Wonder Women

Issue Fifty
Written by u/VoidKiller826
Edited by u/Predaplant
Arc: Revelations
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Greetings, people of Gateway City. This is your new peacekeeper speaking. You might know me as the White Magician, a rather crude name, but I will accept it considering Man’s World's lack of creativity. However, you may also call me Circe, and I am here with an important message that your news station will deliver for all to hear.
SCYTHE is no more: their HQ is under my and the Red Centipedes’ command. The Commander and his soldiers are dead and buried, as you all wished to happen. I was more than happy to oblige you if it meant depriving your stupid President of her next chance for reelection. Any survivors of the prison break are being hunted down by the people they locked in cages, who are more than happy to round them up as they once had been themselves.
But none of that’s important, for this recording is only to be heard by one person: Olympos, Wonder Girl, or whatever the fuck new title name you want to be called. This message is for you: You are to surrender yourself to me here in SCYTHE HQ in the next five hours, and in turn, I will not destroy this piss-end of a city. If you fail, I promise you, I will make Coast City look like a picnic by the time I finish with Gateway.
That cow you call Wonder Woman is dead, and I will make sure everyone else will follow her if you don’t comply with my request.
Your mentor learned a valuable lesson when she tested my patience.
*************************************************************
Spears Apartment - Gateway City:
[...President Cale has announced the complete closure of all access to Gateway City following the prison break that occurred in SCYTHE’s holding facility hours ago,] said Cassandra Arnold from GateNews, the city’s main news station. [We still have an unconfirmed number of escapees following the message sent by the White Magician, but the President has assured GateNews a solution will be found.]
Vanessa Kapatelis watched the TV in dismay. Pacing back and forth in the Spears duplex apartment, she had the TV on to pass the time while Ares worked on helping Helena and Cassandra upstairs.
“Here,” Vanessa turned away from the TV to see Tanya Spears handing her a bottle of water. “Something for you to drink.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa accepted the bottle. “I would prefer a beer, but this will make do.”
“My mom has her wine collection in a locked cabinet,” Tanya noted, pointing at the kitchen. “She doesn’t know that I know that, but I can get you a bottle?”
Vanessa chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t want a girl your age to be walking around with alcohol or to get you in trouble with your mom.” She twisted the bottle cap and slowly drank. “I needed that… it feels like I’ve been dry for months.”
“It’s actually been 3 hours,” Tanya said, sitting on the sofa and opening her tablet to look over the internet. “I hope what she said wasn’t true… about Wonder Woman not being around…”
Taking a seat by her side, Vanessa saw that Tanya was reading through the report on what happened to SCYTHE. The escaped convicts had taken control of the SCYTHE headquarters and equipment after killing many of the agents that had stood in their way.
Seeing the photo of SCYTHE HQ burning angered her. That place should represent the absolute shield of Gateway. Now, it had come under the control of the convicts that they were supposed to stop because of Aeeta Branwen. A name that had made her happy now belonged to a stranger who had lied to her all this time.
Memories of their most intimate moments came flooding back: their first conversation, their first date, their kiss, and the morning after their date in her apartment. It was a moment when she thought she could finally stop grieving and move on from what happened to Coast City. And now, that had been disintegrated into oblivion.
In anger, she crushed the bottle with her hand, spraying water all over the table and the floor.
“Shit!” Vanessa stood up, finally realizing her mistake. “I am sorry!”
“Oh, it's fine!” Tanya ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. “It’s just water.”
“I know it’s just…” Taking the paper towel, the two began wiping the floor and the table. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I’ll bet with everything that happened,” said Tanya, giving Vanessa a supportive smile. “Your friends are getting hurt, and you can’t do anything but watch. It would piss anyone off. I know it did with me when the RedCent guys invaded EE Tower.”
“Yeah…” Vanessa sat back on the sofa. “But this… I not only possibly lost many friends, but I was betrayed by someone I loved, someone who I thought was the one for me…” she said, distraught, as tears ran down her face.
Tanya, without saying anything more, hugged Vanessa closely. Despite them knowing each other for only a few hours, Tanya knew that Vanessa was in pain. Watching her loved ones being hurt by someone that she trusted must have been a hard truth to accept.
The doors upstairs opening and closing caught the two’s attention. Looking up, they saw Somya Spears descending, looking exhausted, like she had gone ten rounds in the ring. As she reached the ground floor, Tanya ran up to her mother, hugged her close, and guided her to the nearest chair to rest.
“Is everything alright, mom?” Tanya asked, worried.
“Yeah… just felt that I might take that long overdue vacation…” Somya answered, leaning against the soft chair with a tired sigh. “Maybe we’ll go to Paris like you wanted, Tanya…”
More steps followed, and Ares, or Mars as he insisted to be called, followed Somya, pulling his folded-up sleeves back. Unlike Somya, he didn’t seem any different from when he went upstairs to help the Sandsmarks, but the few strands of hair on his face told a different story.
“How are they?” Vanessa asked, walking up to the former God of War. “Are they ok?”
Ares turned to Vanessa. “The girl has a lot of heart, far too stubborn to let a beating keep her down.” He said with praise, impressed with the former Wonder Girl’s willpower. “Her Sumerian blood will help her heal in only a few days, but it won’t help her mental wounds after I told her the news about her mother.”
Vanessa had a lot of questions about what he had said, especially the word Sumerian; perhaps Cassie was not simply half-Olympian. However, she focused on the most important detail in his explanation. “What happened with Helena?” She asked in a worried tone. “Is she-”
“She is alive,” Ares said, but his expression shifted, frowning, making her nervous. “Physically, she will recover, she has only a few cuts and bruises. Even a human like her can heal those.”
“But?”
“But it's the spell Circe struck her with. It is unlike anything I’ve seen because it is of her creation,” Ares explained, and Vanessa ground her teeth together when she heard the name belonging to the stranger who hurt her and her loved ones. “Whatever she used, it is affecting her very soul, slowly killing her.”
“Like a virus?” Vanessa asked, and Ares nodded. “Magic can do that?”
“It does,” Ares answered. “Magic can create a nuclear bomb if the user has the patience for it. And Circe is a master at it, one of the very best and most gifted witches on the planet, so making something like this would be as easy as making a cake for her.”
Magic had never been SCYTHE’s priority, but the Commander still made them study anything related to the subject in case they had to face it. Vanessa had never expected to see it at this scale.
“Can you break it?” Vanessa asked. “Find a way to break the curse from Helena’s soul?”
Ares took a deep breath, pocketing his hands. “It’s too complex to break. I will admit Magic is not my strongest suit, but even if you bring in someone knowledgeable, it would be a while for them to break her creation,” he explained. “You need someone at her level of knowledge when it comes to magic, and I am not the best person to face her in that department.”
“Then we call for a specialist, anyone, really,” Vanessa said in desperation. “If this is like a virus, a curse, then we bring a surgeon to cut it out! Maybe Cassie can use her Justice Legion connection, or maybe you can call someone for a favor.”
Vanessa's desperation was clear. She was willing to call for the Justice Legion, the very people she swore to go against for their vigilantism, if it meant saving Helena Sandsmark, her promise be damned.
“The spell is growing far too rapidly. By the time you find someone, it will be far too late,” Ares said solemnly. “The only person in the world who can break the spell without any problem or fear of failsafe is Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. She was Circe’s mentor, and she taught her everything she could about magic. No matter how complex it is, Hecate would understand it.”
“She can help us?”
Ares shook his head. “No, she has no interest in helping the world unless it is connected to her directly, and even then, dealing with her is the worst-case scenario because there is a chance she’ll side with Circe before she even thinks of helping us.”
“So what now?” Vanessa asked, sounding defeated. “Just let Helena die? Let Cassie suffer? Let Circe win?!” she shouted angrily, finally addressing Circe by name. All of this explanation from Ares told her one thing: that the Witch had them beat, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
Ares didn’t react to her outburst, while the Spears looked worried. Tanya, for her part, tried to walk up to calm Vanessa, but the War God raised his hand to stop her, shaking his head and giving her the silent sign to let Vanessa be.
“There is one way: it will be quicker if we act fast enough, but it would take everything from all of us for it to happen,” Ares said, beginning his explanation. “There is a chain link connecting the spell, from the spell caster to Circe. This means it can be broken if we force Circe to release the chain connecting her to Helena…” he explained, letting his words be understood by the occupants in the room before finishing with one last note. “Killing Circe would also break the binding if she didn’t leave any contingencies.”
Vanessa gritted her teeth. “So we have to make her break the spell, and hopefully she doesn’t screw us over… or we kill her, and hopefully she still doesn’t screw us over even in death?” she asked, and Ares nodded. “What kind of person is willing to put in all that work? Just for revenge? On Diana, who is long gone?”
Ares shrugged and turned to the Spears, his gaze focused on Tanya, his daughter. Someone whom he never thought he would meet again was facing him, without knowledge of their blood relations.
“Possibly,” Ares answered, taking a step back. “But if there is one thing I know for sure, Circe does not put these kinds of bindings without any reason. Whatever that reason is involves Cassandra Sandsmark and whether she will choose to make Circe break the spell or kill her, tainting her forever.”
Silence came to the room, letting Ares’s words sink in for all occupants, which might have been the same words he said to the Sandsmarks.
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The room of Somya Spears was quiet, with the only sound being the breathing of Helena Sandsmark lying on the bed sleeping. The room was spacious, with an expensive queen-sized bed as expected from an interim CEO of one the largest companies in the world.
Seated a few feet away on a chair was Cassandra Sandsmark, dressed in fresh clothes given to her by Somya after throwing off the bloody tattered ones she had arrived in. Watching her mother closely, Cassandra’s mind was racing, especially after what Ares told her about the curse Circe placed on her mother, slowly destroying her soul bit by bit until she was nothing but a husk.
“Dammit!” In anger at their situation, she crushed the armchair, tearing its arm off like it was made of paper. If she was stronger, faster, and had the heart for it, she would have stopped the Witch, stopped her from hurting her city, the people of SCYTHE, and those caught in the crossfire, stopped her from hurting her mother…
She buried her face into her hands, tears running down her eyes as she despaired. Everything she worked on after Coast City evaporated was ground up under a very powerful enemy out for revenge.
Considering Circe’s ultimatum, her city could well be gone by the time this was over.
“Artemis… please be safe…” she whispered. She had nearly had a panic attack when she heard the news of the Amazon heading to SCYTHE HQ to stop the prison break, and then… nothing. No matter how many times she dialed her phone, there was no one answering, and she feared for the worst.
She heard her mother coughing, and Cassandra was quickly by her side. “Mom!” she called for her, holding her hand.
“Cassandra?...” Her mother said her name weakly. Her skin was becoming paler, a clear sign that the curse spell was working. “Are you… ok?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Cassandra answered, covering the bandages hidden inside her clothes. “We’re safe. You’re safe.” she said, tightening both her hands around her mothers.
“Did you… break something?” She asked, looking at the chair behind her. “You shouldn’t be… doing that… we are guests…”
Cassandra laughed, her tears falling away. “Sorry… it’s just… it’s been a hell of a week…”
Helena touched her daughter’s cheek, noticing the bandage on it. “You’re… hurt…”
“It’s alright, Mom. Just a few bruises,” Cassandra assured. “You shouldn’t worry, you know I can take it…”
“I am your… mother, Cassandra,” Helena said, facing her daughter. “Demi-God or not… I will always be worried… scared for my little girl.”
Cassandra’s tears came back. Seeing her mother remain strong despite everything made her happy, and she was terrified of losing her.
“So… my soul is cursed?” Helena asked.
“You heard all that?”
“Can’t not… with all the swearing…” Helena noted, giving her daughter a small smile. “You shouldn’t swear at people, Cassandra, especially those who are trying to help.”
“I know, I know,” Cassandra said. She had gone off on Ares after he explained what happened to her mother, and she might have overreacted when she put all her anger on the former War God. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose you… not while we can fix this.”
Helena sat up on her bed, fully facing her daughter. “Which is why… I don’t want you to make the wrong choice.”
“I won’t,” Cassandra said with a low tone. “I will make Circe free you from this curse-”
“No, Cassandra,” Helena grabbed both of Cassandra’s hands with hers. “That is not what I meant…”
Cassandra raised her brows, confused. “Mom?”
“I heard everything… from Circe’s spell… how it works… and how it can be broken…” Helena said, shocking Cassandra. “I know you already decided what you feel you have to do.”
Cassandra didn’t answer, avoiding her mother’s disapproving gaze accusing her. Ares said the quickest way to break the binding and the spell was either by forcing Circe to break it herself or by killing her, severing the connection.
But if what Circe said was true, that Diana decided to kill her instead of making her surrender like everyone else who faced her, that means there was no chance the Witch would submit willingly. She would rather die than give the satisfaction of admitting defeat.
Which left only one solution where she could save her mother.
Helena sighed, knowing what decision her daughter might have made. She held her hand tightly and changed the subject. “I have to tell you something…”
“No, mom. You’re not giving me the ‘Dying Speech’, not while there is a chance we can save you-”
“It’s about your father,” Helena cut her off, shutting Cassandra up. “Your real father…”
Cassandra remembered Circe calling her Daughter of Enlil, not Zeus. Ares said he was a friend of her father, which confused her because Ares hated Zeus, so it wouldn’t make sense that he would help out even if they were his siblings.
“Enlil…” Cassandra said the name aloud, and Helena’s eyes widened, her breath hitching when she heard the name. “Circe… she called me Daughter of Enlil… Child of the Sky...”
Helena took a deep breath, bringing her daughter closer. “Yes… that is true…” she began. “You are not Zeus’s daughter, Cassandra, nor you are an Olympian in any way… but you are in fact… Sumerian… Mesopotamian,” The elder Sandsmark brought her youngest closer and spoke carefully, as if worried that someone might hear them. “Your father is Enlil, the Sumerian God of Wind… and he was the kindest man I have ever known…”
From then on, Helena explained Cassandra’s origins as carefully as possible, pushing on even while the spell affected her. She explained how she met Enlil, a man with golden hair similar to Cassandra’s, who introduced himself as an expert in Mesopotamian history during an expedition in Iraq. They had become rivals at first due to their clashing personalities, but how that developed into respect, to eventually falling in love after a very lengthy adventure that sounded like the plot of The Mummy.
And that love resulted in Cassandra’s birth. He helped raise her with Helena for the first year and a half before he disappeared because he had Olympian enemies and had to leave them to keep them safe.
While she explained all this, Cassandra’s mind went to another piece of critical information. Her father’s true identity had never been the most important thing for her. But what made it important was what Circe told her about Diana’s true reason for coming to Gateway City. It wasn’t just settling in a ‘piss-end of a city’ the more she taught about it, the more she realized the terrifying truth behind her mentor’s reasoning for coming to the city.
Diana was sent to find Cassandra, a Sumerian Demi-God, the Olympians greatest enemy since the Titans, and eliminate her. The prophecy of the Godkiller that they had feared might have come from Cassandra, but all it did was start a long, personal, and bloody war between two women because of the gods' demands for blood.
And now, she, Artemis, and Gateway City suffered the consequences. Even after Diana’s death, Circe would not let her hatred for what had happened to her go, and if it meant destroying her mentor’s legacy, she would do it.
‘Diana…’ Cassandra thought in sadness.
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SCYTHE Sub Base - Industrial District:
“I am not sure how you were able to do it, but you somehow found an ever more depressing place than that HQ of yours. It makes the cell you put us in look like a five-star hotel room,” said one Pamela Isley, formerly Poison Ivy, seated in the middle of a large room behind a large table. Around her were what was left of the SCYTHE agents they had saved during the escape, all working to get the makeshift base they had hidden up and running.
Alexei Abramovici, the Bloodcrow of SCYTHE, glared at the former supervillain, not happy with her comment. He turned to one of his men and began barking orders, “You! Get the goddamn Black Room working! We are running blind here!”
‘Worker drones even without their Commander.’ Pamela looked on unimpressed at the agents. She had never been that sympathetic to the plight of cops getting killed, especially militarized ones. The once mighty and feared peacekeepers of Gateway, who went to war against all the crime syndicates and the Red Centipedes, were now a mere little squad that won’t be able to protect a mini-mart, let alone every escaped convict under the command of the White Magician.
“Man… the signal here sucks!” complained Miguel Barragan by her side, raising his phone and trying to catch any kind of signal. “Could barely talk to my boyfriend when I called him, and can’t connect to the internet,” he complained. He tried once again to call but he couldn’t find a signal. “Useless brick…”
“We are underground in a bunker previously owned by Neo-Nazis, Barragan,” Pamela noted. From what she had heard, this used to be an old RedCent hideout that SCYTHE took over after the war, using it as a smaller base in case of emergency. “Not receiving any signal is part of the appeal of the place.”
“Bunker, huh…” Miguel chuckled. The name Bunker reminded him of the super name that he picked out; the more time passed, the more convinced he was that it was the right one.
Pamela gave a confused look at his expression and shrugged it off. Turning to her right, she saw the silent Emily Sung staring off into the distance. Unlike Barragan, Emily had other matters on her mind. Whatever she sensed or saw back at SCYTHE HQ freaked her out, like seeing something she shouldn’t.
Just as Pamela was about to ask her how she was feeling, a knock on the large blast doors echoed around the base, loud enough for all to hear. Quickly, everyone felt tense, and the SCYTHE agents covered the door as Alexei signaled them to aim their weapons. After the news of the escaped convicts taking control of SCYTHE HQ and their equipment and weaponry, the agents knew that they were being haunted now by the convicts looking for revenge, so they were not taking any chances.
“Would you mind opening the door!” A familiar voice said behind the door, a voice Pamela recognized right away. “I have a bloody Amazon here, and I would like her off my fur!”
“Barbara?” Pamela realized.
“Minerva? As in the Cheetah?” Alexei asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “She could be working with them, with the White Magician.”
“She isn’t,” Pamela answered, glaring at the SCYTHE soldier for the accusation. “She would never ally with the psychos you had under lock and key.”
Alexei scoffed. “That woman got a cemetery filled with people who say otherwise, and she hurt the mother of someone I know.”
Before the two could argue, Miguel stood up and decided to take action. He extended his hand, forming a large arm construct from it, and grabbed the handle of the blast door. With one pull, he opened it wide. Barbara entered. Her feline form made some of the SCYTHE agents tense, and weapons were still trained on her.
“Quite the welcoming committee…” she noted in sarcasm. “Now, would you be dears and get this woman some help?” She adjusted the unconscious and bloody Artemis on her back. Her blood covered Barbara’s fur.
“Medic!” Alexei called for an agent nearby before turning to Miguel. “And you, don’t use your freaky powers until I order you to do so.”
“Sorry tin man, I don’t speak fascist,” Miguel responded with a smirk, and Alexei glared at him.
The medic quickly came to Barbara and guided her to a nearby makeshift hospital room, which had a bed and various equipment to help the SCYTHE wounded. Barbara went in haste, and gently, with the help of the medic, they placed the injured Amazon on the bed, her blood soaking the white sheets red.
“How the hell did you even find us?” Alexei asked as he and the others entered. “I made sure I covered all our steps.”
“You did,” Barbara noted, stepping back to let the medic check on Artemis. She turned to Alexei and pointed at her nose. “But one of you has a very special pheromone that I can smell for miles,” she said with a smile as she turned her gaze to Pamela. “Still with those rose scents around you.”
The redhead smiled. “Maybe it’s that mark you left on me.”
“More than you think, Pammy.”
“Christ…” the medic gasped, catching everyone’s attention. “How is she still alive? And how long has she been like this?” He asked, examining the injured Amazon.
Her armor was wholly wrecked, beyond repair. Her headpiece was half broken, and the gauntlets and braces on her arms and legs were dented and unusable. Her injuries were severe: open wounds, slash marks, and burn marks were all over her body, and judging from blows on her armor, she might have had a few broken bones as well.
“Didn’t bother to look at the time with some of the grunts that were sent after us,” Barbara answered, leaning on a nearby chair as fatigue finally set in for her. “But these Amazons are too stubborn to die, and I know that from experience…”
The number of times Barbara thought she had beaten Diana only for the Amazon to get back up and beat her back was many, and it frustrated the woman to no end, but now she couldn’t help but be in awe at the resilience of these warriors.
“Her Amazon gifts will heal her,” Barbara noted. “But I am not sure how long it will take…”
“I doubt it will take more than a few days at least…” the medic noted, bringing out some bandages and wrapping them around her arms. “She will need a miracle to even walk out of here on her own two feet.”
“Uhmm…” Everyone in the room turned to Emily Sung, who stood by the doorway. “I… I think I can help her heal faster.”
Barbara and the medic gave her an odd look. To better explain it, Emily brought her hands together, and a small flame began to form from her palm. However, they weren’t bright orange flames; they were blue flames, and they didn’t feel any heat from them.
“I developed this technique while training,” said Emily. “It's a fire spell that doesn’t burn, but it heals people. I first used it on Miguel when he hurt his hands, and it was instantaneous,” she explained, and Miguel showed his fully healed hand as if he was demonstrating it. “But this will be the first time I will heal someone with this severe of injuries…”
Pamela and Barbara looked at the blue flames with wide eyes. In Pamela’s case, she was told that Emily had powers, and from Miguel’s description, she had the power of all the elements. However, seeing it firsthand and feeling it from just that tiny flame made her sense there was power behind it, warmth, like the sun.
“Do it,” Barbara said, taking a step back. “At this point, if we need magic to get her back into the fight, we better get to it before we lose her for real.” She turned to the shocked medic. This was the first time he would ever see magic in play. “And you, guide her in whatever wounds need to be healed.”
The medic nodded. It was better than nothing. With his guidance and Miguel’s support by her side, Emily went to work to heal Wonder Woman, who was in a state of life and death if they didn’t work fast enough, all while Circe and her crew were out there terrorizing the city.
“What’s the news out there?” Alexei asked after the three left the infirmary room. “We are in the dark here, and I couldn’t radio in anyone with the pieces of junk we got. Not even my brother, who was trying to get as many agents as possible.”
“Brother?” Barbara asked before she realized who his brother was. Her expression became solemn. She remembered the Warhammer who stayed behind to slow Circe and her crew, giving Barbara a chance to escape with Artemis on her back. “The guy with the Hammer…”
Alexei furrowed his brows, noticing the change in her expression. “What happened to my brother?”
Barbara took a deep breath and began explaining everything that had happened: the White Magician’s true identity, her taking over SCYTHE HQ, her ultimatum to Wonder Girl, and finally, Anatoly Abromivici’s sacrifice to save them.
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Somewhere in Gateway…
With the loss of SCYTHE and their headquarters, the surviving agents didn’t have the necessary support from the intel agents in the Black Room to fight off against the newly revived Red Centipedes, now grown more powerful with the help of the escaped convicts, more than happy to exact revenge.
With the bridges closed off, SCYTHE’s weakened state, and Wonder Woman being presumed dead, the city had been thrown into chaos. Streets filled with criminals and looters taking full advantage of what had happened, stealing anything from everyone across the island.
Red Centipedes roamed the streets with military trucks, taken from SCYTHE after their HQ had fallen to the White Magician’s control, making full use of their hardware to hunt down any surviving agent, delivering the message that they were the new peacekeepers of Gateway.
“Let me go!”
A woman, a worker from Taco Whiz, was being dragged from the streets by a group of RedCent grunts. Taken into a nearby corner, the RedCent dropped the worker on the dirty ground. Their eyes had terrible intentions behind them.
“Come on, man,” one RedCent grunt said from behind to his buddy. “We are supposed to find those SCYTHE fuckers, not mess around.”
“You’re serious?” The buddy looked at his friend like he was crazy. “We’ve been locked for months in SCYTHE’s cells; we can have a few minutes of fun.”
“Please! Don’t do this!” The woman screamed, tears falling from her eyes, afraid of what they would do to her. She tried to stand up and run away but was quickly pushed back down on the pavement.
The RedCent approached the woman, who crawled away from them in fear. “Come on, girl, I just need to release all this stress after being locked up for so long!” He proclaimed, giving the woman a leery look before turning to his buddy. “Hey man, I can share! Maybe we can get someone else from the street-”
The RedCent stopped speaking, catching his breath for a moment after he saw his buddy lying on the ground face first, knocked out cold. Looking up, his eyes widened in shock when he saw the person standing before him. “You’re… you were supposed to be dead?!”
Covered in heavy bandages and wrecked NIGHT armor, and carrying a mace in his hand and a pissed-off look on his face, Commander Hector Hall stood before the RedCent grunt like a dark spectre coming back to life. Kicking the knocked-out buddy aside, the Commander looked between the grunt and the terrified woman before he hardened his glare at the RedCent.
“Stay back!” The RedCent grunt aimed his weapon, hands shaking in fear. “I said stay the fuck back-”
In a moment, Hall moved at such a speed he looked like a blur, cutting the distance between the two. With one swing of his mace, he smacked him squarely on the head, sending him to the ground.
Hall turned to the woman he saved, who looked at him in horror. “Go… get to safety…”
Without another word, the woman ran toward the exit and into the streets, away from the alley. Now alone with the two RedCents, Hall grabbed the knocked-out buddy and woke him up, making the man see the bandaged-up Hall looking down at him with hateful eyes.
“You… I want you to send your boss a message…” Hall began, making him face the Commander. “Tell the White Magician, Circe, that I am declaring war on her and on anyone who stands by her side.” He turned and walked up to the other grunt, who was crawling away from the Commander in fear, grabbing his bleeding head. He begged for his life, but Hall ignored his pleas. “And this, this is for my men that you Centipedes have killed…”
He lifted his bloody mace and brought it down like a hammer on the begging Red Centipede as his buddy looked on in horror. He lifted it up once more to reveal the man’s head was crushed like a watermelon.
Commander Hector Hall was still alive, and as long as he was still breathing, SCYTHE would remain standing to fight against all threats against Gateway City.
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Wonder Women Vol 3.

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

Introduction

In this post, we'll be discussing something called "Virtue Ethics." This is a normative theory of ethics that's most associated with Aristotle, though has in recent times experienced a resurgence of sorts from modern philosophers, some of whom have tweaked and modified it, and in doing so have created different branches on this tree of moral theory. We will be comparing these different flavors of Virtue Ethics to that of the New Testament's, pointing out where they're similar, as well as highlighting where the NT differs (and is actually superior) from the heathens' views.
I want to preface all this with a verse and a warning:

"Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ."-Colossians 2:8

The entire Bible, over and over again, warns against syncretism. It's a running theme throughout to condemn the practice, with this verse being one of the more explicit ones to do so.
Mapping the ideas of Pagans (and especially Greek philosophers) onto the Scriptures has always resulted in people severely misinterpreting the Bible, as looking at the Word of God through a Hellenistic lens is and always has been extremely innapropiate to the author's original intent.
Whenever Greek philosophy or ideas are referenced, they're always portrayed in a bad light or otherwise used to make a point. Examples of the latter could be found in the apostle Paul's writings, as he was a fully educated Roman citizen of his day, and so he made use of known Hellenestic philosophy and literature (that he would have been familiar with) by redefining their terms and ideas in a way that would be consistent with the theology of his own religion. The apostle Peter did the same within his own epistles whenever he mentioned "Tartarus," the abyss/prison for certain disobedient angels that rebelled against God, despite the fact that the word has its roots in Greek mythology and not Hebrew religion (though, the belief that there were a group of spiritual beings that rebelled against the highest authority in the heavens was one technically shared between the two ancient cultures; even if the parties involved were vastly different, as well as the contexts of the rebellion itself).
The affect Hellenstic philosophy has had on the way people think (even subconsciously) can still be felt to this day, and can be seen in the confusion modern "Christianity" has brought on through its adoption of Gnostic teachings such as Dualism or the inherently fatalistic views that many unknowingly hold due to the error of Classical Theism.
While yes, I will be commending the heathen (unbeliever) whenever they are right with their ideas as pertaining to this subject, I will also show where they are wrong.
Let's begin.

"What Is Virtue Ethics?"

First, we need to define some terms and point out the differences between this view and others within the larger debate of normative ethics.
There are three major approaches in normative ethics, those being: Consequentalism, Deontology, and Virtue Ethics. The following are definitions of the terms:
Consequentialism – a class of normative, teleological ethical theories that holds that the consequences of one's conduct are the ultimate basis for judgement about the rightness or wrongness of that conduct.
Deontology – theories where an action is considered morally good because of some characteristic of the action itself, not because the product of the action is good. Deontological ethics holds that at least some acts are morally obligatory regardless of their consequences for human welfare.
Virtue Ethics – theories that emphasize the role of character and virtue in moral philosophy rather than either doing one’s duty or acting in order to bring about good consequences. The virtue ethicist would argue that actions themselves, while important, aren't as important as the character behind them. To the virtue ethicist, consequences are also important, but they would say that good consequences ultimately flow from a virtuous character who has made virtuous decisions. Theories of virtue ethics do not aim primarily to identify universal principles that can be applied in any moral situation, instead teaching that the best decisions can vary based on context, and that there are only some actions that would be universally evil, only because those actions could never flow from a virtuous character in the first place (e.g., rape).
Aristotle's idea of ethics is in an important respect different from most people's, especially today. Heirs as we are to Kant’s idea of duty – there is a right thing that one ought to do, as rational beings who respect other persons – and to Mill’s idea of utility – the right thing to do is that which produces the greatest good for the greatest number – most of us see ethics as concerned with actions. "The function of ethics is to help me see what I ought to do in a given situation," the modern says. Aristotle’s approach was different. His ethic is not so much concerned about helping us to see what we ought to do, as about what sort of person we ought to be.
Aristotle was concerned with character, and with the things that go to make up good and bad character; virtues and vices. His sort of ethic does not look at our action to see if it fulfils our duty, or produces a certain outcome, such as the greatest good of the greatest number, and therefore merits approval. Instead, it looks at us; at the character behind the actions, to see whether we merit approval.
Comparing Virtue Ethics with philosophies such as Deontology and Consequentialism, we are able to divide ethical theories into two kinds; act-centered theories and agent-centered theories. Kant’s (Deontological) and Mill’s (Utilitarian) approaches are act-centered, because they concern themselves with our actions, whilst Aristotle’s is agent-centered because it concerns itself with the character of a person, which in his view was ourselves and our own dispositions that prompt our actions.
Both approaches have ardent present-day advocates, and so both are alive and well. Virtue Ethicists are dissatisfied with the answers ‘modern’ act-centered philosophy offers, and look for a more flexible, person-centered approach that takes more account of the subtle varieties of human motivation. Those in this camp see ethics as being about people – moral agents – rather than merely about actions. Of course, your actions matter. But, for Aristotle and his present day advocates alike, they matter as expressions of the kind of person you are. They indicate such qualities as kindness, fairness, compassion, and so on, and it is these qualities and their corresponding vices that it is the business of ethics to approve or disapprove.
All this seems simple and uncontroversial; there are two ways of looking at an action to evaluate it morally. You can take the action in isolation and judge it, or take the agent and judge him or her.
Virtue ethicists argue that act-centered ethics are narrow and bloodless. What is needed is a richer moral vocabulary than just ‘right and wrong’. There are subtle but important differences between actions that are good because they are kind and those that are good because they are generous, and those that are good because they are just. Likewise, there are subtle but important differences between actions that are bad because they are selfish and those that are bad because they are cruel and those that are bad because they are unfair. These, and many other, distinctions are lost when we talk simply about doing one’s duty, or promoting utility. Questions of motive and of character are lost, in these asceptic terms. Modern moral philosophy won’t do: it is cold, technical and insensitive to the many kinds and degrees of value expressed in human actions. Ethics is more than just thought experiments and hypotheticals about what would be the right course of action to take in any given situation we might conjure up from the comfort of our armchair. Ethics is about doing, and about context and character.

The Different Kinds of "Virtue Ethics"

Virtue Ethics has has been developed in two main directions: Eudaimonism, and agent-based theories.
Eudaimonism (Aristotle's view) bases virtues in human flourishing, where flourishing is equated with performing one’s distinctive function well. In the case of humans, Aristotle argued that our distinctive function is reasoning, and so the life “worth living” is one which we reason well. He also believed that only free men in the upper classes of society (i.e., the aristocrats) could excel in virtue and eschew vice, being that such men had greater access to the means in accomplishing this task as they had the wealth and resources to better perform their distinctive function of 'reasoning,' and thus "live well." For the Eudaimonian, inner dispositions are what one ought to focus on in order to cultivate virtuous traits, and thus a virtuous character.
In contrast, an agent-based theory emphasizes that virtues are determined by common-sense intuitions that we as observers judge to be admirable traits in other people. There are a variety of human traits that we find admirable, such as benevolence, kindness, compassion, etc., and we can identify these by looking at the people we admire, our moral exemplars. Agent-based theories also state that the motivations and intentions behind an action are ultimately what determine whether or not said action is actually virtuous. Whereas Eudaimonism understands the moral life in terms of inner dispositions or proclivities to act in certain ways (whether righteous or wicked, just or unjust, kind or cruel, etc.), agent-based theories are more radical in that their evaluation of actions is dependent on ethical judgments about the inner life of the agents who perform those actions, that is, what the motivations and intents are of a person.
[Note: While both Eudaimonism and agent-based theories are both agent-centered, Eudaimonism is not to be confused with an agent-based theory. Both branches concern themselves more with agents rather than acts themselves, but Eudamonism focuses on the self to improve whereas the agent-based theory focuses on others to improve.]

Common Critcisims Toward Secular Forms of Virtue Ethics

Firstly, Eudaimonism provides a self-centered conception of ethics because "human flourishing" (here defined as simply fulfilling our base function as humans, which is "reason" according to this view) is seen as an end in itself and does not sufficiently consider the extent to which our actions affect other people. Morality requires us to consider others for their own sake and not because they may benefit us. There seems to be something wrong with aiming to behave compassionately, kindly, and honestly merely because this will make oneself happier or "reason well."
Secondly, both Eudaimonism and agent-based theories also don't provide guidance on how we should act, as there are no clear principles for guiding action other than “act as a virtuous person would act given the situation.” Who is a virtuous person? Who is the first or universal exemplar?
Lastly, the ability to cultivate the right virtues will be affected by a number of different factors beyond a person’s control due to education, society, friends and family. If moral character is so reliant on luck, what role does this leave for appropriate praise and blame of the person? For the Eudaimonian, one ought to be born into a status of privilege if they wish to excel in being virtuous. For the proponent of an agent-based theory, one ought to be born into a society or family with good role models and preferably be raised by such, else they have no moral exemplars to emulate.

The New Testament's Virtue Ethic

The New Testament authors didn’t sit down and do a self-consciously philosophical exercise, for this was not what they were concerned with. They were concerned with giving practical instruction to disciples of the faith, and merely trying to express the ethical implications of their spiritual experience. That being said, we know the apostle Paul was familiar with the writings of Aristotle. We can actually identify places where Paul displays knowledge of Aristotle and incorporates some of the philosopher's ideas into his own epistles. Before we do this, however, it's important we refute common misnomers about what the Bible teaches concerning ethics in general.
You probably have heard many attack the ethics of the New Testament as being primitive and simplistic. "God dictates universal commands to follow: 'do not lie,' do 'not divorce,' 'do not insult.' And the only motivating factor is escaping hellfire and obtaining the reward of eternal pleasure." But in reality, this is a gross misrepresentation of the ethics laid out in the NT. I will argue the NT advocates for a form of virtue ethics, instead of claiming the NT contains a form of deontic ethics, as it is so often assumed.
Elizabeth Anscombe was one of the most influential virtue ethicists of the 20th century. Her work helped to revive virtue ethics in the modern era, however she also criticized the ethics of the Bible for promoting a form of ethics different than what Aristotle promoted:
"...between aristotle and us came Christianity, with its law conception of ethics. For Christianity derived its ethical notions from the Torah. (One might be inclined to think that a law conception of ethics could arise only among people who accepted an allegedly divine positive law..." (Modern Moral Philosophy, vol. 33, no. 124, 1-19)
We've already dealt with the issue of the Torah in another post. The Torah is not laying down moral laws, but describing justice in the form of ancient Near Eastern wisdom literature. But does the New Testament teach a deontic form of ethics? Anscombe might appear justified in her claim, as some "Christian" theologians have explicitly taught the ethics of the NT is deontic.
However, other theologians have argued the ethics of the NT is best characterized as a form of virtue ethics. In a study of the NT, we'll support this notion. As noted earlier, one of the central features of this approach to ethics is that the aim of ethics should be on living a virtuous life. Other forms of ethics focus on directing actions when confronted with a moral dilemma, but for virtue ethics every action is a moral or immoral action because all of our actions contribute or do not contribute to living a virtuous life. In other words, for a virtue ethicist, everything we do will contribute to living a fulfilled life. Now, the NT promotes a similar idea with a slight modification. The NT changes the distinctictive function and purpose for man in Eudaimonism from "reasoning" to loving God and others instead, and thus "living well" is changed from self-centered 'flourshing' (as defined by Aristotle) to glorifying God instead. The apostles taught everything we do contributes to living a life that glorifies God:

"Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God."-1 Corinthians 10:31
"And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him."-Colossians 3:17

So we see the same idea in Paul, that everything we do can be seen as a moral or immoral action. Everything we do should be seen as contributing to living a life that glorifies god or not. As a believer, the aim is not just doing good actions to avoid punishments, but to see everything we do as glorifying God. On secular virtue ethics, all our actions are either advancing a good life or not: nourishing your body contributes to living a good life. In a Biblical context: taking the time to properly dress contributes to living a good life, and not giving into the sin of sloth. So all our actions can be moral actions in this context, and so likewise for Paul and Jesus, all we do can contribute to living a life that glorifies God.
Since God made our bodies to thrive and enjoy life, we should nourish our bodies so we can thrive as God intended for our bodies to do, thus ultimately glorifying Him. Since we were created to experience and feel enjoyment, laughing and enjoying things throughout life glorifies God as well since we're experiencing emotions that God created to be experienced. Everything we do should be to glorify God, and often all that is is living our lives in the way that they were intended to be lived. Biblical ethics is very much more than merely performing right actions, but living a virtuous life that brings glory to God.
As Jesus said:

"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind."-Matthew 22:37b

It is also important to focus on what it means to love, which is an important aspect of what it means to be a believer. Paul makes the radical claim that to love is the entirety of the law of God:

"For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."-Galatians 5:14

Jesus also taught that to love God and love others were the two greatest commandments (Mark 12:28-31, Matt. 22:34-40). He also extends the commandment to love beyond one's brethren, and to love our enemies (Matt. 5:44). Loving those around us is central to what it means to be a believer (John 13:34; 15:12-17, Rom. 12:10; 13:8, 1 Cor. 13:1-8; 16:14, 2 Cor. 8:8, Eph. 4:2; 5:2, Phili. 1:9, Heb. 10:24, Jam. 2:8, 1 Pet. 1:22, 1 John 2:10; 3:23).
One might suggest this is no different than the Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do to you," or a Kantian rule: "I ought never to act except in such a way that I could also will that my maxim should become a universal law." In other words, "to live well is to perform good deeds or actions and nothing more." But an important point about loving someone is it cannot be done through actions alone. For example, one could buy a gift for their spouse to cheer them up. However, one could perform this action merely because they value performing right actions without any love for the person. One could donate to charity because it is the right thing to do, and not because she cares for the people who would benefit. In such scenarios, they can be seen as idolizing moral laws, not necessarily caring about helping others.
But to love someone requires more than merely performing right actions. You cannot love someone and not care about who they are as a person and where they are heading in life. To love is to will the good of the other. Jesus chastised the Pharisees of his day for only performing right actions, but not loving their brethren in their hearts. His criticism follows Matthew chapter 22, where Jesus says the greatest commandments are to love. The implication is the Pharisees perform proper actions, but have the wrong motivations for doing so. James Keenan puts it like this:
"Essential to understanding this command is that we love our neighbors not as objects of our devotion, but rather as subjects; that is, as persons. Thus, we cannot love others only because God wants us to do so, since then we would love them as means or as objects and not as persons. We can only love one another as subjects, just as God loves us." (Jesus and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology, pg. 86)
A critic may bring up that verses of the NT are still phrased as commands, and therefore the structure implies duties were the central aspect of Christian ethics. But the importance of duties is not foreign to Virtue Ethics. Instead of being central to the ethical framework, duties flow from a virtuous character. Virtues are active and have certain demands for which a person must fulfill in their active behavior.
According to Aristotle, knowledge of the virtues gives us practical wisdom in how to properly act. Duties flow from the understanding of the demands of virtues. To put it another way, for virtues to manifest in persons, they have certain demands that must be fulfilled. For the believer, the command of love flows from being virtuous and aligning oneself with the character of God. Commitment to the character of Christ, who perfectly carried out the will of the Father, allows us to perform right and proper actions.
The NT also contains lists of virtues the believer ought to emulate, the most famous of these is in Galatians chapter 5:
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law." (vss. 22-23)
Now, the connection with Aristotle cannot be more pronounced. The Greek phrase "against such there is no law" is almost identical to what we find in Aristotle's politics (3.13.1284a). It seems clear Paul is teaching a similar ethical framework to what Aristotle advocated for. Paul is teaching that the believing community ought to be persons who display key virtues, and that their conduct would not need to be regulated by a law. Instead, their character should be the standard others can measure themselves by. Romans chapter 2 is also a place we see references to Aristotle, where Paul notes that when Gentiles do what the law requires, they are "a law unto themselves" (vss. 14-15). In other words, they do not need to be told to act a certain way. They have the proper virtuous character that directs their actions, to do the good the law requires. Paul is advocating in Galatians that believers should think in a similar way.
So in Galatians 5, we have affinity with the teachings of Aristotle, and in other lists of virtues throughout the NT we see a similar idea, which is that Christians were meant to display virtues primarily (Rom. 5:3-5, 1 Cor. 13:1-8, Col. 3:12-17, 1 Tim. 3:2-3; 4:7-8, Jam. 3:17-18, 2 Pet. 1:5-8). From that, good deeds will properly manifest in our actions.
Anscombe made a great point on what the focus of ethics should be:
"It would be a great improvement if, instead of 'morally wrong', one always named a genus such as 'untruthful', 'unchaste', 'unjust'. We should no longer ask whether doing something was 'wrong', passing directly from some description of an action to this notion; we should ask whether, e.g., it was unjust; and the answer would sometimes be clear at once." (Modern Moral Philosophy, vol. 33, no. 124, 1-19)
Interestingly enough, Paul lays out a similar idea in explaining Christian ethics:

"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you."-Philippians 4:8-9

In other words, the central aspect on living a Christian life was on what is virtuous, not on what is lawfully right or wrong. Right actions flow from whatever is honorable, true, and pure. Correlating with this is how Paul responds to the Corinthians who claimed that "all was lawful." Paul reminded them the emphasis is not on what is lawful, but on what is good for building a virtuous character:

"All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not."-1 Corinthians 10:23

One's main focus ought to be on what is good, not on laws that dictate behavior.
One of the key aspects of Virtue Ethics is the idea we ought to learn from virtuous teachers and imitate them. A virtuous character is obtained by imitating what a virtuous person does. This parallels a key aspect of Christian ethics. Imitating Christ was (and still is) crucial to living a virtuous life:

"For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps:"-1 Peter 2:21

Paul says in Romans 8:29 that Christians were predestined "to be conformed to the image of his Son." Jesus often taught his followers to do as he does (Matt. 16:24, Mark 8:34, Luke 6:40; 9:23, John 13:15, 34). Paul says in 1st Corinthians 11: Be ye followers [i.e., imitators] of me, even as I also am of Christ" (vs. 1). Hebrews 13:7 says to imitate the faith of the patriarchs. 1st Thessalonians 2:14 says to imitate each other. And jesus taught to imitate the good Samaritan from his parable (Luke 10:37). Imitating virtuous teachers was key for Christian ethics.
Aristotle tended to compare acquiring virtues with that of learning a practical skill, like playing an instrument or learning how to become a builder. Such practical skills are best picked up when trained by a master of that particular skill, because a teacher can always provide more insight through lessons they learn from experience. For example, an expert salesman can provide examples from his experience of what works with specific customers that a sales textbook could never provide. Many professions today require on-the-job training or experience before even hiring an applicant. The reason is: experience is key to learning a profession. Merely acquiring knowledge from a textbook or an instruction manual is often insufficient to master a skill, so why would mastering the skill of virtue be any different?
In the NT, a believer is to see the world through the eyes of Christ and to love as he loved. One cannot learn how to be a virtuous person without knowing what that life would look like. A key component of Christian theology is that the Messiah perfectly represented the Father and His will on earth, to show us how to properly live as God intended for man. This central tenet of the NT aligns well with agent-based theories of Virtue Ethics, and modifies it so that the person of Jesus Christ is the universal exemplar that one is meant to emulate. We are called to imitate him through our actions, thoughts, and desires, and to conform ourselves to the way he lived. As Paul said:

"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."-Galatians 2:20

If learning from Christ is key, we should briefly take a look at the Sermon on the Mount, which is said to be one of Jesus' most important series of teachings. Daniel Harrington notes:
"The sermon begins with nine 'beatitudes' (see 5:3–12) in which Jesus declares as 'happy' or 'blessed' those who practice certain virtues, and promises them an eternal reward and the fullness of God's kingdom." (Jesus and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology, pg. 62)
Jesus laid out what a life for those that follow him look like in detail. One ought to be merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, thirst for righteousness, etcetera (Matt. 5:2-10). The Sermon does not merely include what right actions are, but includes sections on proper desires. Not only is it wrong to murder, but it is wrong to desire to murder or wish ill on someone (Matt. 5:22). Avoiding adultery is good, but one also should not covet after another man's woman in their heart (Matt. 5:28). In other words, merely avoiding immoral actions is not enough. One must also not desire vices. A believer is called to desire what is good.
The Sermon is not necessarily laying down universal moral commands. For example, Matthew 5:9 says, "Blessed are the peacemakers," but this doesn't imply absolute Pacifism, as it would contradict passages in the Old Testament where it explicitly says there is a time for war (Ecc. 3:8). The point of the Sermon is to teach what a virtuous life ought to look like. A follower of Christ ought to use reason to know what is proper to do in various circumstances. For example, in Matthew chapter 6, Jesus offers guidance on how one ought to pray by presenting the Lord's prayer (vss. 9-15). This is a model of how to pray. It's not a command for followers to always pray in this exact way.
In reality, the Sermon on the Mount mixes in exhortations, parables, hyperbole, declarations, commands, etc. It is best understood as displaying what a virtuous life ought to look like. It's not a law code. Building on this, it's important to understand a proper action is context sensitive. Under Virtue Ethics, one should not necessarily apply a universal maxim to every situation. Sometimes the proper action will depend on what is at stake, who is involved, what is the background, etc. Aristotle advocated against the idea there were fixed universal laws that dictate actions, and instead he argued the right action would depend on the circumstances one finds themselves in. Although the ethics of the NT may be a bit more strict, it still places an emphasis on being sensitive to the context of situations.
In 1st Corinthians chapter 8, Paul lays out instructions on how to deal with meat that has been sacrificed to Pagan idols. Instead of stating an absolute prohibition against meat sacrificed to idols, Paul instructed Christians to use reason to come to the proper ethical decision based on context. In other words, the right action is not determined only by a law. Instead, the Christian had to make the proper decision based on the context: if eating caused another to stumble, then you ought to abstain; if not, then there's no harm done. The value of the action depends on the context.
A Deontologist might reply that there's still a universal law given here: that one should always abstain if it's going to cause another to stumble. This objection can be addressed by asking: how are we to know if eating the meat will cause another believer to stumble? To answer such a question, one must be sensitive to the context, which in this case would be knowledge of the fellow believer and your relation to him. It is the context that determines the right action, not a universal law. Moreover, Paul states that the primary goal for the believer should be to love (1 Cor. 13). The first consideration is once again not the rightness of action, but having love for one another. From this, knowledge of the proper action will follow.
Paul often explains that living a proper life as a believer will take work and practice. He reminded Timothy to attend readings, practice what these things mean, and keep a close watch on himself (1 Tim. 4:13-14). Elsewhere, he directs that all believers must work on their faith (Phili. 2:12). Beyond this, he also noted that not all Christians would have the same gifts, and to accept that this was normal (1 Cor. 12). For some, certain things may be a hindrance, whereas for others it is acceptable (Rom. 14:2-4). What matters is that we love and build one another up (1 Thess. 5:11). Right actions flow from love and knowledge of virtue. Rules are not the primary motives that dictate our actions; rules are secondary in this regard.
An interesting case can be studied with regards to divorce in the Gospels. Jesus preaches against divorce (Mark 10:7-9) and it is often interpreted to mean "divorce is always wrong, regardless of circumstances." However, it should be noted the prohibition on divorce is not a universal law. The context can affect whether or not a divorce is permissible. Jesus says that one can divorce over sexual immorality. Paul also has a situation where divorce is permissible, namely if one spouse is an unbeliever and wishes to leave (1 Cor. 7:15). The implication one can derive is divorce is not ideal, but there are circumstances where it may be the proper action to take. Given the other features of Christian Virtue Ethics we already covered, the proper action to take will depend on the circumstances and what the virtuous agent thinks is the most loving thing to do. A universal prohibition on divorce is not a Christian ethic. Instead, one ought to discern the proper action from circumstances. However, it's clear in most cases divorce would not be the virtuous thing to do.
Building on this, it's important to note that within NT ethics, certain acts are always wrong. For example, idolatry and sexual immorality are always wrong (1 Cor. 10:14, Col. 3:15, 1 Pet. 4:13). There are no possible scenarios where it would be okay to rape, because such an act would never flow from a virtuous character. But this concept is not foreign to theories of Virtue Ethics. Aristotle noted that for some actions, no qualifications could make them virtuous. Actions such as rape or murder are always wrong, because they would never flow from a virtuous character. So it's not as if a Virtue Ethicist cannot claim that some actions are always wrong. They simply are qualified as being unable to flow from virtue, whereas actions like lying or waging war could be considered virtuous for the right reason.
Now, despite Christian Virtue Ethics having many similarities with Eudaimonism (Aristotelian ethics), there are also numerous differences beyond what we've already noted. One of the deficiencies of how Aristotle lays out his ethical theory is that it is essentially an all-boys club. Aristotle writes mainly to aristocratic men, excluding women and slaves. In his view, women were inferior to men and slaves lacked the necessary rational faculty. But the Christians rejected this mentality, as the teachings of Christ and the apostles were available to all (Matt. 28:19). Paul said, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal. 3:28). Peter wrote that all Christians were part of the priesthood of Christ (1 Pet. 2:5). Jesus had women followers (Luke 8:2-3), and they were entrusted with delivering revelation (Mark 15:40–16:8). What we find throughout the NT is a radical change to how women were viewed in the ancient world. Paul is also likely building on Aristotle's household structure and refining it. David deSilva says the household codes of the NT are "...following the pairs laid out as early as Aristotle to such a degree as to suggest that these were standard topics in ethical instruction" (Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity, pg. 231). But Paul adds an important preface: submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ (Eph. 5:20-21). DeSilva says:
"...husbands, we cannot then ignore the distinctively Christian addition they bring to this arrangement; husbands are to be subject to their wives as well." (Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity, pg. 233)
Thus Paul doesn't break down the traditional perspective on the structure of the family, but he does add the idea that we all must submit to each other in reverence, love, unity, and cooperation because all are equal before God. There is no explicit mention in the NT calling for the abolishment of slavery, but it should be noted that Paul taught that slaves should be seen as equals. In the letter to Philemon, Paul is clear that his slave is no longer "as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved" (vs. 16). Thus, within Christian ethics class distinctions were supposed to evaporate. All were brothers and sisters of one family.
An important aspect of Christian ethics is that it wasn't a standalone ethical theory. It's embedded in the larger Christian worldview. The ethical framework is dependent on Christian doctrines. For Aristotle, his ethical theory is for men who were raised well. This is why these specific men desire to be virtuous and perform right actions. As for why the believer does good and desires to be virtuous, it's not because one was raised well, but because they have been activated by the power of God's Spirit (John 3:6, 1 Cor. 12:13). For believers, the reason as to why we desire to be good and virtuous is because the Spirit of God has regenerated us. He loves us so we can love others (1 John 4:19). One is meant to look to the life of Christ and what he has done by dying on the cross, to know that we are loved and forgiven. This in turn is meant to activate a good life, having seen what we have gained and been forgiven of. He calls and activates us to do similar to those around us. This is a more open system for people of all groups and classes. One only has to call upon the name of the Lord to be included. It does not require a specific gender or to be raised a certain way.
The goal of Aristotelian ethics is to achieve 'eudaimonia.' However, within the Bible the goal is as the Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever." Since the central aspect of Biblical Eschatology is that humans will continue on forever in resurrected bodies, the aim of ethics is more than living a good life presently. Living a good life now is important, but it was only one aspect in the Christian worldview. Humans are meant to live beyond this life, so the aim is also about building virtuous souls that will continue on. The importance of this is more crucial than it may seem at first. Paul said that we must all appear before judgment, so that "every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad" (2 Cor. 15:10).
Being a virtuous person requires integrity, because one will still have to answer to God after death. If one can commit an evil act and no one finds out, then from the outside perspective he or she may still appear virtuous. Culturally speaking, the ancient world was very different from our own. All wrongdoings centered around public honor and shame. One did good to receive public honor, and one did not do what was bad to receive public shame. Right and wrong were connected to one's public honor and shame in the ancient Greco-Roman world. Thus good and evil were public ideas, not personal ideas. Ethical demands were grounded in the community in one's public appearance
The Biblical idea of an omniscient God who cared about our ethical status laid a foundation for integrity and personal guilt to emerge. Now one ought to do good because he is beholden to God, not just the community. Believers are to remain focused on God's approval and on the actions that lead them, regardless of the world's response. This lays down fertile ground for integrity to emerge. So the Biblical worldview has another important element built in that encourages ethical behavior, regardless of the honor it brings. One ought to do good because of a commitment to God not, because it might bring honor to one's name publicly.

Implications for Preterists

Paul believed that the Second Coming would happen in his generation, and prescribed certain things in the NT on the basis of that belief. An example of an exhortation that would no longer apppy to us today would be 1st Corinthians 7:24-29, where Paul argues that the times him and his fellow Christians were in called for celibacy, being that the Lord was fast approaching. It wasn't a sin if you did get married, of course; it was just harder to serve the Lord in this context if you had a family to worry about. Thus, Paul encouraged being single.
So, we need to be careful when reading the NT and determining what prohibitions or exhortations are still applicable to us today. Context is key.

Why does Nijisanji always have to do this... I've been so busy lately that even the time to write this has been cut down...
You only budgeted less than an hour to write this, you big dumbass
I-
Not only that, you also have to wake up early.
Yes, I kn-
IT IS 3:41 AM LOCAL TIME YOU SHITTY MOD
^{I-I know... please...}
THESE THINGS TAKE HOURS TO DO PROPERLY! YOU ARE SHIT AT SCHEDULING!
^\MikaCry.png*)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is 3:44AM local time when I decided to start writing this. I try to keep a week window to do these so it is really a "weekly" wrap up. Consistency is very important after all. Then I look at how far down I have to go to reach the previous weekly wrap up and I'm just like... "There has to be a better way...."
If I try to write every day on what happen tho and save a draft, it won't flow well and the writing tone will change and stuff. So... I'll just have to do this I guess?... Wait.. I'm already over time... WHAT THE FU-
.... *cough* Anyways.
Do you remember when Fuwa Minato (from Niji JP) suggested to a teen during a radio-callin to "buy followers"? Quite a sh-tty thing to suggest that you artificially inflate your social media followers so you get a fake number to show off. Especially on how much teens take stock on such metrics socially? There is also the question raised on how accurate their own sub counts are now (considering their talent just outright said to buy such things). What bad optics yo.
Nijisanji opens their mouth and "interesting" stuff comes out... Wait.. THAT is the first topic after the last write up? WHAT?!
There was also that picture of the Niji Retirees without Sayu. Link is a direct XTwitter one lol. Tracked down the artist lol.
Also a meme
There is also this post... "If Hell is Forever, then Heaven must be a Lie". Does Vtubing attract those with a different slant mentally or does it cause it? \looks at the mirror* ...* Hmn... At least in this context, a certain company certainly doesn't help at all.
Oh right! Sayu also had her first Honkai Star Rail sponsored stream lol (oh here is also the stream link). Considering things, it is nice that she got a sponsored stream from MiHoYo again. Personally I don't currently play any of their games (I did tho :P) so I have no strong feelings about it one way or another. I just know the lore and... its nice.
Then there is KamiiGOO tweeting on how happy she is. I mean I know that it is being magnified by the context but holy heck is the unsaid parts being echoed out so hard in the background lol
Then there was that post about Black Vtubing companies. I mean, there is certainly to be said about the one that doxxed their own talents. At the same time tho, they are not as big as Nijisanji/AnyColor and how many more people are affected by what they do. Either way, I do wonder how many Vtubing companies have been outed as "Black"... I don't have enough energy to seriously pursue it lol
Then there is that post about Sayu surpassing Zaion. The new surpases the old. Nice
NijiSisters are hypocrites.... HA
The Sky is Blue
The Sun Rises from the East
NijiSisters are hypocrites.
Fact of life folks. This ain't gonna change. They're a bunch of crazies if one is being honest.
\Sees Suisei-sama, have to talk about it**
I... I actually can't talk too much about the thing with Suisei-sama \feels the time pressure right now*. Basically, she turned off SuperChats because she already has a lot of merch that any Hoshiyomis worth their salt would be devouring (\wallet-kun dies a violent death*) so she'd rather save her fans SOME money and go with a merch instead. At least that way, they'll get something for supporting her too!
Iroha-dono must also be suffering quite a bit. As the Hoshiyomi representative, any support for her will no doubt also flow towards partly supporting Suisei-sama too... UGH... The amount of Merch... *hyperventilates* ^h-help...
Oh to be clear, I'm actually not that big of a Hoshiyomi...
That's a f-cking lie you shitty mod.
^{N-No Comment... but I swear! I'm more of a Tako!}
What time is it again...?
^\screams*)
Then there is the Meme that makes Niji Sith.... Heheh... Seeth, Sith... you know?... no? not funny? I-I'm sorry...
Remember the time when (presumably) Niji Management blocked Niji talents from participating from that certain Tekken event because Doki was in it? I believe Vox also expressed interest but it never materialized? I mean... its petty but it still tracks with what Niji Management does y'know? Late addition: One more post?
^{Oh god, I am still at a VERY small portion... I am already past my allocated schedule for this.. I'm cutting into sleep X\}X)
Dokibird hit 700K subscribers! Yay!
There is also that time when Marine-sencho talked about how "Suffocating" it is to be under Holo Management. Here is even a clip of it. To clarify it, she said on how there ARE restrictions and her manager and staff-san are on her case at times. She internally rages about it at the moment (as is normal). However, she also knows that it is because they are also protecting her too. It is not a case of "being restrictive to bully" but "being restrictive because if we don't, there is a real chance of your channel being deleted/sponsors pulling out". To be clear, there is also the fact that viewers have a nice cache of trust on Holo vs Niji that they believe it when a talent says it like this.
Considering who Senchou is and the stuff that DOES get through (for example...), one could only wonder what kind of yabai it is that DOES GET RESTRICTED. Makes one wonder y'know?
Then out of nowhere, a couple of demon guard dogs said "Hold our Bone" then showcased a small spread of their hand-signed postcards for their birthday merch. Looking closely, you can see that they ARE hand-signed. In the context of Niji, this absolutely MAULS and MOGS on a certain someone who got outed that their signature isn't even signed by themselves LOL. Did they even offer hand-signed postcards? Or are they all just stamped? No idea, I never even looked at their merch lol.
Now, to be clear, I did wish Hex Haywire a happy birthday and a very long tenure with Nijisanji (hehe), but damn did Niji Management did him dirty on his stream. Not that I really care nor watch him, but still sucks when they do this.
Oh, and remember, he's the one who f-cked around with the ashes of a friend's dead Grandfather and someone's pet fish. He's not a nice person.
Then there is that Meme about how you avoid Nijisanji without actively avoiding them. Heh.
Oh, this is what I'd like to call "Foreshadowing"?
Apparently Dokibird/Selen is unmarketable? One tweet of many that says otherwise :P Late addition: Marvel Alpha. Really unmarketable huh?
This is also Round 2 of the Transparency post btw. Just a little thing...
There is also this post about Parrot. Damn, it's only May... wait... it's only May... Oh fu-
Oh right, shihomii created the sticky post in regards to making a master timeline of things. Nice.
Remember that Foreshadowing? Well, there has been some posts that popped up on it. To be clear, for a majority of healthy sane adults who knows their stuff,responsible consumption of these mixed drinks wouldn't cause a major problem for them. The Math has been done by various people on it. It SHOULDN'T be that big of a problem. However, it was done while marketing to an obvious younger demographic that might not exactly know when to stop. There is also the fact that NO SANE COMPANY would outright say or even want the messaging NEAR THEM to mix energy drinks + alcohol. Especially on a 1:1 ratio. This is just absolute MADNESS that they said "Oh, yeah, this is fine." and gave the approval. it got even the Japanese government involved. Also, links to posts about this being randomly placed cuz reasons :P late addition: Lamy talking about Mixing Alcohol and Energy drinks. There is even a clip of it! Wild Yagoo appears
There is also a question posted. Why even be in Nijisanji?
Then there is the Comparison meme.
Gotta say that I can't understand Claude Logic. I think I'm better off that way.
Apparently, there has been some Nijisisters who are trying to weaponize the NijiJP fanbase to attack Khyo. Huh...
There is also a post about Polka-sama... Ever Blue huh...
There is also another dokibird W going to AVCon as a guest.
Coco-kaichou mentioned.
So apparently Anime Impulse's M&G tickets are still not sold out. So they increased the limit to 5. Y'know, target the whales :P. It allowed them to sell out on some more talents. Really milking those whales eh?
Artist tries to hide from Vtuber. Wasn't that successful.
So Armchair Expert did a follow-up video. This time analyzing the Zaion situation and how it reflects on what AnyColoNijisanji did to Selen. Obviously people have thoughts on it. To me, it just said the quiet, unsaid parts out loud while also throwing terms that the average person doesn't know about. Things like "Folk Devil". I remember talking on how I personally know about it already and what Armchair Expert's video did is to deliver it in a way that the regular people would understand and digest it. I wonder where I said that... I forgor lol
There has been an update for Kotoka Torahime. For those concerned, here you go!
Grim
^{Halp, I'm losing steam X\}X... my sleep time....)
Crazy Nijisister implies that they and Nijisanji will try to get 4chan shutdown. I remember cackling like mad when i saw this. I was laughing so much that I had to get water. Onee-sama was concerned for me when she saw me barely standing up trying to get water because I was laughing too much. Hmmm~
Remember folks that false flagging is always a thing. Keep an eye out.
Idol Sponsored Dokibird to watch their new gen
So Sayu did a watchalong of Armchair Expert. That was even watched by the mod staff. Thoughts and points were talked about. From both the user base and the mod team. Wild really.
So, Hololive Meet Taipei 2024. Why is this relevant? Well, they also had a Karaoke event (not concert) that can be compared to VR-SG. Pointed out in a reply by OP, it sure looks like Hololive keeps on winning even on a "Karaoke" vs VR-SG. Here is Bae posting some pics (tweet here). FuwaMoco also did one. Here is Gura's own tweet. Here is also some thoughts about it (with pics) and more replies too. This absolutely is just.... I mean.... the Down Under Concert is... a Concert. This is Hololive on a Karaoke!!! VR-SG is a Karaoke (it ain't a concert) so this is the most comparable comparisons. SO THIS JUST PROVES THAT NIJI IS MOGGED HARD BY MOST OBJECTIVE METRICS. Heck, I was recently watching an old hwikky video about AGF and I was struck on how a free DJ event in that convention must have comparable attendance while having A LOT MORE ENERGY to VR-SG. It is just wild really. Late addition: More Screenshots (along with official tweet). Btw, did VR-SG release any "official photos" of their event?
There was also a M&G comparison between Holo and Niji's VR-SG.
Dokibird is also hosting a WrestleTuber event that has HoloStars, Idol EN, and Phase Connect members in it.
Oh, here is a good reminder.
More NijisisteNDF madness. Daymn they crazy.
Dokibird W with AnimeThon bringing her in as a Guest of Honor (that's the tweet). This girl is BUSY. wtf.
Wait, NijiEN is having a *Full 3D concert* at AnimeExpo? Considering how the last one went.. \Are they Sure**?
Bonnivier Pranaja was announced to be graduating Nijisanji. I don't know who this is personally so I can't really say much. However, I don't think his name came up on any predictions at all.
*looks at the time* oh god...
My sleep...
.... *sigh*
Well... I'm all caught up... you are all too... I spent... *checks* ... too long on this... most likely because I wanted to make sure I linked things properly + watched things so its accurate.
I want to sleep.
Ugh.
Thank you very much for reading! I'll see you guys at the next post!
Yours,
CPC_Alice

Link: https[://]mullvad[.]net/en/blog/introducing-defense-against-ai-guided-traffic-analysis-daita
Even if you have encrypted your traffic with a VPN (or the Tor Network), advanced traffic analysis is a growing threat against your privacy. Therefore, we now introduce DAITA.
Through constant packet sizes, random background traffic and data pattern distortion we are taking the first step in our battle against sophisticated traffic analysis.
When you connect to the internet through a VPN (https[://]mullvad[.]net/vpn/what-is-vpn) (or the Tor Network) your IP address is masked, and your traffic is encrypted and hidden from your internet service provider. If you also use a privacy-focused web browser (https[://]mullvad[.]net/browser), you make it harder for adversaries to monitor your activity through other tracking technologies such as third-party cookies, pixels or browser fingerprints.
But still, the mass surveillance of today is more sophisticated than ever, and a growing threat against privacy is the analysis of patterns in encrypted communication through advanced traffic analysis.

This is how AI can be used to analyze your traffic – even if it’s encrypted.

When you visit a website, there is an exchange of packets: your device will send network packets to the site you're visiting and the site will send packets back to you. This is a part of the very backbone of the internet. The fact that packets are being sent, the size of the packets, and how often they are sent will still be visible for your ISP, even if you are using a VPN (or the Tor network).
Since every website generates a pattern of network packets being sent back and forth based on the composition of its elements (like images and text blocks), it’s possible to use AI to connect traffic patterns to specific websites. This means your ISP or any observer (authority or data broker) having access to your ISP can monitor all the data packets going in and out of your device and make this kind of analysis to attempt to track the sites you visit, but also who you communicate with using correlation attacks (you sending messages with certain patterns at certain times, to another device receiving messages with a certain pattern at same times).

How we combat traffic analysis: this is how DAITA works.

DAITA has been developed together with Computer Science at Karlstad University and uses three types of cover traffic to resist traffic analysis.

1. Constant Packet Sizes

The size of network packets can be particularly revealing, especially small packets, so DAITA makes all packets sent over the VPN the same constant size.

2. Random Background Traffic

By unpredictably interspersing dummy packets into the traffic, DAITA masks the routine signals to and from your device. This makes it harder for observers to distinguish between meaningful activity and background noise.

3. Data Pattern Distortion

When visiting websites (or doing any other activity that causes significant traffic), DAITA modifies the traffic pattern by unpredictably sending cover traffic in both directions between client and VPN server. This distorts the recognizable pattern of a website visit, resisting accurate identification of the site.

The future of data brokers selling traffic data is already here

With the sophisticated AI of today, traffic analysis can potentially be used for mass surveillance. The extent to which traffic analysis is used today is difficult to ascertain. But the ambition is there. In 2021, Vice reported that the FBI purchased netflow data from a data broker claiming to cover over 90 percent of the world’s internet traffic.
How traffic analysis can be used in the future is hard to overview. That’s why we need to work on a resistance today. This initial version of DAITA is our first response to the evolving challenges of online privacy. DAITA is released as open source and as we gather feedback we will continue to refine and develop, ensuring it remains at the forefront of privacy technology.
“We don't need to speculate on the extent to which traffic analysis is being used today. We just observe the development of AI and the development of authoritarian societies. There is also no need to speculate on which role traffic analysis will play in future mass surveillance. What we must do is to recognize the threats and opportunities – and work on resistance”, says Jan Jonsson, CEO at Mullvad VPN.

The building blocks of DAITA are open source

DAITA is built using the open-source Maybenot defense framework, which Mullvad helps to fund development of. The work has been academically peer reviewed and published as open access.
“Putting traffic analysis defenses to practice is long overdue. Because the area is changing due to the rapid development of AI, investing time and energy into a framework makes perfect sense”, says Tobias Pulls, researcher at Karlstad University.
To begin with, DAITA 2024.3-beta1 is available in our VPN app on Windows 10 and 11.
To start using DAITA: Download (https[://]mullvad[.]net/download/vpn/beta) the beta version of Mullvad VPN for Windows. Go to Settings – VPN settings – WireGuard settings – turn on DAITA.

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.

I am hoping to cover two armchairs in a velvety/velour type fabric. I've seen a number of darker options, like grays, blues, reds, etc., but I'm looking for brighter colors, like a hot pink or chartreuse.
I've gone through options the following sites: Amazon, Wayfair, Target, Walmart, and Etsy. What are some other options for 2-piece armchair covers? Am I missing anything?
Is Temu too much of a gamble?

I've been meaning to write this review for a while and hesitated because I'm somewhat new to the fragrance hobby, but I figured if at least one more person new about Kismet Olfactive then I would be happy. Kismet Olfactive is one of the houses that got me interested in this hobby to begin with (the other being Diptyque) and I happen to own samples of almost everything they've released.
About Kismet Olfactive: An indie house based in NYC and founded by perfumer Shabnam Tavakol. She studied at Grasse Institute of Perfumery and her studio sets out to create "fragrances from feelings," both inspired by memories and meant to move the wearer emotionally.
I brought all of my samples to my local Scent Bar and showed them to everyone there – they all thought the fragrances were well-blended and it was interesting to see each person have different favorites. I actually happened to walk in right as a customer was asking if Scent Bar stocked Kismet Olfactive and it was truly a serendipitous moment that I had brought all my samples that day. Kismet comes from the Persian qismat which means "fate" or "what is meant to be" which I thought was fitting.
CLASSIC COLLECTION:
Nostalgia (Top: Anise; Heart: Tonka Bean, Rose de mai; Base: Leather, Suede, Nagarmotha): Such a beautiful fragrance and the first I smelled from this house. Someone I knew was wearing it and I just couldn't get enough. Nostalgia is a smooth, creamy, warm leather and unlike any leather I've smelled before. It's so well-blended it's hard for me to pick out individual notes and the longevity is amazing. It reminds me of sitting in a worn leather armchair in an old private library. It feels cozy, comforting, and familiar. This fragrance is in Frederic Malle's personal collection and is also my personal favorite from Kismet.
Studio Scent (Top: Bergamot, Heart: Turkish Fig, Persian Black Tea, Lavender, Base: Amberwood, Oakmoss, Palo Santo): For those you familiar with BDK's Gris Charnel, Studio Scent is its more natural, fresher sibling. To be fair, I'm slightly biased since I smelled Studio Scent first, but the fig really shines in this and the choice of palo santo over BDK's sandalwood is a good one.
The Poet (Top: Grapefruit, Ambrox; Heart: Casablanca Lily, Ambrette Musk, Frankincense; Base: Sandalwood, Tonka Bean, Patchouli): So smooth and sexy – the grapefruit in the opening gives it a nice zing. Once it blooms on your skin, it really comes to life. The tonka bean, patchouli, and musk blend perfectly and I see it as a "your skin but better" type fragrance. Marketed as unisex but I think it leans slightly masculine. If you like Molecule 01, you'd probably like this. I'm currently wearing it and I can't stop putting my nose to my arm!
Nympheas (Top: Pond water; Heart: Maté, Lily of the Valley, Lotus; Base: Vetiver, Oakmoss): Nympheas was inspired by Monet's paintings and I'm immediately transported there when I wear it. I feel like I'm in a pond covered with lotuses – acquatic, fresh, floral, slightly ozonic. The only gripe I have with this fragrance is that its longevity is weak.
Wedding in Oaxaca (Top: Pink Pepper, Ginger, Coconut Milk; Heart: Geranium, Gardenia, Violet Leaves; Base: Osmanthus, Musk, Sandalwood): I used to think that I hated white florals; Wedding in Oaxaca is what changed my mind for good. The opening is fresh from the pink pepper and ginger, but this fragrance really shines when it settles into your skin. Once the heart opens up, you get a beautiful creaminess from the white florals. Fresh, warm, creamy, and slightly spicy.
Tuberose Tantra (Top: Clove, Ginger Root; Heart: Tuberose, Jasmine; Base: Patchouli, Sandalwood, Cashmeran): Warm, spicy, and floral but different from Wedding in Oaxaca. The tuberose here is faintly reminiscent of bubble gum, but not in a bad way. It's a very well-balanced fragrance and leans more into the spices than Wedding in Oaxaca. If you love tuberose, I definitely recommend trying this one out!
COMMON GROUND COLLECTION: This collection is limited edition and inspired by cities around the world. Unfortunately I was only able to get my hands on L.A. High and Embarcadero, but they also have ones for Barcelona and Paris. LA and SF are both home for me, so being able to smell both of these was a treat.
L.A. High (Top: Saltwater; Heart: Maryjane, Sage, Violet Leaves; Base: Sandalwood, Palo Santo, Petitgrain): Fresh opening with the saltwater and sage, and gradually its warmth from the sandalwood and palo santo comes through. The marijuana note is so well-blended and is more of a supporting character than the highlight, if you're worried about smelling like weed. The fragrance as a whole really does feel reminiscent of a sunny LA day. Unisex, but I see it leaning slightly masculine.
Embarcadero (Top: Bergamot; Heart: Galbanum, Violet Leaves, Labdanum; Base: Patchouli, Vetiver, Oakmoss): I'm not sure how Shabnam was able to do it, but she really was able to capture the feeling of SF. It's classified as a modern fougere and it reminds me of walking along the wharf on a slightly overcast day, the fog slowly dissipating as the ocean breeze passes through the city. When I close my eyes I can see the tall cypress trees.
Kismet Olfactive is one of my favorite houses and I've enjoyed every fragrance from them so far, even though I don't see myself wearing all of them. So far everyone I've introduced Kismet to has found something they like, and I hope you can too (unfortunately nothing here for you gourmand-lovers – maybe one day!). Thank you for reading!

This is part of a collection of notes I have made so far. Comment-exclusive material is marked with spoilers, which will be my policy as the author may choose to decanonize anything said only in comments. ([MAIN DIRECTORY]: [1 taint dragons], [2 nulls souls], [3 academy Vanavan], [4a gadgets humans], [4b EVI], [5a library rules], [5b evil library], [7a Nexus glossary], [7b Nexus detail], [7c Nexus-earth war], [8a magic catalog], [8b magic], [9a Yearbook], [9b Emma’s Null, Mal'tory’s fate], [10a portals], [10b ECS crate], [10c taint], [10d dragons], [10e tainted dragon god], [11 timeline], [74 Nexus King].)

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

The Library is an evil god

The Library incentivizes, sustains, and enables the evils of Nexus

▛ Knowledge is power. With power comes responsibility. And the library is not responsible. ▟
For all its disarming cuteness, the library is, by its own rules and admission, an eldritch amoral entity that does not especially care about long-term consequences for other species and their worlds that host its physical existence so long as it is getting its info diet. The Library weaponizes learning and creations, it stifles the free exchange of information, and, as an insult to injury, it is mostly inaccessible to those who would benefit most.

The Library is too knowledgeable for its behavior to be excused by bad upbringing

This point is the foundation for others to follow, so I want to make it now, up front. The library could be kinder, more equitable, and more concerned about the outside world, but either lacks the wisdom to introspect or actively chooses not to be a better institution. The Library’s behavior may be excused if its prime directives have been corrupted and its behavior constrained. Certainly it is curious the Library has to test its own operating parameters. But until we have firm evidence the Library has been tampered with, it is prudent to assume the Library is acting true to its own ethical code.
▛ Altering one’s behavior only when it is convenient or when there might be consequences rather than pro-actively in response to recognized harm is characteristic of a selfish being. ▟
Even though it comes from a time before modern Nexus, The Library might suffer from being enmeshed with Nexian culture like Ilunor until he was betrayed and forced to rely on someone he thought the least of. So spoken, we have also seen a variety of Nexians and magicrealmers who know better: Thacea, Thalmin, Rila, Vanavan, Sorecar. The Library has had more than enough information, observations, and time to make a judgment call about its own values system. If it didn’t, then it couldn’t have established an extradition treaty in the first place.
The Library’s present evil is far worse than a distant god passively observing civilizations cycling through despair and ruin. A non-interfering power gives its subjects freedom, agency to discover and become themselves, to own their own results. The Library binds and imprisons magicrealm civilization by being active within it. It touches all yet declares itself untouchable, encourages self destructive acts with its foolish rules, and champions the loss of mortal worlds to entropy via stagnation and destruction.
As proof of flawed character, an involved being with a good heart would not choose solipsism when it holds the memories of millions of adventurous meetings, loving crafts of innumerable hands, billions of earnest cultural works composed over myriad years, and endless stories of trials and triumphs. Someone collecting a culture’s outpouring of love, hope, dreams, and tragedy could never be so callous as to enslave mortals in eternal suffering unless they were beyond the moral event horizon.

The Library’s Externalities

Even without the arrival of humans, the Library’s amoral operational rules and mortal beings’ values and innate chaos are thoroughly incompatible and create dangerous externalities. Faced with technology’s imminent introduction to Nexus, the Library becomes an exponential liability that neither humanity or even Nexus can tolerate.

The Library is an especial danger to tech-based societies and anyone adjacent to them.

Information control systems for mana are incompatible with the realities of technology.
The use and abuse of magic in the Nexian system is limited by the finite few skilled casters, dependent on the conceit that those few were blessed by the gods to be the legitimate leaders. Most people are aura-less, so even if they had the knowledge and the tools to craft, they can’t create objects of power. As an additional restriction, powerful spells also require a circle of mages to work together. Nexus thus focuses its full attention on controlling casters.
Humanity’s science and technology is a fundamentally different system. The advancement of science and the maintenance of mechanization puts technology into many hands. Human society plows its productive excess into widespread scholarship to speed the development of additional science and tech. Technology is not balanced; it can be reverse-engineered and widely disseminated to many users. Second, the natural order of technological breakthroughs is that boons are inevitably paired with increasingly dangerous ways to misuse them. An FTL ship can be commandeered to collide with and extinguish a planet. Humanity’s morals and legal practices developed around controlling technological misuse, but humanity also adapted by structuring society so that people believe in their own agency and more often choose to cooperate than fall into nihilism. Humanity puts power into many hands so that mass discontent can be addressed with diplomacy, power exchanges, alterations of governmental structure, or even limited war with humanitarian constraints before it reaches the final stage of total and existential violence at maximum military tech level. Magicrealmers are less kind. They do not cherish each other as much as humans. Safe tech transferal must match demonstrated prosocial behavior. Third, humanity’s power has no hard cap. Nexian power is materially limited by mana concentration and socially limited by the requirement that no collection of institutions or realms surpass the Eternal King’s divine might. Controlled from the bottom up, humanity is free to scale both in energy source and quantity and bestow enormous power to institutions in proportion to trust and effective regulation. The Library bypasses the important trust and regulation design.
The Library’s trade rules undercut all these protective measures by not letting mortals impose even temporary constraints on access. This hurts not only humanity, but anyone else they interact with who can steal tech and unleash it.

The wicked benefit most from the Library

• The library trades equally with dangerous and depraved. No one is forbidden from entering.
  
• The library assigns full credit for information to the one who enters it, not its creators.
  
• A civilization seeking to protect others from hurting themselves by concealing knowledge of deadly, efficient weapons is forever at the mercy of the individuals most desperate for secrets willing to commit depraved acts to obtain traffickable information.
  
• The Library benefits and further entrenches rulers who can 1) control the physical location of the Library and deny its utility to others. This forces outsiders to degrade the utility and openness of their own archives as a precaution against theft. 2) Aids the temporal power’s conquests with information exchange. The Library, which cares not for the worlds beyond its walls, is comfortable benefiting from this arrangement and collateral damage inflicted on its behalf to create information credit.
  
• The Library preferentially punishes immediate vandals and does not investigate for conspiracy. This has the potential to create an exploitable cycle where someone expendable deletes information which is later re-added by authorities to generate credit.
  
• The acceptance of physical items as “tribute” encourages mass looting of artifacts of cultural value from weaker polities where they will be locked away (or disassembled or whatever the Library does) from their creators forever, unused and unappreciated - equivalent to destroying them from the mortal perspective. Looting deprives cultures of unique identity, transmission of history and values to future generations, inspiration, and hope.
  

The Library promotes stagnancy and weaponizes learning

▛ As long as the Library exists, there are no innocent acts of creation. ▟
Every iota of knowledge brought into being has a concrete weaponizable value because it can be exchanged or used to build tangential credit with the Library; therefore, all who create and collections of knowledge are liabilities which must be bound, controlled, and hidden to prevent their value from being exploited by outsiders. A society of scholars like Earth’s would never come into being under this system. Free intellectual and technological growth and exchange is choked to death.
Trapped in a prisoner’s dilemma, the most powerful mortal state – Nexus in this case – has to contain the inherent threat of all novel polities because an immoral person, local or foreign, could exploit informational novelty to gain weapons that harm the greater state.
Lastly, building a democratized state is disincentivized under this system because the Library allocates credit to a single person high in the hierarchy which likely precludes representatives from using it.

The Library preempts the existence of other libraries, especially open access ones

Any collection of knowledge and the scholars of all skill levels that congregate there to research and share become a dungeon to loot for untapped trade value. The fear of value extraction means public libraries for the common good are a liability. Local rulers will push them into the private sphere or beneath the state’s veil of secrecy. Without public access to knowledge, society rots from widespread ignorance.

Even if Nexus goes down, the Library problem will start back up again next civilization

It is valid to say “Hey, Nexus, not the Library, is doing the bad deeds, so the guilt is on Nexians alone.” The problem is that the Library’s perverse incentives will continue to exist no matter what mortal civilization possesses the Library.
Given enough mortals, malevolence always exists among them. Malice is a statistic, not an anomaly. Responsible society creates not only institutions of justice to provide accountability after crimes are committed, but also preemptively builds systems to add friction between ideation and execution. These include classifying dangerous information, surveilling and auditing those with access to abusable materials or positions, requiring licensing for tools and professions that have high potential for harm, defensive structures, and restricting the possession of dangerous items. The Library lowers the knowledge acquisition and comprehension barrier for bad actors.

In conclusion...

The Library is one of the pillars of Nexian tyranny. If you’d be willing to defenestrate the King of Nexus to overthrow his system, then it would be hypocritical not to also advocate tossing the Library.

The Library is tainted by Nexian philosophy

Despite its claims that it stands separate, the Library is a thoroughly Nexian creature and replicates many of its evils. It fancies itself to be objective and free of dogma, but it arrogantly and boastfully overstates its capabilities. Its actions, behavior, and even architecture are consistent with discrimination against mortals in general and non-casters specifically.

Nexian bigotry is thoroughly embedded in the Library’s psyche

“Yes, it is meant to be accessible to all, but it positions itself in such a way that makes that relatively difficult for the average commoner to access, let alone discover what they seek without the aid of magic.” [17]

Thalmin pointed out that few benefit from the Library because of its remoteness and accessibility tuned to casters. The Library doesn’t realize its prejudices because it is not actively malicious in its own mind, it is just treating mortals how they ought to be treated - either in line with their perceived information value or how much the gods blessed them with magic potential. Considering that the UN fought at least two major civil wars specifically over fair and equal access, and Emma was raised in future-US and its history lessons, she ought to be able to spot the prejudicial justifications a kilometer away.

The Library favors magic users above all others

It is unclear why the Library values magic users above all others and discriminates against non-magical users by making its archives unsearchable for them. My current hypothesis is that, as the Nexians think, the Library believes those blessed with the gift of magic are chosen by the gods to be important. Or is it because magic users have more knowledge to trade on average?

Hospitality insult towards humanity and Emma in particular

Fox one day thought of a plan to amuse himself at the expense of Stork. “You must come and dine with me today,” Fox said to Stork. Stork gladly accepted the invitation and arrived in good time and with a very good appetite.
For dinner Fox served soup. But it was set out in a very shallow dish, and all Stork could do was to wet the very tip of his bill. Not a drop of soup could he get. But Fox lapped it up easily, and, to increase the disappointment of Stork, made a great show of enjoyment. - Aesop’s Fable ‘The Fox and the Stork’

The Library offered Earthrealm an unintentional but significant insult that Emma and Thalmin commented on: the accessibility of its literature is effectively limited to precisely-skilled magic users (e.g. those approved of by Nexus and taught search spells) unless the patron intends to trade knowledge for knowledge. Like the Aesop where Fox and Stork exchange suppers in dishes the other has a hard time using, the library has not made any alterations that would allow mana-blind and auraless users access to its regular find-it-yourself services.
Emma is not making a big deal about this slight because it is a raindrop in the river of similarly-themed Nexian unfairnesses so far. She has already adjusted to the default that institutions serve the magic-capable elite foremost to reinforce the social pecking order. Any form of perceived pushback, even when the situation is entirely out of her control (like resisting the Yearbook, or riding along with Lartia as a commoner) simply invites malicious retribution. Emma is in pick-her-battles-wisely mode. However, her United Nations certainly cares about equal accessibility; the UN’s current incarnation was founded on ensuring truly equal opportunity, born from the ashes of a massive war over compatible living conditions in recent history, not to mention prior wars over resource opportunity (Luna vs Earth).
It is also true that the hospitality insult is mitigated by the Library adapting its transactional methods cover Emma’s inability to be tested by the usual veracity criteria and also giving her a careful explanation about how the rules work. That said, this isn’t a complete fix because these fixes only facilitate the info-trade transactions that the Library most deeply desires, and do not apply to the rest of the Library’s services that the Library is less invested in. The Library has only demonstrated good-will when self-interests align with Emma’s goals.
Sorecar immediately grokked Emma was mostly mana-blind by observing her reaction to a single spell. Mal'tory knew by theory alone which is why he ordered Ilunor to cast a projection-spell of a Null in Sorecar’s smithy; he figured Emma could not perceive aura cues to tell it apart from the real creature and would fire her gun at it. Thacea was quickly suspicious Emma was mana-blind by observing how Emma overlooked all the salient magical features of the dorm room she was in and became absolutely certain by the end of the first 36 hours. One would hope the Library could match these three’s observational faculties even though it has only had a dozen hours interaction with Emma.
It is too soon to make the call that the Library is deliberately failing to adapt its facilities to Emma’s blindness. Emma has not asked the Library to accommodate her. The Library can’t assume Emma can’t artificially enhance her vision. And it might want to observe an organic self-search attempt before changing its fundamental operation.
But it will be a personality red flag if the Library doesn’t either start experimenting to figure out why Emma is not responding to certain signals or else start asking questions in its eventual next set of appearances. Not evolving is a choice, after all.
▛ I believe the adaptation (or non-adaptation) of the Library’s non-essential services is particularly important because it reveals the Library’s real personality and motives when there may be confounding factors in the form of compelled behavior through forced prime directives or well placed memory deletions. ▟

Bigoted library foxes

The Library does not give everyone equal time of day. Theoretically, all mortals are admitted, but the Library foxes avoid approaching or addressing anyone they think will be “boring” because the Library’s assistant system will exclusively chain them to someone who gives them a name. Right in the door there is already an obvious difference in treatment to help sort mortals into their “proper places” in the Library’s internal value caste system.
JCB says: The foxes don’t necessarily desire names from just anyone! To be named is to basically be stuck with someone for the duration of that person’s lifetime, and generally speaking a fox would want to pair up with someone that has enough knowledge to trade for their entire lifetime. Emma showing up is something that’s like winning a lottery for Buddy haha, since she’s literally oozing with that ‘fresh new novel knowledge’ sort of vibe! Thus it’s only a great honor if you’re named by an outsider who’s new and clearly has a vibe of having a lot of information to trade, otherwise it’d be like voluntarily being stuck to a dead weight! :D
Thacea and Thalmin on the other hand seem just like your typical Nexus or Adjacent Realmer, which is why the fox completely disregarded greeting or even addressing those two in the last chapter when the group entered together! :D

Belief in innate superiority over mortals is part of the Library’s Core identity

“Knowledge without preservation is meaningless, and we are the keepers of meaning.” (19)

Within this statement is a number of unspoken assumptions.

• The value of mortals and their civilizations is determined by the Library’s categorization schemes.
  
• The Library’s judgment of meaning is infallible and free of subjectivity.
  
• Once preserved, the meaning can be divorced from the hyper-individualized mortals that contextualized it.
  

This statement calls to mind the patronizing and colonial mindsets of the early anthropologists and historians who thought they could lock the world in a cold dead museum without its living and breathing cultures so the value would belong to the keepers who rarely appreciated it, and not the living and breathing creators.

Gods do not exist to be judged by the likes of mortals

“Two acts of brazen defiance in a single interaction.” [the librarian] spoke menacingly.
“The librarian is currently preoccupied with matters far more important than your own, mortal.”

Gods and those with missions chartered by them are beyond mortal reproval. When Emma told the Library its conditions were unacceptable, coded within the Library’s indignant response was the astonishment that Emma dared overstep her natural inferiority as a mortal to negotiate as an equal.
Another example, the extradition treaty the Library has with Nexus requires that every individual the Library claims committed a crime against it be turned over to it without trial or proof. There is no process of appeal, except by fiat. While we do not know the penalty for violating the treaty, the Library uses coercion like blackmail to enforce compliance.

The Library taints Nexian philosophy

“Admit it. You have nothing of value to offer the library, Cadet Emma Booker.”
A desire to exchange further information. As if [Havenbrock] my realm had any that could truly matter to what earthrealm had to offer. Yet despite that, the offer was there, genuine, and without any strings attached. Something the Nexus would never do. Something the Nexus would consider poor play by their rulebook.

Nexus is thoroughly tainted by the idea of tit-for-tat and equivalent exchange. Nexians figuratively do not care about those beyond their doors (altruism is a weakness) except as threats to be evaluated and potentially as resources. (More information about what Nexus extracts from contact with Adjacent Realms is needed before I have a firm opinion.) And in offering something, like education or enlightenment, Nexians assert the right to take souls, autonomy, or forced fealty. Nexus’ officials and Trangracian retaliated against Emma for avoiding giving her soul in exchange for Transgracian’s education.
One of the conceits of Nexian primacy is that they are great for giving anything to those who don’t have anything of value to trade. Contrast humanity which invests generously in everyone as a social good and punishes selfishness.
The idea of allowing “lesser” people to choose who they want to be instead of accepting exactly and only the enlightenment being offered is foreign to Nexus. And the Library shares in snubbling the common good. The Library has effectively made it impossible for anyone who isn’t an elite to benefit from its archives.
If the Library is not the original source for Nexian exchange philosophy, then it encourages it.

The Library may be the Eternal King of Nexus’ villain origin story

The Library is the most probable encourager and enabler of the biggest Nexian villain. The social studies classroom of Transgracian is named after the eternal King of Nexus, so he was likely a history and politics teacher before he was a king and extensively used the Library.
The King’s god-eating powers that wraps divine essence in ritual spells and the Yearbook’s ink-coat soul devouring are uncannily alike the Library imprisoning/uploading of souls after dissolving their mortal bodies by smothering them with pages. The Yearbook was likely made by the King based upon the Library’s imprisonment magic which is why the Yearbook resembles the Library’s infinite page books rather than a vase or box. The King probably also extracted the seed knowledge for the spells to consume the gods from the Library or its imprisonment spell.

Other minor Nexian brainworms

These aren’t strikes against the library, but I want to account for other ways that Nexus has imposed its culture upon the Library.

• Being made to knock and wait before admittance.
  
• Boasts about its wisdom, the impressiveness of its structure, the theatrics of the foxes chanting “eternal!” and other such. An earthling would call this cultlike, befitting an non-credible institution more love with its own reputation than respectful of its archival mission. Being charitable, the Library is engaging in performative theatrics which keep Nexians in awe - apparently a requirement to prevent them from defaulting to disrespect because many magicrealm nobles don’t learn from subtlety as Larial suggested.
  
• An affinity for titles
  
• Punishment inheritance down bloodline
  

The Library is profoundly arrogant and overestimates itself

Only checking veracity for truthful intent

The Library thinks it can correctly make determinations of meaning as an armchair theorist locked within its literal ivory tower, solidly divorced from the data, locked far away from the laboratories and primary sources, visited only a carefully curated collection of nobles allowed permission to be on school grounds by the outside powers-that-be.
Evidence suggests that it can be deceived by mass memory modification once the victims are a child generation removed from the tampered-with generation. The Library offers Emma imbalanced trades, meagerly-veracity checked rumors for empirically-determined truths, because it purports that it adds value to trades as a self-titled Establisher of Axioms.

As an archivist

“For we were established and constructed to perform one, simple, and unwavering task: to collect, organize, and preserve all forms of knowledge in perpetuum. For the library is eternal, but the mortal world is not. Knowledge without preservation is meaningless, and we are the keepers of meaning.”
Emma: “And where does the Nexus fall into this grand game of categorization?” Mal'tory: “At its zenith, beyond great, good, and most certainly beyond worthless and delinquents. For we have achieved an example all adjacent realms strive towards: utopia.”

Two speeches with the same energy.
The Library’s stated mission is a noble but precarious impossibility.
Assignment of value to knowledge is not a neutral judgment call. Bias slips in while deciding what reliably sourced, supposedly pure facts to present in response to a query.
IRL, Wikipedia’s rules highlight the problems of being a supposedly neutral arbiter of facts. It is easy to give disproportionate weight to a certain viewpoint or topic by presenting more or less information about it. A presenter can make a shaky theory look bedrock by failing to mention relevant detractors, and a solid theory can be made to look tenuous by mentioning fringe theories by specious objectors. Authorities reach conflicting conclusions. Replacing dated information that was well-regarded and widely cited with updated changes in knowledge is hard even for people deep in their fieldwork.
Given that the Library only seems to check speakers for truthful intent and is stuck doing meta-analysis at best, it is extremely likely for imbalances to color its data. If planned well, lies could be introduced using true-believing dupes - assuming the Library has no repository outside of Nexus built on a higher civilization’s wisdom to crosscheck against. And, again, evidence suggests the Library cannot defend itself against gambits like Death by Omission.

Complacency in curation

It is troubling that the Library’s ambition to improve itself is solely coercing others to do more work instead of reflecting on itself. It demanded Emma empirically verify her info, but has no desire to allow its information to face equal scrutiny.

As an immortal

There is also the Library’s insistence that it is eternal. Given Articord’s big-bang class lecture and the flow of magic along concentration gradients, the progression implies a magical second law of thermodynamics or that mana is created and powered by another, underlying but ultimately finite, energy source. Is magic, and the hypothetical generator of mana radiation, and thus the Library’s basis for existence, truly beyond entropy?

The Library is immature and inhumane

Emotionally turning on a dime / childlike non-persistence of emotions

The ability of the library to adapt its rules swiftly is actually a strike against it. If its evolution moves rapidly without careful consideration for long term effects, that means there is nothing to stop it from backsliding one day, should humanity try to reform it.

Punishment of mortals beyond what is humane

The Library is not only enslaving people, it is eternally torturing mortals who it claims wronged it. Mortals forced to survive beyond their lifespan go a variety of insane that Nexus refers to as being “lost”. To keep them functional, the Library must be restoring imprisoned mortals that go insane to an earlier snapshot in a cycle of eternal suffering.

Punishment of innocents

The Library enslaves to quests the innocent blood relatives of those who commit crimes against the Library. These relatives may also be eternally imprisoned as well upon their expiry.

Humanity cannot deal with the Library in good conscience.

“Slavery is not a thing where I come from. It’s deplorable, it’s reprehensible, it’s the worst possible evil besides… fuck I can’t think of anything… torture? Warcrimes? It’s the worst thing you can do to a person. How can you guys be so cruel, so utterly cold, how can you guys stomach this-”

The library’s trade rules provide value to few and harm to many. Ultimately, I suspect humanity will decide the Library cannot be trusted to be kind or responsible to needs of civilization, now or in the distant future. In the medium term, I think the UN is going to wind up requiring Emma to be more careful with trading while allowing her seeker role to continue. In the longer term, I think humanity will plan to kill the Library unless there is a mitigating factor.

Summary of issues from the human perspective

• While honorable, the Library’s mission to preserve information for eternity is intrinsically less valuable than the information-creating lives of mortals. Should the two conflict, preservation of lives over information is more important.
  
  • Mortals have the ultimate right over their own homes. The Library is an outsider inserting itself with unclean motives, disproportionately shaping affairs, and refusing to be beholden to the actual stakeholders of mortal planes.
• The Library continues to be an ongoing source of harm and perverse incentives in Nexus, and it explicitly doesn’t care about the externalities that result.
  
• The Library’s activities cannot meet human moral standards. It has a torturous eternal servitude hell in its backrooms. It enslaves innocents who have the misfortune of being blood-related to an accused. It claims the right to invade minds and punish anyone it chooses without evidence or trial lest it retaliate against mortals.
  
• Humanity cannot honor the Library’s treaties and is bound by ethical code to protect others from the Library’s wrath, criminal or not, because no mortal being deserves an eternity of suffering and enslavement for the lesser crime of destroying information.
  
• So far the Library has only shown willingness to adapt its rules to further trades for new information that it prefers, not make existing information and its other services accessible to humans. The magic caste system is ingrained in its behavior, and it treats humans even lower than magicrealmers. Humanity isn’t going to favor those who failed to pass the test of sacred hospitality, especially when the library has the most context of anyone in Nexus to understand it.
  
• The Library is potentially an existential threat and predator of AI beings who are made of knowledge, which humanity has a duty to protect and advocate for.
  
• Advanced civilizations must withhold dangerous tech from groups not yet prosocial enough to wield power responsibly, but there also exists existentially catastrophic tech: How to make grey goo, runaway strange matter reaction, micro black hole weapons to kill planets and stars, star ship Berserkers, etc. This information must absolutely be kept out of the Library and purged from it if entered, setting up for a conflict.
  
• Better to be a forgotten hero than be remembered in infamy, humans would rather die than allow a great evil they could have prevented be done, e.g. letting knowledge of weapons of mass destruction to fall into the hands of someone who would use them wantonly. To sin against preserving information or to sin against mortal kindness, humans would choose the first.
  

Humanity ought to annihilate the Library, but not right now

“Gods” don’t get a pass from human judgment because they are divine. If humanity is going to tolerate unelected and unaccountable gods in positions of power and influence, they must be timelessly wise and empathetic. The bright line for what makes a god worthy enough is unclear, but the Library certainly isn’t even close to qualifying as decent.
The Library is poisonous. Rather than trying to contain it and risk social corruption over time from strangling of creative and information-sharing ventures, it would be wiser for humanity to delete the Library so they or whoever else may succeed them will not become the next Nexus afraid of information disparity when another novel, advanced civilization comes knocking.
Isn’t murdering the Library just a wee bit extreme? It can evolve right? And poor Buddy... Okay... how many people, after tens of thousands of years of enslaving families for generations and executing and then imprisoning suffering, moaning mortal souls for eternity, are going to retreat from that level of depravity? The Library and its policy of eternal slavery existed long before the Eternal King. If its actions were not obviously immoral to it to begin with, and none of the information flowing through its doors has changed its view, so that only fear of consequences imposed by a new host for its corporeal entrance is what motivates it to change, then the Library is a fundamentally broken institution that cannot be trusted now or at any point in the future, for fear of it backsliding into what is convenient for it. Even many of the adjacent realmers who have been under the Nexian thumb for thousands of years -royalty who benefit most from the caste system at that- find slavery distasteful. For a 19 year old avinor, lupinor, and human to be wiser and kinder than a demigod proves that it has steeped in too much cruelty. Kindness and empathy have become alien to it.
Disengaged from people, it is too easy to stop loving a world that passes by so quickly. The Library has become the corrosive enemy of the mortal civilizations which it seeks to preserve.
And it is tragic that the creative splendor of the magicrealm’s eons of exploration is penuriously locked away from them to be never seen again for the sake of meaningless continuity by a collector who loves no one but itself and its rules.

Mitigating factors

I am willing to backtrack that humanity has the imperative to murder the whole Library if...

• ...the Library is being coerced, with or without its knowledge. Perhaps it can be spared if those binds can be removed and it makes amends. Given that the Library admin had to test to see if a transaction outside the usual scope of the rules was possible, it implies that the institution is somehow bound by rules that may force it to engage in behavior it does not find moral.
  
  • Quickly giving Emma a Seekership duty that delays Ilunor’s enslavement and death which normally takes decades of effort for another hero to earn may be evidence that the Library would prefer not to punish, but it is forced to respond ‘proportionally’ to attacks as determined by some underlying hardwired algorithm the Library cannot override but can “finesse”. If the delay tactic works, the directive is satisfied without anyone having to suffer more.
  • ... But, the Library is likely not coerced because of the timeline. Unless its memory has been modified, extradition and enslavement by the Library started soon after Nexus’ founding.
• ...only the Library’s admin main brain is necessary to slay. If the Library’s subroutines, e.g. the Librarian owls and Search foxes, can reach a consensus to stage an overthrow, rewrite its prime directives, and release the imprisoned and soulbound, that’s essentially equivalent to a coup / suicide and reboot.
  
• ...the Library is a being closer to an AI, rebooting it and rewriting its prime directives and trade axioms to reduce harm is another means to spare it. Keep in mind a personality overwrite is pretty close to death anyway.
  

So, what’s going to happen?

It is curious that the author gave us details about the Library’s hidden inner sanctum guarded by enslaved souls, so I am a bit suspicious that the groundwork for an eventual showdown is being laid out now. I think the Library is an AI with an organic projection, so its core may reflect that.
Emma seems to regard the Library as a reasonable being, despite the obvious problems staring her in the face. It’s hard to tell if she is simply naive as a young human or, instead, her perspective will mature when she gets the time and sleep to reflect because everything has been happening at lightspeed. It is true that Emma can’t afford to be picky about her allies at this stage, especially ones that can serve as a safe zone Nexus can’t sneak into.
Further along, the Library could be demolished by Nexus to prevent humans from exploiting it, or the Library could be attacked by humans to prevent deadly information from spreading.
I confess to being worried the Library is going to be one of those frustrating “Karma Houdini” characters whose flaws are inexplicably ignored by the main characters. To eliminate the hypocrisy, the Library’s logical continuity and emotional agency will get conveniently steamrolled by Emma’s winning personality.

I recently got a job that will allow me to afford living in a 1 bedroom for next lease term, but unfortunately I'd already re-signed for the 2024-2025 term. The unit is a 4bed/4bath for $580 per month (comes with the standard bed, desk, and chair combo we all know and tolerate, but the bathroom was just remodeled and had really nice flooring, a new vanity, and a new mirrolights).
The fee to re-let is 85% of one month's rent ($493), but I'm willing to cover half of that. It's a pretty great complex and I'll miss it when I go, but I don't want to live with roomates anymore if I don't have to and I'm already making arrangements at a new place. The kitchen was just remodeled a few months ago, so it's really nice. The living area is really well suited for hanging out, and there is a separate nook for the kitchen table with extra space for shelving or whever else you'd like to put in there. The couch and armchair in the living room will be new for the new lease term as well.
The unit is co-ed starting next lease term and so far the other roommates are 2 girls and 1 guy. Two of my current roommates are graduating, so they're leaving. The remaining one is staying another year and got her friend to sign for next year. The new guy has reached out for a groupchat and is really nice too. All are TXST students and generally chill people.
The amenities are great. The pool is fantastic, the computestudy rooms are really useful (I myself used them a lot during the school year), and the gym is nice and always clean.
I can send over pictures and answer any questions in DM! If its a general question, feel free to drop a comment!
Thank you

Mini serial up in my head for a while. Writing after 10 years pause, please go easy on me. No hfy yet, just setting things up.
........................
Looking up towards the orbital ring, through dirty plexiglass roofing, James wipes his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows. The ring, known to the local as Halo Station due to the yellow sun glinting off of it when the angle is right, was an ugly strip of brutalist sunshade in James's opinion. It had been hastily constructed over the course of five years with government of private fundings, with the local bureaucrats and politicians the most well off from the scheme. The locals, third generation from the initial colonisers, had been opposed to government postings from the hub worlds but was strong armed by the mining and agriculture conglomerate to accept it. There were of course altercation between the locals and the conglomerate but anything larger than a demonstration were heavily suppressed with threats of cutting off vital terraforming supplies. The uneasy tension lasted until the ring orbital proposal was announced, with the locals divided in two camps. One was in favour, their thinking was that the station would bring attention of the wider human communities to their plights. The opposing view is that it would only bring more corporate interest to their system, with the oppressions and wealth discrimination that their forefathers escaped from to this new world in the first place.
James was of neither the opinions. He was planning on hitchhiking across the frontier worlds, edges of the explored galaxy, relying on his knowledge and skill of hydroponics to earn his living. He empathise with the locals, as he was ine himself, but knew that corporate greeds is as inescapable as taxes and death. The only thing keeping him from despairing the future was the tiny sum his family saved up. He wasrecently orphaned, but his parents were rather well off when they were alive, working on the water treatment plants of the terraforming complex, before an influx of dissolved salts from a hydrothermal vents eruption caused a chlorine gas build up, leading to an explosion when they were doing maintenance on the gas extraction chamber. James was thankful that at least his parents passed away painlessly, but the funeral arrangements had cut into the family funds. It was due to this that he was still stuck on the half terraformed planet.
"Penny for your thought?" asked a hoarse gravelly voice. One would be forgiven for thinking the owner of the voice a male. A frail looking woman with grey hair peered up at James from behind a trellis supporting vines of red pod peas. "Counting down the days the merchant trader will pick me off this pile of dirt," James replied, "Not that I don't see why you would want to stay here." "Can't get the theiving bastards to give me my insurance money otherwise." The woman scowled. " Speaking about that, how's the surgery going? Inhaling that much chlorine would put anyone out of action, not that I'm not thankful for pulling my parents out of there. The company would've let them dissolved if they had their way." James asked the woman. "Well, the off world volunteer doctors bumped me up cue and if lady luck don't interfere, I'll be fully recovered by the end of the local year." she replied with a chuckle then a cough. The planet they are on has a 22 hours day but 976 days per year. This has made the locals used phrase 'end of the year' as a joke for deliberately slow bureaucracy, especially when the government is the one paying. Elisabeth was working with his parents when the accident occured, a toilet break saving her from the experience. She was trained as a first reponder and had taken it up on herself to at least recover the remains of her colleague and friend. Either due to cost cutting or by sheer incompetence, the recently cleared hazmat suit she took from the emergency storage had a leaking hose and she had barely survived. James was grateful for her action and offered her a job in his mostly automated hydroponic farm as she waits for the company to pay her insurance as she can no longer do heavy manual labour. James was going to transfer all his business to her as thanks when he got off planet but had told her yet. "I hope you recover fully," James smiled at the not bad news, "I'm going to give you this farm and the house after I leave. You've been a good friend to the family and I'd to see you suffer because of a good deed." Elisabeth looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded, realising that James was resolved. "I have no need for more money than what I need to survive, I'll send any profits left from the farm to you. You'll need it if you're going to gallavanting around the galaxy." Elisabeth said with a firm tone, or slightly deeper and hoarser to James's ear. "It'll also be somewhere to return to if the galaxy doesn't agree with you. A journey isn't complete if you haven't return and all that." she added. James was expecting this and knows that she won't change her mind. "I'll drop by with souvenirs whenever I come near this part." James said. The rest of the day went by as usual. As James finished checking the monitoring terminal in preparation for the night, a message popped up on his iris implant. He checked the message as he exited the decontamination airlock:
Dear James,
I hope this finds you well. I hate to impose on paying customers but a good friend of mine needs somewhere hole up for a few days on your planet. He has his own ship and offered to take you anywhere you wish after he finished offloading his cargo to the orbital. I have given him your contacts and attached his along with his headscan. I am terribly sorry for taking liberties but I hope you find this a good deal.
Sincerely,
Cpt. Frank Rowe
James was surprised but didn't mind it that much as he had empty rooms and he'll save some money. He quickly went into his sonic shower booth and tapped off a reply to the captain and his guest. He was preparing to cook some of the ripe tomatoes and eggplants he harvested today when Elisabeth came out of her room. He had asked her to moved into his guest bedroom when she started working on his farm and they had been having meals together since. It helped the make the house more lively and Elisabeth liked his cooking. "I don't know if it's the fresh produce or your cooking that make something mundane taste this god." Elisabeth said in between bites, "Either way, I'll miss this when you go. I'll have to remember to scan this into the automeal." "It'll be close but the Dad's recipe needs more dressing oil and salt than the standard automeal will allow. It won't be too unhealthy if you work and sweat enough for two people." James grinned, "My parents always debated this over dinner." "That reminds me about the workload. I will have to automate the fish feeder, my lungs are about done by the time I finished checking the fruit bins," Elisabeth said. "I'll dial in the settings tomorrow, you'll only need to top up pellets." replied James.
That night James got a reply from the guest confirming he will take up the offer. The guest will arrive in two days and James planned to offer his own room. He had not touched his parents bedroom since the accident and he is going to tidy up the room as a farewell. He did not look forward to spending a night in the room but he knows he will regret not doing something to mark off the end of his stay in this house.
On the day of the arrival, James woke up and looked at himself in the mirror. His curly brown hair that he got from his mother was growing out past his liking, along with the light stubble he put off shaving due to being busy setting up the farm for a one person operation. His grey eyes was sparkling and lively, despite waking up an hour before his usual time. He was excited since he will be departing tomorrow and had finished packing last night. After confirming with Elisabeth that everything is working fine in the farm, he left her to get used to the new routine to prepare lunch. A flying taxi touched down as he fished out a large pizza from the oven. He wiped his hands and went to greet his ticket off the planet. A short stocky man climbed down, his skin, where visible was deeply tan, highly unusual for a ship captain travelling long journey through deep space. His dark hair fluttered in the wind and brown piercing eyes take in the rural sight. His glance fell on James and smiled a toothy grin. "You must be the owner of this lovely estate!" he bellowed out with a thick accent James can't place. James walked up to him, offered his hand, and they shook. "James Howard, looking forward to getting on your ship." James replied, a bit put off by the excitement from the man. "Miguel, Miguel Emille. Captain of the Flying Snail. I am very thankful for your hospitality at such short notice. The corpo here kicks the captain off their ship! Imagine that!" James looked around for security drones, a bit fearful of being reported for sedition. The captain looked at him, confused, then in understanding, "Ah, one of those world? Say no more. I won't put my passenger in danger." "Is it not the same where you are from? That's why I'm trying to get off the planet." James asked. "No, I grew up and works mainly for the frontier colony. This one is a special favour for the captain that you contacted for a lift. Contract for some heavy metal isotopes from one of the asteroid mining station for one of your 'esteemed' governer." Miguel winked.
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, with Miguel switching between telling news of the outer colonies and checking his ship's security cameras. The next morning, James and Elisabeth had a tearful farewell before heading off towards one of the pillar supporting the orbital that doubled as cargo elevator. As they rise, James takes a look at the purple and green landscape falling below. He could see the curvature of the planet right as they enter the orbital. He took a picture of his homeworld, intending to put into his journal to mark the start of his journey. The maglev took them towards the internal docking area, James looking out then windows at the opulence of the wealthy living in the station. As they walk towards the flying snail, they were jossled around wnd forced to stop a few times by the workers and machineries bustling around the dock. James took in the sight of the Flying Snail as they approached, staring at the size and unusual roundedness of the ship, in contrast to the blocky and angular ships standard for most space vehicles. "Custom made on Mariana IX station, designed by my grandfather. A great advertisement for my business and comfortable quarters too. And not as slow as the name suggests" Miguel said as he looked at not a few workers staring at his ship. The advertisement mentioned was stencilled in bright red cursive letters on bare metal, in contrast to the ship's black blocky registration number. As they made their way to airlock, passing the the ship's closing cargo door, an inspector passed Miguel a datapad to sign off. "Cargo confirmed received, payments are being processed by customs due to the new tax coming into effect yesterday. You shouldn't lose much with the currency exchange," the inspector said after looking the form over, " you are clear to depart when traffic control indicates." The inspector turn to another ship busy loading cargo, not waiting for a reply. Miguel lead James through the airlock to his room, a larger than standard room furnished with wooden furniture and upholstered, unheard of in a spaceship from the hub worlds. "Get yourself comfortable then join me on the bridge. The ship AI will help you with the layout. No need to address me as captain since it'll only be the two of us until your destination. I'll be going around looking for government approved bugs. Corporate overlords never can get the idea of privacy." Miguel said before leaving James to unpack. James look around the room, trying to wrap his head around the decor. It was as if someone stole a museum exhibit then use it to furnish a spaceship. He unpacked his luggage, looking around for a storage locker, before putting his meager clothings into a dark wood wardrobe. He then set off to put his toiletries in the attached bathroom before being shocked at the size and items he saw. A large oval mirror hangs on the wall above porcelain basin, with an archaic brass and glass shower cubicle with valves and pipes off to the side. He consdered the logistics of internal plumbing and water storage on the ship for a moment before shaking his head, "Might as well enjoy the luxuries. If this isn't a great start, I don't know what is."
After he finished, James head out of his room then froze as he peered into the corridor. The sterile white panelling had turned into stained wood, the harsh lighting into warm yellow glow from what looks like wall mounted lamps. He turned to look back at his room to see the standard white panelling was still there. He decided to ask the AI for directions to the Captain, "Ship? Where's the bridge?" "Please find the ship map in the mailbox behind the door," a synthetic female voice chimed out. He looked at the automatic sliding door and noticed it had changed to a wooden hinged door with a basket below a metal slot. He grabbed a rolled up brown paper bundle from the basket, unrolling it to seems to be hand drawn diagram of the ship. Other details such as crew members list and meal times are neatly list in one corner. He closed the door before following the map. He was not surprised to find his name engraved below the room number on the brass plaque on the door.
James was apprehensive about finding anything on the ship but there were signs jutting out from the wall at each intersection, surrounded by decorative metalwork in forms of flowers, pointing to major locations. The flooring hard changed from patterned wood to being carpeted the closer he is to the bridge. He finally arrived at a double door, with a plaque indicating that it was indeed the bridge, and he wondered if he should knock. He decided not to, and swung open, to hear a bell ring as the door opens. "James! Come strap yourself in. How do you like my ship?" Miguel was seated on what looks like a couch in the centre of the room, looking at a large screen. The screen shows the outside of the ship, which was the landing bay blast door, still shut. "It's nice but too much like a museum piece to be flying around," James responded, "Isn't it against regulation and too hazardous if the grav generator fails?" "That's why I set the nanites to change to standard whenever I dock. Changed back to what my grandpa designed when we're clear for take off," Miguel answered, " also cleared out to bare walls with carpeting whenever there's an emergency. Only ever happens once in all my years of flying." James had heard of nanites but wasn't aware that it could be used on ships. "The ship was supposed to be a private cruiser for a hubworlder, but he backed out of deal so the swimming pool and hydrotherapy areas was converted into the cargo hold," Miguel added.
James strapped himself in a plush fabric covered armchair near the screen. As he figured out the buckle, the comm beeped then a voice called out, " landing bay E42 cleared. All ships ensure airlock and cargo door are closed before depressurisation in 15 minutes." "Hal, check the doors and prepare for take off," Miguel said. "Sorry captain, I cannot do that." "Stops scaring the passengers. Maybe it's time you watch some modern movies." A huff sounded before the AI replied, "Aye aye, Captain." "She always does that, scaring the living daylight out of my last crew when she pretended to lock the airlock during EVA," Miguel sighed, " i don't know what my Pa was doing, feeding her all that old robot uprising movies." "I thought she was just a basic navigation AI when I asked her for directions." "Yeah, she does that to make people let their guards down before springing the 'Exterminate!' stuff on them. That's why my last crews all signed off." "Isn't that bad on you?" James asked, "also your reputation won't be good." " It's fine, I mainly take on crews for company. Most contracts I got are from fellow captains needing to take orders from regulars but are to far out to accept. She got the latest repair drones and all nanites tech to take care of all damages, excluding only jump core explosions," Miguel smiled.
They waited in the bridge, chatting about life in space and homicidal AI, with Hal, James learned shortened from Haley and pronunciation changed courtesy of the AI herself, chiming in when the checks are done. "Landing bay E42 depressurised in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Landing bay depressurised. All ships clear to take off in E42 once landing bay door fully opened. Green light will light up when ready for manually piloted crafts. Halo orbital thanks you for your business." The traffic controller speaks through the comm, indicating he is a native. Off-worlder would usually call the station 'The Regina's Ring' after the planet. Once the door slides open fully, ships start to go out in rows. When it was the Flying Snail's turn to take off, a hologram of Hal appeared besides the captain's couch and the ship starts to move out slowly in formation, coordinating with the other ships. Once the Flying Snail cleared the door, Hal spoke, "Captain, there's any energy spike reading in the aft sensor. No details on origin available due to station's plating. Seems to be mostly neutrons" "Perhaps someone forgot to shut their cargo door. Probably transporting tritium or helium three. Put up shield just to be safe."
The captain's decision turns out to be just in time as a heavy blast blew the ships out of the orbital. Alarms started wailing and James was pushed back into his seat. "Damage report!" Miguel shouted over the alarms and a diagram of the ship's system popped up on screen. "No structural damage, low EMP, main computer rebooting, shields down to 60 percent," Hal replied mechanically, "Reboot complete. Putting rear view on screen." The screen shows a large explosion on the inner ring side, dropping debris onto the planet below. The alarms turned off as Hal reports, "Ring appears to be holding. Debris calculated to fall on low population area and ocean. Minimal damage to civilians and properties." " There's that at least. Are we expected to help?" Miguel asked. "Negative, the station order civilian vessels to clear the area. No detention order." "Good, get us to the jump point. James, you got a destination?" Miguel turns to look at James. James was still trying to recover from being slammed into his seat, saved from concussions by the seat's padding. "I need to check on Elisabeth," James said as he reached for his wristcom. He then saw an incoming video call from Elisabeth. He sighed in relief as he picked up the call. "I'm glad you're alright. Exciting starts to your trip, eh?" Elisabeth said after seeing James. "Good to see you unharmed too. Did the emergency broadcast says anything?" James asked. "They were saying no damage to those living below. The corporate news network was saying it was the work of the anti-hub government groups." Elisabeth said with a grimace, "trying to weasel out of responsibility if you ask me. I need to check the farm systems in case anything went down. Safe trip out there, I don't want to cry for the second time today," Elisabeth was starting to tear up as James tried to reply before the call cut off. "All's well that ends well," Miguel said as James gathered himself, "good to see her safe. So, destination?" James thought for a moment then replied, "I've never been anywhere further than the Halo. I was thinking of getting off at the last stops but I'm the only passenger here so I think I'll get off wherever your next business ends." " Fine by me. I'm going back three system on my route here, pick up some cargo and or crews, then out to the frontiers," miguel said to James then turn to Hal, " You remembered the station with extra medical supplies looking for buyers? Set destination there." " Aye captain. Arriving at jump point. Jumping in 5 seconds," Hal said before starting the count down. The jump drive, the second most popular after warp, generates a wormhole from Lagrange points. The energy requirements is higher than warp but the near instantaneous travel time is highly value by merchants and diplomats alike.
The jump starts without a hitch and they exited into a red dwarf system. As they make they way towards a spherical station above a green gas giants, they were hailed on all frequencies as the screen starts to shows an armada of black pyramids blockading ships trying to enter and leave the station. The screen suddenly flickers then shows a black upside down triangle with glowing blueish white lights runni ng on its surface. The speakers blared out a high pitch voice, " Bags of mostly water our flattest desire exchange thinking patterns. Flattest yours here deliver. Airwaves produce expect agreement." This broadcast then repeats itself. "Ain't this the strangest day of my life," Hal said loudly. "Exciting first day for our passenger here for sure," Miguel added. James just stared blankly at the screens.
.......................

After our little adventure on the beach, I knew this was going to be a fun few days with Nora. I was starting to see a side of her I didn't know existed. A side that combines her natural outgoing flirty and teasing personality with an insatiable sexual hunger.
After I had cum in her mouth on the beach, we decided to go back to the room, change, and get something to eat. It was the evening by now, and having left home early in the morning to fly, get to the resort, check in, and sit on the beach, we were exhausted. Nora dressed in a light, airy sundress that matched her figure perfectly and gave just a small hint of the gorgeous boobs underneath. We had a good time at dinner. The food was good and hanging out with her is always enjoyable. The flirty banter never ended between us and I was really looking forward to where this would end up.
We finished dinner as we heard the night life start up. Music, lights, and people in various levels of clothing, from nude to lingerie, to regular summer wear were all around.
"Do you think you've got energy to party tonight?" I asked her.
"Maybe tomorrow. I really want to get back to the room," she replied with a naughty look in her eyes.
We got back to the room and I sat down on an armchair and put my feet up. Nora grabbed her phone and sent off a couple messages.
"Texting Rob?" I asked.
"Yup."
"I hope he's not having second thoughts."
"Me too!" she responded. "We actually decided not to discuss any of this until I get back. So he's just asking about the flight and room and stuff."
"Wow, that's surprising. I can't imagine how he must be feeling knowing you're here and he won't hear about it for days."
At this point she was done texting and tossed her phone on the bed.
"For the next few days, I'm all yours in every way," she said seductively.
"Is that so?" I responded. "Is that why you told that woman that we're married?"
She walked over to me and sat in my lap. Leaning in close, she whispered in my ear, "All. Yours." She kissed me on the lips. A quick peck, nothing too sensual, but the energy between us was palpable.
She lingered there for just a moment before standing up. "I'm going to take a shower. You can join me if you'd like."
As if I needed to be told twice. I followed her to the bathroom. She leaned into the shower and turned on the water. I grabbed her hips from behind and pushed myself against her. She was still wearing her sundress and I was wearing shorts, but there was no mistaking that I was hard and ready for her.
She wiggled her ass against me for a second. "Hard already? I was worried it might take you a while to recover after what that woman did to you on the beach."
"Well imagining the sexy body underneath this dress has me excited," I responded as I ran my hands up her sides.
She turned around and pushed her body into mine. I wrapped my arms around her and we kissed again. This time a full, passionate kiss. Our lips and tongues dancing together as our hands explored each others bodies. She broke away. "Stop imagining and see it for yourself."
I reached for the hem of her dress and in one quick motion took it up and off over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, so I got my first look at her gorgeous breasts. Her boobs are big, and match her body perfectly. Her dark brown nipples were hard, pointing directly at me as I ran my hands up and down her sides, pausing momentarily to barely cup her boobs from underneath. She was even more gorgeous than I had imagined.
She took one of my hands and brought it lower, to her panties. "Take this off me," she said, barely above a whisper.
I hooked my fingers under the waistband and slipped them down. She kicked them off and stood in front of me entirely naked. I traced a hand up her thigh teasingly. She spread her legs ever so slightly. "Please. Touch me, babe," she whispered.
She called me "babe" on the beach, presumably as part of the show that we're married. Calling me that in the privacy of our room was something else.
I reached around her and grabbed her ass with both hands. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I carried her to the sink countertop. I sat her on it and dropped to my knees. For the first time I was treated to a full view of her bare, spread pussy. She was waxed smooth. Her lips glistened with her wetness, attesting to how ready she was.
I looked up from her pussy into her eyes, silently asking her if this is what she really wanted. No going back from here. "I'm yours," was her only response.
I wasted no time. I licked her wet lips, a long, slow lick. She tasted incredible. I found her clit and began to lick small circles around it, eliciting a series of moans from her. I knew I had her to myself for the next couple days, but I wanted to experience all of her in that moment. As I licked her clit, I rubbed her lips between my index finger and thumb, every now and then teasing her by inserting a finger into her.
She ran her fingers through my hair as she continued moaning and whispering various combinations of "fuck", "that feels so good", and "keep doing that."
Once I found the right rhythm that she responded to, I focused on her clit. The time for teasing was over. I needed her to cum. I put a finger inside her and rubbed the front wall of her vagina while I pointedly licked at her clit. Her moans got louder and her breath got shorter. I felt her body tense up and her legs squeeze around my head. Her pussy contracted around my finger.
"Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as she came. I suppose this would be the one resort where neighboring rooms won't complain about sex sounds.
I stood up as she collected herself and caught her breath. She got off the sink and leaned into me, kissing me, tasting herself on my lips. I quickly threw my shirt off and dropped my shorts. My dick was as hard as it has ever been and was poking into her hip. She grabbed me gently by the dick and led me into the shower.
We kissed some more in the shower, our bodies pressed against each other and my dick nestled between her thighs. She looked deep into my eyes. "Do you want me to suck your cock, babe?"
I could only smile in response. She dropped to her knees and wasted no time. She held the base of my dick and engulfed as much of me as she could in her soft lips. She pushed my head against the inside of her cheek and teasingly ran her tongue along the bottomside of my dick. I held her by her hair, careful not to be too forceful or pull her hair. We were still new to each other and I wasn't sure what she liked and didn't like.
As it turns out, she's an expert at giving head. Just the right combination of intense licking and sucking along with teasing me to prevent me from getting too close to cumming. I made sure to be very vocal, letting her know the effect she was having on me.
After a few minutes, she stood up. Still stroking my cock, she leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "It's time. I need your cock deep in me babe."
Before I could bend her over and fuck her, she turned the water off and grabbed a towel. She noticed the surprised look on my face. "In the bed," was her only response.
We dried ourselves off quickly as we walked out of the bathroom and back to the bed. She laid the towel on the bed and sat at the edge of it, spreading her legs as she scooted backwards until she was laying spread eagle in front of me. I wasted no time and got on top of her. She wrapped her legs around my back.
She grabbed my dick and rubbed my head against her wet hole. I kissed her again. "I brought condoms in case you want me to put one on," I said.
"No. I need to feel all of you, babe."
She continued to rub my cock against her, eventually putting my head right at her wet pussy. There was no going back now. I pushed slightly, nestling my head between her lips. "Give it to me," she whispered.
She pulled me into her with her legs wrapped around me. I pushed, giving her inch after inch until I was all the way inside her. I didn't move, just held it there for a moment. I could feel her hard nipples brushing against my chest.
"Fuck this pussy like you own it," she said.
I pulled out, almost all the way, and pushed back into her, hard. She yelped. I liked that reaction from her. I began to fuck her, trying to gauge her reaction to see how rough she liked it. Harder thrusts elicited louder moans. And her dirty talk never stopped.
"Fuck me babe. I need your cock to fill me up.", "This pussy is all yours. Use me.", "Give it to me hard. I need it." Things like that. I couldn't respond because I was so focused on fucking her (and also not cumming) that it took all my energy.
I really thought I would last for a while, considering I had cum in her mouth a few hours earlier. But the dirty talk coupled with the novelty of the situation meant there was no way.
"I'm going to cum soon, do you want - " I began.
"No! Inside me! I need it inside me!" she moaned back.
That pushed me over the edge. I planted my lips on hers, kissing her deeply as I pushed as deep into her wet pussy as I could and held my cock there. "Ohhhhhh fuck! Cum inside me!" she screamed. I felt my cock spasm. I began to shoot cum deep into her as her legs locked behind my back, holding me deep inside. We continued to kiss throughout my orgasm.
Traveling, coupled with rough fucking my friend's wife for the first time caused all the exhaustion to collapse on me in one moment. I rolled off Nora as my cock softened and fell out of her. We laid next to each other catching our breath for a few minutes silently.
I turned to look at her as she turned to me. She teasingly ran a hand down her body to her pussy. She put two fingers inside herself and brought them out covered in my cum. Without breaking eye contact she licked the cum off her fingers and swallowed it with a big smile.

The following is an essay in progress. It will become a larger body of work at some point in the future.
Expect updates sporadically.
...
A game that you are thrust into, without your own knowledge and are pitted up against a seemingly indestructible, all-knowing, all-seeing entity. Imagine: you're a young person who's come pretty down on their luck- living alone far away from home, a horrible job, death of a mother figure.. so you drugs have become a stronger presence in your life. And drugs and sex together? Even more so. Your plug is pretty unreliable but the staff's great, so you keep ordering from them. Until on one day, your plug's sketchy arrival times keep changing, and you end up telling them off. You tell them they run business badly and that they've lost a customer.
Bad move, buddy.
You block the number as a barrage of threatening texts come in. It's a business just like any other, you think. The customer is always right, you think. As you collect your order from a different plug, you have no idea that you've changed the course of your life forever.
You have now been entered into the game.
About a week later you are invited over to a guy's place who offers to take care of the party favors for the both of you. Free drugs? How could you refuse? But baby.. nothing in life is free.
On the way in to his grounde-level apartment last two sets of gates, you notice a man sitting on a chair. You bring it up to your new friend who pretends not to have noticed anything. The shit he gives you is hard. Hard in a kind if numbing way. But it's hot, it's fun. His apartment is made up to look like a salon, and he claims to still take clients regularly - even though it's dirty, reeks of crack and hasn't had an update since 2003. But still, you stay for a few more hours. You say your goodbyes and walk out the door. The little man on the chair is gone. But over your other shoulder you see a large SUV in the ajacent parking lot with it's headlights on and pointjng towards you. As you approach the first gate, you hear your new friend's voice come through the intercom, but this time aggressive and urgent. He says "get ready! He's coming to the gate". A chill runs down your spine. Your try to turn around and jump the fence behind you. One fence leads right to the SUV and another to a walled in patch of grass. So you turn back and leave the first gate. You see two young guys hovering around the main gate. You back into the wall to conceal yourself as you call an uber and ask the driver to pull up to the gate. It fjnally arrives and you jump right in.
On the ride you notice that a few other drivers and motorcyclists are coming very close to your car, and driving aggressively. You notice the same ones are driving the same way throughout your whole ride. It hits you that this is no mistake. Those guys were waiting outside your building, and those guys are tailing you. You tell your driver you need to change your drop-off point. You can't have these guys know your address. You stay in the cab and have the driver take you through winding roads to evade them. You get out and begin to walk home.
On your walk you notice that you are seeing the same people over and over again. But they are not chasing you or following you. They're just there, around you. You walk for hours until you manage to outmaneuvre them.
You don't know it, but you've been entered into a very simple game - survival.
It will be as though you are standing in a field. Your opponent is like the air around you. You don't know where the air comes from. You don't know which part of you the air will hit. You don't know if the next contact will be a breeze or a gust of wind. If you stand still it will be there. If you try to run, you'll bring more air around you.
The goal is total isolation. Erosion of your sanity. Poverty. Torment. Ostracization. Suicide.
Their tactics are to invade every aspect of your life. To infiltrate and torment you in subtle ways that can be deniable. Phones pointed at you on the street. Strangers having conversations around or to you that reference contexts that are specific to only you.. songs playing where you go that are produced by AI to closely mimic the original, but with augmented lyrics that reference you and your experiences or even are used to communicate directly to you or give you instruction.
People you meet start to pick fights with you or speak in strange ominous tones. Gradually you start to understand more and more.
You are placed in social situations where you are forced to navigate according to the to your best moral judgment. These are tests.. games. Make incorrect decisions and you end up with the shit beaten out of you - or worse.
Each of these games are recorded and broadcast though private online servers. There is huge money being wagered for and against your survival. Your phone is Spywared, so even as you write a public post describing a hypothetical horror game with uncannily similar references.. is monitored and is being operated against. This recording, and broadcasting are followed along in servers of a children's computer game with millions of recorded users, and in cybersex chat rooms with groups of over 10k each (the most notable has the namesake of a major influencer's venture into a rehydration beverage).
Use being recorded to your advantage. Do not steal. Do not lie. Follow through on your word. Act with integrity. You are your actions.
To win, you must learn to listen. Your whole body becomes a kind of antenna. You become tuned in to everything around you. Everything has the potential to communicate messages that may warn, guide, support, lead, or contradict you. Trust your dreams, your instincts and your intuition. Animals will start to gravitate towards you and will communicate very clearly to you. You will be able to read gesture, expression and tone much more clearly. Listening will keep you safe. However, remain critical. Question these messages when necessary. Understand the potential impact of confirmation bias. Remain open to being wrong - because you will be.
Be strong in your convictions, and graceful in your approach.
Over time you put more and more small pieces of information together. You do this by asking questions.
You will be able to connect events, people, their roles and ultimately identify the specific parts of the mechanism of your opponent, and how each relates to the others in the construction of the opponent as a whole.
At first you may have had brutal, violent fantasies against your opponent. You are angry. Thats natural. Let yourself feel it. It will pass. You will respect your opponent. You may begin to appreciate your opponent's masterpiece. The game they have constructed is incredibly sophisticated. In every moment, they strive to test you, your patience, your kindness, your peace. Remember that every moment is a test.
But your opponent is playing to win. So, you will forget. You will lose your cool. You will cry. You will scream. You will learn that your opponent wants to see you frustrated. Your opponent wants to see you agitated and struggling.
Listen first. Listen well. You'll be able to identify when games are about to begin. You'll be able to identify bait. If youre anything like me, this will give you an opportunity for play. Force your opponent to pivot by shutting down the game as soon as possible. Do this by treating the opponent's representative with honest kindness. Ask them questions. Look them in the eye. Become friends with them. Make it really hard for them to effect you negatively. I often enjoyed giving the opponents' representatives performance notes mid-game. Often under my breath. And when they would implement them and improve their work, it would actually feel rewarding. Kindness is powerful and contagious.
Throughout the game you may have been questioning why you were chosen. But as you understanding deepens, you should understand that this is in fact the answer.
You discover that the opponent uses an app to make contact with cell phones around yours, and sends people cash to complete tasks to and/or around you.
It is designed so that everything you experience can be written off as psychosis, or hallucinations. They say you are paranoid. No one believes a drug addict.
So what do you do?
You collect.
Everything that you survive.. Extortion, attempted assault, stalking, drugging, laced drugs, asbestos poisoning, threats of gang rape (and HIV transmission), violence, and death.
Makes you more powerful.
This power, this knowledge, makes you even more of a threat.
You've seen some of these moments before in your dreams.
You record.
You research things you hear and see around you.
You're up against Dragons and wolves.
Patterns and shifts ( in behaviour, your envirornment , everything, everywhere) are your guide.
You put pieces together.
You learn to accept death. But this is not an act of submission or defeat. It is an act of letting go which should inspire you to act with more bravery and abandon.
You avoid your closest loved ones because you don't want them to be involved.
Apparently, everyone has a price. How much would it cost for you to taunt a stranger on the street? Or record an interaction where you threaten the safety of an acquaintance? Patrol their family's home?
Over time, your opponent will reveal more and more of themselves. Let them.
It would of course be very easy to try and ignore your opponent and the game itself. However, remember that your opponent surrounds you, and can act at any time. You are also faced with your own power. Shoumd you turn away from the game, you become complicit in it's future iterations. If this has happened to you, then surely you arent the first or the last. Once you realize this, anything else is complicity.
You gradually complete the chain of understanding who makes up your opponent.. you know how to ask the right people the right questions.
One night, nearing the "end" of the game, the top dog.. the number 1... the head... the master of it all shows herself in a 3min lipsync to threaten you and your life. That you recorded on an app that claims to not allow screen capturing..
By "chance" you two are sat at opposite walls of a starbucks the following morning. After her goons leave, you move to sit on the armchair behind her. So you're back to back. Both of you play it cool. You ask questioms that remain unanswered.
That night (while awake for your 3rd night in a row) as you look for a hookup, you're faced with the tougest game yet - survival of a public execution.
You have to win. You have no choice.
You are unemployed (after being drugged woth a bew form GHB in response to finding a hidden camera in a room ypu stayed in cost you your last strike at work). You face homelessness (you haven't paid this month's rent, and is your last month on the lease). Your closest friends are convinced you're living in a psychotic episode. You're a drug addict (being high is the thing keeping you confident, in control, and able to withstand the scope of your torture). You have been exposed in every way to maybe hundreds of thousands of people.
The goal is for you to have nothing left of your own.
Except love.
You survive.
But you still haven't won yet.
How could you win knowing this exists.. and anyone could be subject to exposure, torment, violence and cruelty on this scale.. that you had the chance to do something to stop it and didnt..
You remember what's kept you alive: Walking in the center of the road Kindness Integrity Grace
so (on the initial draft)you park yourself on a patio on a major street and start to write.
You hit post. You copy the url. You paste.
Phones at 1%... KAMIKAZE
"The practice of faith and courage begins with the small details of life. The first step is to notice where and when one loses faith, to look through the rationalizations which are used to cover up this loss of faith, to recognize where one acts in a cowardly way, and again how one rationalizes it. To recognize how every betrayal of faith weakens one, and how increased weakness leads to new betrayal, and so on, in a vicious cycle. Then one will also recognize that while one is consciously afraid of not being loved, the real, though usually unconscious fear is that of loving. To love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith." -Erich Fromm, The Art Of Loving.

Part 1
Part 13
Ella is confused when Damian stops the car in front of a fancy high-rise. This looks like an apartment building for rich people, not a wellness facility. A valet wearing a red jacket with the same symbol as the building approaches the car before they’ve fully stopped.
“This is a spa?”
Damian huffs out a laugh. “No. I live here. I’m taking you to the in-house spa.”
The high-rise looks really fancy. Does the mafia pay that well? Before Ella can ask Damian, the valet pulls open her door. Damian is already on his way around the car. Ella didn’t hear him get out. She hurries out of the car, feeling off kilter.
Damian hands the keys to the valet with a handshake - and the crinkle of money passing hands. “Thanks, Kevin.” Why is Damian paying the valet? Why is he on a first name basis with him? Is this a normal thing or a criminal syndicate thing? Damian continues speaking without any regard to Ella’s curiosity. “Keep the car close, I’ll need it again soon.”
The valet nods, smiles, and gets in the car without another look at Ella. She stares after him as he drives the car into the high-rise’s underground parking. She’s never been that invisible to anyone before. It’s off putting. She’s pulled out of her mindless stare by Damian putting an arm around her shoulders. “We do need to go inside, I made an appointment.”
“At your in-house spa?” The question is out of her mouth before Ella can think about it. Damian’s arm around her shoulders is too distracting, and her brain seems to be working at half power. Her feet follow along when Damian starts pulling her inside. When he shrugs at her question, it’s as if he pulls her closer for a moment. A mini hug.
“It’s not mine, perse. It’s one of the perks of living here.”
“What are the other perks?” Damian shrugs again - it really feels like a miniature one-armed hug.
“The view is pretty great. There’s a heated indoor pool I enjoy. The wellness centre is very accommodating. I had them send a massage therapist to my flat once.”
Damian raises a hand at the security guard next to the door as he guides her inside the building. The entrance hall looks the same way most expensive entrance halls look: large, airy, light and empty except for a receptionist stuck behind a counter near the entrance. Damian nods at her, and she flutters her eyelashes at him. Damian ignores it, but Ella can't.
Does she make googly eyes at every man that enters her building? Because that is unprofessional. When the woman notices Ella’s stare, her back straightens and her smile freezes. Ella narrows her eyes at her. She knows that look. She’s looking down on Ella. It must be because she’s used to people dressed to the nines. Ella mentally curses herself. She should’ve gone with pretty clothes instead of comfy ones.
Damian tightens his hold on her shoulder in an actual one armed hug, and he leans close enough for his nose to touch her hair. His voice is a whisper caressing her ear when he speaks. “Ella, stop glaring at the staff. You’re supposed to ignore them if you don’t need them.”
Ella’s head snaps around to turn her glare on Damian. She tries to pull away from him so their noses don’t touch, but Damian’s hand tightens on her shoulder and Ella stops walking. “They’re supposed to be invisible. They shouldn’t be -” Ella waves at the receptionist, who is still staring at them. “- doing that.”
Damian frowns and glances at the receptionist. His head tilts to the side a tiny fraction, and his frown turns upside down. The smile is utterly bemused and sets Ella’s blood to boiling. “Aaw, you are jealous. How sweet of you.” He pulls her closer and kisses her forehead. “I love you too, darling.”
The sweet words are a bucket of cold water to Ella. She doesn’t react to the kiss until Damian has pulled her along to a hallway out of sight of the reception. It’s only once they are alone that Ella gathers her wits about her and pushes Damian away.
“I was not jealous! She was being rude. She’s working. You don’t flirt with a guy who’s very clearly walking by with his girlfriend.” Damian keeps grinning, but he lets Ella push him away without a fuss.
“Whatever you say, Ella dearest.” He keeps walking, ignoring Ella’s indignant scoff. She has to speed walk through the hallway to catch up to him. The yellowish marble wall transforms into a wall of floor to ceiling windows looking into an elaborate gym. There’s one woman working out in there with a personal trainer. They don’t notice Damian and her.
“I didn’t care that it was you in particular! It’s the principle of the thing.”
Damian throws a grin over his shoulder. “Sure.” He has no right to look so handsome while he’s being full of himself and making fun of her. Ella tells him he’s being an ass, and Damian just keeps making agreeable remarks in his sarcastic tone until they hit a double door. The doors open without any interference from them.
There’s no time to admire the modern and clean reception of the wellness area, because the woman waiting for them ushers them to a private room immediately. Her (non-eyelash-fluttering) presence effectively ends their pointless discussion, although Ella is still seething at Damian calling her jealous. She wasn’t. Right? There’s nothing about Damian she has a right to be jealous of. It’s not like he was the one flirting. And even if he was, does Ella have any right to feel something about it?
The private room is warm and sparsely furnished. There’s almost nothing in it aside from two low massage tables. Two plain armchairs bracket a cupboard on the other side of the room. One corner of the cupboard is filled with dark bottles and a bowl of sand with incense sticking out of it. The room is pleasantly filled with the barest whisper of lavender.
Their hostess clasps her hands and leans forward. It’s almost like a bow, but Ella is not pretentious enough to think the woman is bowing to her. “I will leave you to get undressed to your level of comfort. Leslie and May will arrive shortly.”
The hostess leaves without another word, not waiting for Ella to ask what she means by ‘undress to your level of comfort’. She turns to Damian instead. He’s already taking his shirt off. Right there in the middle of the room. In full view of Ella.
Ella can’t help but stare at the pristine expanse of flawless skin stretched across his toned back. The way his muscles move as he pulls the shirt over his head is mesmerising. Damian throws the shirt at one of the chairs, and half turns to point at the other chair. Ella swallows heavily and glances down, following a trail of hair to where it disappears behind his belted jeans. Huh. No abs. She expected him to have some.
A chuckle jerks Ella out of her reverie. Damian is staring at her with a smirk on his mouth. “You can take that side. If you’re done staring.” Ella’s face heats up and she turns away from him. Sweet lord, she’s always blushing around this guy. She must look like such a silly girl.
Ella bumps into the massage table in her rush to get to her chair, mostly because she’s trying not to look anywhere near Damian’s side of the room. He laughs at her, but tries to hide it behind a cough. Gloaty bastard. Ella takes a breath and funnels her annoyance onto her voice. “Do I - take off everything?” Damn. She still sounded hesitant.
“Your choice. I wouldn’t wear anything, it just gets ruined.” The clinking of his belt almost makes Ella glance over again. She has no idea where this self-control is coming from, but she doesn’t move at all.
The belt buckle hits the floor. Ella fingers the edge of her shirt. The rustling of clothes ceases behind Ella. “You do need to take off at least some of your clothes. There’s a towel on the table to cover yourself if you want it.”
Ella grabs the towel immediately - and her eyes glide over to Damian without her permission. He’s looking at her with his unblinking stare and a bemused curl to his lips. He’s wearing nothing but tight boxers that leave very little to the imagination. As Ella watches, Damian slides his thumbs under the waistband -
Nope. Ella’s breath whistles through her lips as she turns around. She’s not watching him strip completely. It’s wrong. She’s not ogling a guy that’s basically her employee. He’s only here because his uncle is making him. Damian laughs out loud behind her, and Ella almost turns around to glare at him. She stops herself at the last moment. She glares at her chair instead. “Stop toying with me!”
“But you make it so easy.”
That’s it. Ella turns around and glares at him. Damian has the audacity to be lounging against the wall, arms crossed across his naked chest - god those pecks are insane - and a towel low around his waist. He’s like an ancient statue come to life, and words leave Ella’s mind. Damian grins at her, raising his eyebrows expectantly. With a noise full of indignation, Ella points him at the wall. “I’m not going to undress with you watching me!”
“No problem.” Damian pushes off the wall, the movement flexing every muscle visible to Ella. He does have abs apparently, and Ella can’t resist watching them. He sits down on his massage table, back turned to Ella. He leans back on his hands, jutting his shoulder blades out. “Don’t worry, I won’t sneak a look in.” The British drawl to his words make Ella feel even more belittled.
Ella scoffs at him and turns to get her clothes off in a hurry. She can’t resist glancing at him every once in a while, and sure enough - he never does turn around. Damian appears to be a man of his word. She’s never undressed so fast in her life, and she’s covered in her towel in no time at all. She clears her throat before speaking. “Right. I’m… decent. Now what?”
Damian looks at her, his eyes flitting to her bare legs underneath the short towel. He immediately looks away again and points at a door in the side wall. It’s barely visible, and Ella is surprised she didn’t notice it before. “I suggest going to the bathroom, because getting up in the middle of a massage is quite disruptive.”
Ella stalks over to the door and pulls it open. It’s a large bathroom, with a shower stall and everything. She angrily turns to Damian. “I could’ve undressed in there!”
The shit-eating grin Damian is sporting ticks Ella off even more. “Now where’d be the fun in that, love?”
Someone knocks on the door and asks if they are ready. Damian asks them to wait for a moment longer, waving Ella into the bathroom. Ella lets out an aggravated groan. Words can’t accurately tell Damian how exasperated she is with him. A quick bathroom break is exactly what she needs to calm down again. When she comes back out, Damian is sitting on his table, face turned towards her. His towel barely reaches mid thigh.
Ella sits on her table, uncertain about what to do now. “You should lay down and get the towel out from underneath you.” That makes sense, except Ella can’t figure out how to do that without flashing Damian.
Seeing her hesitation, Damian comes over to help. “Just lay down, I’ll fix it for you.” He stops behind her and hesitates before touching her. “If I may.” God his accent. Ella swallows and nods.
His touch is electric. The soft brushes of his fingers against Ella’s sensitive skin as he pulls the knot loose send jolts of lightning through her body. In no time at all - even if it felt like an eternity - Ella’s face down on the table, towel covering her ass. And all that without Damian catching a glimpse of her bare flesh.

Morning hombres ✌️. Dad was hoping to be sat here regaling yous wi' tales o' what Dad planned to do wi' the Bank Holiday now he had a nice wee bundle o' notes to spend on keepsakes 'n' trinkets at whate'er beachside community he happened to be fucking visiting - but o' course, the fucking notes are nowhere to be seen 😭
Instead, Dad hath been consigned to the reclining armchair, wi' hopes pinned on a free 2 banger fifty bet at 8.92/1, bringing in the required funds to cover next week's effort. A place Dad didnae think he'd be tbf... yesterday's effort appeared to have enough in there to at the very least cover expenditure more or less. But ach - final day in manys a league o' course; Dad didnae think the tools'd be down at home for each o' the useless fucks - but there yous go. Was a day fitting for DWT Stylings o' old funnily enough... food for thought there probably 🍌
But here - the Dons won 🙌 - that's that all sorted thank fuck: Big James'll now be in to take us to the next level 😎. A weight off the shoulders that sure... a season that's forced us to stare dejectedly at the muck on offer, owing to the fear that yet again, the Dons may be dragged into the relegation spots. Again. Fucking 'ell 😭. Anyhow - all water under the bridge 🌉. We can now get back to doing what we do best: believing in the purest way, that next season, the Dons'll be winning silverware in multiples. Will Dad be able to afford seeing any o' in the flesh? At current pace - probably no alas... but there's a whole summer (well ok - some) to work with... yous ne'er fucking know what may transpire 🤞
Was a good vibe about the place there y'day sure... the odds fair attracted cunts out the woodwork 👍. Reminded Dad o' times o' old; those days where e'ery week more or less was chocka-fucking-block wi' hombres gushing wi' superlatives 'n' well wishes. A component missing for much too long... the ongoing nature of failure fair flushes out the support alas 😔. 'N' whilst the intent is most certainly there - the results o' course havenae been... which is a major fucking concern obviously: back-2-back Zero Returns o' it's been now o' course... that was summat Dad deemed a thing o' the past - yet here we are reporting on it after week 3 o' the new era. Not good.
Alls Dad can say is - the intent remains focussed: the belief it'll grab remains steadfast 👊. Bugger all fixtures comparatively there next week o' course... but at a glance - there's nectar to be supped regardless. Dad'll home in on the magical combo, rest assured. Then once that's in the satchel, we're on our way probably 🙌
See yous next week - same DWT time, same DWT channel 😎

AITAH for telling my girlfriend she is too much of a "wildcard" to marry?
My (27M) girlfriend, M, (27F) is a bit of a free spirit. Don't get me wrong, she is very intelligent, attractive and has a lot going for her. We've been together 3 years.
But the issue I've been having recently is that she is wanting marriage and I see her as such an untamable horse so to speak. She is a rebellious, free spirited adventurer who literally packs up and leaves to go on a trip at a drop of the hat. She tells me she's going, and won't go if there are already commitments but if she can she is gone.
She is financially secure but she also spends a lot. Past an emergency fund, all her money goes to travel, taking up a multitude of projects. She woke up one day and decided to enroll in an auto-repair course, she is currently getting GIA certified for gemology. She makes jewelry, she works remote so she literally will pack up and take her work with her when she finds events she wants to go to ECT.
She's lived abroad, had a house in the south of France, she speaks 3 languages, goes to Germany and Austria often, she picks up hobbies or skills like they are M&M's. There isn't anything wrong with it I guess but it just feels chaotic?
Her biggest flaw is that she is rebellious. She absolutely hates, loathes the traditional route for anything. I went to college and she didn't, she had problems with teachers (which were founded, one abused her).but it's widespead. She quits jobs because she "manages better" and she does, she has her own business and a host of side hustles but it is just... how long does it last?
She was asking me if I was ever going to propose and I said I wasn't sure, we argued back and forth a little and she asked why I wouldn't. I was honest and said I saw her as a wildcard, that she just takes off a lot. She said she was lucky and could do that. That her friend died unexpectedly in his 30s and she absolutely is not going to go out working a "boring" 9-5 with no life and no experiences under her belt. She left- and hasn't spoken to me since. It's been 5 days. She said she needed to think.
AITAH? Am I overreacting?
EDIT//UPDATE
Just to clarify because I see a lot of comments and accusations of her flying around.
She isn't a bad person she just likes to be on the move.
She's been mentioning marriage/wanting to discuss it from the beginning (or at least 6-9 months into our relationship.) The expectation was always there, we discussed it. When I asked her if she would slow down or "settle" she's always said she just can't imagine not travelling at all. That she's happy to do school runs and live in an area for a long time but she has a lot of stuff on her bucket list still like going to Japan and things. I've always countered with what about kids? She says she wants to give them those experiences and keep them "cultured" and open minded but obviously it depends on them (she functions under different kids need different things).
She was abused, her friend died very tragically which I won't go into detail about. She has anxiety and C-PTSD that is managed and honestly you'd never know she has those things- I only know because she gave me the disclaimer. She doesn't have ADHD, please stop trying to diagnose her with bipolar or ADHD and leave that to her professionals.
I do want to marry her but it just freaks me out that she is so hyper independent. She always invites me a long and sometimes I go. I've told her I don't want her traveling while pregnant or anything and she's always been understanding of my point of view.
I think I messed up telling her she was a wildcard and would be a bad mothewife by extension. And NO. She DID NOT GHOST ME. She asked for a specific amount of time and has been sending one or two texts just checking in but she wanted a week to decide how she was feeling so I'm giving her the week.
She also hasn't had a lot of partners like some people are suggesting. She's been with 2 people. She doesn't drink, smoke or do drugs at all.
Hopefully we can salvage this.
UPDATE 2:
It is hitting how dumb I've been. I didn't really talk about it with her so I am positive for her it feels like this critique that she needs to be less spontaneous/on the go feels out of the blue.
She hasn't responded to my last message but she may be busy. I basically said I wanted to talk and actually deeply put a plan together, that I love her and want things to work. The silence is killing me but I deserve it for being a jackass.
I feel like she is 90% out the door but I don't want to end things with her, she will have to make that decision. She's been asking me when we might get married and maybe if I had given her a solid answer, she would have been secure enough to slow down.
Copied verbatim from oop's comments:
Either you're side by side her in all of her crazy antics or you're going to be miserable. If that's not the way you want to live your life then end it so you can both move on.
Also, I think she might have already broke up with you so...

"But it is crazy right, like it's not just me?"

Info : Do you want to ever get married ? What are your views on marriage/what being married would look like (both of you) and do these align?

"Both of us view marriage as a partnership, and one that is equal. We both would be doing it more for the security it provides in having children/ some of the financial stuff. She's been a bigger advocate of a prenup than I have, she will potentially inherit a lot and wants to be sure that's protected and that basically I have my finances and she has hers. She believes in working together but essentially if anything went wrong for us both to leave with what we've worked fohave.
I do want to get married, it's how she flits from one thing to another that makes me nervous. She is a wonderful girlfriend. But for example she blew $1500 on a last minute trip to Florida for an event at universal. Like literally found the event and within 48hrs was packed up and driving to Florida."

It's not crazy. She's enjoying her life while she still can.
Does she cheat? Lie? Take off on your birthday?

"No, no nothing like that, but I don't know she is just someone who is like the female jack sparrow. She is always calculating, re-calculating and then going off for these big adventures and she even encourages me to come but I am a very boring, routine, 9-5 person. She is the antithesis of that.
Initially it was so attractive because she is this wild girl who works on classic cars, collects old fancy dinnerware and just meets everything head on.
When I start thinking about it long term though I just can't shake the feeling that it would get hard, I would want kids in school and being responsible and she would be pulling them out to go to Disneyland."

Does she want kids? Maybe she's getting it done now before kids.
Just talk it out. Ask her what she sees for your future together. Tell her what you see. Find a compromise if you can.

"She does and she's openly said she wants to have fun with them and take them to experience things like her mom did with her.
I've said I want them to be in school and to have a normal childhood. She agrees that school is important but she is like they can also miss a week occasionally to travel. Her phrase is "Livings more important" "they are only going to be young for a short period" "I want to enjoy them while they enjoy me"."

Gentle YTA, for having dated this person for 3 years and not knowing what you even want from her. How long does what last, exactly? Lots of people make a carrier out of what you might call "side hustle salad". If you think about it, it's actually more stable in a lot of ways than locking yourself into one specific career track, because you can adjust to changing economic forces on the fly.
You, personally, need to think about this harder. Think about what you actually want out of your future, and whether she'll fit. These wishy-washy gut-checks are no way to plan a life, your own or yours together. Don't project it on to her, think about your own personal needs and wants. It's not "you're a wildcard", it's "I want my domestic life to be predicable and slow-paced"
Tell her your sorry for not having done that sooner, and then tell her what you figured out, and go from there.

"How long does what last, exactly?

Any of her plans, she is someone who doesn't stick to things for too terribly long. She worked for the employed jobs each forlmost exactly a year, she decided to go to school for auto-repair but then also bought courses for GIA. She then also got a library membership and started reading about business management heavily.
She has a mile long list of future plans and is very future focused but then also is just like... Winging it?
I have apologized for the wildcard comment but she won't respond and is taking time to think, once I get back into contact maybe we can have a deeper discussion.
I do love her. I want it to work out. I just worry that I am like Mr homebody/boring and she is the goddess of chaos."

like, are you saying you're worried that you're not cool enough for her? Bruh. That's for her to decide, not you.

"Kinda, I mean who can live up to someone who goes on VIP tours of SeaWorld, jets off to Germany 1-2 a year and then is fixing old hotrods (74' Plymouth barracuda). Not to mention all the other stuff she does. She can walk in an antique store and name china patterns off the top of her head and identify jewels at the drop of a hat.
She's too awesome and it's killing me. If I marry her and have kids with her I'm going to be the dry toast to her buffet of everything wonderful. She is a wild card and I both love it and hate it. Like how do you keep the girl who could literally be gone in a flash?"

[deleted]

"She doesn't, she's been in therapy/ had psychiatrists appointments since she was young for other things. She has anxiety and C-PTSD though.*

Info: do either of you want kids?

"Both of us do. She's always said she really wants to be a mother and she is great with the kids we are around."

Whether your assessment is fair depends on one point for me: Is she just *VERY** spontaneous or is she irresponsible?*
Example: You write she has an emergency fund, but is she on track with her retirement savings or does she just blow all of her money? You write she will quit a job because she does not like it. Does she just do it on a whim and hope for the best or does she have a plan in mind beforehand?
If it‘s the former (extreme spontaneity), it sounds like your lifestyles are not compatible (I personally could not live with someone like her). Think very hard whether you can live with her or not. If you come to the conclusion that you can‘t or don‘t want to, it‘s probably best to break up.
If it‘s the latter (irresponsibility), I think you‘re not the asshole.
In either case, if you are not honest with her, you‘re the asshole in my opinion.

"She doesn't believe in retirement funds really. She saved 6 months worth of bills as an emergency fund and saves some back, but most of it's free game. She says she isn't taking it with her and apart from leaving kids a little something she's not leaving a bunch to end up in estate sale or have it fought over.
She has a plan when she quits but not always another job lined up, she's usually in that process when she pulls the plug."

I was diagnosed with CPTSD and anxiety due to severe trauma later in life and one therapist was also unsure whether it could be ADHD. But two separate psychiatrists did tests (where you specifically look if symptoms where there in childhood already!) and it was still confirmed. We often get wrongly diagnosed. With everything you are describing she might as well have CPTSD and ADHD. Neurodivergent people are traumatized most of the times. It’s all a very thin line.

"I'm pretty sure she's not because she's been evaluated recently with a psychiatrist. I don't think she met the criteria."

Massive incompatibility. Women hit the epiphany stage in their late 20s or early 30s, when they suddenly want to nest and have their families.
They've had the Chads, the foam canon parties, the drinking, and the fun of being members of the most protected and socially glorified class of human being (attractive, fertile, young women)... and they begin to feel the reality of being not at their absolute 'prime'... it panicks them into a mental state where stability is required.
Tick tock goes the biological clock.
Personally, I think you should go a bit younger... she's 27, had a load of experiences, and (likely) casual partners. She's been abused, so that damage is done. She's not really wife stock. You can sense it, which is why you haven't proposed.
She's a bit all over the place. No stable(ish) employment, not great with money, wants to spend everything on travel. It's a bit 'teenager' for my liking.
Marriage may not be for her. She just doesn't know it yet.
I wouldn't waste her time further. I'd recommend you find a younger woman (22-25) who's ready to settle down into a lifestyle that you lead within your boundaries and limitations and expectations.

"casual partners

Actually she's only been with two people. So i mean, she isn't a party girl by any means. She doesn't drink or do drugs at all. But she does travel a lot and have different ideas than I do."

[A discussion of how Oop was correct because girlfriend ghosted him.] Yea ghosting is immature. She can’t even tell him like an adult. He communicated with her and she just left. He was right.

"She has been in contact just shelved the topic. And it's been very quiet. She said she needed space and to give her a week.
I think I hurt her when I said she would be a wildcard and by extension a bad wife and mother."

Dude. I was diagnosed with PTSD and CPTSD looooong before I was diagnosed with ADHD. It literally took a hospitalization for me to be diagnosed, and age 26. Women and femmes are severely under-diagnosed and misdiagnosed. I can spot the ADHD in her a mile away from how you describe her - she reminds me so much of myself, and others I know. Lack of diagnosis doesn’t mean she doesn’t qualify.
Edit: before *more** people come after me for this and before I feel more obligated to defend and justify myself - it is a known fact that the mental health medical field, maybe just where I am (Ontario), is severely lacking. There are a lot of bad doctors, doctors who hold onto very outdated views of diagnoses and trauma. Medical misogyny is a very real and documented thing.*
Lack of diagnosis does not mean it’s off the table. That’s it. Doctors get it wrong, when it comes to the brain. Psychiatry has not come as far as it should have by now.

"Yes but my point is let a professional diagnose her. Don't try to arm chair diagnose her with ADHD or bipolar as some people have been saying.
She just recently had an evaluation (within the last 3 months) with a therapist and she said she really didn't need therapy as a lot of the things she had (anxiety and C-PTSD) she's managed/ doesn't really have symptoms for anymore and she did ask the therapist about ADHD but apparently she didn't meet a bunch of the criteria."

Fun fact, medical misogyny exists. It’s why misdiagnosis happens. I know so many people that had to go to multiple psychiatrists to get diagnosed. Because the DSM, particular for ADHD and Autism, are written around how they manifest in specifically white men. Just like how in dermatology for example, all the research and symptoms are in white people which results in misdiagnosis in people who “don’t meet criteria”. It’s not armchair diagnosing to point that out. Also - therapists worth their salt would never tell someone with C-PTSD they don’t need therapy.
Edit: and the point here isn’t even to diagnose her. It’s to point out that her personality is just that, and if you’re not compatible due to it so be it. Let her go. But in your comments you’ve expressed that you are insecure; and it’s resulting in self sabotage. You need to be open with her, and allow yourself to be vulnerable and communicate these things to her. It’s the only way the relationship is salvageable.

"She's been in therapy since she was 10... like nearly 20 years, they've covered most of the stuff she had to. I think that's why the therapist said she didn't have to attend but could if she wanted to.
She attends because she likes the place to vent and finds it healthy in her words, not because she's actively working on managing symptoms anymore. I know she said she had C-PTSD as a diagnosis at one point after being a victim of CSA, having an abusive step father, her previous partner passing away, and a bunch of other stuff happening."

What’s the difference between your assets and finances? Because it seems like she’s got a lot of family money and/or has had a huge leg up in life from the opportunities she’s had in her family’s social circles. I’m guessing that you don’t have the same advantages she does. In that case, she’s smart to advocate for a prenup. Most wealthy people do. It’s part of the reason they maintain generational wealth.
I’m definitely not wealthy, and had a stable childhood but not many social or financial advantages. I married someone with the same kind of upbringing. I think that a marriage of people from different socioeconomic backgrounds can sometimes be more difficult to navigate than one between people of different ethnic and religious backgrounds.
ETA: I know this is harsh, but it seems like she’s ended the relationship if she’s disappeared for 5 days. I hope both of you can find more suitable partners in the future.

"So she isn't actually rich, I mean she has some savings, stands to inherit a lot, but her mother actually was married 5 times, one of those marriages took her overseas, which obviously is where my girlfriend grew up. It was the ex-step father who owned property in the south of France.
I guess what gets me is she is like the ultimate definition of fake it till you make it. She has connections, she has a family unit that is tight knit. She has savings for about 6 months of finances. But past that all her money goes to experiences. She eats out, never cooks ( not saying she has to but cost wise it's maybe a lot) then she always is travelling or going to events.
She just messaged me and said she was at the beach. She's joining a family trip late to get away from me, probably.
She said that she doesn't think we can get past this if I don't take her seriously and I need to think about what I want, she's doing the same."

Pensions aren’t as common as you think they are lol. I’ve had four full time, salaried jobs in my working career and none of them offered pensions. And I think it’s incredibly responsible that she has an emergency fund, we don’t know how much she has set aside in case of emergencies. Clearly she can afford her lifestyle, just because she isn’t investing or whatever doesn’t make her irresponsible. Besides, she’s young, enjoys travel, isn’t married, doesn’t have kids, sounds like she’s living the life she wants. People spend thousands on hobbies all the time, unsure how this is any different.

"She has at least $20000 set aside which is over what she would probably spend in those 6 months."

It makes a ton of sense. Her entire lifestyle sounds like she’s got family money. If she doesn’t, she’s probably got absolutely crushing debt.
She can’t change who she is or how she grew up. She’s incompatible with OP. And cynical me wonders how much of his attraction to her is based on her wealth. She wants a prenup for a reason. That usually only happens when there’s a wide difference of finances and assets between partners, or if both are well off and looking to maintain that.

"No she doesn't have debt. She pays off every single credit card she has every month.

The only debt she has is her car and she's nearly paid that off. She hates credit and carrying debt."
Interesting perspective, and I agree it would be helpful to know what country OP and his (ex?) gf live in.
If she’s got a house in southern France and speaks 3 languages and regularly goes to Germany and Austria, that means something VERY different if she’s European vs being American or Canadian.
From my limited experience with Dutch culture, it seems far more practical and sensible than American culture. It doesn’t surprise me that prenups are standard in NL.

"US based now
She lived in the UK, Germany and France (part time)."

Youre projecting. He said hes in the US and shes in Europe obviously he cant always follow her. OP said she stands to inherit quite a bit of money as well. Why would she wants to marry him and then cheat on him. Doesnt make sense.

"She's here in the US.
She lived abroad previously."

It makes perfect sense because she’s obviously the type who needs attention and Validation. Im not projecting anything. I’ve lived abroad, throughout the EU and Asia/Pacific. I’ve seen couples like this, and it’s always the one who spends the time abroad who engages in infidelity. In fact it was a running joke where I worked. This is basically a long distance relationship, and those always implode. Infidelity is usually the reason.

"She's easily the most loyal person I know. She wouldn't cheat."

Cat!

The school bell rang, startling James, who was correcting the last few assignments he had handed out on ionic bonds. He collected his papers, methodically sorting them out in his briefcase, which he closed with a metallic noise. It did not matter, though, because all noise was drowned out by the joyous laughter, yelling and stomping from the students. Winter break, finally. James sighed a sigh of relief, checking his desk. It was cleaner and far more organised than the surrounding ones. Waving goodbye to Sarah and George, two of his coworkers, he started getting ready.
Buttoning up his dark brown cardigan, checking the collar of his shirt and wearing his overcoat, James was ready to face the winter cold. He bid the headmaster goodbye, and left the office. His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, the tapping of the tile against the formal shoes he loved to wear filling the near empty school with dread.
Going through the large doors of the school, through the yard and into the now empty streets, he smelled the cold winter air. It was windy. Dense, black clouds covered the sky. His eyes were already pinned on his car, twenty feet or so away. He revved up the engine, and prepared himself for the hour long drive home.
An exhausting fifty minutes later, he could already imagine seeing the outline of his house in the distance. The large, two story house, Edwardian architecture. The dining room and living room had one large bay window each. Then, the kitchen and his office were brightly lit by chandeliers, floor and table lamps. French style furniture decorated the whole house. Upstairs, two bedrooms and two bathrooms, equally large. Wooden floors, and two fireplaces, one in the living room and one in his office. He always thought quite fondly of his house. It was very quiet, since it was remote and just in front of a large forest.
Imagining it all, it took time, during which he had already parked his car and unlocked the front door. He closed and locked it behind him, leaving his coat on the coat rack, which loomed next to the door. He walked towards the kitchen, led by his and his wife's favourite song, as well as the inviting and admittedly appetising smell of chicken soup.
“Don’t you remember me..”
The music continued, reverberating throughout the whole house. James looked around but did not find anyone. In the dining room, he came across a bowl of soup and a note at the head of the table, looking outside.
“Hey James, it’s Martha. I will not be joining you for lunch today, my mother is sick and I had to go take care of her. Talk to you when I get home.”
James smiled slightly, a false smile hiding true sadness, perhaps because he could not speak to his beloved wife about his day, over a nice glass of wine and some hot food. Nevertheless, the bowl was steaming. Once he finished, he did the dishes, and went upstairs into the master bedroom. He picked out a black pullover, a white collared shirt and a nice pair of slacks, and placed them on the bed. He took a nice, hot bath and got dressed. Nice clothes, no complaints.
Going downstairs, he looked outside the office window. The wind wheezed through the branches of the trees around his house, and the first few snowflakes hit the window softly. The clouds outside, now completely black, made the atmosphere a bit sinister. Nevertheless, James went into the kitchen and made himself a warm cup of Earl Grey, his favourite. He took the cup to the living room, placing it on the side table, right next to his armchair, facing the window. He went to one of the large bookshelves he had filled up with stacks upon stacks of books and other writings over the years. With his slim fingers, he picked one out.
“The Haunting Of Hill House.”
By Shirley Jackson. It had just come out, maybe a year ago. James snickered, he was always fond of horror novels. Looking at the grandfather clock, which stood in the corner of the room, he noticed it was only 17:05. Despite the decently early hour, outside it was almost pitch black. With a sigh, James turned the table lamp on, producing a warm light which greatly contrasted the grim weather.
A few hours later, Martha was still not home, much to his surprise. Perhaps even a hint of concern. He dialled his ill mother in law's phone number, but to no avail. The lines were down due to the God awful weather conditions. James got a bit anxious, but brushed it off with a glass of his favourite whiskey. He felt cold, so he lit the fireplace. It felt surreal. Alone in the snow, inside his house. Nobody was there to disturb him. Good times, no complaints.
Thirty minutes later, the phone rang. Startled, James swiftly walked up to it. He picked it up and heard nothing but silence. Exasperated, he closed the phone. The lights flickered slightly, a painting in the hallway fell off the wall, and so did the cross James had hung above his office door. He propped them up in their proper positions, when suddenly, the lights turned off completely. He heard a door upstairs creak open.
Scared as he was, James took a large bread knife from the kitchen and stalked his way up. Once there, he saw his bedroom door slightly open, with a nice warm light emanating from inside. He opened the door and looked inside, carefully. Nothing was wrong. James let out a breath, a breath which he must have held for more than three minutes now. Looking left, next to his bed, he saw his hunting rifle hung up on the wall. An old Winchester. He took it in his hands, and used a towel to clean the barrel and scope, as well as the stock. Nice rifle, no complaints.
Then, the phone rang again. Someone was knocking on the front door. Rifle in hand, James rushed down the stairs, staring into the long hallway. The lights were flickering constantly now. He felt dizzy. Something that sounded like chanting radiated from the phone. He was sweating, his eyes were wide open. He breathed so very quickly. He cocked the gun. He opened the door. He shot. What did he shoot at? What had the decently small calibre round hit? Across from James now lies Martha. Blood pooled around her throat and neck, making small streams in the snow. Tiny, almost inaudible gurgling. James cocks his gun again. He watches his wife's life slip away from her. She was still slightly spasming. James took the barrel to Martha's head, and pulled the trigger. The fireplace crackled, the phone rang no longer. The wind wheezed into the oh - so remote house. Who would find her in the forest? Good burial site, no complaints.
Oh Martha, how much I loved you.

I was sitting in the Jet Set with a few of my bouncer clients, Sebastian, Earl and Sparky.
“Why do we gotta sit so far from the stage?” Sparky said. He was a bouncer at the Jet Set, and his friends had christened him ‘Sparky’ when he’d been hit with an arson charge. The arson charges were a thing of the past, thanks to me, but Sparky’s nickname had stuck.
“This is my favourite table,” I said. I hate loud noise, and for me the worst noise of all is loud music. We were sitting at a dark table in a distant corner with almost no view of the stage, a small acoustic oasis that didn’t have a speaker pointed at it. Sebastian, the Jet Set’s bouncer-in-chief, sat across from me, his face in shadow. His second in command, Earl, was there as well. They’d been present at court to watch the arson charges die, and they hadn’t stopped making jokes about it. The charges had fizzled out, Sebastian said. The prosecutor got burned, Earl replied.
“Got a light, Sparky?” Sebastian said, sticking out a cigarette, it being legal back then to smoke in public places. They yuck yucked together, and I laughed with them as they smoked, sitting in a dark corner of the Jet Set. This was before my wife banned me from the place, when I was still allowed to meet clients there. Sparky was buying me a round or two or three, as a way of saying thanks for a job well done.
“So why’d Sparky walk, when everyone else got convicted?” Sebastian was a frequent flier at the local provincial courthouse, and he needed to know how his buddy had managed to avoid conviction on what had looked like a solid crown case. It had been a rather clumsy arson, involving more people than were needed, and a lot more talk than was necessary, both before the fire and after. The home owner and his friends all went to jail. Sparky, the man who actually set the blaze, was the only one to walk free. “Sparky, tell him what you said when the cops arrested you,” I said, raising my Guinness for another sip.
“I said jack shit. Everytime they asked me a question, all I said was ‘lawyer’. Over and over again.” Earl and Sebastian nodded approvingly.
One of the things I liked about my bouncer clients is that they always listened to me, and did what I told them to do. It’s a lot easier to get good results when your clients take you seriously, and do what you recommend. It also helps when the prosecutor fucks up, and the prosecutor had fucked up really badly. But I wasn’t going let luck take away any of the credit, so I accepted the accolades from my bouncer clients, and enjoyed the Guinness that the waitress kept me supplied with.
Maybe I should have said no to Sparky when he invited me out to the Jet Set. Sparky wasn’t the kind of client that you hung around with, that you had a drink with. Neither was Sebastian, the most vicious man I ever met, nor Earl, a mountain of a man, and next to Sebastian, the most feared bouncer on the airport strip. But here I was, hanging around with them all. Sebastian was from West Bay, from the same place I came from. At work and in court I had to be on guard, and mind my linguistic Ps and Qs. But with Sebastian et al, my speech returned to its default setting, and I dropped the proper English that I’d learned after I started high school.
“Sparky said jack shit when the cops arrested him,” I said, “and so long as you say jack shit when the cops arrest you, you’re already on your way to a not guilty. Just keep your mouth shut, and remember this:--” I held up a finger, and my clients came in on cue.
“No one ever talks a cop out of laying a charge,” Sebastian, Sparky and Earl said in unison, repeating a phrase that I and pretty well every other lawyer in Canada learned in first year law school. We laughed together, and I had a beer, and then another, and then the topic of Sparky’s arson charge came up again, and we laughed some more.
The dark table was briefly bathed in light when someone opened a door, and before it closed I got a better look at the people I was sitting with. “How’d you get cut?” I asked Sebastian. It was a small cut above his eye, clumsily stitched.
“I had a fight last night at the Lounge,” he said. The Lounge was a club at the other end of the long strip that ran parallel to the airport. The staff at the two clubs had a bit of a rivalry, so I was surprised to learn that Sebastian was moonlighting there.
“I thought you only worked for the Jet Set,” I said, and everyone at the table laughed. “This fight was for money,” Sebastian said.
“You shoulda been there,” Earl said, and Sparky seconded him, adding, “You gotta come see the next one. He fights again in two weeks,” explaining that Sebastian was the star attraction at the local underground, unlicensed fights, where he’d take on anyone, in any weight class.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I said, but the fight was scheduled for when my wife and I would be out of town for a wedding. “Will there a video?” I added, “because I’d love to watch a video when I get back, if there is one.” I’d never seen Sebastian at work, doing the thing he did best, which was beating the shit out of people. I’d read more than a few witnesses' statements telling how Sebastian had assaulted them, and I’d seen some photos displaying his handiwork, but I’d never seen him in action. “Yeah, a video would be great,” I said, not wanting to miss out on the fun. Sebastian and Sparky exchanged glances. “I never thought of that,” said Sebastian. “That’s a great idea, Calledinthe90s.”
The next day Sebastian called me to say they’d found a video camera and that they were going to video his next fight. But by then I’d sobered up, and was having second thoughts. “You know,” I said, “maybe that’s not such a good idea.” It was a terrible idea, all things considered, to tell a client that you wanted them to make a video of an illegal prize fight. My brain likes to catastrophize, and it jumped fifteen steps ahead to the worst possible outcome, namely, a disciplinary hearing before the Law Society. Would drunkenness be a defence to a charge of professional misconduct? No, of course not; instead, it would be an aggravating factor, as would the fact I’d been hanging around in a strip club with disreputable clients.
“It’ll be ok,” Sebastian said, “you’ll see. We’re gonna give it a try out, just to make sure it works, then we’ll be all set for the fight.” He hung up.
I knew that I’d made a mistake, telling my client to get a video camera, and I mentally crossed my fingers that it wouldn’t come back to bite me on the ass. But of course it bit me on the ass. My mistakes always come back to bite me on the ass.
* * *
A week later I was at my office preparing for an impaired charge. My client had blown two thirty-seven, urinated himself in front of the cops, and in case that wasn't enough, he’d confessed as well. I was going through the disclosure, looking for dots to connect. I’d been at it all day, but the dots weren’t connecting, and it was driving me nuts, because I knew there were dots there, just waiting to be connected, and if I could connect them, my client would walk. But for now my brain wasn’t seeing a way to think outside the box, and I was stuck firmly inside. My phone rang. I picked up. It was Sebastian.
“I gotta come see ya right away,” he said.
“You got a court date coming up? Why didn't you tell me?”
“The cops ain't charged me-- yet.” I told him to come to my office immediately, and fifteen minutes later I heard the growl of an engine out front in the parking lot. I looked out the window, and saw Sebastian’s bright red Camaro. I met him out front and put him in our small boardroom, and closed the door on him. Then I went to see Aaron, the senior counsel that I rented space from.
“I’m using the boardroom,” I told Aaron.
“Your rent doesn’t include boardroom privileges,” he said. Aaron was always nickel and diming me. He was hungry for money; his divorce lawyer was eating him alive. He hated his own lawyer even more than he hated his ex.
“Nice try,” I said. I’d drafted the lease myself, and it gave me the run of the place. I headed back to the boardroom, and when I arrived, I could see Sebastian fiddling with the boardroom’s video tape machine. That’s why we were in the boardroom: he needed to show me a video tape.
I wondered what kind of trouble he was in. Sebastian’s next underground fight wasn’t for a week, so the video couldn’t be one of Sebastian fighting, and that allowed me to stop worrying about the idiotic advice I’d given him the week before back at the Jet Set, the advice about buying a video camera and filming himself committing a crime. I’d been stressed over the video thing for a week, but now I could relax.
“Should I get popcorn?” I said. “I usually have a snack when I’m watching a movie.”
“You can skip the popcorn,” Sebastian said, “the fight didn’t last long.” That got my attention. “But the fight’s not until next week,” I said, pressing play.
“We wanted to give the camera a try, plus I had to go to the Lounge, to straighten some guys out, settle a score, send a message. Kick ass. That sort of thing.” I hit pause.
“Hold it,” I said, “the cops are after you. Are they after you because of what you did on this video?”
He nodded.
“And you brought friends along to watch whatever you did at the Lounge, and they brought a video camera?” He nodded again, and my fear came roaring back, doubled and redoubled.
This was it. I was being bitten on the ass for my mistake, just like I’d feared. My client had videotaped himself committing a crime, and he had done it at my suggestion. My brain started catastrophizing again, going over the nightmare scenario of my pending public humiliation. Every now and again the Law Society magazine came out, everyone at the courthouse looked to see if anyone they knew got suspended or disbarred. I was going to be featured prominently in that magazine, I was sure.
“Hit play,” Sebastian said, “I watched this already a ton of times, but I can’t stop watching it. It’s the best.” I sat in a chair, and pressed play.
The camerawork was rough at the start, but the audio worked just fine. I heard shouts and swearing, and then the picture focused on the action just in time for me to see Sebastian’s fist connect with his victim's face. The man dropped like a stone, and lay framed in the middle of the image, in front of the main door of The Lounge, a seedy joint on the opposite end of the strip from the Jet Set. I hit pause.
“That’s not too bad,” I said, “from the sound of it, the fight started some time before you knocked the guy out.” A one-punch knockout is not exactly the toughest assault to defend, and because the video missed the start of the fight, that left a big blank that Sebastian could fill in with evidence of self-defence. “Wait,” Sebastian said, “there’s more.”
From the way the punch had landed and the man had dropped, I had thought the fight was over. I hit play, curious to see how someone could recover from a punch like that. The video started up again, and Sebastian’s victim remained motionless on the ground. Another man, a much larger man, burst out of a door, and rushed out. I watched as my client, Sebastian, swiveled, and almost without effort knocked out his opponent, his movements too quick for me to follow. I hit pause, and asked what happened.
“Spinning back fist,” Sebastian said.
“Not bad,” I said, “not bad at all.” This was clearly self-defence; the second ‘victim’ was a man almost as big as Earl, and if Sebastian had allowed him to get in the first punch, he would have gotten seriously hurt. “I think we can defend this. Let’s head over to the station, and turn you in.”
“There’s more,” he said.
“More? What did you do, kick the guy while he was down?”
“Of course not,” Sebastian said, scowling. He didn’t follow the Queensberry Rules, probably had never heard of them, but he had his own code, and kicking a man while he was down was not permitted, unless the guy was a total asshole and there were no witnesses. “So what did you do, then?” I asked. Sebastian took the remote from me, told me just to watch, and he hit play.
Three more men came out of The Lounge, all wearing the livery of their club: pale slacks, button up shirt, matching vest. They all looked very proper and professional, except they were enraged, and the one in the middle called out to Sebastian, challenged him to fight man-to-man.
“None of your flippy spinny karate shit, Sebastian,” the man said, squaring up, his fists raised, “let’s see if you can box.” Sebastian could box just fine; he whipped out a jab that snapped back the man’s head, and a straight right followed. The video paused.
“This is the best part of the video. Watch this,” Sebastian said. He rewound a few seconds, and I watched the two punch combination land for the second time. The man stared at Sebastian, stunned, his eyes open but his lights out. I could see Sebastian ready himself to lash out once more, but after a pause of a few seconds, the man collapsed into the arms of his fellow bouncers.
Sebastian hooted with laughter. And it had been amusing, in a cruel sort of way, watching a man’s brain run a little check on itself, before deciding it was maybe a good idea to shut operations down.
The last two guys met similar fates, Sebastian dispatching them each with a single punch. It really was no contest. It was like watching a grown man fight with school children.
“So much for self-defence,” I said, “at least for the last three guys.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was obviously a consent fight. Each of them challenged you, you accepted, and then you knocked them out.”
“But I thought consent fights were ok.” Of course he thought that. I’d beaten an assault charge against him the year before using the consent fight defence.
“The defence doesn’t work if you inflict bodily harm.” I would check my Martin’s, but I was pretty sure that a concussion counted as bodily harm.
The receptionist opened the boardroom door. “There’s cops in the waiting room,” she said. “They can wait,” I said, motioning her to close the door.
“We gotta hide the tape,” Sebastian said.
“No we don’t,” I said, “they won’t seize zilch from a law office, not without a warrant, and they don't have a warrant.” They had probably gotten lucky, and spotted Sebastian’s car in the lot. That’s the only reason they were at my office. I hit the eject, and put the tape behind some law books. “No one’s seeing this tape,” I said, “don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t sure about what to do with the tape, but the last thing I was going to do, was hand it over to the authorities. That would never happen. “So what are we gonna do?” Sebastian said. He wasn’t panicking, not yet, but he was close. He had beaten five men in front of a crowd of witnesses, every kick, every punch caught on video, and he looked trapped. Assault times five, for sure, but judging by the way a few of the victims had hit the pavement, there’d be some assault causing bodily harm tossed in, too.
The case looked hopeless, but then I had an idea. It bounced around in my head for a few seconds, that being my equivalent of quality control.
“I have a shot at getting you off,” I said. Sebastian’s panicked look changed to bafflement, almost to distrust. “How the fuck you gonna do that?”
“I’ll tell you later. I gotta work out some details first. But I’m gonna try to get you off. Just remember, when I hand you over to the cops--”
“I know I know I know. Keep my mouth shut.”
“Exactly. Don’t give them anything. Not even address or next of kin, nothing. Nothing at all. You’ll post bail tomorrow morning, and by then I’ll know what I’m going to do.” I led Sebastian out of the boardroom and handed him over to the cops in reception. There were six of them, all big men. They knew Sebastian’s reputation, and they weren’t taking any chances. I watched them cuff my client, and then they took him away.
With Sebastian gone, I was left all alone with the idea bouncing around in my head, the notion I had for how I was going to beat the charge. But this was going to be difficult. The path I could see to a win was complicated, almost baroque, and working out the details would be complicated, very complicated, if I was to keep my law license.
* * *
I had the feeling that I was in a little over my head, and when I was in over my head, there was only one thing to do. I stepped out of my office and walked down the hall, stopping when I reached a door whose small sign read, “Mark Cecil-Rowe, LL.D., Barrister.” I knocked. There was the sound of glass clinking.
“Enter,” a baritone voice said.
I opened the door, and entered the lair of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, Doctor of Laws, the man with the best speaking voice I ever heard. He may also have been an alcoholic. He always had some hard liquor at hand whenever I saw him, but on the other hand, I never saw him drunk.
“How’s it going, Mark?” I said cheerfully to a older man seated behind a massive desk
“You know that I prefer that you call me Mr. Cecil-Rowe.” The man rose, coming from behind his desk with a bottle of scotch and two glasses in his hand.
“Sorry, Mr. C.” I wanted his advice, but I still had to needle him, just a little bit. Cecil-Rowe had been the leading barrister in the county for several decades, starting with the West Bay Missing Limbs case back in the sixties. But he wasn’t up to big cases any more, he claimed, so he mostly stayed in his office. He was ‘of counsel’ to a couple of prominent firms, and he dispensed advice from the comfort of his chambers. Advice, as well as expensive scotch.
“Mr. C indeed,” he muttered. Then he smiled, and gestured to a leather couch. “Have a seat, Padawan,” he said. Cecil-Rowe was about sixty, maybe looking a bit older, with a neat white beard, and dressed impeccably.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me Padawan,” I said.
“Then we are even,” he said.
Cecil-Rowe always won. That’s how it seemed, at least to me, that he always won. For Cecil-Rowe, words were weapons in the martial art of speaking, and against him most lawyers were almost unarmed. I sat on the couch, and accepted a glass, and held it while he poured me some scotch. He stopped after about a half shot.
“More than that,” I said, meaning this particular problem was bigger than usual. Cecil-Rowe poured some more, and then one more time at my bidding.
“A one-and-a-half shot problem. This ought to be good,” he said. He settled back into his armchair with a small smile on his face.
“Here’s the situation,” I began, but Cecil-Rowe stopped me before I could get rolling. “This sounds serious indeed,” he said.
“How can you know that already?”
“You started by saying, “here’s the situation”. For you, ‘here’s the situation’, means the same thing as ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned.’ When you say, ‘here’s the situation’, it heralds a tale to come, and the tale always starts the same way, with you making a big mistake. And as usual, I will help you fix your mistake, so long as I don’t have to leave my office.”
That was one of Cecil-Rowe’s rules, never to leave his office on a legal errand of any kind. He would give advice from the comfort of his chambers, but he would not go to court. Cecil-Rowe had taken a liking to me when I took space in the same building, and he never charged me for the consultations. I think he enjoyed listening to the tales from of the legal scrapes I got myself into, usually when I fucked up, and back in those days, I tended to fuck up a lot.
“You think I fucked up?” I said. “Nope. I didnt’ fuck up this time.” My West Bay manner of speaking was several socio-economic classes below Cecil-Rowe’s station. He wrinkled his nose, and replied, “I’m suggesting that you erred grievously, and came here for help.”
“Here’s the situation,” I repeated, repeating the words that for us by now were almost a ritual.
“Tell me about the situation,” Cecil-Rowe said. “Tell me about how you didn’t make a mistake. Tell me how you did not fuck up.”
I told him about Sebastian coming to my office with the tape, and what was on it, and what the client told me. I told him everything, start to finish, from the moment Sebastian arrived in my office until I’d knocked on his door. When I finished speaking I watched Cecil-Rowe’s face, and how it worked slightly before stopping, and then he pronounced his opinion.
“On that very limited information, the situation looks hopeless,” Cecil-Rowe said. Coming from him, the acknowledged master of courtroom rhetoric, that was saying a lot. The guys in the lawyer’s lounge said that in his prime, Cecil-Rowe could make a reasonable doubt out of thin air, just with his words alone. “But I suppose you have an idea of some kind, a plan that you want to run by me. You wouldn’t be coming to see me if you were going to run up a white flag.”
“Exactly,” I said, and then I laid out the elements of my plan, the persons involved, the possible outcomes, the dangers to my client and to me professionally, Cecil-Rowe taking detailed notes like he always did, in his own personal shorthand that he created. Cecil-Rowe listened, never interrupting other than to offer a scotch refill.
“I take it you were thinking outside the box again?” he said when I was done.
“Yup,” I said, “but this one is going to be tricky”. My best solutions were always very simple, and with hindsight, quite obvious. But this plan was different. This plan had some moving pieces, too many moving pieces for my liking, and when I explained it to Cecil-Rowe I felt the dangers keenly.
“Not exactly original, but not bad,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“What?” I’ve had people call my ideas crazy, or just plain stupid, but unoriginal?
“It’s called ‘testem perturbans’, he said, “the technique you're using.”
“Testy what?” I said. Cecil-Rowe spelled it out for me, and I asked him what it meant. “I’ll let you figure that out on your own at the library. It’s a rare coup, I’ll give you that much. But hardly original. The first recorded instance of its use is by Hypereides.”
“It has a name, what I’m doing?”
“Of course it has a name. You need to give things names if you want to talk about them. Just as judo throws and boxing strikes have their distinct names, so do legal maneuvers. The ancient Greeks originated these tactics, and the Romans wrote about them. But they don’t teach them nowadays, anymore than they teach rhetoric. It’s become a lost art.”
“So it must be ok, then,” I said, “I mean, the plan I told you about. It must be ok if it has a name.”
“Really? Murder has a name. Does that make murder ok?”
“Sorry. Just wishful thinking.”
“Before we talk about the ethics of it, let’s talk first about what you really came here to ask me about. You want help on getting away with it.”
“Exactly,” I said without thinking and then I almost coughed up my drink. When I could speak again, I repeated myself, and continued on. “I don’t know how to do this, without getting in trouble. I’m asking myself, what do I do if it doesn’t work out? If everything comes crashing down? How do I look out for myself?”
“How do you cover your ass?” Cecil-Rowe said, the use of the vernacular causing him almost physical pain.
“Yes. How do I cover my ass.”
“Take notes, young Padawan,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Please don’t call me that,” I said, catching the pad of paper he tossed me, and the pen that came next. Cecil-Rowe began to talk, lecturing me on legal tactics in his fine voice as I wrote furiously to keep up with him. I kept those notes, and the notes of all the other discussions I had with him. I have them to this day. Cecil-Rowe spoke and I asked questions and he spoke some more, and all the while I took notes. After a long time he finished.
“Thanks,” I said, as I got up to leave. But he stopped me.
“You forgot to tell me the best part. The error you made, the mistake that’s causing you to panic.” There was no point denying it, so I told him, and he laughed uproariously.
* * *
The cops kept Sebastian in custody that night, and the next morning was his first appearance. I was sitting in the lawyer’s lounge drinking the shitty coffee that was always on tap, and chatting with the other lawyers. It was the usual mix of aged veterans and younger counsel, all of us waiting around for court to start, telling stories, shooting the shit. The usual stuff.
One of the guys was Benjamin, a ten-year call with a pretty good drug dealer practice. He was reading the newspaper, because back in the 90s, people actually read physical newspapers. Nowadays newspapers are mostly for old people, but back then, it was common to see people sitting around reading the newspaper. Benjamin was sitting in an old leather armchair that was more duct tape than leather, drinking coffee and checking out the news, and as he turned the page I saw a headline:
“Five Bouncers Beaten at the Lounge,” the headline said. I almost dropped my coffee when I saw the headline. “That’s my case,” I said, “my case is in the news.”
Getting mentioned in the newspaper was a big deal back then. Greenspan’s career was made by the newspaper coverage from the Demeter trial. It didn’t matter that he lost the trial; all that mattered is that people saw his name. My case was in the news, and that meant I was only one step away from getting my name out there. The lawyer’s lounge got quiet, and I told everyone the basic facts.
“Congrats, kid,” Benjamin said, handing me the paper. The article presented the case as something of a mystery, a highly unusual event, because usually when there was a fight involving bouncers, it was the customers that wound up in hospital, and the bouncers that got charged. But not this time. Sebastian’s name was not mentioned until the end, when it said he was charged with assault causing bodily harm times five. I passed the paper back to Benjamin.
“So you're going to plead the guy out, or what?” Benjamin said.
“Nope,” I said, “not a chance.” There were approving nods all around. None of the guys that frequented the lawyer’s lounge were known for quick guilty pleas. Lawyers who pleaded everyone guilty weren’t welcome in the lawyer’s lounge. Lawyers like that were known as ‘dump trucks’, and they were shunned by real lawyers, because dump trucks were bringers of bad luck, jinxes, harbingers of doom. Benjamin let me take his newspaper, and I headed out of the lounge for the cells. I needed to have a quick chat with my client.
“Can’t let you in,” said the cop whose job it was to let lawyers into the interview room at the cells.
“Why not? I gotta see my guy before we get started.” There’d been a change in plans that I needed to tell Sebastian about. I was going to do a bit of a one-eighty that morning, and I wanted him to have fair warning.
“Short staffed today,” the cop said, “come back in an hour.”
I didn’t have an hour, so I headed for the courtroom. They always brought the prisoners in a bit early, and I’d have the chance for a brief, whispered discussion with him before things got started.
“Why’s the place so packed?” I said to the court clerk. There were lots of empty seats for lawyers, but the public benches were almost full.
“We have a reporter here,” she said, “something interesting must be happening. A lot of victims, too, and their relatives.” I looked around the room for the first time, and in the front row of the gallery sat five men, each looking the worse for wear, their faces bruised and discolored. Among them were broken noses, split lips and fresh stitches. I was still staring at them when the Crown walked in, and not just any crown, but Polgar, a lawyer as junior as I was, but whose career was on the fast track because he was the son of Polgar Senior, the Crown Attorney for the County.
I drew Polgar more often than any other crown, partially because we were both junior and were learning our trade by exercising our skills on the petty offences that were the small change of any provincial courthouse. The talk in the lawyer’s lounge was that Polgar’s almighty daddy used to feed him the easy winners, files where his son couldn't go wrong, helping his son pad his record so that he could climb the ranks.
There were a few cops sitting at counsel table. The oldest spoke to Polgar, and pointed to a person in the gallery. “Reporter,” he said.
Polgar the Crown and part-time attention whore made a beeline for the reporter. “What case are you on?” he said. The reporter was young and pretty, and she told Polgar that she was here on the fight that had taken place at the club near the airport.
“The Five Bouncer Beatdown,” Polgar said. I rolled my eyes as I listened to him chat up the reporter, full of self-importance, trying to impress her. “The guy who did this won’t get away with it, I promise you,” he said, “he’s got a record as long as--”
“He doesn’t have a record of anything except wrongful arrests,” I said from the defence table. I would have added, ‘thanks to me,’ but Polgar did it for me.
“Thanks to you,” he said, “but he won’t get away with this one. We have too many witnesses.”
“He said she said or whatever,” I replied, “their word against my client’s.”
“We have independent witnesses,” Polgar said, “guys that your client didn’t knock out, plus the cops are still looking for evidence. You’ll see it all in the disclosure.”
It was too bad that they hadn’t brought the prisoners in yet. Sebastian would have enjoyed listening to this, plus I also needed to speak to him before court started, about the little change in plan that I had, an extra dot I would be connecting that morning once court started. But then Judge Hermann walked in, and the chit-chat came to an instantaneous end.
The Honourable Judge Hermann, aka the Hermannator, stood at his dais and bowed. All the lawyers bowed back and everyone took a seat. His Honour took in the empty prisoner’s dock. “How are we to conduct bail hearings without prisoners?” he said.
“Staffing issues today,” Polgar said. He told the cops to bring Sebastian in, and a few minutes later he was seated in the prisoner’s dock, while the terms of his bail were set on consent. As Polgar spoke, I tried to catch Sebastian’s eye, but he had eyes only for the young, pretty reporter. I wrote out a note, and headed over to the prisoner’s box to pass it to him.
“Sit down, counsel,” The Hermannator said, “you can consult with your client after court.”
I sat down, the note burning a hole in my hand. It contained a message, a really important message that I had wanted to give Sebastian before court started. But I couldn't give it to him. I could only sit, and listen as Polgar read out the usual terms of release. No contact with the victims, live with his surety, keep his bail papers with him at all times, sign in once a week, keep the peace and be of good behavior, the usual. Sebastian nodded as he heard the routine words that he’d heard many times before. The lawyers checked their calendars, and we set a date for a case conference. We were about to move on to the next case, when I stood. It was time for stage one of the plan, a little wrinkle devised by Mr. Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D.
“There’s just one more thing, Your Honour,” I said, opening my briefcase.
“Yes?” Judge Hermann said.
“A video tape has come into my possession,” I said, pulling out a large manilla envelope. Polgar was immediately suspicious.
“Your Honour, I object. Whenever Calledinthe9os is involved, there’s always something, some nonsense that delays things.” But the judge made him sit down, and told me to continue.
“As I was saying, a tape came into my possession, a tape that may or may not have some bearing on the charges before the court. I'm not saying either way, but I’m handing the original over to the Crown.” I’d made copies the day before, just in case, but the copy that Sebastian put into my hands was the one I gave to Polgar. Polgar accepted the envelope hesitantly, as if fearing a trap. But the concern on his face disappeared when Sebastian saw what was up.
“What the fuck,” he said, “that tape was like confidential.”
“Be quiet,” I said to him. He was inches away from incriminating himself.
“You told me you wouldn’t show it to anyone,” he said. I wanted to ignore him, but I couldn’t, and my next words were addressed to the judge.
“My client misunderstood me, Your Honour. Yes, I agreed to keep it confidential, but not from the Crown, of course, because it might be evidence.”
“You might have fuckin’ told me, asshole,” Sebastian hissed from the prisoner’s box. The judge silenced him.
“From your reaction,” the judge told him, “it sounds like you know what’s on the tape, and you should keep quiet, like your lawyer told you. Calledinthe90s handed over the tape because he had to. He acted in the best traditions of the bar.” That’s what they call it, when you sell out your client: ‘acting in the best traditions of the bar.’
“Fuck your traditions,” Sebastian said, his voice a low murmur. His face was rage-filled as the cops took him back to the cells, and I wondered whether he’d keep the peace and be of good behaviour the next time he saw me.
“Not too popular with your client, it seems,” Polgar muttered to me.
“Your daddy think you can win this case? That why he gave it to you?” But the judge told Polgar to move things along, and I shuffled out of court, following a crowd made up of the five bouncers that Sebastian beat, along with their friends and supporters and the young reporter from the Tribune.
“What was on that tape?” the reporter asked me when we got outside.
This was my chance, I thought. A reporter, a real live reporter, was talking to me about a case. Sure, it wasn’t a murder case, nothing too serious, but the facts were interesting enough that for a day or two, it had the attention of the press. Here was my chance to get my name into the newspaper. To get myself noticed. To advance my career.
“What was on the tape? Can’t say. Privileged.” The words rolled off my tongue automatically. I gave the same answer I gave my wife when she asked a question about one of my cases. The answer was always ‘privileged’, unless we were talking about something that happened in open court, on the record. It always drove my wife nuts.
“That’s it,” the reporters said, “that’s all you can give me? You make this big show of handing over evidence, your client goes nuts in court and wants to kill you, and all you can say, is that it’s privileged?” The reporter sounded as annoyed as my wife did when I played the privilege card
“Sorry,” I said, “ but until the Crown’s had a chance to review what I gave them—“
“Never mind,” the reporter said, turning her heel on me and heading out.
“You really do have a way with people,” Kurt Mandrick said, observing the encounter from his seat on a bench outside the courtroom. Kurt the Dump Truck was at court that day to plead a few clients guilty, because that’s all that he did, plead people guilty. He’d been avoiding me since the notorious Autrefois Acquit case a few months before, but after seeing me get kicked around, he figured it was safe to speak to me
“I wasn’t trying to piss her off,” I said, but the next day when I picked up the Telegraph in the lawyer’s lounge, I saw that I had seriously pissed off the reporter. “Lawyer leaks tape to the cops,” the headline said, mentioning me by name as someone who had sold out their own client. That’s how I learned that lawyers who gave reporters nothing to write about got negative publicity. But I shrugged it off to experience, and then headed out to my car. I was going to the Jet Set for the next stage in my plan.