritual, Hazuki was most likely killed, Anju was defeated but taken alive and imprisoned, likely to act as a potential vessel for Indriad (which is something I'd also like to talk about but that's best saved for another post). Given how cruel of a man Indriad is and how much he likes to torment people, I think that crippling Nymiera so she could no longer stand against him and then forcing her to live with the pain of her failure sounds like the type of thing he'd do. This is more of a headcanon, though, not something I'm actually trying to present as a major evidence for the theory.
• Because of .Karma Files we have explicit confirmation that Nymiera is an incarnation of Xerneas; it's a little on the nose for sure, but this can explain why she so heavily associates with the letter X, including why she took her name and took the name of Team Xen for her own, new organization even though it otherwise seems to be completely unrelated to the Team Xen of the Miera Region.
• If her mask is destroyed at the Pyramid, and she's effectively defeated prior to Clear and Kieran's intervention, she makes a remark about how the battle would have gone differently if not for her suit. It's vague, yes, but the implication is that the suit places some sort of limit on her power and she'd be far stronger without it, as while wearing it she can't fight at full capacity. This explains why she only wields one sword instead of two, as she likely can't dual wield without her full physical strength.
  • This next bit is straying into headcanon territory, so I don't fully count it for the theory, but we don't know exactly why she's wearing the suit; it's definitely not just to hide her identity, because there'd be far easier ways of doing that. I like to think that it's necessary for her to survive and limits her power to keep her from overexerting herself, similar to Darth Vader's suit from Star Wars. This would make sense with the idea I have that she was grievously wounded by Indriad even though she survived her fight with him.
• We know that there's a second Blacksteeple Castle on the same island that's hidden behind a protective barrier, which only Madame X can pass through. It's likely that this is the original Blacksteeple Castle and the one that we occupy during the prison arc is just a replica. We see in the Bad Future that Blacksteeple Castle has some sort of connection to Nymiera with the mosaic that we see. It's confirmed by Madame X that Blacksteeple was once Nymiera's castle, that she lost in the war mentioned in the legend that Nymiera tells to us. This would explain why Madame X is so protective of the original castle in the present day and why she can access it.
  • This would also explain why so much Xerneas iconography is still included in the replica of the castle.
• We already know from the Regi sidequests in V13.5 that Nymiera's view of morality was a bit... warped, and she was willing to do some truly inhumane and manipulative shit if she thought it was necessary for the good of the many. Madame X's methods are obviously far more extreme than Nymiera's ever were, but even though her motivations and ultimate goal are unclear there's still hints that all of the things she's responsible for are, to her, just a means to an end. If Madame X is Nymiera, with her spirit having been broken by her failure to stop her world's Indriad, it's not hard to see how that already warped "Good of the many no matter the cost" mentality could evolve into doing absolutely anything to achieve her goals.
• The underground chamber in Kugearen where we find the Weird Diary has a lot going on, but the notable things are the statues of the Defenders,drawing of the Archetype, and map of present day Aevium. Hazuki's is missing, and Anju and Nymiera's are destroyed, with the game specifically noting that their eyes are torn out. There is no statue of Hazuki, and Vivian's is not only intact, but poised for battle. To break this all down a bit:
  • The Archetype symbol being so prominent as well as the present-day map show that it's someone who can both time travel and knows about the Archetype
  • The three statues are of the Defenders that we know will suffer a poor fate.
    • Hazuki's is missing because she is the only that survived.
    • Vivian's is standing and complete because she was the only one able to mostly die on her own terms, but her spirit still struggled because of the failed spell; being poised for battle still lines up with the curse placed on her reincarnations.
    • Anju and Nymiera are both missing in the present day and were never seen again. Anju's fate is ambiguous, but obviously there's something going on with Angie (Which I have another theory about, but again, story for another post). Nymiera's spirit has appeared, but clearly can only do so much, as her only real act aside from talking to the player is transferring Hazuki's power to Saki.
  • Nymiera fancied herself an artist, and seemed to especially like working with stone given the many statues in Blacksteeple as well as the multiple stone carvings in her room.
  • All of this points to someone who can reliably time travel, knows of the archetype, has knowledge of Rift Pokemon, and has an intimate knowledge of the Defenders and their fates. Madame X is the only person who meets all of those first few qualifications, and it's also worth noting that Madame X's suit distinctly lacks eyes, similar to the two statues.

Essentially, the image I see with this is a Nymiera who became so disgusted at her own failures that she threw everything away, including her old identity, and and decided the best way to create a good world was to tear everything down and rebuild it herself, taking her belief in "The good of the many" to its furthest extreme and becoming a vengeful and bitter person in the process. She keeps "protecting" the Interceptor in hopes that their own quest will eventually guide them to resetting everything and destroying Karma for good.
However... in the process of thinking through this all over the last couple days, I realized several holes in this theory that I have to acknowledge, and keep it from really being an effective one.
First, if Nymiera is the avatar of Xerneas, then why is Madame X only ever seen using a Yveltal?
Second, the one aspect of Madame X's backstory story that she elected to reveal to us is about her mother. In her own words, "My "mother" was a weak individual who gave her life to protect me". Not only does Nymiera never hint at anything remotely similar this, but none of Adrest, Variya, or any of the files Adrest sends to Erin hint at anything even remotely close to this for Nymiera.
Third, which I think is the biggest issue: when we see Madame X's mask get broken by Sakitron at the pyramid, what little we see of her appearance doesn't exactly match up with Nymiera. What appears to be black hair could also just be a broken piece of her mask, her eyes are a bright red, and even though we barely see any skin, it visibly is not as dark as Nymiera's.
The first point is actually pretty easy to explain: the Yveltal is Indriad. Obviously we don't know how Indriad became a Yveltal, but there is precedent for shit like this happening and there's multiple hints towards it:

• Indriad is confirmed at the end of .Karma files is an avatar of Yveltal in the same way that Nymiera is one of Xerneas.
• In the Bad Future, when Melanie summons her Yveltal, she explicitly refers to it as her father. Melanie is a bad future version of Melia, Melia is in some capacity connected to Maria and is still explicitly related to Indriad's kids, the implication is pretty clear.
• There are other physical avatars of legendaries in the game: Spacea and Tiempa, who both can transform into the legendaries they are the avatars of. I don't know if it's ever been confirmed if Griselda was an explicit avatar of Giratina, but nonetheless, she was permanently transformed into one and can't change back. It's not unreasonable to see something similar happening to Indriad given that we don't know his final fate in the game's main timeline yet.
• Yes, this means there's some fucky shit going on with Angie, I have ideas about that as well but that also takes a ton of explanation and is best saved for a different post.

The other two though... I think more or less disprove the theory. Family-related trauma is already one of the game's biggest theme; if Nymiera had something related to her mother, it would have been made clear by this point. And there's just no way that I can think of to really justify the drastic difference in appearance between the two. I could simply handwave it and say "The differences in appearance are either a spriting error or a lighting thing with her helmet" and "We just haven't learned about Nymiera's mother yet", but both of those would just be copout answers to ignore.
I'm still confident that I'm onto something here and there is a connection between these two characters, but can't confidently say that I think I'm 100% correct.
...so instead I came up with a crackpot theory that nonetheless I think has a nonzero chance of being true, although its much less likely .
Madame X isn't an alternate universe Nymiera. She's an alternate universe Nim.
Is it a stupid assertion? Yes. But hear me out, starting with some of the more minor points:

• There is very obviously a connection between Nim and Nymiera. The game's placed a lot of emphasis on Nim's relationship to Alexandra and Damian, Nymiera's direct descendents, and Nim took her name from Nymiera's. When Nim appears in the flashback with Alexaandra and Damian she's calling out the names of Hazuki and the player character, yelling for them to watch out. This implies four things:
  • Nim originates in the past and was sent into the future.
  • Given that we haven't met her in the past, she probably comes into existence in the state that she already was.
  • Nim will meet the player and Hazuki in the past during some dangerous event, most likely a final battle with Indriad before Storm-9 fully hits, as we still don't know the final fate of the Defenders.
  • She doesn't say Anju and Nymiera's names, implying either something already happened to them or Nim was cut off in the middle of her sentence when she was sent forward in time.
• Despite Madame X claiming that Nymiera is dead, her spirit has appeared multiple times and is still very aware of the ongoing plot. Her body, however, has not.
• Clear going out of her way to manipulate Nim shows that Madame X likely has an interest in Nim herself.
• While she obviously prefers to use her psychic abilities, Nim's still clearly proficient with melee weapons as there's a handful of times where she uses her... hairpin things as a polearm of sorts.

There's three main reasons I think there actually is something here though: Nim's physical appearance, Madame X's "mother", and the reason Madame X needs her suit despite it making her weaker.
First: Nim's physical appearance is extremely similar to Madame X's under her mask. As Lorna, we can see that her pupils have a red hue very similar to Madame X's. Looking at both Nim's sprites and her official art, her skin tone is lighter than Nymiera's but still darker then most of the rest of the cast, which also lines up with the broken mask. Finally, assuming Madame X actually has black hair and that's not just a broken part of her mask in the sprite, Nim's hair is the same color.
Second: When Madame X mentions her "Mother", its quoted, presumably for air quotes. While it could just be her disrespecting her "Mother", it feels far more significant than that, like its moreso implying that whoever she's talking about wasn't her mother in the traditional sense. Madame X also states that the difference between her "Mother"'s sacrifice and the player's mom's sacrifice is that the player's mom's didn't matter; thus indirectly implying that Madame X's mom's sacrifice was important even if she looks down upon her mom for it. Assuming that Nymiera shares some connection to Nim- be it that Nymiera created her, Nim is her reincarnation, or something else- it's not unreasonable to think that Nim, after overcoming her memory issues, could view Nymiera as something of a mother figure, especially considering that Nim took her name Nymiera's because she felt a connection.
Third: The suit. There's a very obvious reason that Nim would need a suit to suppress her own power: to keep herself from draining the life force of her subordinates and stop her own Storm from getting out of control. It's a leap, sure, but it would explain why she needs a suit that actively inhibits her.
Why would Nim be doing all of this, and how would she become such a cruel and vengeful person? We see something similar happen to our own Nim through Clear's manipulation through preying on her fears and insecurities. Assuming bad enough shit happened to her, I could absolutely see an alternate universe Nim who lacked the support of characters like Aelita, Melia, and the Player going down this path.
Is this theory accurate? Probably not, but it was really fun to think about. I never fucking know what's gonna happen with this game which is why it's so fun to speculate about the absolute mess of lore that it has.
Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this massive ramble, it was fun to write and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!

Synopsis:
Carlos was an ordinary software engineer on Earth, up until he died and found himself in a fantasy world of dungeons, magic, and adventure. This new world offers many fascinating possibilities, but it's unfortunate that the skills he spent much of his life developing will be useless because they don't have computers.
Wait, why does this spell incantation read like a computer program's source code? Magic is programming?
___
Here we go with book 2!
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Carlos lounged comfortably on one of the mayor's fancy sofas. At 23 years old with a healthy body he really didn't need cushioned upholstery, but he liked how it felt. Honestly, he was probably more comfortable with high quality furniture than someone of his relatively low-income background should be in this world. Spoiled by the mass production factories of modern Earth, I suppose. All of this stuff here is probably handmade. Er, make that definitely handmade. Unless they have magic factories I haven't heard about, or something. He mentally shrugged. There was no point trying to change his attitudes toward furniture now. While this world might have higher prices for a lot of things than he was used to, he was also a lot richer than he was used to thanks to having become a noble lord. People would expect him to treat fine furniture as cheap because of his station.
I might have the physical habits of a couch potato, but at least I don't look like one. Too skinny. Not as skinny as Amber, though. He smiled as he watched the young woman next to him on the sofa continue animatedly expounding on their recent adventures together. She was lanky, with few curves to speak of and spindly limbs, far from any conventional picture of feminine beauty. Her hair, a slightly lighter shade of brown than his own, was cropped short. He thought she was 18 or 19 years old, but wasn't sure. Have I really never asked her age before? ... Would that be a rude question here? Regardless of her age, she had grown her confidence a lot since their first meeting a few weeks ago. She'd found her footing in a new life that she'd seized with utter determination, and he saw no sign of the shyness that she'd first greeted him with. The way her potential was finally blooming was beautiful to watch.
Carlos turned his gaze to the sofa across from them and carefully held back from laughing at the expressions Trinlen was making as Amber wrapped up explaining the events and developments they'd gone through since their introduction to him at the Royal Mage Academy. Carlos had contributed a fair amount to the explanation at first, but Amber had taken to it with enthusiasm when she arrived, and he could tell she was enjoying it. The young man in front of them, newly graduated from said academy, was on the edge of his seat and leaning forward, hanging attentively on every word. His casual attire, plain and made of cheap materials, looked thoroughly out of place on the finely embroidered velvet of the sofa, but he'd shown no sign of even noticing the finery around him. Excitement warred for control of his face with surprise, disbelief, envy, and dismay.
Amber finished her impromptu monologue, and Trinlen slowly schooled his face into a neutral expression. His voice was tense and tightly controlled. "So... In short, you're telling me that in the mere two weeks since you met me, you discovered a mana-poaching conspiracy of nobles, were abducted right under the noses of two royal guards without them even noticing, absorbed mana so fast that you gained 6 levels in a day and a half - so unfair, by the way - somehow learned an obscure portal spell from just its name and description, found evidence of a conspiracy against the Crown, and personally met a princess." He paused, then threw his hands up as he wailed in frustration and disappointment. "And I missed it!?"
Carlos threw back his head and burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Trinlen just sounded so much like a little kid who'd barely missed out on a candy store giving away its entire stock for free. It was such an incredible light-hearted contrast with how everyone else viewed these same events that the sheer ridiculousness of it was overwhelming. Amber joined the laughter a moment later, shaking her head in amused disbelief, and after a few more seconds Trinlen started chuckling too.
Carlos's laughter eventually trailed off, and he took a deep breath to settle down. "Thanks, Trinlen. It's been a very stressful two weeks, and laughing like that helped release a lot of it. Feels good. Anyway, what have you been up to? I thought you would take a whole month to graduate?"
"Technically I only said 'next month', not that it would be at the same point in the month. But yes, this is earlier than I expected. The normal graduation ceremony is still a week and a half away." Trinlen shrugged. "They didn't explain the reasons, but after what you said I'm guessing your meeting with the princess prompted her to do something. The vice headmaster called me to his office yesterday morning, a few teachers grilled me on my classwork, and they declared I'd passed my exams. Then they told me to pack because I'd be teleported to my new employers the next day, and here I am." He sighed. "Hmph. Now I won't get to humiliate Norla in front of the whole academy when she gives her speech." Then he perked up and grinned widely. "But it sounds like you two are going to be so much fun that I'll get over it in no time!"
"I'm not sure if I agree with your idea of fun, Trinlen, but if it motivates you to help us more then that's good enough for me." Carlos chuckled again. "Anyway, do you need some time to get settled in? You might need to think about lesson plans for us too. We don't need just catalogues of incantations to learn anymore, at least not for simple ones, but I believe you learned other things in the academy too. You mentioned creating your own spells, as I recall."
Trinlen nodded. "I did mention that, yes. I'm guessing your lack of need for a catalogue is because of your newfound ability to somehow pull entire incantations from thin air? You'll have to at least tell me about the limitations of that so I'll know what I still need to teach you, but yeah, there are other things. For one thing, there's your sloppy terminology! Why does no one outside of the academy care about properly distinguishing between the states of mana? Is it really that hard to understand that calling aether, mana, and essence all by the same term obscures your meaning and often causes confusion? Or are people so stupid that they can't even understand the difference?"
Carlos blinked and exchanged a look with Amber. His comprehension aid informed him about the distinction the instant Trinlen spoke the terms. That would have been nice to know earlier. The comprehension aid is a house secret, so we should let him explain. "At least for us, it's just ignorance. I don't think I've even heard the other two terms you mentioned, and certainly no one ever explained them. So, what is the difference?"
Trinlen paused, cocked his head for a moment, and slowly deflated after his impassioned rant. "Yeah, okay, that's fair. I don't think I ever heard about it before going to the academy either." He sat up straight. "Aether is what you've been calling ambient mana. It's thin like air, and it's everywhere. Its only use is converting it to mana or essence. Mana, using the term with proper precision, is thicker but still fluid like water. It exists primarily in people or creatures and is used as fuel to supply power for spells and magical effects. Essence is hard and solid. It is the material that soul structures are made of, as well as the forms of active spells and enchantments. Am I clear so far?"
Amber answered first. "Yes, I'm familiar with each of the forms you described. I have questions about more details - so many questions - but you should get properly settled in, and maybe eat lunch, before we really get down to it. Have you spoken with Mayor Stelras yet? Do you have lodging sorted out?"
"I went by his office first. He's having someone take my luggage to an inn. The Adventurer's Haven, I think? He said something about a 'low-value target' and having an empty suite already booked." Trinlen's eyes widened. "Waaait a minute. Is he putting me in the room you two were abducted from?"
Carlos shrugged. "Sounds like it."
"Nice! Think there'll be any evidence left of how it was done?"
"Haha! Probably not by this point, but you're welcome to look. Now go get unpacked, eat a meal, and start planning your lessons for us. I'm glad you're here, but we have some other things to do too."
Trinlen nodded and stood up. "Sure. I'll be back before you miss me."
Carlos waved as Trinlen sauntered out the door. He and Amber sat in companionable silence for a while as he felt the mana - or essence? - of Trinlen's soul moving off into the distance. "Well. That was interesting. It's good to have him, but I was expecting a bit more time to think and plan before he'd get here."
"Yeah." Amber stretched and then leaned back into the sofa's cushions, luxuriating in their soft firmness. "So, how much are we going to tell him? How useful will his knowledge even be for us, now that we have, what did you call it, the reference documentation? That bit about the states of mana is good to know, but is it really relevant and important, and how much more can there be that's not in the documentation?"
"Be careful talking about that out loud, remember?" Carlos relaxed and draped his arms across the sofa's back as he focused his mind on their mental bond through Purple, their friendly dungeon core. [On Earth, we made many languages similar to the language of incantations, and we had the reference documentation for all of them. We even published that documentation free for everyone to have. Teachers for those languages were still useful, and even critically important for many people. Having access to knowledge doesn't mean you automatically understand how to properly apply it. There may be related knowledge we have no idea even exists. There could be techniques and patterns for how to use the language that are simply outside the scope of the documentation. Perhaps most importantly, a teacher can use their experience to notice a student's mistakes and correct them before they become problems.]
[Hmm.] Amber bit her lip, thinking. [Like how I knew about making soul structures and synergies between them, but had no idea about the importance of being able to examine and fix them, I suppose.]
Carlos nodded. [Yeah. And that's a really simple example. I know some that are a lot more complex, though I'm not sure how many of them are even applicable for incantations. Inversion of control, dependency injection, factory patterns...] He shook his head. [Just the context knowledge needed to be able to fully understand those could take days or weeks to teach well enough for you to use them. I could maybe explain the basic ideas faster with some simplified analogies, but that would lose so many details that I doubt it would still be useful.]
Amber paused. [... Even my comprehension aid is baffled by the terms you just said. It translated the individual words that you said, but all I got for the phrases is a confusing jumble.] She chuckled. [Anyway, I concede the point. Trinlen will still be able to teach us important and useful things. We still need to decide what secrets to share with him.]
[A lot depends on how good he is at keeping secrets. We don't actually know him all that well yet. He's certainly fun, and he seems clever, but for assessing his integrity we're leaning pretty hard on just a janitor vouching for him.] Carlos frowned in thought. [In order for him to do his job, he needs to know that we can only "pull an entire incantation from thin air" if it's a simple one. He does not need to know the full details of help, however, and most certainly does not need to learn to use it himself. That secret is a very sensitive one, where even just letting too much knowledge of it spread would lose us a major advantage.]
[Definitely. No casting help where he can hear it, and don't say anything about it that's not directly relevant for his teaching, either. Not until he's earned our full trust.] Amber lapsed into silent consideration. [We should introduce him to Purple. We'll kind of have to at some point anyway, and the really valuable thing there is Purple himself, not just the knowledge of his existence.]
Carlos nodded. [True. I think that probably is the least sensitive of our house secrets, and being able to call him through a bond with Purple would be useful.] He chuckled. [And maybe his cleverness will end up producing some good ideas for Purple to use. See if he can find a more productive outlet than pranks for his creativity. And then... If he keeps that secret well enough for long enough, we can consider trusting him with more secrets.]
Amber sent back wordless agreement.
Carlos started sitting up, lifting himself out of the comfortable cushions. "Well, we should get some food ourselves, too. And maybe introduce Trinlen to everyone else along with Purple." He stood up and spotted a letter he'd set aside when Trinlen arrived. "Oh yeah, and what do you think we should do about Kindar?"
"Wait, what's this about Kindar?"
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This happened a while ago, but I’d love y’all’s feedback. I (18m) and my girlfriend (20f) went to visit a friend of ours from HS. Penny (22f) went to school a few states away in their capital and was staying for a summer term. She had a break before it began, no money to go anywhere, no friends left in town and wanted us to drive out to keep her company. We saved up some money, borrowed a car and drove 10 1/2 hours to get there. She was all excited to see us and said that she was taking us to a show that night at a club for driving all the way there. She said that we’d go dancing, so we brought one casual outfit to dance in, but she said it’d be fine for going to a show. She then told us that she couldn’t afford to feed us at all, so we were going to her grocery store to buy our food. She took us to the fanciest and most expensive food store that I have ever been in, even to this day. We got what we could afford and returned home kinda worn out by then, but she insisted we had to go to this show to that night. So she took us- and made us pay for the tickets ourselves. Apparently she thought that taking someone to a show was reserving tickets for them to pay for and Physically Taking Them To The Show. We were quite tired by the time the show ended kind of late that night and we had fun, but looked forward to bed. When we finally got home, she pulled out a big bottle of rum and magazines that she’d bought at the store and told us that we were going to make an anonymous threat letter to our old boss at a big box store we’d all worked at. She poured herself a drink and got to work looking for letters as we tried to stay awake. We weren’t offered any rum, or even water to drink while she got drunk over the TWO HOURS she spent threatening old Mr Carter. When she was finally done, Penny announced that we were all going to bed- and that her house rules were that me and my girlfriend were forbidden from having sex in her home. She went on and said she’d be able to hear it, that somehow she would be able to tell and that wasn’t something that grownups did - she simply wouldn’t stand for it and she would throw us out right away. With that she marched off to bed. We were both pretty shocked and I was just mad, not because we couldn’t sleep together but because she was ordering us around and would throw us out in the middle of the night. Mostly we were both offended because we weren’t the kind of people who would be tacky enough to obviously and intentionally have sex in a small apartment when we weren’t by ourselves.
Well, the rest of the time we had fun, believe it or not. I guess I’d forgotten how bossy Penny was, and Sam (my gf) was always deferential to her and she fell back in to that pretty fast, although it wasn’t sitting too well with her anymore and I was glad about that. This brings us to the end of the trip and our falling out: Sam and I were running out of money. We’d gone to a bunch of places, eating and drinking and shopping and had been pretty open and loud about our shrinking bankroll. We had enough for the gas to go home and an emergency fund which we weren’t going to use because we were responsible and realistic with money. Beyond that we had maybe $$25 for food or whatever on our way home. So it came as a shock when Sam came and told me on our last morning there that we were going out to dinner that night. Penny had told Sam that it was was customary for guests to treat their hosts for all their hospitality and either give them an expensive gift to complement their decor or treat them to a nice meal. Since she was renting, we were taking her out- and she had made the reservation weeks ago. I had never heard of this, but since my parents had no friends and hers didn’t entertain much, we honestly couldn’t say. I resented it from the beginning, because probably more than once a day, Penny had said this this smartass comment about how we should be really happy/thankful about her letting us stay at her place for free instead of having to pay for a hotel. Only, she wasn’t kidding, she meant it. As dinner approached, we realized that we’d have to blow all our money and probably a fair chunk of the emergency fund as well. We were waiting in our club clothes when Penny came out dressed up fancier than I had ever seen her except for senior prom. We both were immediately alarmed and wanted to know exactly where we were going. She said that it was just really the only nice place in town that the kids went to for nice dates, not that it was fancy. Sam asked about her dress and Penny said she just felt like looking nice for a change. Since she was a card carrying tomboy, Sam was sure we were under dressed. We both worked at upscale department stores and had killer wardrobes, so her not telling us that we were going to need a dress outfit was bullshit. On the way, Penny got more and more excited on the way there, telling us about how her friends had all been there and that she hadn’t because she couldn’t afford it. Alarm bells were now ringing in my ears and I was just about to say we shouldn’t go when she said that we’d arrived. She darted into the fanciest French restaurant in that state’s capital! Sam and I looked like Walmart wannabes while Penny flounced up and asked for her reservation. The walls were hung with silk, the chairs were gold leafed, and the prices were . . . I don’t know how to explain it. The menu looked normal on the left side that listed/described the extravagant food, but when I looked at what everything cost? It looked like a price list for diamond rings. Sam and I were stared at each other and quietly began discussing our options. I wanted to leave, just tell Penny that we couldn’t afford it either and that we’d take her somewhere else. Sam would not have that- she said that we’d be fine, spend the emergency money and move on. Penny had to have heard us saying all this, she had put down her menu and was looking at us when we looked up. Sam asked her what she was going to have, since we had realized that our options were based off of what whatever was leftover from her dinner. Surf and turf she said with a smile. The most expensive thing on the menu. Sam insisted that Penny get what she wanted for her dream meal; I insisted that Sam eat a meal, so she got the cheapest sandwich they had. I had a small side salad, Literally the cheapest thing they had. We had just enough for the bill and a miserable tip, which I still feel bad about.
I have probably never been so mad about a person doing something that they knew was wrong and did it anyway because they knew that they would get away with. I was done. That was it for me and Penny. I’m not able to hide my feelings about people who behave like this and she knew that I was angry. She felt that she had every right to be taken out to dinner and get whatever she wanted (I forgot to add that she purposely got the most expensive meal that was meant for 2 so she’d have food for days) and that I was being a bad guest for making her feel uncomfortable about it. She got all snarky about it towards me afterwards- like I cared- but it made trouble for Sam. It also probably made me and Sam end our 4 year relationship, too, or at least it started it. Which was a shame, really, but maybe for the best.
I still think that since she didn’t do anything for us- LITERALLY NOTHING- that we didn’t owe her shit. If she had fed us, at least once, given us something to drink, besides tap water, paid for our show tix, bought us drinks when we were out, Anything besides letting us sleep on her floor, which she kept making such a big deal about- saving us the price of a hotel. Well, we wouldn’t have needed a hotel if she hadn’t been so lonely and begged us to drive 21 hours and spend tons of money to amuse her. Yes we enjoyed it, but we would have had fun by ourselves at home with our friends, without repercussions for borrowing a car and would have had all that money to spend on things at home.

Today I had to request a replacement for a defective 4K Blu-ray disc. Part of the request process is taking a picture of the disc, which came out looking like this:
https://i.imgur.com/iTEzhPd.png
To my naked eye, the disc doesn't look anything close to this dusty, but the picture looks horrible. I'd expect the people processing the return to say, "Well, of course it wouldn't play! Clean all of that dust off!"
This was my second attempt at a picture. After a first attempt, and I saw how dusty the image looked, I tried wiping the disc down with a tissue (I didn't have a more ideal type of wipe handy) which should have at least helped, even if the tissue wasn't totally lint-free.
I've experienced this sort of thing many times before when taking close-up pictures of common objects. I can tell that it's not dust on my camera lens, because it doesn't appear consistently in the same places from shot to shot, and only appears in close-up images.
I was using ambient room light, no flash. This is just an iPhone photo, no fancy camera equipment involved.
Is there a good way to avoid this problem? If I can't avoid the problem in the first place, is there a good digital filter for cleaning this up? I've tried "despeckle" filters in Photoshop and GIMP, but they never clean up enough until you crank them up to the point that too many other details, like lettering, are completely trashed. I ended up doing a lot of point-by-point clean-up with the rubber stamp tool.

If I hadn’t drunk an entire gallon of tea back at the hotel, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
Well, maybe if we hadn’t gotten kicked out of the hotel, none of this would’ve happened.
It had been just the two of us in the small car, but with the animosity heavy on the air, it felt overcrowded. I don’t know what had been worse, the hour of arguing, the two hours of silence afterwards, or the burgeoning realization that maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. We'd been together for several months, but the recent experience left me wondering if I had ever even met the real Brian – who he truly was on the inside.
It had been our very first trip together.
We'd saved up for one of those super fancy hotels and had been having a great time – until, of course, Brian decided to attempt a five-finger discount in the jewelry store in the lobby.
He'd told me when we first started dating that he'd had some run-ins with the law in the past – when he was young and that was the only way to put food on the table, and I'd understood.
But this wasn't the same. It wasn't for survival, it was just greed.
We’d both spent the rest of our vacation money and then some, paying for that $1,800 watch so no charges would be pressed.
They still kicked us out. I don’t blame them.
Asking him to stop at the next place we came across was the first thing I'd said to him in hours, and he nodded, solemnly.
My discomfort was escalating to the point where I was considering asking him to pull over on the side of the road – rain be damned – when we saw the dim sign flickering in the distance.
The small store was out of place on the quiet, tree lined mountain road. We’d been deep in a tunnel of trees and hadn’t seen so much of a hint of the lights in the distance – it seemed to just appear into view as we went around the bend. I didn't recall seeing it on the way to the hotel, so it was a pleasant surprise.
I felt a flood of relief wash over me.
It stuck out in the otherwise beautiful mountain landscape – windows so dirty that the light inside barely reached us through them – several letters on the sign lit up in such a way that the only word we could even see was a blood red '- MART' flickering.
Any relief I'd managed to feel was short-lived.
When we walked in, we both froze as we took in the interior.
I instantly wished we’d just stopped by the side of the road after all. I looked at Brian and could tell he felt it too – he was fiddling with his new watch and took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and put them back on, as if that would make what he was seeing make more sense.
There were no other customers, no employees visible, it was just the two of us.
Ceiling tiles hung askew, and the floor was filthy – we had to step over a drain in the floor with grimy stains circling it, to walk in.
If it weren’t for the lights, gentle hum of the AC, and grinding sounds floating from down the long hallway at the back, I’d have thought the place was abandoned.
It was humid inside, and the smell coming from the old coolers that lined the back walls hit me as soon as we walked in. It reminded me of the summer my dad had decided to dabble in taxidermy in our basement.
The slight hint of rot that lingered on the damp air indicated poorly done taxidermy, at that.
As I darted towards the back towards the restroom sign, a placard dangling off it caught my eye, informed me the restroom was for paying customers only.
I quickly perused the shelves for something to buy. The aisles were tall, nearly to the ceiling, and despite the store being somewhat small, I felt the panicked sense of being cornered and trapped in an endless maze – at risk of becoming lost in there forever. The food on the shelves resembled nothing like the usual chips and candy these types of stores carried – there were rows upon rows of soft looking mystery items in plastic wrap, some of them leaked a red-brown residue down the shelves – none of it looked remotely appealing.
I passed by a section with a stained placard that said ‘handcrafted from local artists’ that was filled with eclectic items, none of which seemed to go together.
There were torn shirts with random logos – nothing related to the town or area we were in, stained with mud, grass, and god knows what else. Dried ropy things formed small and delicate sculptures of animals unlike any I’d seen before. I reached for a bracelet with intricately carved white beads but nearly dropped it when I realized the band was made up of woven human hair. It left a residue on my hand, and I noticed then that the same sour-rot smell was coming from the collection of items, too.
I opted for a flat and lukewarm Dr. Pepper instead, and placed two $2 dollar coins on the glass counter in front of the hand scrawled ‘shoplifters will be processed’ sign near the register.
I figured I misread it, after all it, looked like it had been written by a hand unused to holding a pen.
Brian had grabbed an armful of those unnerving plastic-wrapped packages but hovered at the counter a bit too long. I could hear the scrape of him retrieving the coins on the glass, the sound of him dropping them into his pocket.
He gave me a pointed stare as he did so.
I sighed, so tired of arguing that I just walked away from him and down the hallway. I figured I’d pay (again) after he got back in the car.
No sooner had I closed the door to the women’s room behind me, than I could hear him talking to someone.
His voice rose until he was nearly yelling. Mortified and trying to delay being involved in another incident that day, I splashed water on my face while trying to drown out what appeared to be a one-sided argument.
I kept trying to wash the grimy feeling that had lingered on my hands after picking up the bracelet, but no matter how I scrubbed, I couldn’t get it off – it kept getting worse.
I felt nauseous when I realized the greasy residue was coming from the pale-yellow bar of soap. I decided I’d scrub my hands raw at our next stop, and stepped out into the hall and back to the store.
Brian wasn’t there.
I called out for him, but all I heard in answer was that same vague whirring and drilling sound coming from further down the long hallway.
I double-backed to the car, but found it empty.
I circled the store, my frustration turning to panic as I shouted his name and still got no response.
I called his phone, it just rang, and rang before going to voicemail.
The car was locked and he had the keys, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, standing out there in the rain. We were still in the middle of the deep woods and with clouds obscuring the light of the moon and stars, the area was blanketed in darkness. I reluctantly headed back inside.
Somehow, the smell had managed to become even worse – I gagged when the wet, disgusting air hit my nose again. It was so strong I could nearly taste it, putrid on my tongue.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was always someone just behind me as I walked quickly through the tall aisles, but whenever I looked over my shoulder, there was never anything there.
I called his phone, wondering how I’d managed to lose him in such a small store when I finally heard it ringing – it was echoing from down that long hallway.
As I headed towards it, I heard someone moving on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling aisle, placing something onto the shelf with a sickening wet thud, before weaving lithely through the aisles behind me.
“Brian?” I called out softly, trying to convince myself that everything was fine – trying to disguise my fear.
I knew it wasn’t him – I don’t know how, but I knew it. Have you ever had the feeling that if you look closely enough at something, if you truly see it, you’ll never be able to close your eyes again without it haunting you? That feeling of being in close proximity to something that your fragile mind was never meant to know existed?
I forced myself to turn around anyways.
Once again, whoever or whatever had been there was gone by the time I rounded the aisle, but I heard a gentle clinking sound, and saw a trail of red-pink droplets.
I followed it back to that section – handcrafted from local artists, there was something new hanging from a hook near the shelves – wet, glistening strips dangled from along what looked to be a curved bone with bits of gristle still attached. From one of them hung an expensive men’s wristwatch, another was tied around a shattered, thick glasses lens. Yet another sagged under the weight of car keys. They gently swayed with the motion of having been recently placed. Fluid continued to drip from the still wet viscera and mingled with the mud on my shoes.
Shoplifters will be processed
I didn’t need to see the items down the other aisles to figure out what I was looking at, what must have happened.
I could already tell that we’d never have another argument, ever again.
I heard a door open and close in the back, soft footsteps approaching from down that hallway.
I realized that in my distraction, I'd forgotten to put money back on the counter.
I choked up, but knew there was nothing I could do for him. So, I tossed the first bills I found in my purse onto the floor, frantically untangled the car keys, and in shock, I drove myself the remaining four-hour drive home.
Every so often, along the quiet country roads – those I could've sworn were empty on the drive up – I’d see that grimy building, the sign, '-MART' flashing in the distance.
I didn’t stop once.
I've been home for a week now.
A few nights ago, something triggered a motion alert on my video doorbell, but there was no one there when I checked the footage.
The next morning, I found a cardboard box on my porch – with no stamp or return address.
In it was a torn t-shirt, and several of those now-familiar wrapped packages, putrid fluid leaking out of them through the bottom of the soggy cardboard.
I've received a similar box every night, since.
I don't know if it's meant as a threat, or if due to some sort of twisted interpretation – I’m now a 'paying customer’ – he's slowly being returned to me.
Either way, it turns out that I've gotten to see who Brian was on the inside, after all.
JFR

People say it's childish to be afraid of the dark. They say it's a symptom of an overactive imagination. And yet the same people- all people- know that you don’t go out at night, not without light or charm. And everyone knows, instinctively, in the marrow of their bones, that you don’t go out on a moonless night.
I had been out on a moonless night for days. Most people can’t tell, but once you're trained, you can- Darkness loves darkness. She likes to stretch her time out as long as she's possibly able. Everyone wants to spend time with kindred spirits. It’s nature, human or otherwise.
There’s nothing I can do about it, so I do my best to enjoy it. After all, you have to pick your battles, and my gun makes it pretty easy to figure out which ones I can win. She's a lovely gun. Big, which is fine with me, because I need all the power she can muster. Nine custom rounds rotate through, each enchanted by my own self. Not as effective as a professional enchantment, but I get by, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.
The only light came from the muzzle flare of my pistol. They smothered my campfire long ago, leaving me with only the vaguest sense of where they were, occasionally silhouetted against the trees when I fired. They were big, looming over me, high into the crooked trees and the moonless sky behind them. Who could say how long tonight would last?
I try not to cast on Nights, because it just acts like more of a beacon than I already am, but sometimes it just can’t be helped. My chest burned as I threw up a Buffer against a sudden wave of creatures, but they tore it down before it hardly had time to help. I bit down and cast a Warding, felt my arm burn harshly in the wild energy of the new moon and felt the following cold cut its way through my flesh and deep into my bones. Popping the spent rounds out with my right hand, my left knitted itself into the Ward shape automatically, trained by years of habit. Now I’ve really done it, I thought, because I could practically sense them perk up from miles off, even without casting a Seeing. It worked, though, and I was given brief respite for my efforts. I’d sure as hell pay for it in about 10 minutes, but for now I needed to stop bleeding and deal with the sensation of a drill pressed to the back of my skull.
“Skippers,” I growled. I hated Skippers.
The problem with Skippers is they’re small, harder to notice than anything else, and instead of trying to take off your head they try to get into your head. From there they can do whatever they want while you watch- make you walk off a cliff, bite off your own tongue, flay yourself alive. Like I said, whatever they want, and they're usually pretty mean. I’d seen them really go to work on all sorts of people, mostly people I knew and trained with. Hazards of the job- sorcerous training let you see a whole new world, but it opened you up to the threats that lived there, more so than regular folk. I was in worse shape than most sorcerers, which was part of what put me out at Night in the first place. Luckily, I’m better than most sorcerers, but it still meant I had to be careful.
To get rid of a Skipper, all you have to do is burn them off with a little Light. I'd needed the break- 3 of them dripped out of me right away, and a fourth started to run down my back as it tried to escape.
“Bastard.” I struck it with the handle of the gun as it slithered away. No sense wasting ammo on idiots like that.
The Ward wavered, the Night grew around me, and I hadn't even had time to heal anything. Damn.



Sam watched from behind the counter as the man walked through the door. Under the door, rather, as he had to duck to keep from hitting his head. He was pale, very pale, unlike the merchantfolk that usually came through the inn. His face was covered by a bushy beard, his hair was long, and his eyes were rimmed with red, but he could certainly be no older than 40. It was strange- for someone to come in so early in the morning, and look so tired- he must have been traveling all night, but he had no horse to be stabled.
The stranger was an armory- small blades and strange, bulbous jars jutted out from pockets and packs all over the man, daggers strapped to his legs, and even metal nubs in the knuckles of his gloves. What caught Sam's attention, though, was the man's huge gun, strapped tightly to his waist. He had never seen a gun that big, and the ammunition the man was carrying in the sacks around his waist must have weighed heavily on him, though he showed no signs of it.
“What does it cost for a room?” His voice did not match the tired, worn image in front of him. It was firm, and had the sound of recent laughter in it.
“Let me get my mom.” Sam began, starting for the back room. He never handled rooms.
“That's alright. You'll do fine. How much?” The man pulled out a purse, smaller than the other bags on his belt, and it was clearly much lighter than anything else he carried. “I’d like to find a bed and use it.” His voice did not betray him, nor did his hands, but the redness of his eyes did. They were a startling blue, and they seemed to contain nothing except exhaustion.
“I need your name,” Sam remembered as he directed the giant stranger to his room. The man's eyes, just for an instant, darted to one side before returning to Sam.
“Joan,” he said.
“O-kay.” Sam jotted the name down. “Two nights, food at 7 and 7, anything else you pay for.” He began to walk the man down the hall. “Strange accent. Are you from Melano, or Baden?” He didn’t really know what those accents sounded like, but he knew they were far from Newmark.
“No.” Joan walked into the room indicated with no further comments.
Sam stopped at the door while the man called Joan dropped his bags to the floor. “What kinda gun is that?”
“Mine,” he said simply, as he unbundled it’s holster from his belt. “I make the ammunition myself most of the time.”
“It's impressive. My paw was a soldier, and he showed me his old gun once, only it was a lot smaller than yours, and all rusted out besides, but-" Sam stopped as the man removed his cloak. There was a bright gash, still oozing dark blood, working its way up the man's side behind the thick leather plates. “Holy cripes! You oughta see a doctor, sor!”
Joan gave no indication that he could even feel the wound, nor did he instantly react when the boy cried out. “This? It looks a lot worse than it is. Rest, and solitude,” and here he looked at Sam, “will do me more good than any doctor from this town.” He moved to close the door, and against Sam's protest seemed to shut him out with no effort at all.
He ran down the hall to inform his mother of their newest guest.
I didn’t want the kid to see what I had to do next. It really wasn’t that bad- on the outside. Because we put so much ourselves in the spiritual world, the physical world didn’t matter so much. But it’s all tradeoffs. It had cut a pretty chunk out of me spirit-wise, and that hurt worse than any gash could. Really, I was better off than most sorcerers would’ve been with a cut like this- I had less to lose. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.
I Worked a minor Healing, but anything more would’ve taken more out of me than I could hope to regain, so the rest had to be resigned to sleep. Stupid. I should never have let anything get that close anyway, but it seemed like the Skippers were going crazy last Night.
I was too tired even to dream. A small blessing.

Waking up was not pleasant- I was stiff and sore, and still hurting something fierce. And cold, of course. Always cold. The physical wound had scabbed over, and I figured I would get away with just a minor scar. My innards were still shredded, but marginally less so than before, so I could breathe without grimacing. I expected I’d be laid out for a few days yet. Lucky, since Night had just passed, so things would be calm for almost the entire month now.
Exhausted as I had been, I had no Wards up, nothing even blocking the door. Nice going. Practically begging for a stray to wander in and eat you. As I flipped the coin I’d lifted off the kid, I examined the room for anything that might have snuck in, but it was clear. This time.
It was around this point that I realized how hungry I was. It had been (what felt like) days without a hot meal, and apparently this podunk little inn could provide, so I wandered out to the main room to see if I could scare up some food.
When the kid saw me, his eyes widened. That’s never a good sign. Recognition meant questions, and the answers to those questions usually meant getting pushed to the next town before I had time to heal. I had been hoping to score a decent meal and a bath, at least.



Sam could hardly believe his eyes. “Criminy, sor, but I didn’t expect you to be up at all! It's barely been a day!” The cut had been bleeding heavily, and very deep, he was sure of it, but now the man was clean and walking as if he had never been injured.
The stranger called Joan sat heavily at a table, ignoring the implied question. “Any chance of a man getting some food around here?” He inquired. “Or, perhaps,” and he glanced at the barrels of ale behind the counter, “some drink?”
San quickly filled him a tankard and plate from supper earlier, then sat himself at the table, as the crowd in the room dwindled down to a late few. The man interested him. He did not seem to interest the man, however, as Joan simply ate and drank in silence, apparently unbothered by his wound. He was still pale, almost deathly so, but Sam had heard tell of people from far north being much lighter than the tanned workers of nearby towns.
“Are you a soldier?” Sam didn’t know much about the war to the south, but occasionally troops passed through, and he had heard his ma talk in the back room about an extra levy because the Northern Kingdoms were allied. “I never saw someone carry so many weapons that weren't a soldier. What are those jars you carry? Is that them new bombs they been talking about? With gunpowder, only you throw the jar so it’s like a cannonshot?” Sam did not know much about weapons, either, but he saw so few soldiers come through that he had to learn what he could, if he was going to join the war when he was of age.
“Sure, kid.” Joan tapped his empty tankard on the table and placed down the coin he had been flipping. Sam ran to fill it up again before sitting back down.
“So did you come from the southern border, where all the fights are? What's happening? Are we winning? We have all kinds of the Northern Kingdoms working together, right? We must be winning!”
“The southern border? No, no, I didn’t come from the southern border,” he snorted. “That whole war is just nonsense anyway. The Northern Kingdoms, in some alliance or another, have had it out for Onis since time began. Maybe even before. The war is just an excuse to keep the money rolling in. Seems like there’s less and less of it than ever.” He mumbled this last part into his cup.
“That’s- that’s not true!” Sam's pa had fought, same as Sam would. “The war is important! Onis could really invade anytime! Besides, you said you were a soldier. If you aren’t fighting in the war, how can you be a soldier?” Joan did not answer, but he reached for his sleeve for a moment as if to roll it up, then seemed to catch himself at the last second. Was he a deserter? “Are you a deserter?” Sam blurted out, realizing a second late that he was pushing his luck. Joan just tapped his mug again.
Sam's ma hurried over. “So sorry for this one, sor, he has a bad habit of being curious.” She cuffed him on the ear and it smarted.
“It's no problem, mam.” The stranger smiled warmly, but in his eyes there was nothing. It was a chilling sensation. “He fills my cup just fine.” His ma dragged him off before Sam could object, and Joan got up before Sam could return.


Broder laughed as he took Flander for another hand. Three hands up, he was, and showed no signs of slowing. He stopped, though, as a big man in a heavy cloak came to the table.
“Deal me in?” His voice, deep and rich, did not match the weathered exterior. The man was no farm hand, that much was clear. More a mercenary sort. Broder glanced around the table, but no one seemed to object outright, so he shrugged. One more fool for the best poker man in the west side of Newmark. “Promise I know the rules.”
“Can you make ante, pal?” Jaten sized him up from across the table, suspicious from the long, ratty hair sitting on his shoulders and the general sense of dirtiness emanating from the man. He didn't notice what Broder had seen- nice leather, warm coat, and firm shoes. The man had some money, at least.
“He's good for it, Jaten. What's your name, stranger?” Broder gestured at the empty space next to him as he began to deal the hands. The stranger threw his ante, and Broder couldn’t hear much left in the purse. The poor ones were easy to sucker in.
“Joan.”
“You from Onis or something, name like that?” Cogen sneered.
“Na, man, listen to his voice, he's from up in Lansing or summat.” Garrett spat. “You're pickin a fight so you don’t have to deal with your shite hand.”
“That's not true, mate! Maybe you ought to keep an eye on your own mess in front of ya!” Cogen threw in extra to compensate. They all knew each other, knew the tics and tells and habits, but this stranger would be interesting.
That was what Broder thought, but as they went round for a few hands, the stranger losing more than he won, it became clear he was just another sucker thinking he could smash the small town guys. He had seemed confident at first- smug, even- but Broder had moved in with a predatory efficiency and would not let up. He offered to buy a round for everyone, apparently hoping for mercy, or to dull them, but the man seemed to be getting a bit red in the nose much faster than the well-seasoned drinkers of the little town of Aren, where there was little else to do but work or drink, or play cards. Broder began to really work on Joan for everything he had left, preparing to take the man for anything he could offer. The game was boring, and Broder needed beer money, so he went to end the man entirely.
What Broder did not expect was for the man to turn his whole plan backwards by dropping a flush when he should’ve had nothing. That cleared the table pretty fast, and Broder noticed the man's nose was really not that red at all.
The hand was nonsense. He couldn't have won, couldn’t have had those cards. “Alright, pal, roll up your sleeves, eh? Just a friendly game, here, after all. No reason to stay all formal-like.” Broder saw the other men nod their approval.
“Are you sure? Isn’t it possible, just a little, that I might be better at the game than you?” Joan smirked, taunting the men.
“Roll those up in here or we'll roll em up for ya out back,” Cogen growled. He was the biggest, aside from the stranger himself, and had a knack for bar brawling.
“Alright. No need to get snippy that I beat you so bad.” Cogen almost stood, but Joan began to roll up his sleeves. Right, then left.
His left arm was covered up to the elbow in fresh burn scars- a bright, angry red. If Broder squinted, he could almost see fine lines tracing letters across the harshly burned skin, but he didn’t have to. He knew what he was looking at.
“You're a bloody wizard, ye stupid bastard!” Garrett exploded. “Ye- ye bastard! You used magic on our all heads, ye did!”
Joan's eyes darkened briefly, but he did not react.
“Garrett's got the right idea- who's to say you weren’t using magic trickery to win the game, eh? Seems like something your lot would do,” Jaten added smartly. “It seems only fair you give us back the money you stole.”
“In the interest of accuracy, I am a sorcerer. Wizards do not leave their little towers and their little books. Besides, if I had used any magic, why would I stop now?” The stranger pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just leave, or to make you forget you ever saw me?”
“Well- there are 4 of us! Maybe you couldn’t do us in all at once, eh?” Jaten shot back. There was a chorus of affirmation from the group. “Be honorable, man, just give us the money back.”
Joan rolled his sleeves down. “If I had wanted to,” he began quietly, gravel in his voice, “I could make you all give me your land, your wives, and your unborn sons and you wouldn’t even remember your names when I was done. I did not cheat,” he suddenly smiled. “You boys just suck at poker.”
“Now listen here, son,” Broder began. “You may be some wizard from up north-"
“East,” Joan interjected.
“You may be some fancy wizard from up north,” Broder continued, “but don’t think that means you can insult us small-town folk. We might not have your ‘education’ or what have you, but we know from poker.”
Joan sighed. “I am leaving town in two days. Leave me alone for those two days, and I will forget your names, faces, and the name of this backwater town you live in. I did not cheat you.” He looked each of them coldly in the eyes, and Broder saw that all the mirth and cheer that had been there earlier had been drained, replaced with nothingness. Not even hatred, or anger, but simply blank space. The stranger stood up with a groan, signaled for another round of drinks, and trudged to the back of the inn. None of the men followed.


I was lucky none of these farm hicks knew anything about casting, or else they’d have known I was bluffing. It didn’t seem like any of them could actually read my burns, because if they could’ve, they would’ve known I could only cast a couple Bindings, and that’s if I wasn’t hurting like hell.
What was most insulting, more than calling me a wizard, was that they thought I cheated to beat them at cards. I don’t need to cheat at cards. I had slipped a bit of coin out of their pockets as I brushed by, but that was hardly cheating. Just good, honest thievery. And to call me a wizard? I ought to burn down their houses anyway, just for that. I was cold just thinking about it.
Still, I had to accelerate my schedule and leave tonight. I hated to do it, but I needed to be three towns over by the time they decided to kick the shit out of me. Bastards.
Amidst my wrathful musings I became aware of a presence at the door.
It was that kid. What had he seen? I ran the scene over again and realized he had been watching the end from the table he had been cleaning. Sloppy. He'd tell everybody. I couldn’t kill a kid the way I would've those guys in front, and I didn’t want to besides. Kids have always had a hold on me, and it pissed me off. It wasn't like I could remember why. Besides, I didn’t exactly mind the town knowing; it just meant I’d have a tougher time sneaking out, and I was tired enough that it bugged me.
“Sor?” He nudged the door open, but not all the way, I noticed. “I saw your tattoo. What do they mean? My ma said not to ask, but those men seemed pretty upset out there. I asked them and they said you was a wizard, but I didn’t think they were real. Are you a wizard? Are those tattoos your clan or something?” He spoke fast, like he thought I would cut him off, or cut off his head. “What are you doing?”
I spoke carefully to mask my distaste for his questions. “I am not a wizard. Wizards hide in their towers and ask questions nobody is curious about.” I hoped the dismissal would be clear.
It was not.
“If you aren’t a wizard, what are you?”
“What I am right now, kid, is packing, and what I’m going to be in a minute is gone. Scram.” I looked around and realized that aside from the bags I could clip to my belt, I had nothing else with me. Damn.
“Well, whatever you are, sor, I know those marks mean you're bound to help people-" that wasn’t true “-and those men out there maybe won’t tell you, but I will! See, sor, we're in mighty need of a wizard these days, on account of a monster been stealing the livestock and trashing the lumber yards and-" he slowed his speech a bit, but before I could get a word in he continued- “and I think it took the Granlenses daughter, only cause they won’t tell anyone where she went but I haven’t seen her in town at all and she used to come help me with my chores some days and it’s been a long while, maybe a month or so. Anyway, nobody’ll believe me when I tell em, and I haven’t seen it exactly, but I’m sure there’s a monster!”
“Kid, you know not every stroke of bad luck is a monster, right?” People don’t believe in monsters or magic until it’s convenient for them, which means they know nothing about it, which means most of the time they’re just making up stories to get me killed or run off, or else they’re just plain dumb and attribute every case of rainy weather to a made up beast.
“I know that! I just know there’s a monster around here! Look, sor, I’ll help you find it even, and-"
“I charge for my services and I don’t take kids on field trips when I work. Are you going to pay me?” Most of the time, threat of payment was enough to deter all but the most determined, or most superstitious, folk.
“I bet if you kill it the whole town will pitch in! Please, sor, I just wanna help out, and it seems like you could fix us all up only nobody wants to ask.” He wasn’t lying, I could tell, but kids are always seeing things that aren’t there. On the other hand, sometimes kids are better at seeing what’s right in front of them.
And when it turned out to be nothing, it meant I had an excuse to stay an extra night without getting an attempted beating, probably.
“Alright, kid. Where was this monster last?” Hired by a kid who probably couldn’t even get on a horse on his own. If anyone caught wind of this, I’d never hear the end of it.

Link to original nosleep post:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1bml3v0/i_found_a_set_of_blank_cassette_tapes_at_the_junk/
The journey to discovering the first body was even more exhausting than I anticipated. And according to the tapes that I'd found in the junk store, there were still seven more out there... somewhere in the marsh.
Who knows how far we'll have to go, just to find the next one? I wondered, as I waited for the second cassette's audio to begin playing.
"If you're listening to this, you found the first body in the marsh. To find the second, simply take five steps north." The narrator began, his voice playing back from the cassette player and into my headphones.
But upon waiting for further instructions, I only heard silence.
Wait... What? I thought to myself, before the man continued.
"You're probably wondering how that could be possible. Well, the truth is, the body that you just found... is part of a pair. A couple, to be precise. In this case, a very old couple, guilty of buying into a false dream. That, of lifelong companionship. An illusion of eternal love, knowing full well, that we're all born alone... and die alone. When you're ready to find the next body, switch over to the third tape."
CLICK.
I pressed pause on the cassette player. There are two bodies here?
That's when I remembered that Jess and Mike were still digging in the mud, a few feet from where we found the first body, in an attempt to find its clue, and completely unaware that there was another corpse beneath their feet.
"Wait! Stop!" I called out to them.
But it was too late.
Seeing the remains of the second body, Jess screamed and stumbled back, while Mike, having just pulled a small wooden box out of the ground, suddenly dropped it and closed his eyes.
"Another one?" He yelled out to me.
"Yeah. According to the tapes, it was a couple." I explained.
"Well thanks for warning us!" Jess added.
"I just played it now!"I replied.
"Well did it say their names?" Mike asked.
"Their names? No. But it said they were very old."
"Ah, okay."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason." Mike replied, defensively.
"So what was the clue?" Jess interjected.
Mike picked up the wooden box that he had just unearthed from the burial site, opened it, and revealed a piece of paper, with nothing but the letter "J" written on it.
"What do you think it means?" I asked.
"It's just one clue, idiot." Mike scoffed. "It's too soon to say. More the reason we get to finding the others. What are the next instructions?"
I switched tape "2" for tape "3" and pressed play.
CLICK.
"You've made it to tape three. Which means you've discovered the first two bodies. To find the next one, keep heading in the same direction you've been walking, and don't stop until you find the wreckage of an old boat, lodged in the mud. Not far from it, you'll find the third body. When you do, switch to tape four."
CLICK.
—
We'd been trudging through the marsh, navigating the fog with just a single flashlight, for what must have been another twenty minutes or so, when Jess and Mike's banter began to wear on me.
"You know, with the election coming up in just a few days, I really wish I could vote." Jess said to Mike.
"Why?" He asked.
"'Cause then I could help change the world."
"That's not how it works. You'd vote for Clinton in an already blue state, so it would basically mean nothing."
"You're both wrong!" I interrupted. "The world doesn't change overnight, and her vote would matter. But none of us are old enough to vote anyway, so can we just drop-"
But before I could continue, Jess interjected, calling back to Mike and I from up ahead.
"Hey guys..."
We both looked over, to find her pointing to, of all things, a thick mist that was enveloping everything ahead of us, and rapidly closing in.
"Maybe we should head back after all." Jess backtracked.
"Yeah, you already found a second body, Mike. Now can we just go home?" I insisted.
But Mike wasn't having it.
"Sorry losers. We gotta keep going. A vote's a vote. But we're almost there. And don't worry, a little fog's not gonna hurt nobody."
That's when it hit me.
"Mike, back at the last couple we found. You had asked me if the tape had said their names?"
"Yeah. So what?" He replied.
"Why is that?"
"I told you. No reason."
"Just be honest."
"Alright fine..." He said, before pausing for a moment, and then looking me in the eyes. "...I thought that maybe my dad was one of them."
"I knew it!" I exclaimed, frantically pacing around the grass. "Mike, are you kidding me? That's why you're dragging us along with you?"
"Now that I know there are all these missing people out here, it just got me thinking... Maybe that's where he ended up." He replied.
"Dude," I began, "Hate to break it ya, but your dad was a drunk, who went to the packie one day, and never came back. I don't know where he is. But one thing I do know is... he sure as heck ain't out here."
"What did you just say, Tyler?" Mike growled, his face growing red with anger, as he stormed over to me.
But Jess jumped between us. "Hey, stop!"
"Fine. You know what. I don't need you guys. I'll find the rest of the bodies myself." Mike said defiantly, as he turned around and walked away.
"But what about the mist? We only have one flashlight." I yelled out to him.
"Keep it! I don't need it!" He called back to us, without looking back, as he disappeared into the fog.
—
Jess and I must have been walking in circles for a good thirty minutes, disoriented by the mist, before we finally got our bearings, and continued on our way back home.
"It's just funny is all. Pahk the cah." Jess said, doing her best impression of a Boston accent, while careful not to trip in the grass.
"That's your impression of me?" I asked, my boots splashing in the mud.
"Yeah, is it wicked pissah, kid?" She answered playfully.
"Good one." I replied. "Easy for you transplants to joke about our accents, after you move to our town, with your fancy homes, your fancy cars, and your Long Island accents. Well, you know what? Maybe I find your accent funny too."
"Do you now?"
I paused for a moment.
"Nah, it's cute." I replied.
"Cute?" Jess asked.
"Oh, I mean uh... totally not cute at all, I swear."
She stopped and gave me a cheeky smile.
"Tyler, are you flirting with me?"
"No..." I said, as she took a step closer.
"'Cause you know, out here in the marsh, surrounded by a sinister fog and all these dead corpses, might be..."
"An inappropriate time?" I interjected, my face beginning to blush.
Jess leaned in even closer, her face just an inch from mine, and smiled. "...Romantic."
As she was about to kiss me, I saw her close her eyes, but couldn't seem to close mine, completely in shock that this moment was finally happening.
But just before her lips touched mine, I felt my boots sinking into the mud, and tilted my head down, leaving her hanging there, confused.
"What's wrong?" Jess asked, opening her eyes, a look of disappointment washing over her face.
"Um... We have a bit of a problem." I said, gesturing to the ground, where both of our legs were now almost completely submerged in the mud.
"Oh no!" Jess said, before attempting to pull herself out of the ground, and realizing that she was stuck. I followed suit, also to no avail.
Then we looked at each other, and both began to laugh at the awkward situation we'd gotten ourselves into... until we continued to sink deeper and deeper into the mud.
Jess' eyes suddenly turned from jovial to concerned, and she began yelling, "Help! Help!"
I joined in, but after a few minutes of shouting, began to lose hope, accepting our inevitable demise, and the irony of two more bodies being added to the marshy graveyard.
But just when the mud reached our necks, as we each shot each other one last look of affection, suddenly someone came stomping over, and ripped us out of the ground.
"What on earth are you two kids doing out here at this hour?" Our rescuer exclaimed, as he dropped us onto a more stable patch of grassy marshland a few feet away.
He was an old man with a white beard, wearing a pair of rubber wading pants, that were completely covered in mud.
The serial killer! I thought to myself, before realizing that his voice sounded nothing like the tape's narrator, and that he could have easily killed us when we were stuck in the marsh, but didn't.
"We got lost." I replied, careful not to offer up too much information.
"Thanks for saving us." Jess added.
"You two are lucky I was out here."
"What were you doing out here?" I asked, suspicious of his why someone, besides us, would be out here in the marsh so late at night.
"Clammin.'" He replied.
"Clammin'?" Jess asked.
"I'm a clammer. Ain't nothin in the world that brings me as much solace as searching for clams at night. But anyways, you two better be getting back. I saw the man out there earlier."
"The man?" I asked.
"Yes, the man in the marsh." He replied.
"Who's... that?" Jess added.
"Us clammers and fishermen see him all the time, out there in the marsh. Always at night. And always digging away in the mud. Legend has it, he's the captain of that submerged boat out there, forever trying to free it."
Jess and I both looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear.
"Anyways, I'd better be getting back. Low tide's upon us and there's clams to be clammed. You kids get home safe now."
And like that, he was gone, disappearing into the fog like a ghost in the night.
But Jess and I were much more concerned with what he'd told us, than with the old man himself.
"We've gotta find Mike!" Jess said frantically, as she turned to me, a look of panic in her eyes.
"Are you serious?" I replied. "But we agreed to head back. Mike made his choice to stay."
"You heard the old man. There's someone else out there. We've gotta save him."
"But-" I began to say, before Jess grabbed me by the collar and interrupted.
"No buts, Tyler! These tapes found their way to you, not us. They chose you. You were the one who was meant to get us into this mess, and you are the one who's meant to get us out of it. So please, for crying out loud, put on your big boy pants, turn around, and be a hero for once in your life."
I didn't know whether to feel hurt or flattered. All I knew was that she was right. I'd never really had much of a purpose in life before finding the tapes, and in a weird way, they gave me one. So I dusted off the dried mud from my clothes, took Jess by the hand, and set off into the foggy marshland.
—
When we finally arrived at the wreckage of the old boat, we found the nearby burial site completely excavated, the tape's third body protruding from the ground, and a box with what presumably was the next clue lying beside it.
And not far away, just lying there in the grass...
...Was Mike. Half alive, his body caught in an old bear trap, its rusty jaws clamping down into his torso, blood pouring out everywhere.
"I found the body." He mumbled to Jess and I, as he noticed us approaching, blood dripping from his mouth.
"Mike!" Jess screamed, as she started to run towards him, before I stopped her and crouched down to help him.
But no matter how hard I tried and tried... no matter how much force I put into it... the trap wouldn't release Mike from its grip.
Eventually, I stood up and took a few steps back, knowing that my friend would soon die from his wounds, as my own blood was now pouring from my arm.
Jess and I both knelt down by his side.
"I'm sorry... For what I said." I whispered to him, as a tear rolled down my cheek.
"I'm sorry too." He replied.
"Did someone do this to you?" Jess asked.
"No." Mike replied. "I had just found the body, but couldn't see well, and accidentally stepped in the trap. But then a little while later, I did see him."
"Who?" Jess asked.
"The man from the tapes. He walked by and stood there for a minute, right where you were just standing. He looked at me for a moment, then just walked away and left me here to die."
"The man in the marsh." Jess said.
"Tell me something, Tyler." Mike began, gesturing to the body. "Is it him? Is it my dad?"
I sat there for a minute, not sure what to say, then moved the headphones from around my neck to my head, switched tape "3" for tape "4" and pressed play.
CLICK.
"If you're listening to this, you've found the third body. A widow, guilty of investing her entire life in that of another. Her husband, who, after sharing her life, her time, and her memories with, simply passed away one day. She should have known, as we've learned from the first two bodies, that love is not forever. And investing in it, a fool's errand. When you're ready for the directions to the next bodies, switch to the fifth tape."
CLICK.
I looked at Mike as he lay there, dying in the grass, a hopeful look in his eye.
"It was him. It was your dad, Mike." I said, unable to tell him the truth, and hoping the lie would bring him some sense of closure, some sense of solace, in his final moments.
He probably knew I was lying, but nevertheless... it brought a smile to his face.
"Thank you." He mumbled, before his eyes eventually closed, and he passed on from this life.
Jess and I both began to cry our eyes out, as we sat there in the mud, our warm embrace counterpoint to the cold body that lay beside us.
"Maybe we should go back... and get help." Jess said, sniffling, a sense of defeat in her voice.
"No," I replied, wiping the tears from my face. "It's too late. We've gotta keep going. We've gotta find the bodies, and make this guy pay for what he's done."
Jess reached over and helped me wrap my plaid shirt around my arm, in an effort to clot the wound, as I stared down at the ground, still processing what had just happened.
"Mike hated this shirt." I said, unable to stop myself from letting out a laugh.
"He really did." Jess replied, fighting a tearful chuckle of her own.
That's when I remembered the wooden box that I'd seen earlier, its structure identical to the one we'd found by the first two bodies.
I picked it up and opened it, revealing a piece of paper, with nothing but the letter "A" written on it.
"Another letter. "A."" I said.
"'J" and "A"." Jess replied, "What do you think it's spelling?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, we'd better find the next one then."
As the mist began to clear, and Jess looked out at the immense stretch of marshland that still lay before us, I switched tape "4" for tape "5" and pressed play.
CLICK.

Even now, I still hear from it's most stubborn members that the freemasons were the cause of every major sociohistorical event like the French Revolution and this evil shift to "separate church and state" and to have republics.
Don't even get me started on the lowercase c and s words that hates capital letters.
It's clearly the doing of this secret fraternal society and not the clear material conditions of everyone starving to death that causes these changes to occur.
Like how do you deal with being libeled for stuff you didn't even do, when all you do is meet every fourth saturday of the month wearing fancy aprons.

"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemonk and welcome to my Letsplay! Today I am back from my medically mandated break from playing human videogames after a rather... cathartic experience with a game called Teardown. Subnautica, even among humans, is labeled as a notorious experience with... mixed reception for its sequel. A survival crafting game apparently. I have experience with those so presumably the gameplay loop should be predictable enough. So... Let's go in!"
Spiffle starts the game, going for standard Survival Mode, with aspects of food and water mechanics alongside health and oxygen. The game loads very, very fast with Spiffles overpowered computer, and the introduction sequence begins. The camera pans to the panicked sight of the payer character moving down a ladder followed by a sight of a starship above exploding.
"Oh dear... oh dear! They weren't kidding about survival! Do I even survive this or am I a ghost or something..."
The pod rattles, the screen shakes, a fire extinguisher falls from its mounting. Velocity causes the pod to dislodge a panel from a wall and it flies around the cabin. The panel flies into the player's screen, making it go black.
"Oh... well okay then. I uh... well."
Spiffles' character awakens and panics at the buttons securing him to the seat. Spiffle quickly figures out that fire in this game is in fact bad, and grabs the fire extinguisher, putting the fire out. The game's introduction plays, showing his PDA, the game's inventory UI.
"Oh! I have seen these things in real life when visiting human stations! Do all humans have these?"
Spiffle starts exploring the escape pod, noting all of the damage to the radio beacon and the wiring panel.
"Hmm... craft the repair tool... Well... For later I suppose. Now how do i-AH, the ladder!"
Spiffle clicks on the ladder and goes through the animation. The character exits and dramatically stands. Spiffle looks around. His face visibly pales as he looks in every direction, finding the only thing nearby that looks 'safe’ or like 'land' is the destroyed ship in the distance.
"Water... it's... water... everywhere! How big is this game's map!? Structural hull failure... zero human lifesigns detected. That's.. not nice. Well... Here we go!"
Spiffle jumps into the water. His mood changes, the underwater environment significantly different than above ground. The water is absolutely teeming with life and color, as Spiff swims towards a reef to stare at some coral. Spiff gets distracted and starts chasing a fish, specifically a Peeper, and grabs it.
"Oh! Good god! THAT'S how humans catch fish!? That's very... inefficient! What is this thing? Can I eat it? I know I'm supposed to take care of my food and water, so how do I eat it?"
Spiffle wanders about for a while, gathering resources and exploring his general location, eventually getting back to the pod. He had gathered up a decent amount of stuff while he was swimming around and accessed the Fabricator to see what was available.
"Ah! I see, the fabricator cooks things too. Uhm... cooked fish thing and... these transparent fish give me water bottles? Okay then! Well. Sorted for food anyway. Let's see. Copper wire, batteries. A Scanner? Does that mean I can like, scan things and tell what they are? And... Oxygen tank? Oh hell yes. I'll build that then."
Spiffle goes through the process of building a few things, checking out how the game's crafting system works, and spending more time collecting resources. He quickly realizes how much work he has to do and finally finishes making a Scanner.
"Okay then well... I can see how much time is going to be spent collecting resources so i'm going to edit all of that out and keep you all in the loop on all the fun parts instead."
Spiffle continues playing, inserting a creative, albeit mildly annoying fanciful scene transition in between resource loops. He comes to a cave looking for salt to make more equipment, when he encounters the first hostile enemy of the game: The Crashfish. He does not notice it at first, the strange sloppy noise it makes as its pod opens, the beast makes a terrible gurgly noise and charges straight at him.
"What is that noi-AH! OY! OI! OIIII what are you what are-!"
Spiffle is cut off as the fish explodes, causing him to lose half his health. He quickly surfaces and takes a breath.
"Okay then... OKAY... THAT... makes absolutely no sense from an evolutionary perspective... but okay then. Avoid those. What even was that? I can't even scan it because it was moving so fast! Gods... exploding fish."
Spiffle shakes his head and resumes his hunt for resources, eventually finding enough for a repair tool. He makes the repair of the pods' broken wiring and looks around a bit more, noting some of the details in the game.
"Hard to believe these games are over eight hundred years old! I keep getting requests to play 'them gud ol' gamez' instead of any new releases. Maybe I'll get to those eventually. I have quite the backlog though."
Spiffle quickly tabs out and shows the huge list of human made games on his list that he has been gifted or purchased himself. The list includes Space Marine, Starship Troopers, Spyro Trilogy, Crash Bandicoot, and so... so many more.
"I am also told about this thing called 'anime', whatever that is. Maybe I should look into that. Anyway..."
Spiffle shrugs for now and resumes playing, swimming around for a bit before finally deciding to use his scanner. He gets the first scan - the Acid Mushroom - and painstakingly reads the supplied article. He then goes on a scanning frenzy, scanning each thing he can find, comically chasing after various fish and objects, trying to scan them then taking an irritatingly long time to read the article aloud.
He gets to the point where he encounters his first real hostile enemy and tries to scan it. The stalker, of course, doesn't appreciate that, and attacks.
"Oooh what's this thing? Oh lovely, it's a big one. Can I scan it? The... Stalker? Oh okay is it friend-OW! NONONONO go away!"
Spiffle panics and scans it while running away from it, trying to swim backwards. He's so focused on scanning it he can't run far enough away that he gets ambushed by another Stalker nearby and manages to scan it just as he gets hit with his first Death in the game.
"Oh.... o...kay. Well... it seems things aren't as friendly as expected. I'm going to guess there's more things like that around. So... I'm just going to finish working on repairs and equipment then I'll take those things on."
Spiffle reads the article on the Stalker he scanned and spends more time collecting resources, scanning local entities and building the rest of the gear he has. Fins, high capacity O2 tank, rebreather and some more food and water which he stores in floating containers for later. He starts to explore a bit farther in search of fragments to scan and finds a Sand Shark, as well as a biome resembling a desert-like area. He encounters his first piece of the wrecked ship here.
"Oh! Hello! Pieces of wreckage! What are these for now do you suppose? Can I disassemble these for resources or-Oh! Is that a door? Oh! I'm supposed to go in here and look for things? How do I get in? Oh I can't. I need a laser cutter. Is one of those here? Need more fragments I guess..."
Spiffle gives up trying to enter and goes up for air, then returns to the floor to hunt for fragments. He eventually unlocks the Bioreactor, pieces of the Scanner room, a couple fragments of the Seaglide and Seamoth. He comes across the first cave entrance to the Mushroom Caves Biome.
"Oh... oh my. That's... deep. Good thing I unlocked the Seamoth thing. Its a miniature submarine I think. I can use that. But that's... kinda scary. I can't see the bottom. I kinda see just... purple. Mostly purple. But it scares me that I can't see the bottom."
Spiffle hangs around the cave entrance for a bit before a call for Oxygen forces him to the surface. He swims back down to the cave entrance and then hangs around a bit longer before once again resurfacing, heading for some new things to scan. It is however at this point that Spiffles exploration is cut short.
"EMERGENCY - SEISMIC READINGS SUGGEST A QUANTUM DETONATION HAS OCCURRED IN THE AURORA'S DRIVE CORE. THE CENTRAL DARK MATTER REACTOR WILL REACH A SUPERCRITICAL STATE IN -"
The computer aboard the PDA shakes Spiff out of his daze and he quickly rushes to the surface and looks at the ship.
"Wait wait wait what's that!? What's going on!? I see the ship? The Aurora! That's what its name is? Whats a Dark Matter reactor and wha-"
The computer continues its countdown muffled by Spiffs panicked squealing and he has a front-row seat to one of the most spectacular explosions in the history of gaming - the Aurora's Reactor Detonation.
It happens. The world goes dead silent for a short moment, and one can see Spiffles heart visibly stop beating. Then explosion as the Aurora lets out its magnificent blast. As the shockwave expands outwards, Spiffs skin visibly turns a paler shade of blue, and his eyes go wide. The sound of a geiger counter follows, leaving him breathless and pale as the world suddenly goes dead quiet again. The sound of the geiger counter ominously leaving him shaken even more than he already is.
"FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE - THE RADIATION SUIT HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR BLUEPRINTS."
Spiffle stays completely silent, bobbing in the water for a solid few minutes, staring in shocked wonder at what he just witnessed. He regains his composure for a few short moments and returns to his scanning venture, but one can easily see he isn't in the right mind after that. He returns to the seabed, at the entrance to the mushroom caves and dives again. He does this several more times, popping up to the surface, looking at the shipwreck, then diving at the entrance again. Finally, after much hesitation, he dives one last time.
"Screw it. it's just a game right?"
He smiles at the camera with a shrug and swims far below the surface, into one of the caves. As he enters the cavern his jaw drops at the sight of a massive underwater cavern filled with gigantic glowing pink mushrooms. The Mushroom caves as they are known. He spots something in the distance, entranced, forgetting his oxygen situation. He cant get far however and a terrifying shriek of some unknown entity shakes him out of his stupor.
"What in the red dawn was that noise!?"
Spiff can't finish asking his invisible audience what's going on as he strays too close to a mushroom, occupied by a Crab Snake, a gigantic sea worm. He is grabbed from behind, spun around and he visibly panics as the giant worm digs its enormous tusks into Spiffles character. Spiffle immediately freaks out, a combination of both the terrifying shriek emitted by the creature and the shock of being attacked makes poor Spiffle jump out of his seat and duck under the table.
"GOWAYGOWAYGOWAGOWAYGOWAY!!!"
The worm comes back and finishes Spiff off before his oxygen runs out. Spiff's character respawns but the footage continues, a slight whimper can be heard in the background as Spiff hides under the desk. This carries on for a few minutes, and his head very slowly appears above the desk. He gingerly puts himself back in his seat and breathes heavily for a bit. When he finally gains control, he tabs out of the game and takes a look at the wiki for Subnautica. He returns a few moments later and stares at the camera in that strange haunting glare he's become so famous for.
"WHY DO YOU STUPID DEVELOPERS NOT PUT GUNS IN THE GAME IF YOU HAVE SHIT LIKE THAT!? ARE YOU INSANE!?"
He grabs the camera and shakes it violently as he rants at it, questioning why there are guns in every other human game he has played and not THIS specific game, especially considering how there are 'giant water snake monsters that eat your face' in a game with no guns. He rants for a good minute or two then plays his outro.
TOP COMMENT: "Are you absolutely sure after Teardown, Factorio and Project ZOMBOID, you should be playing Subnautica? I mean seriously, try something less... psychologically terrifying. It's known as Thalassophobia Simulator for a reason."
_______________________________________________________________
"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemonk and I still don't understand why we have giant worm monsters but we have no guns!"
Spiffle stares at the camera with an expression that can only be summarized as 'Seriously bruh?' and resumes his last playthrough. He becomes confused at the lack of stuff in his inventory.
"Why is my... Why do I not ha-Oh right... I was eaten. When you die your inventory is wiped... I need to build more tools then."
Spiffle starts some silly music, an alien version of Benny Hill to a montage of him collecting resources, occasionally ranting at various oddities and questioning game logic. He restores all of his tools then goes hunting for a Vehicle Bay fragment so he can build the Seamoth. He continues to scan what he can, developing something of an obsession with the task, then painstakingly reading every word about it to try and understand it. It is at this point Spiffle, during his explorations finds another derelict chunk of ship near the desert region, encountering his first Sand Shark.
"What... What is this? Oh... careful Spiff. This one looks angrier than the last one you found. Wh-What in oblivion!?"
Spiffles attention is once again diverted by the appearance of a Reefback Leviathan and its signature low drone. This one appears to be a fully grown adult.
"You-you... You've got to be... You gotta be fucking kidding me. A Juhara Eelfish!? WHAT IS THAT DOING IN A HUMAN VIDEOGAME!!!??"
Spiffle squeaks in shock as he sees a creature that is an absolute spitting image of a large oceanic dwelling sea creature, which is both the games and his native homeworlds version of a Whale. The Reefback has some dissimilarities, but its close enough to the real thing that Spiffle is genuinely shocked. He quickly pauses the game, opening various wikipedia articles, then displays a full picture of both Subnautica in game Reefback, and the Juhara-Kal-Rehar, colloquially known as a Juhara Eelfish, a shockingly similar creature that lives in his homeworlds oceans.
The only difference between them is the color of the exterior chitin shell. The Reefback has a blue/purple shell, the Juhara Eelfish's chitin has a red/green shell.
"WHEN was this game made!?"
Spiff checks, the current Earth-date is the year 2886. Humanity only entered the galactic community in 2752. Subnautica was released in 2018.
"HOW.... How is that even possible!? You didn't even know the galaxy existed until only a few decades ago, yet you almost PERFECTLY matched the appearance of one of our homeworlds native species! How is this even possible!? Okay. If the name matches then I have to call bullshit."
Spiffle approaches and scans it, then reads the data article.
"A... Reefback Leviathan? Oh thank God... Now let's see... A herbivorous creature that... that likely got so large due to the fact that its predators went extinct. Well... that's... okay... A hard chitinous shell of multiple layers, a microcosm of different creatures and flora growing from its back, hence the name. Hmmm..."
Spiffle gets that cold, empty stare on his face and glares menacingly at the camera. The screen goes black, then returns, seeing Spiffle nursing a beverage of some kind while wrapped in a blanket.
"I realized something... Call it a message from the Ancestors or a Divine revelation. But I have a funny feeling this isn't going to be the last time I see a creature from the galaxy represented in human media. I hope to the Gods that doesn't happen... the concept of this situation is nothing short of terrifying. In any case, I'm sorry about that. Lets.... let's continue."
Spiffle resumes where he left off, doing his usual routine of scanning, then obsessively reading. Eventually he unlocks the Vehicle Bay, and returns home to his pod where the situation with resources is growing obscene with at least fifty floating resource containers hovering around the area.
"Alright... A Vehicle Bay... This means I can build things like the Seamoth now. This will be nice. Right, I shall for the sake of my audience skip the resource collection mechanic that's here and focus on the actual result. I shan't waste my time either though. MONTAGE!"
Spiff yells excitedly and a montage to that same odd Benny Hill type music plays out, with him collecting the resources he needs to build both machines. Most of it is already in the floating containers strewn about. With a few visits to the fabricator, he compiles the Power Cell, Titanium Ingot and Lubricant he needs to make the Vehicle Bay. He deploys it and chases it to the surface just away from the pod in the deeper end of the shallows.
"Right... Not too hard. Let's see then, how do-Ah. Get on it and... The Seamoth. Cost of two glass, one titanium ingot, a powercell, lead and lubricant. Right."
He quickly gathers and makes everything he needs for the Seamoth, then stands on the platform ready to go. He chooses the Seamoths recipe and the sequence starts. His eyes light up as drones start flying around the platform, then begin assembling atom by atom, the small, adorable minisub known as the Seamoth. It finishes the process and flops into the water with a splash.
"My gods look at this thing! It's so cute!"
Spiffle explores the sub for a little while and hops inside it, testing the controls and playing around with it a bit to see what it can do.
"Hm... Maximum Depth, 200 meters? So if I go below that does it implode or something? I need to be careful of that. OH dammit I remember! I have to make that Radiation Suit don't I? I shall do so now!"
Spiffle seems to have found a new resolve, quickly gathering resources together and making both a Seaglide and radiation suit in short order.
"Does this thing have any weapons? How do I repair-Oh... Repair tool? That makes it easier I suppose. Now... Where do I go now? Is there anything I can do?"
Spiffle stumbles about in the blind for a few minutes, trying to figure out his next course of action beyond simply wandering aimlessly while scanning things. He gets back in the pod and fixes the radio beacon. His face visibly contorts into an expression of irritation when he hears his rescue is in 9999 hours. He resolves to come back every now and then to check the radio. He decides to gather more resources to make up for building the seamoth and comes back a bit later. He finds a radio transmission when he returns.
"RADIO: ▀▖┗▛Nine new biological subjects designated. Mode ▄▖▜▚┣: hunting/analyzing.
Sharing subject locations with other agents."
"What... in the Nine Hells was THAT!? Why was it in such an odd voice? What was that language? What were those letters!? Somethings going on here... SO now what? I have the radiation suit. i guess... go into the Aurora? Oh no, I'm not going in there unprepared! Lemme make some tools and spare batteries, then i'll go in. I need... Oh... I need more fragments is what I need."
Spiffle resumes his fragment hunt, looking around for fragments of various tools. He uses the Seamoth to traverse around.
"WHEEE!!!"
Spiff seems more than just a bit happy as he trundles around in the Seamoth, using his speed to launch himself out of the water. He splashes about a bit, testing the limits of the craft and trying to see what holes he can squeeze himself into or out of and how deep he can go.
"Okay okay. time to get to serious work. Now... I need to find... A Laser Cutter and a... STASIS RIFLE?! Wait... rifle? That means GUN! I NEED A GUN!!"
Spiffle charges forward towards the desert biome where he found the Reefback and resumes his search for things to scan. It is now he comes across a Reginald.
"What... IS this fish? Wait, let me just..."
He gets out of the Seamoth and scans it.
"Huh... Reginald. That's a... fish? It's so cute! Wait, come back friend!"
Spiffle spends an unreasonable amount of time trying to catch a Reginald. When he finally catches one he gets back in the Seamoth and heads towards the aurora, new friend in tow. He trundles over to the side of the crashed ship and scans some random stuff here and there, finding fragments to a few small items, including a few he needs such as a Powercell Charger for the Seamoth’s battery. He gets close to the front of the ship and the haunting, evil noise of Subnautica's most iconic killer suddenly echoes through the gloomy water.
"What... Was that? Is it another worm thing? Please don't let it be one of those..."
Spiffle wanders around the side for a bit longer. An ominous shadow looms in the background, catching his eye. He ignores it for the moment and simply carries on, eventually arriving at the entrance to the ship. Through the mangled steel and fire he squeezes into the front of the ship and looks around. The environment ominously rattles and his screen shakes as the ships structure isn't exactly stable. The howl of the creature in the shadows makes Spiff even more uncomfortable.
"I... Do NOT like this. I really dont."
Spiff parks the Seamoth where he can see a ramp leading up, and gets out. He is immediately accosted by Cave Crawlers and uses his knife to defend himself, poorly, but he gets rid of the three or four around him.
"WARNING: SCANS SHOW THE DIGESTIVE TRACTS OF INDIGENOUS LIFE FORMS CONTAIN HUMAN TISSUE."
Spiffs face turns an even paler shade of blue and he swallows visibly as if he's trying not to vomit.
"Yeuch... I can scan this thing and read it later. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
Spiff scans and follows the path to the interior, uses his fire extinguisher to put out some fires in the area and gets inside. The ship rumbles as he wanders around and gets into one of the rooms. He finds the poster of the P.R.A.W.N. Suit.
"Ooh! A poster thing? Can I take it or? I can! PRAWN Suit eh? Can I actually use that thing?"
Spiff takes the poster, scans some furniture and collects a PDA. Spiff continues down the corridor and retrieves his Propulsion Cannon from his inventory and uses it to pick up some furniture in the way.
"I am SO glad I got this thing from scanning the area before I came here. This is super useful! I wonder if it has other uses..."
He gets to the door and looks at his databank.
"Hmm... Here it is! Code for the door is 1454. Right."
Spiff moves through, repairing a door to get the Seamoth Depth Upgrade Module. He continues and clears a fire to enter the main reactor. His inner loot goblin shines through and grabs the Cyclops engine efficiency module before he starts work on repairs, scanning the breach and starting work. It doesn't take him long, but he gets issues with a Bleeder that lives in the waters. He scans one then finishes repairs. Foolishly, he uses the propulsion cannon and shoots the bleeder at one of the reactors, undoing his work. He looks at the damage he caused and repairs it.
"Well... what was I expecting... Why did I do that? It's a CANNON... why did I aim it at the reactor exactly? So stupid..."
Spiff finishes and heads to the PRAWN Bay, and looks around at the damage. He spots the prawn suits and starts scanning, grabbing a storage module upgrade from a console and starts extinguishing flames so he can scan. He runs out of fire extinguisher juice though.
"Blast! Can I still scan these if they're on fire?"
Spiff walks around, finding cheeky angles he can use and scans the debris, finding all four fragments he needs. He heads upstairs and goes through the rooms and everything he can find. He gets into the Galley and sees the Kitty in a Space Helmet Poster.
"What the- 'Keep Calm'? What in the blue balls is this? It's.... cute! What is this creature!? Can I keep this? I can!"
Spiffle excitedly grabs the poster and moves on. He goes through cabins, picks up PDAs and collects the Natural Selection 2 poster, the Prawn suit in the sea poster and the collectible arcade toy in the locked cabin. Lacking the code to the Captain's cabin, he returns to the prawn bay and tries swimming around, eventually finding a passage in the hull debris to the rest of the ship. He moves through in silence, recovers the black box data and exits the ship. He removes debris, grabs the local wildlife with the cannon and tosses them into fires or the water with glee.
"BEGONE BEAST!!! Ha! Right... uhh... where did i park? Oh, there it is. Should I go home? I wonder if there are any fragments I can use around here?"
Spiff exits, finding Liefpod 4 floating upside down on the surface of the water. He collects the PDA data and a new blueprint. Then, as he gets in the seamoth, the horrifying roar of the Reaper Leviathan suddenly sounds. Spiff is thrown into a panic, screams in terror and tries desperately to get away. The beast appears with jaw chomping and claws clawing at the poor Seamoth. The entire time Spiffle is screeching like a bird with a broken leg, his entire body now an almost ghostly white out of absolute terror.
"GOWAYGOWAYGOWAYGOWAYGODNONNONOGOWAYGOWAY!!!"
Spiffle manages to get out of its grip and in a panic charges away towards his lifepod and continues to scream, breathing hard between screams. He gets to the pod and then hides under his desk, continuing to scream. His channel outro plays.
TOP COMMENT: (This has been translated from Eridani) "I am starting to believe this whole sojourn was a very BAD idea. Do you humans have those kinds of beasts on your homeworld? How did you ever survive them?!"
RESPONSE: LOL no we never had Reapers. The only Leviathan Class creatures we have on our planet are Whales. And they're mostly peaceful plankton eaters. Mostly.
RESPONSE: (Translated from Eridani) "Seriously? I think I find it more terrifying that these creatures are made up in your minds. What kind of nightmares do you people have to be able to create this level of fiction!?"
RESPONSE: Do. Not. Ask. This is only Subnautica - we have FAR worse.
Spiffles response: "You're going to make me play these 'far worse', aren't you?"
RESPONSE: "Damn right we are! :)"
________________________________________________________
"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemnonk and welcome back to Subnautica!"
Spiffle looks visibly stronger, his usual lanky appearance now looking like he's been working out like a Gym Bro. One can see muscles on muscles and Spiff seems to have an abnormal amount of energy.
"I am now relaxed. It is now time to get eaten by giant scary sea monsters. And yes, before you ask, I have successfully finished fully soundproofing my office. And also yes, I am indeed expecting a new addition to the brood... THANKS DAMN HUMANS! You and your damn musical magic nonsense..."
Spiffle starts the game and is swimming outside the pod next to the Seamoth. The first thing he does is repair the seamoth from the damage incurred by the Reaper, and recounts what hes been up to, checking inventory and equipment. He heads to the radio and gets a new transmission.
RADIO - "This is Avery Quinn of trading ship Sunbeam. Aurora, do you read? Over.'
'Nothing but vacuum. These Alterra ships. They run low on engine grease, they send an SOS; you offer to help, they don't pick up.'
'Aurora, we're out on the far side of the system, it's going to take more than a week to reach your position, do you still need our assistance? Over.'
'I'll try them again tomorrow. Damn charter's going to have us wasting our profit margin running errands for Alterra.'
'See what the long-range scanner picks up in the meantime."
"Oh? Oh lovely! There ARE people in this game! I wonder when they will be here? Meh, I have things to build, so I'll keep an eye."
Spiffle resolves himself to start building a base, trying to find a good spot. He finds the Mushroom Forest Biome and starts gathering resources to ferry them around. He installs the Depth Module and the Storage module to the Seamoth, then builds the Moon Pool. The Mushroom Biome becomes one of his favorite spots and a close encounter with a JellyRay cements it.
"Those creatures are beautiful! Look! JellyRay! Its glowing blue and pretty! I love that! Oh... I have a new radio message. I need to listen to that then."
Spiff returns to the pod and listens to the message.
RADIO - "Aurora, this is Sunbeam again. We just picked up a massive debris field at your location.'
'I didn't know how bad... How many of you... I didn't know.'
'We are now en route to your location. We're going to bring you home. Sunbeam out.'
'What else can I say? The only time I parked a rig this big on a rock that small was in VR, and I blew it'
'Oh, it's a bad option alright, but so are all the others."
Spiff smiles and carries on working, parking the Seamoth inside after powering everything up.
"So lovely! But... Is that a win condition? I know human games by now I have played enough of them. Is that a win condition? Get rescued? I dunno..."
Spiffle carries on building for a little and gets a storage system up, spending a few in-game days transporting resources to his new base. He returned to the pod and played a new radio message, again from the Sunbeam.
RADIO - "This is Sunbeam. Y'know, Aurora, we're from a little trans-gov on the far side of Andromeda, and we have a saying there.'
'There's no bad without the good, no good without the bad.'
'Sounds like you tasted a bunch of the former, but that only means you're overdue a whole lot of the latter.'
'Might just be we're it.'
'We're scanning for somewhere to park, we'll be in touch when we find it. Sunbeam out."
"Ohh... That... that's a lovely saying! What was that uh... There's no bad without the good, no good without the bad. I like that! I think i'll have that framed on my wall! Now lets see.. i ca- I CAN GIVE THE SEAMOTH A NAME? OOHHHhh okay, okay.. I can customize the color too! I think I'll just do this..."
Spiff leaves the name as 'Seamoth' for now, changing the color to a mix of purple for the main, and blue for the trim and name color. His two favorite colors. Spiffle does a little more work, acquiring the last fragments for the Cyclops and starts gathering together the resources necessary to build it.
"Hmmm.. Cyclops... Personal large scale submarine capable of carrying other vehicles! Ooohhh I want to build that! I need to fetch the Vehicle Bay though. Im almost done moving house!"
Spiff returns and packs up the last of his resources, then gets another radio message.
RADIO - "Aurora, we're approaching the planet now, and we have a landing site for you that's... well, it's better than the alternatives.'
'We've sent you the coordinates.'
'It'll take us a couple of days to align our orbit, we should be able to establish direct contact with you during that time, then we're coming in to get you.'
'Cross your fingers the weather holds, and don't leave us waiting. Sunbeam out."
Spiffle gets a new beacon on his HUD. Sunbeam Landing Site.
"What!? Is this game over If I'm there!? Okay... well. At least it's no longer terrifying! I'll get the Seamoth and go for the beacon then. I hope it's okay... Strange... this... doesn't feel like the end, you know? But if it is then it is."
Spiff heads home, deploys the Vehicle Bay and deposits his gear and resources. He heads towards the location, occasionally squealing 'WHEEE!!' as he uses the Seamoth to jump out of the water like a dolphin. However, he miscalculates and the Seamoth jumps up, out and sustains a bit of damage as it hits a rock formation close to the surface. He gets out, repairs it and looks at the camera.
"Why no I didn't just damage my Seamoth by having too much fun. I don't know what you are talking about. Hehe."
Spiffle smirks at the camera with a glare and carries on. Eventually, he encounters the largest of the Islands in the world.
"Wh... WHAT. This has been here the whole time!? Is this an island? Who cares! LAND! Sweet land!"
Spiffle now notices the timer and hops onto the island from his Seamoth. He walks up to the landing zone and stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the massive al;ien structure known as the Quarantine Enforcement Platform. In essence, a giant alien cannon.
"What... the *beep* is THAT?"
Spiffles' editing has gotten better, his editor learning how to censor Spiffles foul language, in both English AND Eridani. He moves closer to the building, scanning the broken tablet and the Forcefield Controls.
"What is this? I mean it's clearly alien... What do the codex entries say... 'possible to reconstruct the device' Oh... hmm.. I can make more of these then. 'Matches no known technologies... functions like a lock'. Okay then so... Standard video game logic I guess. That's nice! So A purple tablet will unlock the gate there. What are those?"
Spiff moves towards the Cairns marking the way into the island, pathways leading up the mountainside. He follows them, finding a Purple Tablet in the process on one of the pathways.
"Oh! Lovely! That saves me resources and a trip I guess. This pathway keeps going though. hmm... Welp, we still have thirty minutes, so let's go."
Spiff explores the pathway, getting lost a bit before finally figuring that following the large cables is a good idea. He comes across the Teleportation Arch and scans it, in between dodging the Cave Crawlers.
"Right, let's see... Alien Arch... not much to speak of here. Maybe this thing will be useful later I guess. Likely.... Hmmm..."
Spiffle continues exploring and eventually finds himself back at the forcefield with another twenty minutes to go.
"Screw it, let's go."
Spiff activates the forcefield platform and the animation of the key being placed plays out. He moves into the building, activating both data platforms and acquiring two Ion Cubes for later, scanning everything he thinks he can scan. He enters the Moonpool in the bay and gets two more Ion Cubes, plus data on a rifle and a Doomsday Device. He ignores it for now, acquiring one more purple tablet and accessing the control room.
"Right... what's in here? Hmm... Energy Core, right. I shall scan that and... press button?"
Spiff presses the button. An animation plays where a device locks his characters hand in place, viciously stabs it with a pointy metal bit and then releases it.
"OH GODS what the hell! Why is that?! That's just nasty!"
"THE TERMINAL IS BROADCASTING A MESSAGE. TRANSLATION READS: 'Warning, infected individuals may not disable the weapon. This planet is under quarantine.'"
"Quarantine! What? Infected? I-Hold on...."
Spiffle gets his scanner out and performs a self-scan. It is only now he notices something very bad has happened.
"I-infected!? Wait, what!?"
"SELF-SCAN COMPLETE - DETECTING STATISTICALLY SIGNIFICANT BACTERIAL LEVELS. NO ADVERSE EFFECTS DETECTED. BE VIGILANT FOR SYMPTOMS."
"Oh brilliant! Does that mean I can't leave? I KNEW IT! Wait... weapon!? This is a weapon!?"
Spiffle panics and runs out of the facility as fast as he can and waits the last few minutes for the Sunbeam to arrive. Sure enough, it does. In the last 30 seconds, the Sunbeam plays a message.
RADIO - "Survivor, we see you!
'Man, I don't know how you held out down there.'
The sunbeams message plays, and Spiffle gasps in terror from the sound of the gun platform starting up and starting to move around.
RADIO - "We've broken atmosphere and we're descending towards the landing site.'
'Is that a building down there?! What do you mean you can't identify it?"
The weapon powers up and turns, aiming itself high at the sky.
RADIO - "Hold on, no turning back now.'
'Positions everyone, touching down in 10, 9, 8-'
The weapon charges up and a loud vicious hum can be heard echoing through the valley.
RADIO - "It's coming from the building?! Change course, set thrusters to (full)-"
The radio goes to static, the weapon fires and the Sunbeam is vaporized instantly by a massive blast of bright green light. The sunbeam disappears, its hull structure completely disintegrated. Spiffle sits in stunned silence as the platform returns to a stable position, shuts down, and everything goes quiet.
"Well... Okay then... That was... horrifying. I guess thats all we have time for! Hehe! Oh dear..."
Spiffle looks a bit defeated as he sits back in his seat.
"S-see you next time! I guess... Holy shit..."
Channel Outro plays.
TOP COMMENT: "Are you okay? You seem a little bit too disturbed by that. Its fine though, compared to what happens in the Rise Of The Ancients Mod, this is tame! Lol! I love that mod!"
Spiffles Response: "Please don't make me play that mod..."
((Authors note - due to how bastardingly huge Subnautica is, this will be a multi part series. Other Spiff stories will come inbetween. Hope you enjoy!))

A few days ago, I received a file from a journalist friend who teaches at a private university in Montevideo. I known this person for years now and the exchange with her on our countless bar nights basically made me want to try to study journalism. After I started my career we became even closer and we shared concerns about the evolution of information, social media and the infamous cerebral callosity we acquired to endure the tragedy.
My friend, let's call her Valeria, was part of a public competition to accompany a minor scientific expedition to the Uruguayan Antarctic base. Her thesis was about investigating how information reception behaves in remote and isolated areas.
I barely read it , but basically tries to show that information circulates and is received in a particular way in these circumstances by a group of unfamiliar people living under extreme climatic and isolation conditions, having as an example, life in submarines and in military bases in Siberia. The Antarctic base gave her the chance to observe some of her postulates up close.
Finally, she was chosen and traveled with this scientific group in a commercial flight Montevideo - Santiago de Chile to later arrive at Punta Arenas and fly to the Antarctic base.
The last communication I had with her before she sent me the almost 90 photographic captures of the Journal, was on March 15, 2024.
We talked over the phone about how the weather was in Montevideo, that it does not stop raining and the cars are practically floating on the streets. She told me that the transport that was going to take them back was having mechanical problems and they would probably have to order spare parts for the plane from Punta Arenas. Then She told me that it is freaking cold down there and his colleagues are all very boring. Nobody has whisky for the evenings. We laughed about that part because I told her to bring at least one bottle of Grappa in her purse.
Before saying goodbye, she told me they had spotted some old metal structures south of the base. The soldiers told her that it was safe to go near that part so she was going to explore them. It wasn't there when they first arrived and that the recent and atypical heat wave probably must have exposed it. I told her to be careful and we said goodbyes.
Three days later I received an email. “Valeria shared a file with you.” As I start to see what it was about she calls me.
“Mauro? MAURO!, can you hear me?” She said in a nervous and excited voice.
“I can barely hear you, what happened?”I asked half asleep, while still lying on my bed.
“Listen to me carefully, don't talk, just listen” I could tell by her agitation that she was walking fast or maybe running. The creaking footsteps in the snow could be heard in the background. in the distance, a catastrophe-type siren was blaring.
“Are you alright? What happened? What's that noise?” I said, now sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I sent you a file. Transfer it to a flash drive, delete history and reset your cell phone, the computer and your email address. I'll explain everything later, it'll be worth it.”
“What? What are you talking about Vale?, what for? Tell me what's going on - I started to yell at her, in slide panic.
“Listen, I found something that is not supposed to exist. In the diary he explains everything. I'm going back to the base, I think someone is following me, I set off an alarm or something. Save that file for me until I get there and remember that... “
There were two loud booms and the sound of water invading the transmission. A choked bubbling and cracking sound reminded me of ice collapsing. My friend had fallen into the water, in Antarctica.
“HEY, are you OK?! What happened?!” - I kept screaming hysterically until the call was cut off.
I looked at my cell phone for a second. My hands were shaking, I tried calling several times but the phone went dead. I looked at the compressed file. I jumped up and ran to the dining room furniture, frantically looking for a white flash drive that had to be in a drawer somewhere. I couldn't find it, so I went back to my desk. I pulled the drawer so hard that it came off the rail and fell to the floor. I started to dig through my belongings on the floor, coins, papers, cards, nothing.
I thought, I struggled to remember where I had fucking put it. Finally I saw my backpack peeking out from behind the desk chair, I jumped on it and in the second small pocket from the inside, there was a cheap white 16G flash drive. I put it in the pc, downloaded the file directly there, took it out and fabric restored the entire system on the computer. I do the same with my cell phone as Valeria said.
At the time I didn't even question if those measures really prevented me from being tracked, and the idea that that was the reason made panic run through my body like lightning. Sitting on the floor of my room next to the mess, my body was numb with tension. After a few seconds, I rebooted my cell phone to try to call Lucia, her sister.
“Hello?”
“Lucia, it's that you? I think something bad happened to Vale, I hear her over the phone as if she fell into the water, and some rumbling. I don't know what I heard, I think she got into some trouble or some place she shouldn't have been - I realized that I was mumble and not saying anything clear. For some reason, I didn't mention the file.
“It can't be Mauro, I just spoke to her on the phone. She was at the airport in Santiago de Chile at the boarding lounge, we talked for about half an hour, she told me she was bringing a fancy bourbon to share and…”
I stopped listening, it didn't make sense, how could it be? what the fuck is going on!
“Mauro, are you ok? Is something wrong? it's too early, are you sure you didn't dream it?”
“Did you talk to her? half an hour ago? But...,” I exclaimed without being able to hide my confusion.
“Are you... sure it was her?”
“Yes, of course you moron, it's my sister! Did you smoke pot again on an empty stomach?”
“No, you're right, nevermind, thanks Lucia, talk to you soon.” I ended the call without letting her say goodbye.
Had I dreamt about it? I erased everything now, how will I know if I dreamt it? I hesitated absurdly.
This is surreal, I thought to myself as I looked at the flash drive in my hand. I refocused my attention and went to the attic looking for my brother's old laptop he left me before going to live in Spain. It was practically useless, but it was enough to see the file. I turned it on, waited for the decrepit Windows XP to load, and put the flashdisk in, opened the compressed folder and found two files.
“LabNotes.pdf”
“PersonalDiary.pdf”
I decided to open the journal first. From what I interpreted from the loading order of the screenshots, after reading it, I opened the image of the last page.
I transcribe as is.
Day 243 of the 2nd mission 10: 40 am. March 12, 2019.
I am the head researcher of the Psychological Area at the UN Antarctic base; I'm currently assigned to Project Sisyphus categorized as the highest classified rank.
This is going to sound crazy, but the person living with my family is my clone.
It still surprises me when I say it out loud, but after being able to replicate the brain-muscular history (a perfect copy of our memory) of any person and having mastered replicating every cell of our bodies at any age, it was only a matter of time before the development of social biotechnology would emerge. Now and by worldwide agreement, as a complete secret.
There is absolutely no shame or a shred of ethics in what we do, there is no longer any constraint on what we can do to the subjects for the sake of research. That haunts me every day.
It all went to shit so fast, I doubt anyone will come to our rescue. The protocol says so, the base in the face of an imminent security risk will erase itself. The structure was designed to collapse methodically following a protocol of incineration and sinking. The immediate perimeter has underwater mines that make the ice collapse almost imperceptibly, but deadly to anyone who tries to leave.
No one can escape from the base, neither the research staff nor the subjects. Our place in the world is already taken.
I only hope that this journal along with my lab notes will be found at some point. I managed to construct a small insulating gasket for it so I trust it will survive in case this part of the building collapses as well.
Please use this data to let the world know what happened here and don't let perversity define us once again.
To my family: I love you and miss you every minute.
B.
At the exact moment I ended the reading I received a video call that made me jump with fright, it is...
Valeria.
With my pulse shaking, I answered the call.
“Hi you! The flight was delayed, can you believe it? This one is absolutely in my top three, worst trips of my life. I'm really hungry and everything is so expensive here. What are you up to? Tell me something, please, I'm soooo bored!”
I looked at her with confusion and I couldn't manage to pronounce words. When I was about to modulate an answer she interrupted me.
“What's the matter Mauro?, are you on pause? Is the signal OK? HELLO! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She started to walk through the boarding lounge looking for better signal
“Yes yes, Valeria I can hear you.”
She laughed and looked at me with a face between sensual and serious, and continued.
“Do you miss me?” while raising the phone jokingly as she typically does in her selfie pose.
“Valeria, don't you remember calling me earlier today?”
“I? called you? Nop. Why? Ah! By the way, did you know there are penguins in Tierra del Fuego? I would have liked to go and see them.” She continued his verbose conversation in a carefree tone, with her typical hand gestures and playing with his hair.
“Well, at last!” She interrupted herself and shouted, jumping up from her chair.
“We are being called to board, see you in a couple hours!” She said goodbye with a smiling sonority, and began to walk towards the boarding gate.
But at the last second, before ending the call, her gesture changed. She looked directly at the camera with a hardened and emotionless face and almost mechanically, she whispered.
“(I'm going to retrieve that diary).”
My stomach dropped to the floor and I could feel as if my blood was running cold with fear. I could not shake the awful and eerie feeling that this person, who was returning, whom I had never in my life called by her full name, was not my friend.
So, the next couple of hours I put everything in to transcribe the rest of important passages of the diary. Something was compelling me to do it, i can't explain it, Some mix between moral duty, and morbid curiosity. Here is my selection of it.
Lab notes. day 96 of 1st mission 08:00 am December 22, 2016.
Subject JON X012:
First physical assessments: Normal, alert and inquisitive, exhibits some alteration to screens.
We place 100 cc of sedative in room air. The subject attentively follows the narrative of scenario B5 “The last mission”.
The subject responds positively to the premises of the story, where he is asked to address an audience threatened by a natural disaster, convincing them to choose a certain path out of the city.
He offers to collaborate but fails to articulate the message with the power to overcome the simulation.
We resort to pouring 125cc of concentrated Psilocybin into the air as stipulated in the protocol sheet.
The vocal frequency and body language reading receptors in the observation room are activated. The subject manages to formulate a series of premises articulately and with discursive power, circulating around the observation room.
Successful reaction.
We move on to the next stage.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project.”
Diary entry: Day 96 of the 1st mission 21:30 pm. December 22, 2016.
Today they transferred subject JON X0012 for psychological evaluation, several in the lab were very anxious about this arrival. I was never the religious type, but I can understand why. Truth be told,
I always imagined Jesus would be taller.
*********
Day 106 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 02, 2017
Today we received a new lab assistant for the night shift. Much needed as I was covering these shifts myself and am really burned out. The underground operates at full power at those hours, the hum of the machinery becomes unbearable. This must be why the rooms have an insulating structure.
********
Day 112 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm January 08, 2017.
The new integration is not very bright. He labeled the transcripts wrong again yesterday and doesn't seem to fully understand the importance of these. I'm going to have to go through the whole method with him again. I don't have much patience lately, it's not his fault, he seems like a nice guy and it's real that I need a second of confidence. Better train him from now on. Maybe start a sketch of a short explanatory document.
*******
Small introductory guide.
When the subjects conclude the incubation and breeding process (pages 19 to 52 of the manual), that is to say, that they have at least remembered speech and with it, depending on the time in which they lived, reading and writing, they generally begin to perceive themselves. Just before situational curiosity is when the psychology department comes into action. Either to run the “stand by” simulation or the main tests.
In each subject's file is the target of their cloning, the era in which they lived, and the recommended scenarios to trigger the desired response. If the file has X amount on the cover, this corresponds to the generation of the subject, whether it is the first or 10th time it is incubated.
Generally, it takes between 2 and 5 attempts to generate the correct simulation, and administer the appropriate drugs.
It took 5 attempts to come up with the correct amount of methamphetamine that subject AH X005 (Hitler) needed to function in the scenario, as the correct amount bordered on overdose.
Simulations are much easier since the implementation of multisensor AI. We managed to generate almost any scenario including temperature, smells, lights and sounds. We tried not to use familiar ones, as human smells are impossible to replicate. We found this out in a complicated way. We tried to recreate a conversation between RR subject X003 (Reagan) and his mother, but he recognized the fakery by the absence of body odor. His mind collapsed and we had to move him to the Underground. The people in Area C (Private Clients) almost lost a very large Chinese account.
After calibrating the subject, we ran both psychological and behavioral tests, scanned retinas, analyzed blood, as well as vocal and body language. But what has really yielded surprising results are the free interviews. It is amazing what some minds are capable of with the right environmental and chemical stimulation. That's why transcription is vital (!!)
Our area develops BC (Behavioral Algorithms) which are then bought by the private sector, and some government agencies.
To give you some examples: Twitter was an idea of subject JO X008 (Orwell).
Bots in social media and the use of big data was an idea of JG X002 (Goebbels) and KM X014`s worst nightmare (Marx) was bought by Amazon.
It is an arduous process and the success rate is low, but when we achieve the goal per subject, well, these results are a mein part of the latest revolutions of mankind.
So follow the lab rules, never refer to subjects by their actual historical name, and always remember, they are assets, not people.
***********
Day 117 of the 1st mission 16:30 am January 12, 2017.
Today is a rest day all over area D. I miss many things from the old world that I thought I would never miss, taking a bus, standing in line with strangers, and today I miss Sundays. We only have one on the month. So as usual we gather in the rest area to listen to a liberated jukebox that tries to lighten the mood. I know, right? Why I wrote about this “Saturday” photocopy, well besides the same nostalgic drunks, I was approached by a person I didn't recognize.
From what I understood he was a rehabilitated alcoholic, maybe that's why I didn't see him on “Saturdays”. He must be in his 50's, he was portly and wore thick black-rimmed glasses, he seemed to have a slight limp, I noticed it when he went to refill my beer.
I am a very reserved person and find it hard to talk to people. Truth be told, I've lost the desire to talk to people here. What can you actualy fucking talk about here, if it's not about the same thing. Everything revolves around work and some inter-area gossip, which never escalates much.
But yesterday was Clara's birthday and to hide the remorse and sadness of only having shared with her the first 3 years of her life, I had a few too many beers.
We chatted about banal aspects of life in isolation, and the things we miss. For him it was going to the stadium to watch soccer with his grandchildren. I think it was loneliness and nostalgia that brought us together that night.
His name was Sigfried, I don't know if I spelled it right, but it was clearly Nordic, i notice because of some of the words he mixed up with English. He works as the underground level security manager. We all know that it is one of the most restricted areas and what we have learned in these almost 10 years in the project, is that the more restricted, the less questions you should ask.
But that day, I think I felt the urge to hurt myself, to go off the rails, so I asked what we all suspected but no one knew for sure. I asked about the blenders. I wish I hadn't.
************
Day 126 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 21, 2017.
I almost can't express how furious I am today, but I'm going to try because if I don't, I'm going to punch the new assistant in the face. He has nothing to do with this, he's just mildly irritating.
Anyway, in Genetic Mapping or area A, they approved the incubation of another Anomaly. It seems to be an express request from a major shareholder and there is not much to say. Anomalies are very risky to reproduce, nature is wise, and for some reason it placed them in history moments where they had their limitations.
It seems that after the crisis of 2010 with “The Russian Devil” it is no longer scary enough. New school morons... If they had been there they wouldn't even dare to think about it. I AM FURIOUS.
The arguments are that this case lived longer, that the clone would be in his 70s, and that he possessed noticeably more “civilized” traits. As if the court of the last Zar had not been somewhat civilized.
Personally I think this is a big mistake. Since the discovery that some people possess unknown DNA components and with the 2010 background, they should draw the line. There are certain things, still beyond our ability to understand. But it is delusional of me to think that there are limits, someday the absence of them will consume us all.
************
Lab notes day 142 of 1st mission 08:00 am February 06, 2017.
Final free interview with JON subject X012
Scenario B-24 or “The Dinner Party” Result: Normal.
Notes: Subject is grateful, positive, docile and hopeful for the future. Offers to cook next time by asking for spices and ingredients of typical Hindu dishes.
The subject is directed to the Underground area.
Attached audio for transcription.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project”.
**********
Day 142 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 06, 2017.
Today was the last session with subject JON X012, I managed to extract the last retinal and body language readings, as usual before sending them to Underground level. We ran the dinner scenario, the truth is that is one of the best simulations we have achieved. The subjects are relaxed resulting in the best free interview environment. This one was no exception, I must say I understand the charm of the “messiah” turned out to be quite an entertaining subject. I hope his next generation will be similar.
**********
Day 152 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm February 16, 2017.
I was tasked with the continuous monitoring of subject NT X004. I am not at all happy with this transfer. First of all, I know nothing about area B of engineering and technology. Secondly, I still think this is a really bad idea.
One of the laboratories has been set up with the essential simulation equipment and personnel. Tomorrow we start with the calibration.
**********
Lab notes day 153 of the 1st mission 08:00 am February 17, 2017.
First interview with subject NT X004, we run simulation scenario 54-A, “Signal from another planet.”
Subject is observed to be receptive at first but quickly changes to paranoid. We administer 300cc of MDMA via air, according to protocol.
We introduce the reconstructed figure of a colleague in a cry for help speech.
The Subject laughs and doesn't believe a word, we move to a physical approach plane,
I volunteer myself with a room operator from the engineering area, we show him unfinished plans of an experimental vacuum propulsion engine.
He laughs again and tells us that we are not who we say we are.
We administer 50cc of DMT and move on to the next scenario.
From the screen an astronaut with non-human features sends a distress signal and intergalactic coordinates.
The subject looks thoughtful, reassesses, picks up the blueprints and begins to shout out values and what appears to be mathematical and physical formulas.
Air is charged with percentages of absolute sedation.
Audio recording is attached.
It is filed under the name “Project SpaceX.”
**********
Day 153 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 17, 2017.
I'm not sure what happened today, this is the first time in 10 years that a subject overcame the deception of 3 simulations. We had to place absolute sedation in the air, as risky as we know it is. I recommended that we restart the process from scratch, but it was a resounding no, the client is in a hurry.
I need to get more involved in this case to recalibrate the subject. I don't know if I want to. The words before full sedation still resonate with me. “are you still using DC current? interesting...”
**********
Day 154 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 18, 2017.
Something happened, I don't quite know what. The rooms have an emergency lockdown active. Outside hear security personnel mobilizing. I tried the intercom but it didn't work. The insulation prevents my screams from being heard from the outside. If this goes on another day I'm going to break the lock. I'm going to set my backpack to the bare minimum.
**********
Day 157 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 21, 2017.
Yesterday I heard explosions in the B area. I couldn't take it anymore and broke the lock. Whatever it was I had to go out and see. The corridors were dark, and the underground buzzer went on, at least that worked.
I went right to the north staircase, down the 4 floors in near darkness, the power was failing. The entrance to the underground area was barricaded but I managed to see a figure peeking out from inside as they felt me making noises.
It was Sigfried, he pointed me in the doors direction and I entered through a heavily armored side door. I was surprised by the immensity of this section, it encompassed a large hall below almost all the sectors of the base. In front of us there were 4 large industrial pipes with switches and multiple smaller pipes coming out of their bases. These were repeated like mosaics throughout the area until they disappeared into the distance in the darkness.
Leaning against one of them were 3 officers in formerly white coats and a nearly dead guard bloodied on the floor. Poor guy, his legs were crushed with his flesh in the open. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.
He had a blank stare and was panting, it seemed from the pale of his skin, that his fate was imminent. My asthma began to pound in my chest sharply, so I reached into my bag looking for my inhaler. I told them between visible gasps of bad breath to please tell me what's happened.
One of the doctors had a badge from area B and another from area E which corresponds to bio-armamentistics. The latter burst into tears and said “We deserve it, every one of us, we deserve it”.
I knew the other guy, he is an engineer in area B. I could hear him babbling almost nonsensically about, as why they never thought about it, an issue with electrical power.
He looked at me carefully as if recognizing me and grabbed me tightly by my jacket pulling me close to his face transformed for the panic.
“He let them out, all of them!” but not only that, no no no no... he told them the truth. Nikola fucking Tesla hacked us and told them the truth.”
He began to laugh frantically with a face of absurdity until he burst into a choked cry. At that moment everything went dark. The emergency lights activated, and from far away and getting closer, along with the emergency sirens that began to sound, we heard a large mass of people screaming and running through the corridors outside.
Sigfried looked at me as they started to pound on the shielded door and said.
“We're fucked.”
**************
Day xx of the second mission, month xx of 2017
“()The industrial sounds of spinning blades, the cries for mercy followed by the thunderous, liquid crack, down that big pipe, into the green barrels, with the Monsanto logo, dripped down one side an elongated drop of pink paste ending in the letter E on the chemical label. FERTILIZER.”
**********
After finishing the transcription, my whole body began to want to flee, the walls of my house were tinged with a faint blue light as the cloudy dusk came through the window, the lights turned off by my abstraction at the computer gave way to the dark corridors that began to feel alien. As I gently closed the pc my ears began to ring as if under pressure, my breathing became more present and the vibration of my cell phone interrupted my trance.
A call from the office. It was to tell me that I had a vacation week pending, that by schedule, I had to take it starting today.
Sons of bitches, now they even choose your time off - I thought at first, but at the same time I found the voice on the phone very strange, and to tell the truth, the procedure itself.
The anger turned into confusion that only added to the paranoia. The sounds in the street began to seem erratic, a chaotic and strangely familiar feeling came over me. My senses seemed increasingly acute, and they screamed:
Go away.
I grabbed the old laptop, the flash drive and headed for the bus station. The short trip from my house seemed like a long journey. People on the street looked at me with strange faces, the cell phone kept ringing with unknown numbers on the screen and a strange idea began to formulate in my head that whispered “Them, Valeria is one of Them”.
Already on the platforms I rummaged through my backpack where I confirmed that I had the key to the family beach house in San Luis, 60 km to the east of Montevideo. I turned off my cell phone, got on a bus heading to another and much far away town called Treinta y Tres. Sat near the last seat and slipped my cell phone in my front pocket of the seat in front of me, got off and commented to the driver with a clueless face, “I got confused, I'm going to the coast”.
I almost jumped onto the steps of the correct bus to where I was heading, unable to avoid the gazes of the passengers questioning me for the last minute drop in. I sat in my numbered seat and defragmented in dissociation, trying to understand what I was doing, I was running away, but from what?
The images of the last transcriptions were engraved in my mind, the last paragraph was repeated over and over again making me shake my head from time to time trying to get them away from my thoughts. The road was dark and I lost track of time, the digital clock within sight of the passengers jingling since we left, reading 10:40.
“San Luis Station!” - I heard the guard's shout in low volume.
I staggered to my feet, hurried to get off and with the same impulse I entered the dirt roads.
I zig-zagged through the dark, cold and silent beach town. The moonless night and the smell of the sea calmed me.
When I turned the corner to the gabled beach house of my family, on the steps of the front door lit by a white light, was her. Sitting, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks and a chilling vertigo ran down my torso to my throat. We looked at each other for a short two seconds, until she stopped and started walking in sliding steps towards me, smiling and playing with her hands, crossing and uncrossing her arms. The growing sound of the wind through the trees covered us.
“Darling, how are you? How nice is the summer house, I don't think we ever came here, did we? Is it the one your grandmother left you?”
I felt the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, how could such a familiar attitude from such a familiar person transmit such panic to me? I had to answer something.
“Yes, this is it. I came to clear my head for a while, they gave me a few days at work and I wanted to take advantage of it.” I tried to excuse myself with failed dissimulation, since I stuttered in the middle of the words.
“Yes, I know! We arranged it with them, so you can be more relaxed and as a gesture for taking care of the file. Ah! and another thing. I think someone stole your cell phone at the bus station.” She looked at me with a smart-ass smile.
“Anyway, don't worry, they already found it on a bus on the way to “Treinta y tres”. You can get it back later.”
At this point I opened my mouth to ask for explanations, but as terrified as I was I only mumbled a “thank you”.
All this dialogue let us half a body length away, Valeria looked at me now a little more serious and stood at my side. She took my arm petrified and I could feel how a strong smell of neutral soap invaded me, as if she had rubbed herself in it too much.
“Shall we go inside? it's getting cold,” She said, finishing the sentence with a sweet gesture of pleading.
“Emm, shure.” I said.
My trembling hands managed to hit the lock on the 3rd attempt, we entered, turned on the lights and from his backpack she took out a red wine. Our favorite.
“Bring me some glasses, Mauro”. - She said to me as she sat down on the armchair against the window overlooking the gentle hills outside.
She poured wine until he almost filled the ex-cottage cheese glass, looked at me and in a toast gesture said.
“To... Dr. B?”
I slid a little smile and raised my eyebrows. Then I took half a glass in one sip.
“Well!” - She exclaimed, leaning over and resting the glass on the coffee table, and continued.
"You must be very confused, I understand, I saw it many times, the mind trying to adapt to a new, unsuspected reality and in your case all at once. It is not easy. First, make sure that no one is going to hurt you or anyone you know, second, what you read in that file, as you may have noticed, is not intended for public knowledge. Also to tell you”. I couldn't take the stress anymore, I exploded.
“You're not Vale. Who are you?! You're almost identical, but....”
“Ah yes, that one it's a tricky one to explain. Let's try, let's see:
“I'm a version of Valeria that she accidentally gendered when entered the lab. In one of the incubation rooms she touched a scan button that photographs her mind for 48 hours. It contains a micro needle that took her blood and thus generated me.”
“The thing is that we were in a situation of self-destruction of the systems, and that part of the programming code of the protocol was also copied in Valeria's mind.”
“And Valeria? She 's... dead?”
“Well, yes and no. If she tried to leave the base she's probably dead. if she's still there, she's probably frozen to death or killed by the cleanup command, but basically, if I'm here, she's not anymore.”
the coldness with which she answered me made me lose the little calm I had, I got up from the armchair and started to back away with my hands on my head, I couldn't stop repeating,
“this can't be happening, this can't be happening”.
“Hey! Mauro, calm down, it's going to be alright. I'm Valeria too. In every way, I'm still your friend, I know who you are and everything we went through, really, it's me, and when I finish managing the leak, the code, it won't work anymore, it will be erased from my mind and I'll be me. So don't worry. You only have to give me the flash disc and this issue ends here. We go back to normal life and nobody will know about anything.
“I'm not going to pretend that my friend didn't die! Alone, fucking freezing to death, I'm not going to let you take her place, I'm not going to let you!” - She interrupted me.
“Mauro, listen to me” - She came closer to me and grabbed my hands, her big, lined eyes looking at me with sweetness, like so many times before.
“I AM Valeria, I have the same fingerprints, the same blood, the same DNA, the same memories, the same scars, absolutely everything. Are you going to tell my mother that I died? to my sister? Are you going to report me? Nobody is going to believe you at all. If anyone even wants to believe you, how would you prove it? I am an exact copy”. - she told me, smiling with real sweetness and empathy.
I could only cry, for my friend, for the helplessness of the conclusion that she was right. I collapsed on the couch, and watched as the hills swayed in the night.
“Let's have the last glass and I'm leaving.”- she said to me.
“After I give you this, and that part of you disappears, will you remember that you are not... really Valeria?
“No, there is already a simulation on pause about Valeria's last week, she won't remember anything about this situation when she wakes up, because the memory is simply overwritten.”
“So I'm going to be the only one to know about this?”
“Take it as a gift Mauro, a glimpse behind the veil. And if you keep it that way, everything will be fine” - The threatening tone was soft but evident.
“Okay, hand me your PC and the flash drive.”
I looked at her evaluating all possible actions and if this decision was the right one, she stretched out her hand and smiled sympathetically. I gave her the old computer and the black 16G flash drive with the file. She inserted it, typed mechanically fast until the screen went black.
“Perfect, That would be all - She took out the flash drive, threw it on the floor and stepped on it violently with the heel of her shoe, put on his backpack and headed for the door.
“Stop,” I said.
“The things that Dr. B wrote... about the underground…
“Yes, they are true, it was the only way to be self-sustainable and to be able to isolate the complex from the rest of the world. Even the most morally flexible scientists would question the work if they knew where the subjects ended up, and what we were doing with their bodies... Anyway, I'm going home, Lucia called me 5 times already. Talk to you tomorrow.
“Love you,.” - She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. I felt a car slowly drive away from the house.
From my pocket I took out the white flash drive and looked at it. Now I had a decision to make.

Hello World - So I wrote a letter to the person that led me into SCJ. Totally forgot the word they used for this and that is so exciting!!! I love forgetting them! Please don't tell me. Anyways, I had known her my whole life and a lot of shitty things went down when I left and lately I had just been getting a haunting sense of injustice towards the whole story and I needed to write out how I was feeling. Turns out, it was really cathartic. It helped me immensely. I know that there must be so many people out there who have been wronged by SCJ and have left the cult with their lives in tatters and so I wrote this for you too. You are treasure! You're worthy of new love and friendship. You’re a shining star too, damn it! Just thought someone should remind you.
Love,
Steorra
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
To Whom It May Concern,
For three years now, I’ve never felt the need to remember anything from the era of you. It surely wasn’t easy to move on from you, but I did it. You hadn’t crossed my mind in so long. Then recently, I’ve had these annoying splashes of bitter memories that turn up in my life after all this time. Stirring up, once again the desire for justice that I had to lay down a long time ago. I mean if we could put every moron who wasted our time in prison, mediocrity would cease to be, but ALAS (you always hated that word) you’re still out there. So, I moved on. I had to. That was winning in a way I never knew I needed to learn. Yet, this feeling scratches at the door anew in traumatic mystery. The only thing that’s really changed since rebuilding after you is that I started writing. However, I’ve never written about you.
At the beginning of this story, your words of eloquence secretly dripping with malice and ill-intent, entrapped me into a multi-year mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional jail sentence. Truly, if there was a tangible definition of “love-bombing” it wouldn’ be some romantic affair. It would be you. You preyed upon my fragile heart that was experiencing burn-out after years in ministry. You took that as the perfect opportunity to build up your empire from my ashes. Blaming the church for every hard thing I experienced along the way and providing the comfort and shoulder to cry on that I needed. You manipulated me into doubting my faith, my community, my family and you did it all with your fancy parable studies and promises of a heavenly future.
Well. Maybe if your words got me into this whole mess, maybe words can help me hammer the final nail into this coffin-like story once and for all. In all honesty, my words have been timid, scared, and shaken since you shattered me and left me to pick up the pieces all by myself. But I did it. I picked up every piece and rebuilt it. I rebuilt a life I can be proud of. I don’t have a life of luxury by any means, but I have a new sense of dignity and fight I never knew I could have. Dignity. Now there’s something you’ll never understand, so I’ll just move on.
Since you, everyone on the outside thinks I’m delayed in livelihood. They don’t always say it out loud, but it’s written all over their faces. Even someone like you could see it. They think I’m behind in life because I don’t have a list of things I can post on my facebook marking the monuments of a thriving christian life. But it’s because they don’t know. They are completely unaware that while they were living their lives with minor obstacles, my twenties were a full blown quiet war in constant brainwashing combat. A silent war; still bloody, deadly, filled with casualties and loss that even the strongest of men couldn’t withstand. It shattered the best of fiery faith and struck with deceptions full of the strongest poison earth could offer. And I fought like hell to thrive, then to survive, and then to flee when the walls of my life were burning down all around me. I dragged myself from their smoke, fire, and deception to the edge of the battlefield and overcame it. My flag was left standing, but none of my “friends” were left standing beside me. Not even my “best friend.”
But no war is really over when it’s over. Soldiers who return from combat deal with wounds, scars seen and unseen, trauma, fear, invisible enemies all around them and inside them triggered by the smallest of things in everyday life. If figuratively that was the war and I was the last soldier standing, I returned home to a world that was completely contaminated by your warfare. I can’t listen to my favorite song anymore, because it makes me think of you and the nights sitting on the floor of my kitchen bruising my arms and soaking the night with sorrow I didn’t know my body could hold. Wondering where my friend had gone.
Since you, victory wasn’t immediate. I lost everything in the war. Just as you intended. Family, community, romance, purpose, and childhood. I bet that doesn't even keep you up at night. You would need a conscience for that. You have known me since I was three. You had the trust that only a lifetime could grow. Looking back now, that was really the only way I was ever going to join your backyard cult. Following someone I loved. I’ve come to believe from this experience that childhood betrayal is the worst kind of betrayal. You see, you took all of my youth and you don’t even care. The thought that I could have had an upbringing without you and all the heartbreak you caused makes me so angry because I want that SO BADLY. Instead I live in the aftermath of the nightmare that was you. Haunting the nostalgia of my life with every detail that led up to being sacrificed on the altar you helped them construct. They turned me into a warning and a lesson against “rebellion.” But you basically authored the whole story until I was a lifetime of being the victim in a tragic tale I can’t rewind. You are my wild regret in life.
So that was a little taste, but here’s what I truly think of you after hurting me for all those years. I hope you make it to the top of this ladder you’re climbing. I hope you reach all the glory you wanted. You left every dream you had and everyone in your life behind to do it, so I hope you get it. I hope they praise your name, give you an office, a title, a class, a spouse, a child, all the fruit your heart could desire. At the top of your dream when you least expect it, I hope someone kicks that ladder out from underneath you and lets you dangle in an endless uncertainty until you finally plummet into the deepest darkest loss you’ve ever known. Just like you did to me.
I hope you get 10x as far as I did…. before they betray you and leave you out in the cold without an apology or a bit of credit in your direction. I hope no one helps you heal and you have to do it all alone. I hope you start hurting yourself because you have no where to place the blame but on your own head. I hope you question your own intelligence and wonder where it all went wrong. I hope you sob on your kitchen floor. I hope they come to your door and ask you “what’s wrong?” like they have no idea why you could have slipped into these wildly uncalled for emotions. I hope they blame it on your humanity and gas light every desire you have to be seen and heard. Just like you did to me.
…and I hope everyone forgets you. Just like you did me.
Long after you’ve healed and moved on. I hope a figurative Mt. Vesuvius blankets that backyard cult you loved in an unrecognizable layer of ash and poisonous gas and fades out from existence of this world. It’ll seep through bars of the earth into Hades forever condemned and forgotten. Just like you….and just like you did to me.
Anyways. *Takes deep breath.* I live by the water now. It’s really peaceful. There’s no running, no toiling, no drama, no noise. It’s the kind of quiet you said we’d never have until it all ended, but here it is. I like to write here. I have a dog. He’s a good friend. You could learn a lot from him. He’s really loyal and he never eats his own vomit.
I see God in every wave, tree, and animal here. A beautiful reminder that not everything we were reading was false. Just all the parts they made up and exploited vulnerable people with.
There is a part of me that knows there’s a truth underneath this story that I haven’t mentioned yet. A piece that would give you some credit. It’s true, I would not be as strong as I am today without you in my story. I would not be as thoughtful. Careful. Hard working. Discerning. Hell, I wouldn’t have started writing. I now write stories of hope. True friendship. Redemption. Gratefulness. Don’t worry, you’ll never be making a cameo in any of my work unless I need a back-stabbing-20-something-bitch who drives a janky Honda around the suburbs and can’t afford her $6 cup of trendy coffee. It’s funny to think you all think the great betrayer is Mr. Oh. Oh no, it’s you, you crusty bitch, and I wouldn’t be paranoid of people taking advantage of me without you. I would still be naive, innocent, childlike, and hopelessly good-hearted.
So while you were trying to tear down my life and steal my happiness, I’ve rebuilt parts of me that are now unshakable. I’ve found a purpose that brings me pure joy. I help people. I spend time with my family. So thank you. From the bottom of my heart. You gave me the fight inside of me to get here. I’m unstoppable now. I don’t laugh as much as I used to, but I’m working on that. I’ll get there. Don’t worry. You can’t have that either, sorry.
Let’s talk about your “group” for a minute. I played by their impossible rules because they promised endless paradise, but the gods of your backyard cult were so weak. They're all just narcissists that like to hear themselves talk, but the voices of basement dwellers and secret keepers aren’t noble. They’re scared of losing their precious power and they were just wrong. At the end of the day, they were just dumb kids who followed wolves into pastures to lose the uniqueness God created for them.
Foundationally, there’s no point to a heaven that isolates, shuns, and abandons. No one wants your mascot-serving gospel. The heaven they showed us was black and white. We were never supposed to be contained within perfect lines and marketed by race. We were supposed to walk with God in the Garden of Eden in the beautiful mystery of wild creation. I hope heaven is a kaleidoscope of color, people, and joy and absolutely nothing like the one you tried to film and show us all.
By the way, I only teach elementary math here, but I’m pretty sure your numbers are wrong, but hey! What do I know? I’m just a “star that fell from heaven!” Thank goodness too. After I “fell,” I learned to shine without you. I did it all by myself and I might not be in the sky anymore, but I’m pretty beautiful walking around all these earthlings if I do say so myself. A couple of scars here and there, but you don’t get any of the profits of this light, this strength, and this peace. I earned that and I protect it pretty “religiously.”
To your group, I was a lost cause to their superior cause. Too fucked in the head to be helped. My human anxiety was just too big for their god. Turns out that big anxiety saved my life. Also, it turns out their god was really small because my God met me with huge, sovereign arms and prodigal joy when I finally returned home. Truth is, Calvary says I’m not hard to love, but treasure just wasn't made for everybody.
Now, I’m about to turn 30 in a few days and I’ve been reminiscing about all the childhood memories tainted by your presence, so I decided to make new ones. I’m going to WASTE a whole day riding roller coasters for my birthday. Watch the movies and listen to the music you never approved of. Wear cheetah print converse. Get a tattoo?? Dye my hair an UNNATURAL color?? Wear earrings everywhere!! Drink my wine in public. You know. Go TOTALLY crazy. Try to be young again. For me. For kid me.
So thank you. I’m here because of you and I’m going to have so many more days and memories without you that I look forward to. I will never take that for granted. Like you did me. Cuz I'm a shining star, bitch!
Love,
Your Shining Star ✨

I am an older ape and I have read countless hours of DD since the sneeze. One of the biggest achievements of this sub was to educate people on techniques being used to subvert us and our stock.
A main piece is this:
https://www.reddit.com/Superstonk/s/a6Ju1N8XpM by another ape
Enjoy the read :) I don’t take any credit for this work.
You may remember that a few days back, u/[redacted] put up this post about shills infiltrating /BIZ/ https://www.reddit.com/Superstonk/comments/mscsb5/putting_shills_on_blast_a_concerned_biznessman/
In that post, there was a HUGE image on:
SUPPOSED**methods used by banks and the hedgefunds to dismantle online communities
I had trouble reading that image (definitely NOT phone or text-to-speech friendly), and tried to find the original text version. It turns out that it can be found here: https://pastebin.com/irj4Fyd5. I copy-pasta it here for your convenience, and included some markup to make it easier to read. I take no credit for this work.
COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum
Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositined postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favour is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favour is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favourite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favourite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.

1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
   
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
   
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
   
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
   
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
   
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
   
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
   
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
   
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
   
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
    
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
    
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
    
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
    
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
    
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
    
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
    
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
    
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
    
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
    
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
    
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
    
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
    
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
    
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
    
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
    

Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain.Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:
"You're dividing the movement."
[Here, I have added the psychological reasons as to WHY this maneuver works to control people]
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:
"You're a leader!"
This is designed to enhance the activist's self-esteem. His or her narcissistic admiration of his/her own activist/altruistic intentions increase as he or she identifies with and consciously admires the altruistic declarations of the agent which are deliberately set up to mirror those of the activist.
This is "malignant pseudoidentification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudoidentification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activisim ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of committment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.

1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
   
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
   
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
   
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
   
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
   
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
   
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
   
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
   
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
   
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
    
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
    
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
    
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
    
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
    
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
    
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
    
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.
    

Overseer's terminal

Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink VAULT-TEC SERVER 7-7-A TERMINAL
 
Welcome, Overseer.
Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink
 
[OVERSEER]

[VAULT-TEC INSTRUCTIONS]

[Letter from Dr. Kepler] A Letter to the Overseer from Dr. Frank Kepler:   If you are reading this, then you have been chosen to participate into the Vault-Tec Overseer training program. Congratulations! You are one of the few lucky individuals chosen to train inside of a replica vault for the duration of one month. Your contribution during this training period will help with the research into Vault-Tec’s vault program. You are now a vital part of the most ambitious program ever undertaken by Vault-Tec.   If you have not yet read your instructions, please do so now. They will outline the experimental protocols assigned to each control group. Please remember that deviation from these protocols in any way will jeopardize the success of the program, and may be considered grounds for termination by Vault-Tec Corporation (as outlined in your Employment Agreement).   Once the training program is finished, you will receive further instructions.   Doctor Frank Kepler Director, Evolutionary Research Program Vault-Tec Corporation
  [Instructions]

**Overseer Eyes Only**   As an overseer-in-training, you will be tasked with helping the Evolutionary Research Program (ERP) with observing and documenting the effects of long-term radiation on non homo sapiens species. Using a modified version of FEV, you will be administrating various doses of radiation to a selected group of mammal species. In your desk you will have a list of subjects that you are responsible for during the duration of your training -- Remember that successful completion of the training will help determine whether you have the skills to be qualified to oversee one of the many Vault-Tec vault's. So deviating from protocol or causing damage to any of the equipment may be considered grounds for termination by Vault-Tec Corporation (as outlined in your Employment Agreement).

 
[USER HISTORY]

-Vault 7-7-A Management System-   =====================
VaulTecOS v.82 (C)2076 Vault-Tec ====================== User Log: >>Administrator (Vault-Tec ID 1211-F) >>New_Admin: EGOMEZ Welcome new user, EGOMEZ

======================

 

Lab terminal

Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink

-Property of Vault-Tec-

Which TEST SUBJECT do you want to track?   [All Subjects]

There are currently 25 subjects being monitored.   The following species are: 5 cats [Leo, Lady, Milo, Peaches, Tiger] 5 dogs [Astro, Curly, Rex, Sunny, Timber] 5 rats [Acorn, Bean, Frodo, Ralf, Peanuts] 5 birds [Arizona, Edgar, Sam, Tweety, Zazu] 5 rabbits [Bubbles, Cookie, Easter, Fudge, Socks]

  [Cameras]

[Show Rex]

--CAMERA OFFLINE-- [Show Sam] --CAMERA OFFLINE-- [Show Lady] --CAMERA OFFLINE-- [Show Acorn] --CAMERA OFFLINE-- [Show Bubbles] --CAMERA OFFLINE-- [Shutdown the cameras]

  [Research Notes]

[Group 1]

Avian test subjects show minor impact from long-term radiation exposure.   Noticeable physical features include -- minor balding and blistering throughout the body. Subjects are still able to fly with little issues and function as normal.

  [Group 2]

Long-term radiation exposure has effected the rodent species in various ways.   Test subjects have grown much larger than normal rat species. Test subjects also appear to more aggressive in nature and will start screeching and attacking their containment box by biting or scratching nearby surfaces if approached.   Noticeable physical features include -- test subjects have larger bodies, larger teeth, and pearl-like eyes. Additionally, higher doses of radiation exposure causes fur to fall off at an accelerated rate, and the skin to become more winkled and leather-like.

  [Group 3]

The lagomorpha subjects show no behavioral changes to long-term exposure.   Noticeable physical signs include -- slightly larger than regular rabbits. loss of fur in the chest, neck, front legs, and back of the legs. (These areas appear to show scarring and the appearance of boils or warts). Interestingly, small horn-like growths can be seen in each test subjects head.

  [Group 4]

Feline species show no changes to long-term exposure to radiation.   Noticeable physical features include -- None   **Might need further investigation**

  [Group 5]

Minimal exposure to radiation seems to not affect the canine species at all. Over time medium exposure to radiation causes test subjects to grow much larger in size and show more wolf-like features. Long-term exposure to radiation turns dogs into feral-like creatures that strongly resemble the characteristics found in wild wolves.   Noticeable physical features include -- Tougher and bigger bodies, sharper claws and teeth.

  [Messages]

Message from Dr. Kepler

Hello [INSERT CANDIDATE NAME], please feel free to use this terminal to document any of the test subjects changes during your training period. Please try to keep minimal contact with the subjects, remember that you are an outside observer and should remain as such during your stay in the vault.   P.S. I hope that you won't mind me storing some of my own subjects in the vault. The work I am currently doing requires greater attention and a suitable environment with enough space. Please refrain from touching any of the cages or containers that have my name in them. Treat them as if they were my very expensive pets.  

 

Personal terminal

Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink
 
Welcome user, EGOMEZ.
Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink
  ***WARNING*** Data corruption detected. Out of [37] files in this directory, [14] were recovered successfully. All audio files have been converted to text.  

PERSONAL LOGS

Please select a file to view:   10/1

Today marks my official transition from a humble junior Vault-Tec employee to potential candidate to the role of Overseer. I am forever grateful to Vault-Tec for giving me this opportunity to demonstrate my leadership skills!   With that said, the job itself seems pretty easy. I don't have to actually manage any people in the vault (thank goodness for that), and it seems like most of the work has already been done for me. I just have to monitor the animal test subjects and document any visible changes. While normally any personal pets or wild animals are restricted from entering the vaults, testing the long-term effects of radiation on non-human species still makes for good science.

  10/2

Okay so after getting a day to adjust to my new environment, I think I know where everything that I need to do is located. The vault is not actually that big compared to the ones I've seen on TV. The overseer's office does feel cramp though, but that might be due to the giant monitors used to observe the laboratories. And Dr. Kepler's "pets"...   It's a good thing that I'm only staying here for one month.

  10/5

So the experiment being conducted in the vault is pretty interesting. It has five laboratories that are all self-regulating. The test subjects are provided with all the food and water they need, and all I have to do is to remember to restock the food every three days. It's all stored in this big storage room that is divided between the test subjects supplies and my supplies. And speaking of my supplies, they provided me with some pretty delicious foods and snacks! Not much for entertainment though, there are a lot of technical books and guides about various handy skills in case of nuclear fallout. Kinda stiff reading, but also understandable as this is meant to be a work assignment.   At least I'll have something to read to pass the time.

  10/8

It's been a week so far and I can confidently say that I'm pretty much ready to be an overseer. The test subjects are doing good. Well.. some of them at least. There are some test subjects that seem to notice my presence and become aggressive, even if they don't physically see me. But the others are peaceful and don't make much noises.

  10/12

This morning I woke up feeling pretty awful. I'm not sure if it was something I ate last night but just to be sure I'll probably stay away from anything that could further upset my stomach. I took some medicine that was in the emergency kit so I should be fine for now. Also, thanks to my predecessors work, I was able to finish writing my notes on test subjects 1-R167 and 3-B496. So congrats me! Now I just have to start on the others.

  10/19

I wish Vault-Tec included more of those fancy lads among the list of available foods to eat during the training. I don't usually have much of sweet tooth, but those cakes are addictive. Specially when paired with some fresh coffee!   Side note, I started to name some of the creatures in the labs. I felt bad just calling them by their designated lab-numbers. I feel it makes it easier to remember and keep track of who is who. Plus, it got me occupied with doing something to do for a while after work.

  10/22

Another day of feeling under the weather, just a little over a week to go before I'm done with the training. This time my voice has given out, becoming more raspy and hard to speak. I found a Stimpak in the Overseer's office, so hopefully that cures me of any illness I might have gotten. To be honest I think it's a fever or stomach flu. I noticed too late after eating them that some of the YumYum deviled eggs I had were in a damaged package. So I should probably be mindful of food safety from now on.   I'm just going to go read and sleep for the rest of day, and hopefully by tomorrow I'll be back to full health.

  10/23

-- Audio File-- Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, I royally fucked up. I was having a late breakfast when the vault suddenly lost power and when the lights went off I accidentally broke one of Dr. Kepler's pet containers. I think it was one of his bug ones. FUCK. I don't even get why Vault-Tec allowed him to store his stuff here. WHO THE FUCK COLLECTS AND KEEPS COCKAROACHES!!!   By the time the lights came back on, there was glass scattered everywhere and some of the computers showed error messages. I swear I better not be blamed for this. GODDAMMIT I was almost done with all of this... What even happened upstairs? There was loud bang sound and then everything went to shit.

  10/24

I have been working all day to try and get the terminals back online. That power out messed with a lot of the devices in the vault. Most of the lab equipment seems fine, but the cameras are no longer showing any video feed. For the time being I've decided to shutdown all test subject cameras to try and conserve some energy.   I was able to find a user manual in one of the boxes in the storage room that was all about terminals, but despite my best efforts I am unable to get things back to working order. Every time I try to send a message out to anyone at Vault-Tec hq, the terminals only show the message CONNECTION LOST.

  10/27

After three non-stop days of dealing with all of the mess from that power out, my body is starting to show signs of stress. The lack of sunlight has definitely made me more dry and wrinkly. I recommend some skin lotion be placed for the next participant. At this point I don't really care if I'm no longer selected to be an overseer. This shit is too stressful to deal with.   Just four more days and then someone will come down to check up on me. I can't wait to go back to normal desk job after all of this is done.

  11/1

-- Audio File-- Did I get the date wrong? No I'm sure I was supposed to be done by now. How come nobody has come to get me...   They better not forgotten about me or be pulling some type of prank. I'm going to file a complain with corporate after all of this is over. What is the point of building a vault if it breaks down after a few issues!

  11/2

Okay something is definitely wrong, I'm sure I should have received some message by now or something. That would probably explain the lack of contact these last two days.   When the power went out it must've damaged some areas of the vault much more than I originally thought. I am going to try and see if I can find something in here that can teach me about electrical engineering. If I can somehow re-route power to that section of the vault, then maybe I can open the door and leave. At this point I will probably start to run out of food without a resupply. So before it gets to that point, lets test out my new skills.

  11/5

-- Audio File-- I was able to scrounge up some spare parts from the broken terminals in the vault and started diverting some power to the area where the vault door is located. I think I might be able to divert enough power from some the labs, but this might cause some issues with the equipment there. I feel bad temporally messing with the test subjects environments, but at this point I feel like I don't have much of choice.   Let's hope this works...   Yes! I got it working! Let's see if the door will open now...   Wait, why are the lights flickering...   [Explosive sounds in background]   oh shit

  11/17

I can't sleep. Can't stop thinking about them, pounding at my door.   I tried to go out when they were sleeping but had no luck. I accidentally slipped on what I assume was blood from some other poor creature. I need to stop making too much noises, otherwise I will be quickly surrounded and then it's over for me.   Why am I being punished? I did everything Vault-Tec instructed of me, I took care of those ungrateful bastards outside. I was just an office worker. I just wanted to prove that I was able to contribute more to this company, and for what? So that they just abandon me in this hellhole?   Well screw it, if I'm going to die anyway, either from starvation or being eaten alive, then I might as well go out fighting.   Fuck you Vault-Tec.   Sincerely, Eddie Gomez

I posted this on another community and honestly I just really really need an answer on what to do here.
So let me give a quick rundown of everything. I just really don’t know what to do here, and I feel like the only way for me to feel normal is to get back with him. I started seeing a guy through Tinder when I was 17, and he was 19. This was my first relationship. The start was very nice, but we didn’t meet until 2 months in. When we did meet, I instantly liked him even more, and we started a talking stage. Throughout the talking stage, he was very nice and explained that he wanted to do this courting properly because he really liked me. I never understood the point of a talking stage; I thought, “Why can’t I just date you if I like you?” But we had a talking stage regardless. After months and months (probably a year and a half), I realized he started referring to me as his girlfriend, and I thought that was weird. I asked him why, and he said, “Well, aren’t we dating?” I was kinda hurt by that because when we started dating, I made it clear that if we are in a talking stage and when we move to dating, I want to be asked out properly. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but just say the words “I like you, let’s go out.” He said that after I questioned that while we were cuddling in bed. I didn’t like that, but he said he thought it was nice asking it casually. He said, “You want certain things to be done in too specific of a way.” That really hurt me because I thought I allowed myself to be open to things, but I suppose not.
We had a lot of issues during our relationship, but it was stuff we couldn’t really control. It was things like how we couldn’t meet more than once a month, and it was brutal not seeing each other for that long because we lived far apart and were busy with life. It always felt like he was busier than me. It’s weird; I don’t know how to explain it, but it was a situation where I always had time regardless of how busy I was, and he hardly had time regardless of what happened in his life. I always thought it was because I relaxed by being with him and he relaxed by being himself. So for me, if I could just spend time with him, that would be fine, but for him, he needed at least some time to himself.
One of the worst things for me during the entire relationship was saying goodnight. I don’t know why, but I was so scared to say it, and I would always delay it as much as possible. Something about saying goodnight, him going to sleep, and me just being by myself terrified me so much that I would just try to talk to him as much as possible. This happened not only over text but in person too. The image of his back to me with him sleeping while I just lay there myself terrified me. I don’t know why. Before I was with him, I was very happy being by myself. I was one of those dull, boring, happy people who were content with doing very simple things like cooking or painting. But now that he broke up with me, I feel like the only way to go through this phase is to be with him.
We went on a trip a couple of months ago. It was our first trip together, and we were so excited. But the trip went a lot worse than we thought and was one of the main reasons he broke up with me. During the trip, I drank every single night. It was my first time drinking, and I really liked him taking care of me. It felt like one of those very rare times where I had 100% of his attention. But he didn’t like that; he didn’t like taking care of me. During one of the nights, I got drunk, and we did sexual stuff together. From what I remember, everything went nicely, but he had a completely different perspective on it. I remember jokingly asking him to do new stuff we never did before in a whiny voice. In a way that I knew that if he didn’t want to, he could just say no shush. I played around the topic, and then he said yeah sure. During the breakup, he said, “You really pressured me into doing stuff I wasn't comfortable with, and it brought back some horrible memories, and I can’t put myself through that again. I know you wouldn’t do that, but it was the fact that it already happened.”
I just turned 20, and he’s 21. And right after I did, we broke up. It only happened a couple of days ago, so every time I even think about it, it feels so suffocating. The night before, I texted some mean things because I wanted his attention since I was very upset he wouldn’t hear me out for 5 mins. I knew he had an exam the next day, but I was so upset it felt like if I didn't talk about this right now, then I would be up all night and day stressing about this. He was not happy about this. He was very, very upset and said he was fed up and tired of this. Because he was right; this isn’t the first time I have done this.
To me, it just felt like I couldn’t get through the day. I would get very late replies, like in 2-3 hours, and it felt weird to say 'hey, can we talk' to someone who would check their phone every few hours. Even on the days we could talk for a good hour or so, it felt like if I said my issues, I would just be ruining this really nice time, so I thought it would be best to just wait until the end of the day."
I don't know why, but he tried so hard to talk to me. He never used his phone and hated texting but still tried for me. But even though he did, I felt like he still didn't have time for me. Or, I guess, enough time for me. It felt like I was always begging for his time, saying stuff like 'please just talk to me for 5 mins.'
Anyway, back to the breakup. He was very upset, and we called, and he said, 'I can't do this anymore.' I was scared so badly; all I could do was try to reason with him not to and just wait to see me till the next day because I did not want to break up at all. I felt horrible knowing my mean message made him so upset he just wanted to leave. That night, we agreed that we would talk it out the next day, and if it doesn’t work out, we will break up. That was the only thing that kept me sane. I had to leave work early because I kept crying, and my manager was worried. I texted him before, and he said he had a panic attack because of last night, and I felt so horrible knowing that it happened because of me. I thought I would do everything I can to make it up to him when I see him, and if I get mad, I won't let him know in such a mean way. But as soon as we met up, he said it's over. And that was it. I was so scared, and I didn’t want to accept it, that I just begged and cried, pleading with him not to. After a while, I thought I accepted it, and we went and had dinner. But the moment the next day came, it hit me so badly, and I regretted saying yes to it so much that I just wanted to go back and see him.
I keep thinking back to the first time I said 'I like you' to him. It was when I kissed him for the first time, sitting on his lap with my head nestled in the corner of his neck as I said it. Now that we've broken up, I just yearn to return to that moment so desperately. I know time can't rewind, but I would do anything, even give my life away, just to go back to that. And there are so many more moments I long to revisit, especially those times when we cuddled in bed together. I feel like if I could just go back to those moments, I would feel normal again. And if I can feel normal, I can eat and sleep.
Because I felt so horrible, I kept texting and calling him because I just wanted to see him. I took the day off work and waited at the bus stop I usually wait at, hoping he would call me and say, 'Okay, come up,' but he didn’t, and I stayed there the whole day. I feel like such a creep for doing that, but I physically couldn’t stomach anything other than thinking about him. He texted me saying, 'You can't keep texting me. It's exam season for me, and I need to focus,' and all I could say was, 'Can we please go back?' He said, 'Not anytime soon,' and that he doesn’t want to get back together, at least not now. He said we will talk on Tuesday. It’s currently Saturday night, and I’m so scared to even start the weekend. He blocked me after I kept begging him to talk to me for 5 more mins. Even though he blocked me everywhere, I keep calling and texting him and looking at old photos. I feel so creepy and like such a weirdo for even doing this, but it feels like if I don’t, then I don't know how to feel. I physically don't have the energy to do things like eat and sleep; all I keep thinking about is him.
He said he will text me on Tuesday, and I’m hoping he really does. My friends noticed this, and they said from the sounds of it, he probably won’t, but they said I can wait till Saturday. If he doesn’t by Saturday, I have to delete his texts. But I just know he will, and we will talk again and get back together.
I talked to my doctor and therapist about this a day before. With the doctor, I told him I have been feeling like this since I started university. And with my therapist, she said that from the sounds of it, you guys will talk it out and not break up. But after the breakup, I feel like what I felt during the relationship just accelerated so much, so fast I don’t know what to do. My doctor said he will put me on SSRI Sertraline for 8-9 months. I don’t know if that’s really a good idea because he said it will make me numb, but after the breakup, I just can’t wait to get on them.
My issue now is I’m seeing him on Tuesday, and even though I know it’s for the best if we don’t get back together, I don’t know—I feel like if I say the words and accept that fact, there is a whole other feeling of doom waiting for me. I’m seeing my GP on Wednesday for a blood test, and I’m seeing my therapist next week because she is on vacation right now. I want to talk to my doctor and get on meds and talk to my therapist before I see him. But I don’t know if I can wait for all that.
I have friends, but they are all in relationships, and they all said mine would be the first to break from the start. So now that it actually happened, I feel awful about reaching out to them. I talked to other friends I haven't reached out to in a couple of years, and they all try to reason with me, but I think I just frustrate them by saying I just want him. And I want to go back to those moments.
I want to get back together, and I want to try to make up for everything I did wrong. We already had a break in the past for a week because he said I stressed him too much and added things to his plate. I thought I stopped sharing stuff he didn't like anymore, but now I think I have a better understanding of what the actual issue was. It wasn't the topic but rather how I would talk about it at night and call him when he had work or exams. I want to take accountability for what happened on the trip and make it up to him by taking him on another trip. I will try my very best to ensure it's the best trip ever for him, where we can do stuff he likes, and I won't get drunk every night just because I'm away from home and want to try it for the first time.
I just don't want to accept the break up.
I just, I really don’t know what to do and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. No wait I know what I’m supposed to do I just don’t know if I can even put myself through that. So I just want to go back.
It got so bad last night that my parents, who rarely pay attention, asked what's going on. They said they're scared for you because of how you've been lately. And I feel like the only thing that will fix this is him. So I just want him. He always said I was too much and too obsessed because I would spend time making him handmade things or writing him letters. So I’m worried if we got back together, how will I stop that too?
I know I’m supposed to know what to do, and I know I should do what I feel is right, but if someone can please just give me a step-by-step guide on how to just go through this, then please. I’m so scared of the type of person I’m becoming, who just calls and texts someone who is already being blocked. And is thinking of getting back together and planning and begging to even though he said he doesn't want to. The only thing helping me go through till Tuesday is knowing, 'hey, I can go back to him then.' I don't even know if I want a relationship; I just want to be close with him and I just want to cuddle and be with him. He was my first for a lot of things, and I really thought he was my first and last, and to know this happened. This feels worse than anything I have ever felt in my life; it feels like even death itself is more peaceful than this.
I’m sorry for the long text, and I would really, really like to hear from anyone at least before this Tuesday, so 14/5, just so I know what to do because I really don’t know. I know that’s asking a lot, so you can leave it to just one word as well. I know I have probably taken up so much of your time from just this long text. And also, just let me know how to stop being manipulative to people because I feel like I was, and I always have been, especially when sharing my problems. I feel like even with him, I wanted his attention, even if it was bad when I was sad. I typed this out in a rush, so I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes I'm just noticing them now after posting
It feels so scary to even walk into my room. All the lego flowers, diamond paintings, pottery, origami, sculpture making, knitting, sewing, crocheting I did to wait for his text is all there. And i feel like all they do is just remind me that hey you nagged him during this whole relationship you deserve to feel like this for your whole life. And forget whole life I can’t even do 2 days. I think the only way to get through this is to get back with him but to do that I need to do better so how do I take accountability for everything I have and show him that yes I will do better and I will be better and you can trust me

DISCLAIMER: I'd like to note that I do not consider myself an expert on many of the topics he talks about or even economics in general but a lot of what I'm about to say is pretty easily verifiable and basic, and I'll try to be clear that I'm expressing my opinion and not fact when I'm doing so. Given my lack of expertise, none of what I say here should be considered as the final authority on these topics, it's a reddit post for fucks sake, I encourage everyone to search up the relevant data and information on the topics they are interested in or claims they find dubious. It's really not that hard and all the links and data I'm gonna cite here took me less than five minutes to find for each piece of information. If you're not familiar with where to find this data it might take you longer but I promise that anyone with access to the internet can do the same thing I'm doing. Finally, for those looking for some opinionless, academic argument, that's not what this is, this is gonna sound like a rant because it is, I'm posting this for nothing more than my own satisfaction, take from it what you will.
Ok I'm writing this after I finished the whole thing and I said that I'd try to be clear that I'm expressing my opinion and not fact when I'm doing so and the basically entire second half of this is my opinion and I don't make that very clear so sorry about that.
Honestly I'd love to be wrong because I really do think that younger people are at a disadvantage compared to previous generations at the same age but the arguments he makes and the data he uses throughout his talk just sound like such bullshit to me.
https://www.ted.com/talks/scott\_galloway\_how\_the\_us\_is\_destroying\_young\_people\_s\_future?
https://www.profgalloway.com/war-on-the-young/
Scott Galloway recently did a Ted talk titled "How the US is destroying young people's future", as well as an accompanying blog post. He's made some fair points about how young people have been put at an inherent disadvantage and that they have it harder than previous generations. That's most likely true and I personally support that point of view, but the a lot data and numbers he makes this argument with seem to be cherry picked, misleading, or just straight up wrong. So let's break his talk down. u/JustTaxLandLol made a pretty good post about him comparing median wages to the S&P500 (https://www.reddit.com/badeconomics/comments/1cc3rs8/scott\_galloway\_compares\_median\_wage\_to\_sp500/) but I think that Galloway's mistakes are much more comprehensive than just that particular slide.
The first slide with data makes a claim about how pre-tax income, adjusted for inflation, has decreased across generations from grandparents to parents to kids, and that cost of public colleges and home prices have increased significantly across generations too. First of all, categorising generations by whether they have children or grandchildren is kinda nuts. That's a very wide, overlapping, range of ages. If he has actually fixed age ranges for each generation that don't overlap and just made these categorisations for the sake of understandability to a nonacademic audience, I still think that's the wrong choice but fine. However, his claim that real income has decreased across generations is weak at best. This working paper (https://www.federalreserve.gov/econres/feds/files/2024007pap.pdf) from the Fed Reserve was published February 2024, and from the figures that start at page 35, shows that by almost every categorisation they could think of, GenZ earns more at the same age than every previous generation before them. There's some conflict here with Raj Chetty's work but I don't have the time or knowledge to reconcile the two perspectives but at best, the pre-tax income numbers Galloway presents are questionable at best. Furthermore, he doesn't provide anyone a chance at even checking the sources he gets this information from. Not once in his entire talk does he cite a single source. He couldn't even have some tiny text at the bottom of his tables or diagrams saying what organisation he got this data from. Ok so that crossed out bit is wrong, he does have sources they're just very very faint and you can see them if you squint hard enough at the bottom left corner of his graphs. But the source he gives for this slide is a joke. Here's the link https://www.profgalloway.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Table-01.png
His "source" is his own analysis. Ok so by his analysis, the average cost of public college is 56000*0.43 = 24080. I'm gonna use numbers from this US News page (https://www.usnews.com/education/best-colleges/paying-for-college/articles/paying-for-college-infographic), which might not be the most reliable source in the world, but it's probably somewhere in the ballpark. So according to US News, average tuition for the 2023-2024 school year for out of state students going to a public school is 23,630 and 10,662 for in state students. If these numbers are anywhere near accurate, the only conclusion I can draw is that Galloway has cherry-picked his data by only including the cost for out of state students in his analysis. First of all, public schools in the US are there to provide affordable access to higher education FOR RESIDENTS OF ITS STATE. Using only out of state numbers is absolutely ridiculous. Secondly, even if he used only the in state numbers, 10662/56000 is approximately equal to 19%. So if I use his very very questionable pre-tax income numbers, cost of public college for in state students has still increased across his categorisation of generations. It's not like his point would have been invalidated if he had used the in-state numbers, a trend of tuition increasing as a percentage of real income across multiple generations is still very bad. This is my opinion but I guess that he just wanted to find a nice shocking number. I didn't catch this but in their post, u/JustTaxLandLol notes that later on Galloway says "real median income from labor is up 40% since 1974" so he's also contradicting himself in the same talk.
I couldn't be bothered to look into the house price to income column he has so I don't have any comments on that.
His next slide is a point about how the percentage of 30 year olds earning more than their parents did at 30 has been decreasing very significantly over time. This is from a paper in 2016 by Raj Chetty (link: https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/science.aal4617). I've seen some counterarguments about the methods used in the paper but there are counterarguments for basically every inequality paper in existence so I'd take them with a grain of salt. Those points are more complex than the scope of this post and I lack the expertise to be making them anyways so I believe this slide. I'll admit that Galloway makes a good argument for this slide.
Right after this slide he says "As a result, people over the age of 55 feel pretty good about America, but less than one in five people under the age of 34 feel very good about America. This creates an incendiary, righteous movement...". He supports this with data on the percentage of US adults who feel "extremely proud" to be American.
Before I talk about the data on this slide, I'd like to be a little anal about things and pick apart his wording and causal claims he makes. When Galloway says "as a result" he's making a causal claim about the relationship between a young person's earning ability and their national pride. Leaving aside the econometric issues of making random causal claims, this is a ridiculous marginalisation of all the other critically important issues in the US. It seems pretty clear to me that reduced national pride amongst younger individuals is a combination of a lack of social mobility (or however you want to word your version of the fading American dream), the continued existence of systematic racism and sexism, US response to ongoing conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza, bodily autonomy (abortion), and many other issues. Not to say that the economic disadvantages of young people doesn't play a role in causing this lack of national pride but come on. He also says "this creates an incendiary righteous movement...". Ok if the "as a result" from the last sentence could be interpreted as the economic disadvantages of young people play some part in their dissatisfaction with the government, it should be obvious to anyone not living under a rock that many of the political conflicts and movements that have erupted in the US over the past few years have little, if anything, to do with earning ability. In the slide after the poll data he shows three photos, one of a MeToo protest, one of a BLM protest, and another of a pro-Palestine protest. I can only interpret this as him making the claim that the younger generations economic difficulties are causally linked to those movements, which is totally bananas.
Now lets talk about the data. He got this from the Gallup polls (link: https://news.gallup.com/poll/394202/record-low-extremely-proud-american.aspx, there's a link to download the pdf with the poll numbers at the end of this article). There are 5 options for the Gallup poll: "Extremely proud"; "Very proud"; "Moderately proud"; "Only a little proud"; or "Not at all proud". So Galloway is cherry-picking again. To be fair, it's true that even including the rest of the answers, a quick glance at the data suggests (very strongly) that young people are less proud than older people. There are also more young people who choose "Not at all proud" (11% for 18-34 and 1% for 55+). Though there is probably some argument to be made about whether "extreme" pride is a good thing. Furthermore, "pretty good" and "very good" do not reflect the extremity of choosing, well, the most extreme option.
As an introduction to his next slide he says that "a decent proxy for how much we value youth labor is minimum wage". I've never heard of this before and am very very skeptical but I'm willing to attribute this to my own ignorance so I'll leave that sentence alone. So on this slide there's a graph with two lines, one is minimum wage across time adjusted for inflation, the other is whats supposed to be minimum wage if adjusted for productivity (also adjusted to inflation I assume). Galloway got this data form the Economic Policy Institute (EPI) (https://www.epi.org/productivity-pay-gap/), which shows that this gap between productivity began around 1979. This was when Carter was president and right before the Reagan administration. Those who know about the economic history of this time probably won't be surprised since a lot of the policies of this time were rather inegalitarian and heavily favoured the wealthy. I agree that many of the policies of the time contributed heavily to the inequality America faces today and though I haven't read any studies about how this affects minimum wage workers, I believe that minimum wage workers or low income workers in general today have significantly lower purchasing power relative to a few decades ago.
What I have a problem with here is the idea that productivity and minimum wage should increase in tandem. According to the EPI, "Productivity measures how much total economywide income is generated (i.e., for workers, business owners, landlords, and everybody else together) in an average hour of work" and "pay is defined as the average compensation (wages and benefits) of production and nonsupervisory workers. The pay for this group is one appropriate benchmark for 'typical worker pay' because production and nonsupervisory workers have made up roughly 80% of the U.S. workforce over the entire period shown in the figure and because the data for production and nonsupervisory workers exclude extremely highly paid managerial workers like CEOs and other corporate executives". Before I try to break down my complaints with the measures used, my immediate reaction when I saw this was that it seems rather stupid to compare the relationship between average productivity and minimum wage in an industrial economy against the same relationship in a service oriented one. There are just more jobs now that let you make an impact on the economy far beyond what you are paid and it is so so difficult to quantify this change. Using a similar argument, I really have no clue how macro people make models or do estimates for things like productivity but I'm quite skeptical about the reliability of using such a measure of productivity because of the increased prevalence of second, third, or n-th order effects that would be present in a measure of something like total gdp but pretty much impossible to identify for any employer. For those who want to read more about this difference between productivity and compensation I think this is the most relevant paper from EPI (https://files.epi.org/2015/understanding-productivity-pay-divergence-final.pdf). There are some points I'm not satisfied with in this paper like them attributing the entirety of the difference between median hourly compensation to average consumer hourly compensation but that would take more time than I want to spend on this.
Now we're still on the same slide. Galloway says "we've kept it [minimum wage] purposely pretty low" twice in three sentences. Now he's suggesting that there's some collective out there that has the political power and desire to keep minimum wage low. By "we" I think he means to suggest that the old-timers have banded together to screw the young people over. Ok buddy. I'm stepping outside the bounds of what's considered strictly economics here a little but pinning the injustices of society on some ethereal enemy whose existence can never be disproven is the same as taking "advantage of the flaws in our species with medieval institutions, Paleolithic instincts, and godlike technology" (Galloway's words, same TED talk) to me. Maybe there really is some cabal of scheming geezers out there who have some twisted desire to keep the minimum wage low, but I'm more inclined to believe that a lot of these "injustices" are a result of our existing political and societal institutions being poor and inefficient aggregators of our desires as a society, rewarding selfishness instead of cooperation. This certainly makes the problem harder to solve than if there were just some evil 'others' we could get rid of and be done with. Having a target to direct our outrage at, believing that I am good and they are bad, is easier than facing the reality that everyone is born with the selfishness that creates the injustices we live with but that's not gonna make people more agreeable. As an economist, I study the theory of incentives to use the same human selfishness that creates all the problems Galloway talks about to create solutions that hopefully improve our quality of life. This is what I believe is the beauty of being human, all the good and bad that happens stem from the same desires, it is our job to create institutions and systems that allow us to channel our desires in a way that benefits everyone, but I digress. The point is, this enemy that Galloway creates is an effective tactic at convincing people of his argument, but I don't believe such a perspective benefits society at all. Mistakes should be corrected, that doesn't mean they're always the result of ill intentions.
His next slide compares the difference between percentage increase in median household income against percentage increase in median home price, as well as a comparison of the median monthly mortgage between 2019 and 2024. I have nothing to say about the graph, I agree that over time, home prices have increased to an unacceptable level. The Fed funds rate went from 2.4 percent in Feb 2019 to 5.33 percent in Feb 2024 (https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/fedfunds). To his credit, Galloway does attribute this increase in mortgage payments to "an acceleration in interest rates" but what's the alternative? Don't increase interest rates? Then if I was Galloway I'd make the same TED talk and talk about how the continued low interest rates contributed to rampant inflation that made all the poor people even poorer. It seems like he's decided to take whatever bad economic event that seems somewhat relevant and made it to be the result of some group's dogged determination to keep the younger generation down. Why is the increase from pre- to post-covid prices on anything surprising. I'd like to meet the genius who saw covid coming and intentionally created this increase in home prices.
He also says "the most expensive homes in the world, based on this metric, are number three, Vancouver. Why? Because 60 percent of the cost of building a home goes to permits...". I have no idea what point he's making here. Based on what metric, median home price? Monthly mortgage payments? Why do I care about Vancouver, a Canadian city, being number three? Then he talks about how "the incumbents that own assets have weaponized government". Either he's switched to talking about oligopolistic lobbyists in general without saying so or he's still talking about Canada. I dunno. Someone please explain. Then he says "this is the transfer I'm going to be speaking about". Also, everything he just said is talking about how there exists a group of people trying to PREVENT transfers of wealth to new entrants. And there was huge applause after that sentence. Nutsos, all of them.
Ok next slide. Galloway presents two pie charts, comparing the share of household wealth by age in 1989 to 2023. So he's talking directly about inequality in wealth now. Inequality in the US is really really bad, that's a fact. I'm a big fan of the work of Emmanuel Saez, Gabriel Zucman, and Thomas Piketty. These people have been at the forefront of research on inequality for many years now and though their work is not flawless, I'm convinced by the data they present and the methods by which they have aggregated the data and what they show is that inequality is worse than even what the pie charts Galloway presents suggest. However, this is not to say that Galloway makes a valid argument. Please note the grey bits in the pie chart. If Galloway has shown the numbers for everyone under 40 and above 70, the group that's excluded are those between 40 and 70. So those in the age range of 40-70 owned 100 - 19 - 12 = 69% of household wealth in 1989 and 100 - 30 - 7 = 63% in 2023. I could probably go and find how the age demographics of the population have changed over time and I think that with declining birth rates, the percentage change in age demographics would be pretty close to the percentage change in household wealth but I'm tired of beating every slide to death so I'll leave that to someone else if anyone's motivated enough to do that (if my hypothesis is wrong here just comment and I'll make that change). My first thought when I saw this though was again, this guy has paid no regard to structural change in society. Given the increased accessibility of buying stocks over the past three decades is it really that surprising that older people who have had more time and cash at the start of the digital age to invest in companies that are now massive mega-corporations have experienced a higher return on their capital. This is not to say that none of this change in the share of wealth held by those under 40 is due to some inherent unfairness in our society and I have neither the time nor knowledge to separate these effects out but to say that this was a "purposeful" effort to cut their wealth in half is complete and utter bullshit. Also, this guy makes another causal claim WITH NOTHING BUT A CHANGE IN SHARE OF HOUSEHOLD WEALTH. Congratulations everyone Scott Galloway has just made every econometrician in the world redundant, I always knew my professors were just trying to confuse me with funny symbols and Greek letters, someone get this guy a Nobel Prize.
Then while introducing his next slide Galloway says that his analyst's presence in the audience "brings the average age of the entire conference down in 11 days". So he's saying that TED knows exactly who's showing up to their event before it happens and that they have the exact birthdates of everyone in the audience too and that they've given this information to one of their speakers. A friend of mine has told me he's just making a joke and that I should let this point go because I'm being too anal about things but yeah I become anal about things when someone suggests sweeping institutional changes in a talk viewed by millions of people so thought I'd include it anyways just as another example of the bullshit this guy has been spewing.
When he moves on to the actual content in the slide the first point he makes is about lower acceptance rates in schools. So I don't have data on this because I couldn't be bothered to go find any so again, I'll change my statement if anyone has reliable data indicating otherwise but I think its pretty safe to say that way less people used to apply than before and combined with an increase in international student applications and enrollments the competition is just way higher than before. The most obvious explanation would be that higher education institutions have made the mistake of not increasing enrollments at a rate quick enough to meet demand. However, according to US News (https://www.usnews.com/education/best-colleges/articles/how-many-universities-are-in-the-us-and-why-that-number-is-changing) there were 3982 degree-granting postsecondary institutions in the US. and UCLA is ranked 15th in national universities. So why is it surprising now that university education is becoming more popular that higher ranked universities are harder to get into. So instead of expanding enrollment I think that a well thought out plan of affirmative action would be a much better option of giving "unremarkable kids and giving them a shot at being remarkable" (what this well thought out plan may be I don't know, I honestly didn't even search up any statistics about affirmative action this was just the first solution I thought of that didn't involve ignoring the crowning achievement of statistics). To his credit, Galloway does include a point about income-based affirmative action at the end of his talk, though he overwhelmingly emphasises increasing enrollment in schools. I don't have any data about that but I think that class sizes at public universities are large enough as it is.
The rest of the slide gives numbers on college debt of house price compared to first year income. College debt is ridiculously high and many people struggle because of it. I don't have the solution and neither does Galloway because he doesn't really mention it. I think that house price-to-first year income is a poor comparison because it doesn't take into account average rate of income increase and no normal person from any generation is looking to buy a house with first year income but there's probably a more appropriate metric out there that shows a similar change anyways so I'm ok with that.
Then he talks about him and his "colleagues" who "artificially constrain supply to create aspiration and scarcity". I would like to meet the professors who have control over enrollment rates because none of mine did. Then he says "to my colleagues in higher ed: we're public servants, not fucking Chanel bags". The marketing professor from NYU says he's a public servant...ok.
The slide after that compares Harvard's increase in endowment compared to their increase in enrollment and he calls them a "hedge fund offering classes". I see no issue with this point, he made a great argument, can't really criticise anything here.
Don't worry though he makes up for it by immediately making one of the most egregious statements in this whole talk. We're looking at his next slide, the one titled "Grand Bargain" now. He says that the government should take some of the money that's supposed to be used to forgive existing loans to about 500 of the top public universities to reduce tuition by 2% and year, expand enrollments by 6% a year, and increase vocational programs to 20% of the degrees granted. Then the slide after that, claims this will double freshman seats and cut costs in half in just 10 years. Ok so he thinks that most of the money "earmarked to bail out the one third of people that got to go to college on the backs of the two thirds that didn't" should go to future students instead because, I assume from the tone of his words, he doesn't think they need or deserve all that loan forgiveness. So why bring up the increase in college debt previously (the slide I talked about three paragraphs ago)? Anyways that's not the crazy thing. Let's see what happens if you reduce tuition by 2% a year for 10 years. So the calculation goes like this 0.98^{10} is approximately equal to 0.81. So with the number he puts up, tuition decreases by 19% in ten years. If everything before this slide could be attributed to cherry-picking, stupidity, or lack of good data, then fine he's just ignorant even though he shouldn't have been if he went up there to make that talk. But now this is just a FUCKING BAREFACED LIE. I cannot think of a greater insult to the audience's intelligence than the fact that this guy didn't think anyone would pull out a fucking calculator and do the calculation themselves. I won't blame the audience for not saying anything because I'm not sure I would have wanted to do that either but at least from youtube and reddit comments there are a decent number of people who didn't realise this. A similar calculation shows that expanding enrollment by 6% per year increases seats by about 80% total (1.06^{10}). Not sure how that translates in terms of freshman seats but at least this is closer than the tuition claim.
Then his next slide compares wages to the s&p500. This is the point of u/JustTaxLandLol's post and I think his post and the discussion in the comments covers most if not all of my thoughts so you can just read that. https://www.reddit.com/badeconomics/comments/1cc3rs8/scott_galloway_compares_median_wage_to_sp500/
Ok next slide, "The Transfer: Purposeful". Oh yay he's about to make another causal claim with nothing but a graph on the change in top marginal tax rates for corporations and individuals. And if we skip ahead to the next slide we'll realise that this claim is that the gradual decrease in top marginal tax rates for corporations and individuals results in lowered senior poverty and child poverty either remains constant or increases. Yes everybody the newest advancement in economic research has just been released. Lowering top tax rates decreases senior poverty and increases child poverty. And Scott Galloway made that argument in 24 seconds (transcript on TED website has time markers).
Man I really set out with the intention to keep the tone of this post as neutral as I could but I'm just writing out my internal dialogue with less swearing now. I apologise to those who would have preferred a more careful and less emotional knee-jerk response of an analysis but this is a reddit post, its not like there are standards.
Now he moves on to talking about social security. Galloway says "it would cost 11 billion dollars to expand the child tax credit. But that gets stripped out of the infrastructure bill". So zero explanation about why it would cost 11 billion dollars to expand the child tax credit, why not more or less, no comment about how many children it would affect, how much money it would mean for each child or family, just some number that you have to accept. Most of the time there's no why to the amount of funding that the government allocates to policies but at least there's some breakdown to how its going to be used, Galloway doesn't even have that. This is before we even consider the fact that child tax credit was expanded this year (https://www.cbsnews.com/news/child-tax-credit-2024-who-qualifies/). Maybe he's talking about some other issue that I'm not aware of but I don't think so. He says he got the social security spending data from the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, which is a think tank. I don't want to sort through their website to fact check so I'll accept it as the truth but as far as I know the actual social security administration releases their facts and figures for the year August of next year so I'm not sure why he didn't just use the 2022 numbers from a more reliable source.
His next few couple slides are about the increasing age of politicians. I think this is a great point but he probably should have used a better example of a younger politician than Justin Trudeau.
Then at around the 10 minute mark, using his slide titled "Generational Theft", Galloway claims that "we pumped the economy" during covid so that the Nasdaq would gain value, causing "intergenerational theft". I don't know if he thinks it was intentional or not but how is he going to completely ignore the fact that the stimulus checks were primarily for households that were struggling due to the greatest unemployment rate we have seen in our lifetime (https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2020/06/11/unemployment-rose-higher-in-three-months-of-covid-19-than-it-did-in-two-years-of-the-great-recession/). I'm really kind of tired of this so I'll let those at the CBR make my argument for me. "Within the first 10 days, households spent an average of 29 cents from every dollar received. The bulk of this spending was on food, rent, and bills" (https://www.chicagobooth.edu/review/how-effective-were-stimulus-checks-us). Damn so turns out struggling families did need these stimulus checks pretty urgently. Shocker. I also think that most people in finance would agree that tech stocks surged over covid because people needed fucking technology... People built PCs to play video games, used online shopping services because they couldn't go to malls, all that.
The next slide is supposed to support his point that the increase in stock prices doesn't allow young people to find "disruption". What. The only thing that matters to any investor is the percentage increase in value of the stock price after you've invested. It doesn't matter if 7 dollars is 1 share of apple or 0.04 of a share of apple. Its stock price going up by 100% means you get 14 dollars either way. I think this guy's arguments are getting dumber as the talk goes on, I actually had to go and find data to refute his points earlier on. Now arithmetic does the work for me, I should have hired a grade schooler to do my analysis.
His next point is about how algorithmic content selection is bad. Yeah its bad. Its bad for everyone, turns everyone into psychos. Though I think there's a very good argument to be made about how such content could affect developing brains. He makes a point about age-gating social media at the end of the talk. This is actually the only drastic measure he proposes that I agree with so I'll leave this alone too.
After a couple slides about Zuckerberg and TikTok (which I agree with, though I think Zuckerberg's damage probably leans more towards older people than young now), he gives a bunch of graphs showing upward trends in all sorts of terrible things happening to young people. Every single one is an issue of critical importance in the US, but importantly, no comparison to older people. For all we know, the trend on every graph could be the same or even worse for older generations. If I had written about this first then I'd go and find the data for it but at this point I just want to be done with this but can't stop without getting to the end so I'm just gonna slap this slide with lack of comparisons and move on.
His next slide shows the difference in 30 to 34 year olds who have at least one child, some of that is probably due to family planning but I still think its a great indicator of people not wanting to have children because its not affordable. Great point, I believe in it.
Next slide, oh god it's a happiness report. I think happiness reports are a fun conversational tidbit but I see no way for it to be reliable enough to be used as an argument in any semi-serious setting. That said, I have no idea how they do these measurements so maybe I'm wrong.
As if the happiness report wasn't bad enough, Galloway is gonna compare the biggest one-day market cap gain (in an unspecified time frame) to the budget of several policies implemented by the government. Oh man. This is too stupid, there's so many things to pick from it'd take too much effort to sort through them. Someone else please make the argument for me.
Then he says universal basic income should have been called negative income tax. Wow the frequency of good points is going up, though I think this is accompanied by an increase in the frequency of absolutely idiotic arguments.
Then he says we should eliminate capital gains tax deduction. The issue of taxing capital gains is a very serious one, but I don't think it actually matters that much how much we tax realised capital gains. Again, not an expert but here's my understanding. If you have a high net worth with a lot of it in stocks and you need cash, you don't have to sell them and get taxed on the realised gains. You go to the bank and say I want to borrow money, I'm going to put these stocks up as collateral so if I can't pay you back you can take these stocks which are somewhere around the value of the principal amount plus total interest over the course of this loan. Because the bank is now convinced they'll get the money back regardless of if you make the payments or not, they say ok here's the money you asked for at a nice low interest rate. Then you take the money, you keep your stocks, which will probably gain value at a rate that exceeds the interest rate by a pretty decent margin, and you can probably make your interest payments pretty easily because hey, you were rich to begin with. If you're really strapped for cash a couple years down the line, you can sell some of the stocks that are now worth more than they were before and cover your payments and not have to pay taxes on the rest that you don't have to sell. Free money. There's plenty more ways to avoid taxes if you're rich but you get my point by now. Now that's a lot of problems without a solution. Luckily we have some economists far more skilled than I am who work very hard to find solutions to these problems. Here's one example of a policy that may help (https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2024/05/03/opinion/global-billionaires-tax.html). This is an opinion piece written by Gabriel Zucman (famous economist), for the New York Times. If you don't have an NYT subscription, sorry for giving a link you can't read but if you search Gabriel Zucman billionaire tax, you could probably get a decent idea of what this talks about. Here's Zucman tweeting his proposal for his suggestion (https://twitter.com/gabriel\_zucman/status/1763253132572729623). It probably requires a little more thinking than the NYT article but he did present this at the G20 so that might sound more exciting to you than some news article.
Then Galloway says "we need to remove 230 protection for all algorithmically-elevated content". Zero mention on what 230 protection is so here's an explanation (https://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/47/230). Basically that was a fancy way of saying that companies should be held accountable of the content on their platform, even if it's posted by an unrelated third party. I'm not sure getting rid of it in its entirety is a great idea (though I have no arguments against that except Orwellian ones) but I certainly agree that most if not all social media platforms have abused this protection and it should be at the very least restricted. To what extent? Again, I have no clue.
Then he goes "break up Big Tech". That's the whole suggestion. This is a terrible idea but the fact that he doesn't elaborate more on how to do this, the ramifications of doing so, or really provide any explanation at all makes me automatically ignore this. Then he makes his point about age-gating social media, like I said before, I agree with it.
His next suggestions are universal pre-K, great idea, then "reinstate the expanded child-tax credit". Not sure what he's going on about here, child tax credit exists and like I said before, was just expanded. Then it's income-based affirmative action. I don't know what kind of affirmative action is best and that sounds like an interesting idea so I won't criticise it. I think the rest of his suggestions are pretty normative arguments so I'll leave those alone too.
Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly agree with the overall theme of his talk. I believe that young people in the US (and many places worldwide) are at a massive disadvantage when it comes to accumulating wealth, buying homes, inter-generational transfers, etc. But you cannot go up on a popular platform like this, make claims as sweeping as he has, and make suggestions as radical and drastic as he has, with garbage arguments and data like this. Saying the right things for the wrong reasons is arguably worse than just saying the wrong thing because it makes it easy for those who want the status quo to remain to make counterarguments. Given how divisive opinions have become over the past decade or so I guess I shouldn't be surprised at how many people are eating this up but it kinda scares me how easily people will eat up this shit as long as its for a cause that sounds like its going for some kind of radical change for the good of all and has some imaginary "them" as the common enemy to everyone.
So that's it, I've finally covered all his points. I'm free, thank fuck. I should really proofread this but this has been my past eight hours and my back is breaking from all this sitting, I'm just gonna post this and read it over tomorrow. Maybe do a tl;dr, fix some formatting.
EDIT: As u/myphriendmike and u/Mordoci have pointed out, my dummy corp example was just tax fraud, that's illegal and so it's a bad example, I've removed it. Zucman has some estimates on the "real" tax rate wealthy people (mostly billionaires) pay, maybe I'll include that at some point.
I also corrected my wording in some places.

So I've been doing Amazon for a couple of years now here and there nothing fancy, but enough to pretty much get auto-approved for anything I apply to sell in. In most cases, whatever I intend to sell is already listed on Amazon so I just piggy-back off that listing and undercut the competitor.
What confuses me is that I can piggyback off an existing listing but if I wanted to sell a new grocery item that isn't listed on Amazon then I need permission from the brand owner? So why is it that much easier to list off an existing item but close to impossible to list a brand new product?
Lastly, I noticed that some sellers have listed a brand product under their own company "brand name" and with a GTIN/UPC that they've purchased and branded it with themselves. How would I go abouts doing that? Because from my understanding I would need to supply Amazon with a letter from the brand owner allowing me to sell his product and I don't think this seller(s) ever had any permission based on the info I've seen published in the listing.
Just for reference, I found a new grocery product (chips) that is not available on Amazon, UPC isn't even recognized on Amazon. What would be my best option to get this item listed?

1. Attempt to sell this item as a bundle under "Generic" brand with a GTIN exemption?
2. Attemp to sell this item as a bundle under my brand name with a GTIN exemption?
3. Apply to get this brand approved and hope they don't ask for a letter from the brand owner?

thanks
P.S This brand name is already on amazon, it's the UPC that isn't so it's giving me all sorts of issues. I've already been approved to sell the brand name and authorized catalogue, the only thing missing is the addition of the GTIN which seems very difficult to accomplish.

Dear [Congressperson's Name],
I am reaching out as a constituent deeply concerned about an issue that, historically, has been marginalized and ridiculed—UFO phenomena. It is my understanding that this topic may not be taken seriously within your office, often dismissed as fanciful or not worthy of rigorous inquiry. This approach, rooted in decades of stigma rather than evidence, not only does a disservice to the spirit of scientific exploration but also ignores the potential implications on national security and government transparency as well as the importance for your own oversight of defense spending.
The prevailing dismissive attitude towards UFOs often equates their study with chasing figures of imagination such as the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus. However, this is not about imagination or misidentification; it's about the thousands upon thousands of documented incidents and credible reports that have been overlooked due to prevailing biases, including the testimony of David Grusch, who testified under oath last year. It is crucial to distinguish genuine skepticism—which demands inquiry and evidence—from a dismissal grounded in a reluctance to challenge established narratives.
I urge you to reconsider the approach taken by your office. Adopting a stance of genuine curiosity and empirical investigation into this phenomenon is not an endorsement of fringe theories but an affirmation of a commitment to transparency and truth, no matter how unconventional the subject may seem.
Let us set aside the dogmas of the past and approach this matter with the intellectual integrity it demands. Thank you for considering a shift towards a more informed and open-minded examination of UFO phenomena. Your leadership in fostering a thoughtful dialogue on this subject can help pave the way for a rational and evidence-based understanding.
Best Regards, [Your Name]
Personalize this letter with your specific details before sending, and you can find the contact information for your representatives at https://www.usa.gov/elected-officials. Remember to follow up if you do not receive a response within three weeks.

🪞 “It's much easier to get in that it is to get out,” Emilie Autumn used to say. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4.1 - Part 4.2
She was not wrong. Welcome back to the Asylum write-up!
In this installment, we're finally getting down to the nitty-gritty of the enmity between EA and her fans.
It's time for war. It's time for blood. It's time... for tea. 🎵

THE PRESENT DAY: “ASK ME ANYTHING (WELL, NOT QUITE)”

​

"Ask me anything" titles are catchy, and that’s why I’m using one. But, obviously, don’t ask me anything, by which I mean that, if you think I wouldn’t answer it, you’re probably right. Ask me something really good. I’d love to answer you. I’d love to have comments on these posts, in fact, so that I could answer questions there regularly and ask you things as well, but insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, or so Einstein is supposed to have said, and attempting to create yet another interactive online venue after every previous attempt has ended in heartbreak—forums, facebook groups, social media accounts—it would indeed be insanity to think that this time would be any different. So there are no comments. This too is heartbreaking in the sense that, and you may not realize this, but I desperately want to connect more completely with you—to be able to intelligently converse and share and exchange. We can do that in person, of course, because the wrong people never show up in person. Isn’t that funny… So, perhaps we’ll have to arrange that;). I’ll start you off with an example question I’d want to know if I were you (I can almost guarantee that you do not want to know this). Q. Hey EA, how do you keep your wireless bodypack transmitter secure when you are leaping about in skimpy costumes and doing frequent costume changes? Also, dye your roots. A. Fantastic question, EA, and I just dyed my roots thank you very much. ... (Deleted blog post followed by a year of radio silence, 2022 📝)

Sooo. For the past five-ish years, the vibe in the Asylum has been that of a protracted Christmas dinner where everyone is tensely moving their food around in their plate, bracing themselves for whatever will trigger the screaming match. Wondering what it's going to be this time. Weary old-timers make small talk about the food because no other topic feels safe. Every glance, every forced smile, is fraught with eons-old grudges and unspoken regrets; every nervous pleasantry sounds like a thinly-veiled accusation. Aunt Emilie always insists on hosting, but not-so-secretly hates having people over. Sooner or later, she finds a way to get all of these assholes out of her house. Most of the adult children are daydreaming about going no-contact.
Everyone ready for some dysfunctional family history?
CW for discussion of bullying, online harassment, mental illness stigma.

YE OLDEN DAYS: CUCKOOS OF A FEATHER NEST TOGETHER

In the beginning, it was beautiful.
EA had the excellent instinct to start banking on her online presence📝 long before MySpace was even a thing. She had a website, several online stores, an active LiveJournal and a ProBoards forum right from the turn of the millennium.
In 2004, she attached an official forum to her website; the earliest archive shows 74 registered users. By the time Opheliac came out in 2006, that number had grown tenfold. And it was, by most accounts, a pretty dope place to be! (I should specify that this write-up focuses on the anglophone side of the fandom: there were also thriving fan-run communities in at least German, French, and Spanish. Because EA doesn't speak any of those languages, the lucky bastards were mostly left alone.)
Forum users enjoyed interacting with some of EA's closest IRL friends and associates – and with the mistress of the house herself (user flair: PsychoFiddler), when she occasionally responded to comments under her own posts. But that wasn't even the main appeal for many. For a long time, on top of all EA-related topics, the official forum had very active “Off-Topic” subforums, with lively and friendly conversation on a variety of subjects. (There was even a “Filthy Libertines (18+)” sub for a while, which was closed due to preemptive concerns about minors.) Swear words (not slurs) were allowed and encouraged, and moderation was overall pretty loose beyond basic enforcement of civility. There was a lot of mutual support, creativity, and solid banter going around.

It wasn't just about Emilie on the forums. People could chat about almost anything with near free reign, making connections and lifelong friends. ... This community mattered SO MUCH to people. They felt included, accepted, and understood within the walls of the Asylum. People invested their time and creative energy into keeping the forums a vibrant, active community, and made sure that carried over into the real world. ... I've never seen anything like it in a fan space. I doubt I ever will again. (@Asylum_Oracle - “Fandom History” Instagram highlight 🔍📝, which contains most of the sources for this segment.)

And it did, indeed, carry over into the real world. There were numerous meet-ups – a few organized by EA, many more spontaneous. People who didn't know any other EA fans in real life, or were just excited to add new Plague Rats to their friend group, would regularly connect with other forum users from their area to meet up and hang out before EA shows. “Who else is dressing up??”
In 2008, for instance, EA held an afternoon meet-up at Lincoln Park in Chicago. 📺 The event was free to attend; it featured live acoustic music and a reading from EA's upcoming book, the intriguingly-titled Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls.
On the appointed day, EA rolled up in a fabulously tousled red wig, bedazzled white corset and steampunk-altered wedding dress. She had brought friends alongs. Sporting blue hair and a pink bustle and corset was her Chicago bestie, the main forum admin. Rocking a guitar and a top hat was EA's sound engineer, the soft-spoken wizard behind the Victoriandustrial sound, who was also a forum mod. The photographer from the original Opheliac cover art was there as well; he was formally introduced by EA and got his own round of applause.

People who would never normally be involved in an artist's fanbase were in EA's world. And not only were they known – they were respected and incredibly active with the fanbase. These people who managed an online message board were willing to engage in real-world meet-ups (with no security??) because of how tight-knit the community they had built was. People turned out to this event. People traveled to go to this event. It was a short reading of a book that hadn't been released yet, and wouldn't be for some time. Why? Because not only was it a chance to meet Emilie and listen to parts of the new book, but it was also a chance to hang out with their friends from the Asylum. ... The fandom really was a family for a lot of people. (@Asylum_Oracle)

“SERIOUSLY, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

It all started with The End.
The End Records, that is! Quick refresher: in 2009, after three years or so with Trisol, EA split from the label over allegations that the owner was embezzling money from ticket sales. A few months later, she signed with The End Records. Understandably, EA still wanted to sell the album that had made her famous, and to which she had smartly retained the rights – which meant a brand new, “Deluxe” release of Opheliac. (Remember, from part 3? The one you could pre-order as a bundle with the book? Some projects are just cursed, I guess.)
At that point, Opheliac had been released three times already, as recently as the year before, with only slight variations in format and tracklist. (Yes, that is a theme in this story.) The End Records version would feature new cover art and a handful of new tracks, but overall, it was... you know... the same album.
(The following paragraphs are largely sourced from this excellent recap 🔍📝, which also provides potato screenshots for all quotes.)
One fateful day of August 2009, a user started a thread entitled “Opheliac US edition deluxe re-release??” in the “EA News” subforum. In the thread, some people were kind of balking at the re-do, pondering whether to buy the “new” Opheliac or sit this one out. Some expressed that after three years, they were jonesing for a new album. Others shared what B-sides or dream covers they would have liked to see included on the bonus disc. Just... fans being fans, in a fan discussion space.
And then EA jumped out from behind the curtains.

Fan: Okay. Before I start, I just want you to know that I think it's very good that EA is getting more popularity, and that she can release lots of albums, but - are 5 editions of the same album really needed? You may say now “ah, it's not the same, it has 2 bonus tracks” or whatever, but I mean: it's not new material. Now don't get me wrong. I'm happy for it, maybe I'll even buy it, but I'm just wondering if she shouldn't keep herself busy with other (maybe more important) stuff? * hides * EA: Nobody's forcing you to buy it. Thanks.

Record scratch.

Fan 1: is this Opheliac release version number 4? lol If she's recording NEW tracks, then surely they deserve to be sold by themselves, otherwise people are going to have to buy an album that they may have already bought twice (like me!). But... alas, I am a fool and adore everything this woman does... im buying it lol Fan 2: exactly – if it was just reissuing the last version of Opheliac to tap into new markets that would be fine (...) but if they start adding extra bits of material to albums people already have then the true muffins are going to feel obliged to buy new copies (...) EA: How exactly are you obliged to buy anything? Nobody is forcing you to spend a fucking penny, my dears. I suppose it would make more sense to you to simply not have my records available any more as the old label I just escaped from will no longer be distributing them? Forgive me for adding extra tracks. No obligation necessary.

...Okay, so I'm pretty sure that we can see both sides of the argument here. Fans are annoyed at the idea of spending money on barely-anything-new, because they love EA and buy every single CD she releases. EA is exasperated by fans acting like she's twisting their arm and somehow resenting the inclusion of new material, when she was just ensuring that her album would remain available for purchase and trying to keep things interesting.
But maybe we can also agree that those replies should have been screamed into a pillow rather than typed out on a keyboard.
EA was getting increasingly (and, I'll just say it: disproportionately) sarcastic and defensive in her replies. Enter poor FantineDormouse.
FantineDormouse meant well, I think. Maybe she thought, she's spiraling. Maybe she thought, friends don't let friends go down that road. Granted, FantineDormouse probably should have known better than to phrase it the way she did. Or to assume that EA perceived her as a friend.
Either way, at some point, FantineDormouse jumped in and posted the comment that finally made EA lose it. THE comment which, overnight, ended the honeymoon period of the Asylum, triggering a doomsday domino effect from which the fandom would never truly recover. Are you comfortably seated?

FantineDormouse: Uhm, Emilie, love, I don't mean to sound rude or anything... but maybe you should have a cup of tea and relax a little.

...
* sound of archduke getting shot *

EA: Excuse me? You can throw this onslaught of absolute cruel bullshit at me and those I work with in my own space that I own, and I can't say anything back? How fucking patronizing. Relax? Are you fucking kidding me? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? FD: I'm not trying to piss you off even more, Emilie. And trust me, I have to deal with it myself, and as much as I would really love to punch the cunts I have to deal with in the face, I don't. You're pissed off, I get it. You're bipolar, which makes it 10x worse, I get that. I'm just not the person to stand around and do nothing when a fight where I'm pretty sure there will be a lot of regret is going on.

Famous last words. Literally! Immediately after EA delivered her irate closing statement – which includes one of my all-time favorite EA zingers, bolded...

EA: I cannot believe this... You just don't stop, do you? So just because I've shared the personal information with you all that I happen to be bipolar, I can't get pissed off at all of you being perfectly awful in the very space that I pay fuckloads a month to have up (has it ever occurred to you all that I pay dearly for this space you play around in?) Why not just tell me that I must be upset because it's my time of the month? Seriously, get the fuck out of my house. You are unbelievable, and your level of patronization is almost criminal. Don't make me write another book. With muffins like you, who needs enemies? Nothing I say or feel is legitimate, not ever ever ever because I'm bipolar... discredited before I begin... unbelievable...

...FantineDormouse got permabanned.
Jaws dropped. After days of infighting between white knights, detractors, and crossfire negotiators, several mod resignations, and general mayhem surrounding the ban, EA made a post entitled “In Which: I Invite You to Make a Fucking Choice.” 📝 For brevity's sake (cue laugh track), I can't reproduce it in all of its righteous splendor, but it's quite a read. It runs the gamut from fair and articulate points about how mental illness shouldn't be used to discredit someone's legitimate anger... to histrionic commands that “deserters to the cause” should “turn in their weapons” if they can't handle her way of doing things.

To those of you who appear not to understand why said posts, most especially those of the banned party, were offensive to me, I give you the option to either educate yourselves on your own time and in your own space (because please never forget that this is my space that I share with all of you at my own expense, and in which I generally give you all the freedom I would wish for myself), or to resign your posts in the Asylum Army – this is not the place for you, and I humbly suggest that you turn your attention and support towards other artists of a more placid, non-controversial, and less opinionated nature; there are more than enough of them out there, and I’m sure they all have forums of their own.

Some fans did leave. Most stuck around, whiplashed. Soon, the storm quieted down, and business as usual resumed on the forum. But something had been damaged beyond repair. The FantineDormouse fiasco had erected walls and drawn lines in the sand, both around EA and among her fans; its sad specter would haunt every Asylum crisis that spiked up forever after. “Fucking Patronizing Fucking” or “FPF” 🔍 became memetic shorthand in the fandom for overreaction and self-righteousness. 🐀
...And now you understand why, in the following years, some fans were so delicate and diplomatic in voicing their very legitimate complaints about messed-up orders, unsigned books, and puzzling lies... while unofficial platforms like Tumblr flourished with pent-up resentment and snark. 🦠

A NOTE ON HARASSMENT: “MAD GIRL, CAN YOU BELIEVE WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO YOU?”

Wouldn't they stop When you asked them to leave you alone? (“Mad Girl”, 2008 🎵)

Now, let's be clear, because it should not be minimized: EA has also been the target of genuine online harassment. Based on the simple fact that she is a woman with a public presence on the internet, I have zero doubt that EA has received (and perhaps continues to receive) more than her share of truly vile, bigoted, creepy and threatening messages – and, knowing what I know about the darker recesses of the Asylum, a terrifying amount of emotional blackmail and obsessive projection from people who hold her to punitively high standards. I'm also inclined to believe that it started way before she ever did anything that warranted any backlash. And that fucking sucks. It's repulsive and inexcusable, and the people who harass her should crawl into a hole and live among the worms.
Notwithstanding. In my decade-plus of following EA drama, the public comments on EA's own platforms (where people knew she was likely to be reading) have been, for the most part... civil and nuanced, and relatively mindful of the human? Even very confrontational comments (some clearly written from a place of anger and desire to shame) rarely resorted to outright name-calling or cruelty. When abusive or bigoted language did crop up, it was often promptly shut down by other fans as gross and uncalled for. In short: I have, with mine own two eyes, in real time, read some of the comment sections that EA described as cesspools of blind rage and odious attacks, and... I just couldn't see it.
If anything, for a long time, a lot of the angry comments directed at EA during any given controversy read more like break-up letters to an ex-best friend: harsh, curt and targeted in a way that cuts deep.... but also kind of screams how much love you still have for this person, against your better judgement.
Not that it wouldn't mess a person up to get hundred of those in a matter of hours, even if they don't individually qualify as “abusive”.
It's worth noting that prior to becoming semi-famous and regretting it, EA was also (by her own account and among other forms of abuse) a victim of intense childhood bullying. It feels like the two situations are closely connected in her mind when her focus seamlessly transitions from one to the other. 📺 I don't think that tremor in her voice is put on.
Based on her writings, I get the feeling that over the years, EA has developed a very black-and-white view of two monolithic groups of people. There's (an idealized vision of) her “real audience”, well-dressed, well-read, kind-hearted, and Asylum-savvy, who she fully trusts to “get it” – and buy it, and love it, unquestioningly, whatever “it” may be at any given time – because that is the true measure of love and loyalty. These are the people she makes art and merch for, the people she writes heart-emoji-filled newsletters to, and desperately longs to see in person again.
And then there's the lynch mob, those who really don't “get it”: the trolls, the faceless creeps, the basement-dwelling mouthbreathers, the ones who stalk her every move obsessively, waiting for any chance to spam her with vicious abuse and slander and obscenities. The latter only exist online (they are manifested into arbitrary existence by the internet itself, not by anything EA said or did), and there is zero overlap between the two sets of people. That seems to be the official narrative.

The "public eye" isn't an [enviable] place to be, and the closer I've come to it, the more horrified I've been. Because, for starters, who is "the public?" Is "the public" my audience? Hell no. My audience is special. They are not the general public. If they were the general public I would be a lot wealthier. The "public eye" means getting stalked, harassed, viscously judged, and put in danger. If I do things in the future that gain notoriety, I will do them in spite of fame, not because of it. I am out for world domination, but not fame. (Interview for The Moaning Times, 2014 📝)

In real life (well, mostly online, but I mean: on this shared plane of existence), things play out slightly differently. The Venn diagram of “true blue fans” and “people who criticize EA" and "people who know way too much about EA” is a circle. The call is 100% coming from inside the Asylum, and I think EA rationally knows that. But here's the thing: no matter how many shows and meet-and-greets you've dressed up for, how many loving and supportive comments you've left, or how many family heirlooms you once pawned to purchase a copy of the not-for-sale 2003 DJ pressing of Enchant... the instant EA feels attacked, everyone is a saboteur and a bully until proven otherwise, and suspected treason is dealt with on the spot. One strike, you're out. Unfortunately for everyone involved, her threshold for bullying seems to be “any remotely thoughtless opinion from any stranger on the internet”.
It makes for outstanding human-interest entertainment... but it also sounds an awful lot like the unhealthy patterns of a person suffering from all sorts of PTSD. 🔍 So, please bear that in mind as you read through this write-up. It's easy to make EA out to be the sole villain, a paranoid and delusional drama queen, based on her extreme reactions to things that often “weren't that bad”. Anything can, in fact, be “that bad” when you're thrown back into the very worst moments of your existence every time your brain decides that the situation is even remotely similar.
PTSD takes over your rational mind and actively distorts your perception of reality. That can be how a person ends up impulse-reacting to “a few people expressing an unfavorable opinion” as if the entire internet had just ganged up on them with knives. Which makes their audience feel unjustly accused, which makes them hostile, which gives the person actual good reason to feel attacked... and so the cycle of hurt continues.

You know the games I play And the words I say When I want my own way You know the lies I tell When you've gone through hell And I say I can't stay You know how hard it can be To keep believing in me When everything and everyone Becomes my enemy, and when There's nothing more you can do I'm gonna blame it on you – It's not the way I wanna be I only hope that in the end You will see: It's the Opheliac in me... (“Opheliac”, 2006 🎵)

And YES, it is extremely regrettable to have this as a trigger, when you're a public figure and you're bound to receive more negative feedback than the average citizen. “It's what she signed up for”, “it comes with the territory” and all that jazz. I really don't think EA was unaware of that fact when she decided to become a musician, share her personal life, and form an intense parasocial bond with her audience. But maybe she underestimated how hard it would be to process and recover from.
Just because you expect something unpleasant to happen, doesn't mean your psyche will be ready to handle it when it does – or that you'll pick the best and most effective strategy to deal with it.

A MADHOUSE UNDER MARTIAL LAW: MARCHING INTO THE FORUM WARS

There are two sides to every story... except for this one! (“If I Burn”, 2012 🎵)

You may have noted the military imagery in EA's “Make a Fucking Choice” response post – “resign your post in the Asylum Army”! What do psychiatry and the military have in common? They're both institutions of top-down social control. 🔍 EA's mixed metaphor may be a bit clunky, but it did foreshadow the evolution of the Asylum – in terms of aesthetics and power dynamics – in the years that followed the FantineDormouse incident and the release of The Book.
EA's next big release after the Asylum book came in 2012. It was a new album, an outline of the soon-to-be Asylum musical, called Fight Like a Girl (FLAG for short). As the name suggests, the main mood was bellicose. Incidentally, in the interim years, EA's communication style generally became noticeably more combative, incendiary, and (within her own spaces) controlling.📝 You remember those quirky word filters on the forum, that would change “fan” to “muffin” and “bra” to “teacup holder”? They kind of took on a Nineteen-Eighty-Four-burlesque flavor when you realized that one filter automatically changed “Fischkopf” to “Liddell” - and that circumventing the rule to address her totally real last name would get you banned, as would any discussion of her family. (“Wikipedia, random internet sites and heresay are not credible sources.” - Mod reminder of forum rules, 2010.)
Also, you try sustaining a serious, grown-up conversation among concerned fans about how Emilie Autumn should “take ratsponsibility for her mistakes out of ratspect for her muffins”. Thus, the official Asylum forum kept a tight grip on overt criticism of EA's claims and actions.

The Emilie Autumn forum is a dystopian hell. Truth be told, when I decided to leave you could not do anything but gush about Emilie. Otherwise all of her extremist arse kissing fans will be down your throat, ripping you apart in seconds, if you so much as questioned her behaviour. So much for freedom of opinion, let alone the idea of creating a harmonious community for ‘outcasts’. Hahaha. (2014 🐀)

The word filter thing really wasn't a big deal – I'm just pointing it out as one goofy expression of EA's need to control the narrative and rhetoric, which became especially noticeable in those post-book, pre-FLAG years. By that point, EA's fuse had been shortened by near on half a decade of non-stop touring / recording / writing / promoting / adjusting to the pressure and demands of an ever-growing fanbase, while also dealing with a horrorshow of personal turmoil and health issues behind the scenes. In other words: she was done taking any shit, in any form, or humoring anyone's ridiculous feedback regarding anything.
To be fair, it was never her forte to begin with. Will it come as a shock if I tell you that EA doesn't have the greatest track record for successful collaborative work? Let's do a quick-cut montage!
EA's very first corporate sponsor was her mother's “Enchant Clothing & Costume” online store 🔍; she went on to claim that her mother was dead. She sessioned for Billy Corgan, that went super well. 🎵 She liked Courtney Love for a minute, but that didn't work out because she felt that Courtney only valued her for her pee. 📝 (It probably didn't help that in early 2006, while EA was recording her post-break-up-tell-all album about Corgan, C-Love was recording her post-rehab-redemption album with Corgan. 🔍 Either way, EA didn't seem to like Courtney anymore after that. Courtney likes her, though! 📝) The one artist EA has ever approached for a duet (and by approached, I mean she recorded a demo and threw the CD on stage when he played Chicago in 2004) was, of all people, Morrissey. That never came to pass, thank mercy 🔍 – this fandom has suffered enough. In 2005, EA recorded some haunting vocals and violins for a potential collab with the frontman of Attrition. When, three years later, they were used on one track 🎵 of Attrition's All Mine Enemies Whisper, she alleged 📝 that the recordings had been obtained from her under the false pretense of a different project, then hideously altered to sound “out of tune”, and used without her permission. She enlisted her fans to boycott the album and the band, and threatened legal action. Meanwhile, on LiveJournal and Attrition's message boards, band associates were appalled: according to them, EA had been aware of the project's nature from the start... and had been completely unreachable, even through her label, during the months of its development. (Besides, Attrition is a semi-obscure English darkwave band from the 80s, whose micro-distributed albums don't even have their own Wikipedia pages... so I wonder what EA was hoping to get out of that theoretical lawsuit. These people own nothing but vintage gain pedals!) The song “Cold Hard Cash” 🎤 by Angelspit (who contributed a remix to one of her EPs in 2008) may or may not be an EA diss track. 🐀 Back when indie jewelry brand RockLove (which now has licensing deals with Disney, Marvel, and DC) was still someone's bedroom project, their first drop was an EA-inspired collection 🔍, which appears in many early Opheliac photoshoots. The partnership was terminated on bad terms, for unclear reasons; the RockLove owner shared in a statement that EA had “drunk the cool-aid” of Trisol Guy's shady business practices, and that the two of them had been spamming her with “crazed angry message[s]” for days.
Why am I talking about this? Because it was precisely one such ill-fated business partnership that triggered the Great Asylum Secession.
One fine day of spring 2010, the owner of vegan make-up brand Aromaleigh popped onto the Asylum forum to announce that they were cutting ties with EA, with damning receipts of copy-pasted emails (lost to time). Basically, the brand had been sponsoring her for half a decade, and while Aromaleigh had been actively promoting her music and tours, EA hadn't exactly been returning the favor. (Indeed, the extent of EA's sponcon seemed to have been a banner link to their website on her front page, and a single “random drunken endorsement” LiveJournal post that kind of reads like satire📝, from 2005.)
EA responded by banning the owner's account, deleting the thread, and posting this flippant statement a few days later:

Dearest Plague Rats, To be honest, I have no idea of what the hell happened with Aromaleigh, and I don't care to find out – the whole drama is a complete mystery to me, as I've been away for months touring and have not been in contact with anyone. All I know is that I've been promoting the company for ages and have not asked them for anything in years. (...) Please focus on more interesting things. I am. (“Save the Drama...” forum post, March 2010)

Posts questioning her good faith in the conflict were deleted from the forum. Shortly thereafter, citing how prolific and labor-intensive the Asylum forum had grown, EA shut down all non-EA related subforums – which, among many other topics, included a pretty active thread about Aromaleigh products.
So one Plague Rat decided to create a separate, members-only forum 📝, where users could recreate some of the now-defunct off-topic threads... and also freely voice their critical opinions of EA's behavior without fear of backlash from mods or rabid stans. Thus, “The Reform” was born. (Reform [n]: amendment of what is defective, vicious, corrupt, or depraved.)
For a few weeks, the two-state solution seemed to work fine. And then word spread among forum mods and other diehard fans that there was this horrid other forum, where obsessive haters gathered to spew disgusting lies and vitriol about EA... and soon enough, it was bedlam in the Asylum.
Any explicit mention of the Reform was forbidden on the Asylum forum. Suspicion of participation in the Reform would get you banned. The party line was that The Reform was the enemy 🐀 – even though a number of people were active on both forums, because they liked freedom of expression almost as much as they liked EA. Double agents would lurk on the forum and report back with snark material; sycophants would infiltrate the Reform to identify traitors – much to the amusement of the “haters”, who mocked them and their ilk for “licking EA's pink sparkly boots”. There was no containing the seething, or the sass, among Asylum ranks.
Pretty soon, the insubordination spread to Tumblr. There was the “Ask the Reform” Q&A blog, where questioning fans could interact with “Rebel Rats”, get more details on past drama, and make up their own minds about the people EA called bullies.
And then, there were the “confession blogs”, which published anonymous submissions about EA, positive, negative or neutral, with little censorship. Finally, you didn't even have to pick a throw-away username on a private forum to voice your hottest / strangest / most controversial EA takes. Fans could vent, rant, lament, wonder, shitpost to their heart's content, anonymously. Obviously, given the context of frustration and censorship in the fandom, a lot of the first waves of confessions were EXTREMELY negative.
EA's acolyte Veronica managed to get the first one shut down. If memory serves, she misunderstood the confession blog format, and may have believed that all the posts on “Emilie Autumn Confessions” came from one or a small group of individuals. She was genuinely devastated, and wrote the blog admin to let them know that they were a terrible person who said terrible things. The admin was mortified, apologized profusely and deleted the blog of their own initiative. (Which goes to show that the concept did not come from cruel and malicious anti-fans, as detractors often claimed.)
But a new blog sprung up almost immediately, with a different mod team, and did not surrender. And much like in EA's own book, once the Plague Rats found out that they possessed the gift of speech... well, they really took to it.
Established in 2011 and passed on through generation after generation of mod teams to the present day, Wayward Victorian Confessions would turn out to be the longest-lived institution in the EA fandom. For over a decade now, through all the bleakest nights and dankest debacles of the Asylum, and despite its initial reputation as a troll den, WVC has acted as a kind of neutral ground and vox populi for the active fanbase and anti-fanbase. (The last nominally-active EA fansite to date, She Fights Like a Girl, is actually an offshoot of WVC: one of the old admins created it as a database to answer “frequently asked questions” about EA.)
Wayward Victorian Confessions has now outlived every other EA platform, official and unofficial. Were it not for the continued existence of the “troll den”, what little fan community survives in 2024 would be non-existent, plain and simple. To quote from late 20th century Canadian philosophy: isn't it ironic?

I feel like [WVC] is the only place I feel any of that old Asylum community kind of feeling I felt before EA got so focused on the book. It sucks that it’s so full of unhappiness, and I wish she hadn’t poisoned the sanctuary she claimed to have built. It’s just kind of fallen apart, like a crumbling building. (🐀 2016)

CONTINUED IN COMMENTS

ABOUT ME
I wrote a money diary in October 2022. Since then, my boyfriend P. has been upgraded to fiance (we are getting married in July!) and my beloved Trash Cat has had enucleation surgery (we now call the vet “The Eye Snatcher”). I still work as a technology specialist in higher education. In December 2023, I discovered HR input my salary wrong when I first started my current job—the contract I signed stated my salary as $65,000, but they input it as $60,000. I got a hefty portion of back pay. I am currently making about $67,000/year.
P. and I still split expenses 50/50 (somewhat imperfectly) and do not have any combined accounts. We input shared expenses into this spreadsheet and then settle the difference once a month. His salary is about $75,000. He recently cashed out about $15,000 from a 529 plan he never used (he didn’t go to college) and will be creating a CD ladder with this money to save for a down payment.
ASSETS & DEBT
Retirement balance: $6,542.66 in my 403(b) and $2,688.03 in my Roth IRA. In my last money diary, I felt guilty about my retirement balance because I didn’t really start until the age of 25 and for a year my contributions went uninvested. I feel much better about it now. This summer, I’ll qualify for employer-matched contributions to my 403(b), which will improve my progress even more.
Equity: maybe one day????
Savings account balance: $1,291.23 in an emergency fund, $160.32 in a recently-started down payment fund.
Checking account balance: $3,052.37
Credit card debt: $4,651 on credit card 1, $0 on credit card 2. Unfortunately, I’ve had 3 major setbacks in recent months: Trash Cat’s surgery ($2,200), new tires/maintenance on my car ($2,300), and an unexpected hotel stay when P.’s nephew passed away just before Christmas ($1,000). P. and I split Trash Cat’s surgery and the hotel stay, so the total I’ve put on my card in recent months is $3,900. I was down to about $800 in debt prior to all this fun stuff.
Student loan debt: $75,000 in public loans for a bachelor’s degree in Education and a master’s degree in English. This was technically a “bad choice” because I did use my loans for living expenses during grad school, but I honestly do not regret it. I LOVED grad school, even though most of it happened online due to the pandemic, and I sincerely believe it made me a better, more thoughtful, and empathetic person. Since the university I work for now is a certified non-profit organization, I will eventually qualify for PSLF if I stay here or within the field of accredited higher education.
Car debt: I owe $2,754 on my Toyota.
INCOME
Income progression: I have worked steadily at part-time jobs since age 16. I’ve been in educational tech for 3 years; my starting salary was $18/hour as a customer service associate, which was around $42,000 annually with overtime. When I started my current job almost 2 years ago, my salary jumped to $65,000 (which ended up being funky, see ABOUT ME above). My current salary, after it was adjusted and I received a 3% raise, is now $67,000.
Monthly take-home pay: $3,355.90 after deductions
Side gig income: None. I quit tutoring because I started taking night classes back in the fall.
Parental Support: As I mentioned in my money diary last year, my parents contributed about $22,000 to rent/car expenses during my “adult” (college) life. My dad is also paying for our wedding “reception,” which is a private dinner at a restaurant for 15 people (estimated cost $5,000). I hinted heavily at Financial Trauma in my last diary, an issue I’ve mostly overcome thanks to my incredible therapist. I might write a more detailed post on healing Financial Trauma and my experience with it…let me know if you’d be interested in reading something like that :)
EXPENSES
Rent: $787.50 (P. and I split rent 50/50; our total rent is $1,575)
Renter’s & car insurance: $1,321/year, which averages out to $110.83/month (not split).
Health insurance: $394.46/month before tax for health and dental. Once P. and I get married, I am hopping on his insurance.
Retirement contribution: $257.50/month pre-tax into my 403(b). I also transfer $50/month into a Roth IRA.
Savings contribution: $200/month to emergency fund, $50/month to down payment fund
Debt payments: $260/month for my car payment, $60/month for my student loan payment (this is wildly low because I am on an income-driven repayment plan. Due to the ongoing Federal Battles, I have not had to recertify my income, so this payment is based on my 2019 income. I also pay at least $500/month towards my credit card debt. Since this is a three paycheck month (and my third paycheck will be a “deduction holiday”), I am paying $1,000 towards it this month. P. does not contribute towards my debt.
Utilities: P. and I split internet, water, electricity, and trash evenly: usually about $175/month for my half, $350 total.
Cellphone: $65/month (we each pay for our own phones).
Subscriptions: Spotify for $10.99/month, Hulu for $7.99/month, Monarch (web budgeting app) for $50/year (this is a discounted price; it will jump to $80/year next year). None of these expenses are split.
Gym membership: $36/monthly for gym membership; $500/quarter for personal training (not split).
Pet expenses: P. and I split this expense; generally $100/month for my half, $200/month total.
Therapy: $25/week (not split).
MONEY DIARY
DAY 1: FRIDAY
😴 7 AM: P. shakes me awake. I reluctantly get up, go to the bathroom, and change into leggings and a sweater dress. After I give Trash Cat his morning medicine, I kiss P. goodbye and I’m out the door. I listen to the Sinisterhood podcast on my drive to work and try to stop for coffee, but the drive-thru line is backed up into the street and causing traffic, so I skip it.
💄8 AM: I put on my makeup in the bathroom at work; this has become my new routine since I was diagnosed with sleep apnea because the extra few minutes of sleep are now a medical necessity. I use Covergirl skinmilk foundation, elf lash and roll mascara, and elf instant brow pencil. Sometimes I use elf lip stain (big elf fan over here) but don’t bother today.
😈 9 AM: I meet with the university’s academic technology team to help them set up a feedback survey for a new grading tool they piloted this semester. We also bitch a little about some difficulties we’ve had this week with faculty. An important thing to know about me is that I am a hater to my innermost core.
🥪12 PM: After spending most of the morning replying to emails, updating tickets, and watching budgeting videos on YouTube, I realize I forgot my lunch at home. Since digging myself back into credit card debt, I’ve made a conscious effort to bring my lunch to work and spend less on convenience food, so I’m pretty annoyed with myself. A quick trip to the library cafe yields a turkey sub, a green smoothie, and a giant cookie ($14.47). I eat at my desk while making some money moves (it’s payday!). $200 goes to my credit card to cover my therapy copay and the pair of Hokas I bought my mom for her birthday earlier this week. I also transfer $500 to my savings account. $214.47
👣5 PM: I pack up and make the short drive over to my friend’s apartment. It was a spectacularly unproductive day; if I’m being honest, I’ve been feeling burnt out and need a break, but I’m trying to save my vacation days for our wedding. My friend and I walk around one of my favorite neighborhoods in the city and catch up. We also go to Whole Foods before she heads to the gym. I grab some specialty canned beans, tofu, tortilla chips, Chomps, and some Poppi sodas ($35.23).
🐱8 PM: I eat one of my favorite lazy meals for dinner—refried beans mixed with quinoa, salsa verde, and shredded cheese with tortilla chips—and watch a few episodes of Home Economics on Hulu. I get sucked into TikTok for a little while before brushing my teeth and taking my meds. I go to bed around 10:30 PM while snuggling Trash Cat.
Daily Total: $249.70
DAY 2: SATURDAY
🚿 8:30 AM: Quick shower before changing into a blue sundress and a white button up. I do my makeup and feed Trash Cat. I’m out the door a little past 9 AM to head to book club.
📚10 AM: This month, we’re having book club at an adorable little tea room. We read Romancing Mr. Bridgerton and obviously love a ✨theme✨ so the four of us spend an hour talking about the book, eating tiny finger sandwiches, and drinking approximately 5 gallons of tea. One of my good friends from grad school, R., started this book club a few months ago and it has been such a joy to get together with awesome women on a regular basis. We also commiserate over family problems—R does a dramatic reading of an outrageous text from my dad before we go our separate ways ($38.10).
💍12 PM: I received an email yesterday from our jeweler that my wedding ring is done and realize I’m much closer to the jewelry shop than I am to home. I call P. to ask if he’d be okay with me picking it up. He is. I swing by the shop and try on my ring; it is so beautiful and fits perfectly! I wear it on my drive home and can’t stop admiring it. P. put down $400 when we met with the jeweler a few months ago, so I pay $821.88 to take it home. P. sends me that exact amount on Venmo. (technically, I pay nothing).
😵2 PM: I eat more of my refried bean lazy meal and watch some episodes of The Rookie on Hulu. The rest of the day is spent fielding calls and texts from my sister, brother, and sister-in-law about my mother’s birthday dinner tomorrow. It is bringing up ✨trauma✨ for all of us.
😴9 PM: A very lazy night routine of brushing my teeth, taking off my makeup with a wipe, take my meds, and drinking water while listening to a podcast as I fall asleep.
Daily Total: $38.10
DAY 3: SUNDAY
🎁10:30 AM: Roll out of bed, make some Kodiak protein waffles, and call my youngest brother, who is 22. He and I are very close, but I still carry a lot of guilt about how much I couldn’t—and can’t—protect him from. I offer to pick out a gift for Mom “from him” since he has to head to the airport to retrieve our parents and he agrees.
🧀12 PM: I go to a gift shop in the next town over and pick out a pair of gold vermeil earrings. They’re $225. I buy them and tell my brother to Venmo me $175 (so technically I spend $50). After, I pop over to Wegmans, which is in the same shopping plaza, and pick up quesadillas, seltzers, fried rice, and spicy chicken for lunch ($41.55 total, $20.77 for my half). $70.77.
🧼1 PM: P. and I eat lunch on the couch while watching YouTube. Afterwards, I channel my irritation into cleaning the apartment. I vacuum, swiffer, put away dishes, and wipe down the bathroom. P. takes out the trash and recycling and starts some laundry.
🍾4 PM: We meet my other brother (I have two—this one is also younger but closer in age to me, 27) and my sister-in-law at a bar to pregame for Mom's birthday dinner. Is this healthy? Probably not. Does it work? Yes. I pay for all our drinks ($112.02)
🙄5 PM: Dinner time. A bunch of my aunts and uncles are there, too, so we sit at the “kid’s table” with my siblings and one of my cousins. I order Jameson and ginger and a fancy cheeseburger. Maybe it’s the liquid courage, or the fact I went into this with extraordinarily low expectations, but I have a surprisingly good time…until my dad starts to fight with the waitress about separate checks for the separate tables. He didn’t mention it at the beginning of the meal, and considering we have 17 people at three different tables, the waitress understandably says no. It gets to the point where my brother just hands her his credit card to put an end to it. He doesn’t tell me how much the total bill is; P. and I venmo him $100 each ($100).
🍋7 PM: The fun isn’t over! We head back to my parents’ house for cake and presents. I eat lemon cake with ice cream and give my mom the Hokas I bought her earlier in the week. She loves the earrings from my brother, and he thanks me for helping him.
💤11 PM: We finally leave. I fall asleep on the way home. I thank P. for being such a supportive partner, take my meds, and promptly fall asleep again.
Daily total: $282.79
DAY 4: MONDAY
🤕8 AM: I make it out of bed and over to the computer. I respond to emails, update a few tickets, and purchase a knee brace from Amazon ($24.01). I LOVE going to the gym and I’m trying to lose weight for health reasons, but the past few days my left knee has been stiff and achy to the point that it hurts to go up and down the stairs. I have a doctor’s appointment this week so I can tell my primary care physician then, but I want to go for a walk to clear my head. I drink a Liquid IV.
🍜11 AM: P. picks up brunch from one of our favorite local restaurants. Their biscuits and gravy bowl is incredible. ($27.58 total, $*13.79 *for my half).
🥟4 PM: I jump in the car and run to Petsmart to pick up pill pockets and food for Trash Cat. Even though he came from a dumpster, he has decided he’ll only eat the fancy cat food. ($64.78 total, $32.39 **for my half). Then I go to Wegmans for some more groceries: tomatoes, cucumbers, frozen dumplings, lettuce, seltzer, onions, brussel sprouts, and turkey burgers. ($68.22 total, $34.11 **for my half).
🍅6 PM: P. and I eat dinner while watching the John Oliver episode on libraries (stop banning books, losers!!!!). It’s one of our other favorite lazy meals: quinoa with fancy canned beans with chopped up peppers, onions, and tomatoes. I drink a seltzer with dinner and then do some chores and take a shower.
🦷10 PM: Stayed up later than I meant to scrolling TikTok and Reddit. Whoops! I brush my teeth and turn off the lights.
Daily total: $104.30
DAY 5: TUESDAY
🧇8 AM: Roll out of bed and walk 5 steps to my computer. After checking email and signing in, I make protein waffles for breakfast and put on my new knee brace that was delivered last night.
💩10 AM: I take a quick break from writing technical documentation to fold some laundry and tidy up the kitchen. I give Trash Cat some treats and clean out the litterbox. He is a stinky boy.
👨‍💻1:30 PM: I run a meeting with my boss and grandboss about the documentation project I’m currently spearheading. We are migrating into a new (and easier) documentation system, which means I need to export, update, and organize all our current documentation. They’re both pleased with my progress and the next goals I’ve outlined. Maybe I am good at my job? Afterwards, I eat some refried beans with tortilla chips and a seltzer.
🤬4:30 PM: I get a very rude email from a faculty member saying he cannot access a file a student shared with him (and grades are due tonight). He sends me a screenshot and it turns out…he’s clicking the wrong button. I explain the correct steps and attach the student’s file, but I’m so agitated that I sign out early and go for a walk. The weather is beautiful, and I try not to think about the email, but I keep stewing over it. The worst part of working in higher ed is the entitlement - I am often treated like “the help” by the Impossibly Busy Big Brained Professors Who Don’t Have Time For Glitches (FYI, glitches do not care whether you have time for them or not).
📱6 PM: P. and I eat leftovers of our fancy canned bean bowls for dinner and feed Trash Cat. I numb out by scrolling for about 3 hours.
🙄9 PM: I go to bed, but keep thinking about that damn email and then beat myself up for being so sensitive and giving that professor so much of my mental energy off the clock.
Daily total: $0
DAY 6: WEDNESDAY
🥯7 AM: Get out of bed, throw some clothes into my gym bag, get dressed, and run out the door. I stop at Dunkin on the way to work to get an iced coffee and some stuffed bagel minis ($5.45).
🧘‍♀️10 AM: I log into my virtual therapy appointment from my office and talk for 40 minutes straight about everything I am struggling with: my routine is out of whack thanks to my mom’s dinner; I’m mad at my parents, my sister, and my job; my knee is killing me so I can’t work out; I have been a shitty partner and cat mom this week; I am scrolling to numb out instead of reading or relaxing in a meaningful way. My therapist helps me come up with an action plan. I put my phone on bedtime mode to turn it to black and white, make plans with P. for a cozy date night at home this weekend, and bookmark a few jobs to apply for. She reminds me I am a supportive sister and partner and relationships are not 50/50 every single day. We end with a meditation about releasing anger.
☁️11 AM: I meet with a staff member in admissions over Zoom to discuss file back-up in preparation for his new computer. He is actually already synced to our cloud system, meaning that all files are backed up, so the meeting is easy. He asks a few questions about the cloud system and how it works and also provides feedback on some of the tools he feels need guidelines or best practices for usage.
📽️12 PM: Lunch is the last of the fancy bean bowl leftovers and a seltzer (I am a creature of habit). While I eat, I watch budgeting videos on YouTube. I get an email that my credit card has been charged for my therapy copay ($25).
🙃3 PM: I meet virtually with a professor who is, technologically speaking, extremely high-need. I watch her rename and organize files for about an hour. Inevitably, she moves them to the wrong place, accidentally deletes the entire file name, etc. On the bright side, she is very sweet and appreciative of my guidance.
💪4:45 PM: I duck out early to drive to the gym. I let my trainer know what is going on with my knee, so we decide to hit upper today. I only started weightlifting in November and I’ve found I love it so much I am willing to shell out for personal training. After doing my best not to side-eye the men with terrible form (if you need to use your knees to complete a bicep curl, the weight is too heavy), I stretch out and grab dinner from Qdoba: a chicken bowl for me and a steak burrito for P ($24.66 total, $*12.33 *for my half).
🤙7 PM: I call my youngest brother while eating dinner. He is the only one living at home with my parents and needs to vent about what’s going on. I do my best to validate his feelings and remind him he can stop by our apartment whenever he needs to. I wish I could do more.
🚿8 PM: I pack my Qdoba leftovers for lunch, take a shower, and crawl into bed with some sleepy tea and a book.
Daily total: $42.78
DAY 7: THURSDAY
🦶5:30 AM: P. wakes me up by tickling my feet. It is not enjoyable, but it is highly effective. I grab my leftovers and head to the gym.
🚲7 AM: I finish up my cardio workout on the bike, take a quick shower, and change into my work clothes. It’s a little unfair that exercise actually does make you feel better. On the way to work, I stop at Dunkin for iced coffee again but resist getting a snack ($3.31).
🥤9 AM: My morning work consists of emails, tickets, and updating some website pages. I also find a job listing on LinkedIn at another university which is a step up from my current position. A quick look at Glassdoor shows it has a higher employee satisfaction rating than the institution where I work now, and the salary range for this position is at least $10k higher than my current salary. I spend a bit of time fine-tuning my resume and drafting a cover letter while researching the university. It has a much nicer fitness center and a smoothie bar? I know, I know, the grass is always greener…
📚10 AM: Quick walk over to the library for an appointment with the archival specialist. We discuss how to back up her files in preparation for her new computer. She gives me a tour of the rare book collection - first editions of Jane Eyre and David Copperfield, plus a copy of the Nuremberg Chronicle from the fifteenth century. Very cool. For about five minutes, I consider going back to school to get a master’s degree in library science.
🌶️11 AM: Early lunch of my Qdoba leftovers, tortilla chips, and seltzer since I didn’t have breakfast.
🖥️2 PM: I meet with my manager to discuss the documentation project and a new hire initiative in collaboration with HR. The spring semester is officially over, so we have more time on our hands to do some maintenance, clean-up, and proactive support.
🧀5 PM: Work is over! I stop at the grocery store to buy brie, crackers, oat milk, toilet paper, paper towels, and a cup of macaroni. My period is coming and I always crave cheese ($49.55 total, $*24.77 *for my half).
🍴6 PM: P. and I eat a dinner of brie, crackers, and brussel sprouts while watching a few cooking videos on YouTube. We talk about how “emotionally charged” I’ve been for the past few days (P. uses the phrase—he never, ever calls me crazy, irritable, moody, etc.). Eating cheese makes me feel better. Trash Cat and I watch a few episodes of Brooklyn 99.
💊8 PM: Quick shower, meds, and podcasts. I start to doze off.
📞9:30 PM: My brother calls me. I’m confused and groggy, so I miss the call but text him immediately asking if everything is okay. He lets me know he will be fine and I promise to call him tomorrow. It takes me a little while longer to fall asleep; P. comes to bed around 10 PM for cuddles.
Daily total: $28.08
WEEKLY TOTALS (edited)
Total Spent: $745.45
Food + Drink: $375.95
Fun / Entertainment: $38.10
Home + Health: $49.01
Clothes + Beauty: $0
Transport: $0
Credit card: $200
Gift: $50
Pets: $32.39
REFLECTION
This was an above-average spending week for me with my mom’s birthday. Emotionally, it was also not a great week for me, and I often tend to spend more money when I’m upset, although I’ve apparently channeled that compulsion into grocery shopping. I am also trying to test out if smaller, more frequent grocery trips are better for us, since weekly shopping often means we throw out produce or meat.
I’m working on a) digging myself out of credit card debt and b) regulating my emotions, especially when it comes to my family. This particular stressor, and its effects on my finances, waxes and wanes throughout the year - birthdays and holidays tend to bring out the worst in both. However, even with the debt, I still feel like I am pretty financially stable (definitely more so in comparison to where I was as a kid, teen, and younger adult).
Thanks for reading 😼 Let me know if you have any questions!

I graduated High School in 2014, and I very distinctly remember how stressful everything suddenly became. I no longer lived with my parents, I was on my own in a college dorm. I had never been on my own before, and I definitely didn't feel ready. I also wasn't ready for the sudden drop in social interaction that High School had.
This isn't going to be a story where I hunkered down and became super successful because I worked hard and never partied. Because I didn't do all that. My life has been one giant roller coaster, but that's okay.

2014, post graduation:

Age 18
I got accepted to a very fancy art school. I was always a super artsy person, so I was very excited for this opportunity. They also had dorms, so this will be the first time I actually live in a place away from my parents.

2015, 1st year in art school:

Age 19
I got all F's and did horribly. Big shocker, but I really wasn't ready for college. Everything was so different compared to high school. The teaching methods were different, the layout of class was different, and the wifi sucked. This was when artists block started to hit me and I started to burn out my art passion.

2016, expulsion:

Age 20
Due to my bad grades, I got academically expelled from this art school. This was super rough because this place wasn't cheap. My mother, who footed the bill, was now out $36,000, and I was down $12,000. During my time at this college, I didn't really learn anything.
After, I went to a community college and tried to continue my art career, but the damage was done. I was so completely burnt out that I maybe drew 2 times a year. I then instead went for a major in computer science, which was way easier for me since I'm good with numbers. Before all this though, I had to move back home for a few months so I can reset myself for my new plan.

2017, new major:

Age 21
After moving home, a failure, I had to get a job and find a place to live while I went to Community college. The place I lived in for a whole year was very small. Maybe 10 feet by 5 feet, about the size of a car. But it was only $400 a month to live there, so theres a plus. I worked at minimum wage jobs that I bounced around from because random stuff kept happening. A karen got me fired, the dollar tree shut down, and the boss at the boba tea shop was super abusive.
During this time, I played a ton of Yugioh casually. It was early this year that I also met my closest friend who helped me through pretty much everything.
Late 2017, a friend from High School invited me to work for her family at their restaurant. I had to move again, this time to a much more expensive place. But the pay was good and I felt comfortable... until I got laid off due to business slowing down.

2018, TSA

Age 22
Early 2018, I applied to the TSA. The onboarding process took FOREVER, and during that time a lot happened. I continued college really well with a GPA of 3.3, my wisdom teeth had to be removed, I had a pilonidal cyst which caused a ton of problems and weight gain since I couldn't ride my bike anymore. Also I got rehired at my friends restaurant after a few months when business went back up. I also quit Yugioh because of the ridiculous new rule they had, and started playing Magic the Gathering. I also moved to a new place that was cheaper, but way shittier. The house stunk to high hell, and the internet was weak.
The day I started Calculus, 8 months in, was the day that TSA called me and said I was hired. My mother was so happy that she demanded I move home with her, since she also worked for the government. I told my new landlord off, and got out of the lease by threatening to go to collections for all the laws broken in the lease agreement. (This place was so bad that I actually refused to use the bathroom here. That's how bad it was)
The first week at TSA was just us sitting in a room listening to some power point stuff that I can't talk about. We got uniforms, told to not do stupid stuff, and how to perform tasks like lifting heavy objects, among the NDA stuff. It was super boring and started at 4 FCKING AM. But when I saw my first paycheck, gotdamn. Fun fact: TSA is an entry level job, they're always hiring, and they pay more than any other entry level job AND YOU GET ANNUAL RAISES.

2019, nothing really happens

Age 23
I go through training at TSA, and settle in to my life as a security guard, though I also stopped going to college. The pay is good, I'm saving* money, and rent is cheap, thanks mom. (I was spending my money on Magic cards)
Oh yeah, I also learned to drive this year. Mom gave me her truck that I loved.
One day, we get a letter from the student loan place. Oops, I forgot to pay and now I'm about to default on one of my loans. My mom loses her shit, but I just list some Magic cards online and I am able to pay off the whole default amount the literal next day. (It was like $2000) Ez.

2020, oh boy

Age 24
Late 2019, I decide to go back to College and continue my computer science major. However, this other community college I went to had stricter requirements on classes, so I had to either test out, or retake my previous math class. I chose to go to tutoring so I could test out. Sadly, I almost immediately get super sick and have to go to the ER with pneumonia. This is right at the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic, so there is a HUGE scare. Why? Because the day before I was sick, I was actually working at an international checkpoint in the airport.
I first went to urgent care, and they said I had pneumonia. This was before anyone really cared about COVID. I told them that I might have COVID and explained why. Urgent care calls the CDC, to which they are told to just send me home with a doctors note. Urgent care tells me to do this, and they also say what the CDC said was idiotic.
6am the next morning Urgent care calls me and tells me to go straight to the ER and wear as much protective gear as possible. They are waiting for me. They also say to not interact with anyone. I get to the ER and I am placed in a room where a bunch of doctors come in wearing the weirdest protective gear I've ever seen. They legit look like aliens. I am then given one of the first COVID tests ever administered. It was two nasal swabs, a mouth swab, and a blood test. Thankfully, I come back negative and its just adenovirus. I'm given IV fluids and told to go home. TSA was very amused to hear this.
Once my pneumonia went away, I was finally ready to go to my tutoring lesson and test out of-- oh hi COVID.
Everything shut down the day I got there. FUCK.
We still had online classes, but tutoring was gone. So I had to retake my previous math class, and over the course of 2020, I was bottlenecked into 1 class per semester.

2021, uh...

Age 25
You know how creepy it is when you're at school and there's nobody there? Yeah that's what the airport was like. It was completely empty aside from us. There were no flights, no passengers, no nothing. One particular day, we all just chilled in the break room and played on our Nintendo Switches. We actually had our hours cut in half because there just wasn't enough work to go around. Had I been living on my own, I would have been destroyed due to the sudden loss of income. My mother understood and lowered my rent.
This year was a massive blur, but I did get one thing: A hiatial hernia in my stomach. It took a few months of being on light duty and going to the doctor to finally realize what was going on. Suddenly feeling like you're 2 seconds from vomiting, and then that feeling lasting for 6 hours was NOT fun. Once they found the hernia, I am given some medication to curb the nausea and it becomes slightly manageable. Today it is 99.999% gone.

2022, uhhhhh...

Age 26
My mother sold the house, so now I have to live on my own again. Thankfully, one of my coworkers is also into real-estate, and actually has some other TSOs living with her. We kind of have a sort of TSA frat house. I move in with her and I'm pretty happy. The pandemic lockdown is lessening, so I now have money to spend on rent, and Magic is finally opening up. Things are going pretty--
--my car gets stolen. Out of my drive-way no less.
I instantly go into crisis mode and sell 80% of my Magic collection. My mother watchs in pure shocking awe as I make $19,000 over 2 weeks and buy a brand new hybrid. Ez. Two months after I buy this car, gas prices skyrocket, so I kind of dodged a bullet since my previous car was a massive gas guzzler.
Sadly, 6 months in, my TSA friend sells the house and we all have to move. I move to a place that is ridiculously small, but cheap. I miss that place to this day.
Late 2022, my artists block randomly goes away and I started drawing... A LOT.

2023, art time baby!

Age 27
Things go crazy this year. Firstly, in 2023, I go to Barcelona. My friend invited me over there to hang out on a really awesome vacation that lasted 23 days. It was life changing. I also drop out of college, as I no longer felt that I needed it.
In May, I got my first art commission! This rapidly progresses to me doing a new commission every month or so. I now have a new income source, albeit it is pretty small.
Several months pass with no big changes, until August. Things get bad very fast. I develope a herniated disk in my lower back, and can barely walk. I miss several weeks of work at TSA, and I go to the doctor a few times. Life was rough.
Then my apartment flooded.
My landlord acts so half-assedly on fixing the issue that mold starts growing in the carpet. This is a big problem, with my herniated disk I've been sleeping on the floor. (I couldn't climb my loft bed anymore) I terminate my lease with them and get my security deposit back because of this whole ordeal. I then sign a new lease for a room a bit far away. The very next day, my friend calls me and offers me a job in graphic design in Barcelona. This blew me away. All I had to do was survive August and September. This time was literal hell, as I could still barely walk, and I still had to drive everywhere and lift all my stuff. Driving was monstrously painful. Upside, my new landlord understood the sudden change and let me out of the lease.
October rolls around, I pack all my essentials, leave everything else with my mother, sell my car, sell a bunch of other stuff, and use that money to pay off almost all my debt and buy a ticket to Barcelona. During this time, I also get a bunch of art commissions which really saved me from a few close calls.
I touch down in Barcelona and I begin to live in the place I stayed for vacation. Life was great. Rent was covered, and I got an allowance every month.
Work was hard though. My friend is a very good friend and I really appreciate him... but he is a very bad boss. He was super hard on my for things that weren't my fault, but he said they were. This took a toll on my mental health. But I was happy to be away from the US.
I also make a bunch of friends here in Magic, and we still talk to this day. My spanish sucks, but hey, I'm not doing so bad anymore. We go out for beers after every tournament.
Anyway, in December, I am going to go back to the US to spend Christmas with my family--
--and I get laid off.
sigh

2024, this... isn't actually that bad

Age 28
I get back to the US, and I have to start from zero again. Despite everything, I'm actually not too upset. My art commissions are really helping me. Despite still being a small artist, I get a few hundred dollars a month now. Also, my herniated disk finally heals on its own and I now can move around as if nothing happened.
I live with my parents again, I bought a dingy car that I will upgrade in a few years, and now I work as a security guard again. (Not with TSA though) I have a stable income, a calm life, and a strong future doing what I want: Art.
I plan on saving my money to the point where I can get a nicer car, and then building my own house on my parents property since its so big and honestly its really beautiful out here. Or... if I get big enough, I would like to buy an apartment in Barcelona and live overseas again. I really miss my friends over there, and the atmosphere.
Honestly, despite being set back so far that I might as well be a teenager again, I'm doing pretty good. I'm finally comfortable again.

Conclusion

I do hope this helps you guys who are just graduating. Life will be rough, even hellish at times. But things will always get better, and before you know it, you will be in a spot where you are truly comfortable.
Key take-away here is to live with your parents as long as you can, save up money when you can, TSA is awesome, and be open to failure.
Also don't do drugs.
...Now I just need to get a date lmao.

Obviously using a throwaway for this.
First of all, let me be clear that this is a VENT about personal finances. It's against the sub rules to ask for money or provide money. And I know there are lots of good souls out there that love to help, but reality is the only thing that will get me out of this situation is time and diligence. So please just take this for what it is. I have no one to vent to about this mess and I need to get it off my chest.
I've kept a good and optimistic attitude throughout this whole situation. But today I'm in tears. It's all crashing down on me after a year of hanging in there.
I don't know if this is necessary financial ruin, but it feels like it. I grew up on the poorer side of middle class with parents who were terrible with money. It took me a long time to figure out how to get financially comfortable in life. A lot of mistakes were made and lessons were learned, but ultimately I was able to make a comfortable living alongside my husband for our family. It should be noted here that, though my husband made a good income too, I was definitely the breadwinner.
We had to move very suddenly for my husband's job back in 2021. It was very expensive, but that was fine, I utilized a credit card for the situation knowing I'd be able to pay it back down at a comfortable pace over the next year. I was in grad school and would graduate at the end of 2022, which would lead to a nicer paying job for sure. Welp, I became pregnant with our second child right at the end of my last semester. No big deal, I'll stay at the company I'm at for another year and work on some new skills before I start applying to new jobs. I loved the people I worked with anyway, despite it being a high stress job. Layoffs kept happening, but I had a good reputation in the company and had made a measurable impact during my time there. Until one day when it was finally my turn to go.
I had been there for 5 years. I had done so much for them. In the end, I was a name on a spreadsheet to a bunch of people at our parent company who barely touched our subsidiary company unless it had to do with increasing the bottom line. They didn't even know I was pregnant. They put me out on my ass in a wave of layoffs while I was 6 months pregnant. "NO ONE IS GOING TO HIRE ME!" I said frantically to the poor young HR girl on the phone explaining "what happens next". I managed to negotiate some additional severance, which in the end only delayed the financial bleeding we were about to experience. After a whirlwind of a week, I reset my attitude and got to work. I've never been one to accept defeat; I have to do everything within my power to keep us comfortable. One of the first things I did was call up one of my colleagues from another team that I worked closely with. A few months prior I had explained to him that I want to get some hand-on experience with a software that I enjoyed learning, and he told me about how he volunteers for this AWESOME nonprofit managing that software for them and he'd allow me to help so I could get experience that way. At the time I didn't have enough time to dedicate to it, but now that I was unemployed it was the perfect time. To this day I'm so so so glad I jumped on that opportunity when I did.
I knew no one was going to hire me, but I tried anyways. Something else to know about me is that I try to be as honest as possible. Honesty is an important core value to me. And so I was completely upfront about my condition when I began looking for work. I had a ton of friends and former colleagues eager and willing to help, but in the end no one could work with my situation. Understandable. I was told by a few of my friends/family that I was stupid for disclosing my pregnancy up front. I felt it was the right thing to do, and I didn't want to start off a working relationship with my new manager and/or company with a deceit that would impact everyone I was supposed to be working with. It just felt wrong, you know?
Eventually the opportunities within my personal network dried up. Meanwhile, I poured hours into my resume and job hunt. No responses. I had a great resume and great experience. I was willing to take a junior level job, and thought it might actually be best even though I was a director when I was laid off. Having a brand new baby and trying to learn a new job AND leading a team on top of all that? Sounded like it would be best for the team and my mental health if I could focus on being an individual contributor until life with the new baby settled down. I loved being in leadership, so I'm sure I'd work my way back up there. I applied to all levels of jobs though. Constantly. Every. Day. And all year it was radio silence. The competition was fierce. I wouldn't have minded a job that had me go into the office every day, but I live in an area with very few tech jobs so those opportunities were few and far between. By the end of my job hunt I only had 4 phone interviews, 1 first round video interview, and another with too many to count that I ultimately was rejected for.
We kept our oldest son in daycare so as not to disrupt his situation, plus it would be hard to get back in. Waitlists everywhere, you know the drill. We thought surely once the baby came that I'd land a job pretty quickly. This is one of my big regrets. I should have saved the money and pulled him out right away. It was shortly after the baby came, right after I was rejected from one of those interviews, that I finally lost hope and withdrew my oldest from daycare. Our savings was running out and unemployment paid pennies. Never thought I'd experience the SAHM life. It was honestly a good experience though, because I learned just how capable I was to adapting to the situation I didn't want. I even started to enjoy it, though I missed having a job. Let me tell you what though, we all know factually what a hard job it is to be a SAHM but it is definitely one of those things where you do not truly know until you experience it for yourself. During this time we're broke, but our spirits are still up. It probably helps that I'm taking medication for PPD (PSA: Don't skip it! Accept the help so you can enjoy your baby!!)
Anyways, moving on. In September was when the medical stuff began happening. My OB was suspicious that something was going on with my thyroid, so she sends me for an ultrasound, which leads to a biopsy, which they fucked up and had to redo again in February. While dealing with all this I begin looking for ways to bring in some extra income. DoorDash and other delivery options didn't feel doable or safe with 2 kids in tow. I decided to try sitting for Rover, which ended up being a fantastic idea since our own dog could use the extra company. It's still not enough though. All the things keep happening. Our cars both needing repairs - $1000s. Our dishwasher broke - $500. The baby has to go to physical therapy - $60 a week. Our older kid needs speech therapy - $65 a week. The list is endless. God there was so much shit that needed to be paid for when we didn't have the money to spend. Our savings are being eaten away.
Remember that volunteer opportunity I had helping a nonprofit with that software? Well, one day we were on a call with the managing director about a project we were doing for them, and she just happens to mention they're trying to hire someone for this admin role and really needed someone who understood the data side of things. There's no way they could afford what they truly needed. Long story short, I was signing the offer letter within a couple of weeks. It really is a lovely group of people to work with and they provide an AMAZING work/life balance. But the job pays less than half of what I made before, so we're not exactly comfortable yet. It's a small organization with barely any funds, but they still threw in a little extra on my salary AFTER I signed the offer letter. Genuinely good people trying to do their best. I started with the new year, and we got even luckier because one of the random daycares I had the boys on the waitlist for just happened to have space for them the same week I started my new job! "2024 is going to be an amazing year!" we kept saying. We were so pumped. It felt like 2023 was a cursed year and 2024 held all kinds of possibilities and excitement.
We're now on my husband's super shitty insurance, and the kids are getting sick. I try to avoid going to the doctor as much as I can, but they get ear infections so I couldn't just "let a fever run its course". Every visit eats away our savings even more. I start putting things on credit cards just to preserve some savings for a potential disaster. This continues and continues. I'm working my ass off trying to sell things, odd jobs, selling clothing at the flea market, taking whatever asshole dog we can babysit.
We finally get my results from my biopsy - cancer. Great. Now I have to get my thyroid removed, AND I have to take several weeks off from whatever I can do to bring in a meager extra income to recover. Not to mention, what's this going to cost?
And we arrive to the today day, where all of my credit cards are completely maxed out. We're no long able to afford the payments. We desperately need a new car. It's only a matter of time before this car craps out on it. I need a ton of dental work done (my teeth are on borrowed time). I've got a toothache, I absolutely need to get to the dentist, but there is no way to pay for this so I just have to cross my fingers and hope it goes away. I've got my surgery next week, and the hospital calls to explain what I need to pay. I have to pay at least half up front. If I didn't have 2 kids then I'd just put this off. But also if I didn't have 2 kids I'd probably be able to afford it.
I just spent all morning scrounging together every penny I could find to pay for this surgery. I'll have $40 in savings once I submit this payment. My stomach is in knots. I don't know what to do next. I think it's time to cash out my retirement. I feel incredibly sick to think about it. Do I take my kids out of daycare? They're in such a great learning and enriching environment that I can't provide while I'm working from home. My job will suffer trying to care for two kids too. We won't be thriving. Do I take my son out of speech therapy? It kills me to think of how this will cause delays in his learning. I want to give them the best chance at life. It's not like I'm trying to give them fancy things like montessori school, but I don't want them to be feral and ignored. I swear I've done and do the very best I can. It's not enough. How can I work so damn hard and it not be enough? What do I do now?! There's no safety net. There's no hero that can swoop in and fix it all. We don't qualify for any sort of assistance, government or other. We're just buried under a mountain of debt accumulated from being unemployed for almost a year and running out of savings. Do I start letting debt go to collections? The thought of doing that makes me sick too. I can't take a part time job. We have no family or anyone to help with the kids. My husband works long hours with a schedule that makes it impossible to work more than 1 day a week.
After cashing out my retirement, I think we have to sell this house. I haven't told my husband this part yet. He LOVES this house. I love this house. It's perfect for us and our family in every way. He comes from humble beginnings too, and I think he feels like owning this perfect house is a token of his success. He honestly deserves to feel that way because he has overcome so much, including getting sober, to accomplish what he has. And now my failure will cause us to lose it.
For anyone who read this, thanks for listening. I know it was long and rambling, but I don't have anyone to talk to about this. Even my husband doesn't quite grasp the gravity of our situation. I handle all of our finances because it's in my skillset and he hates dealing with it. I'm so alone.