Thanks to Patron Member u/Entharo_entho - Here is the wiped out Tweet retrieved
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ‘The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.’
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
‘How’s it going with Bhansu?’ Sweta asked.
‘We are not working together anymore,’ I said.
‘Whaaaaaaaat?’ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
‘Whyyyyy?’ they cried, collectively anguished.
‘He said he is not feeling the vibes.’
‘What?’
‘Vibes,’ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
‘What vibes?’ Sweta jibed, ‘Maybe he can’t feel the vibrator.’
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DM’d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
“They will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,” he said, “Like Hollywood.”
“This is Bhansaliwood,” I said, “Yahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.”
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ‘prepared’ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:

Arre, then what do I say?
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Nene’s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ‘Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,’ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ‘prepared’ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar’s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohan’s doleful rendition of ‘Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.’ (Side effect of writing this on Mother’s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. What’s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, “I want puranpoli today.”
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesn’t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLB’s plate at the speed of light.
‘Give him some,’ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
‘I’ve had lunch, thank you,’ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
‘One should not waste food,’ he said.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.’
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff — allergic to undesired petting and attention.
‘So, what have you done?’ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
‘A novel, some writing for a series,’ I said nervously, dismissively.
‘Anything I might have seen?’ he asked.
‘No, not worthwhile.’
‘Are you interested in direction also?’
‘No, am not delusional.’
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
‘I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,’ I said. L’esprit de l’escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
‘What are you writing now?’
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
‘Oh, this is so fascinating,’ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcutta’s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. He’s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ‘outsider’.
‘But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?’ he said, ‘I am a maa-ka-bhakt.’
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
‘Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.’
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
‘If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.’
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writer’s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my mother’s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DM’d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ‘What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.’
I told her I’d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhatt’s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
“It’s a shot that I will take to my grave. If there’s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.”
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadn’t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. That’s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
‘Go wash your face and come back,’ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
‘Dastavez,’ SLB said, ‘would that be correct to use?’
‘Kaaghzaat,’ the minion replied.
‘Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,’ said the second minion.
‘You always mislead me,’ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.’
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ‘current plague’ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasn’t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friend’s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ‘I don’t think I will last a week there.’
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ‘genius’ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ‘thick hide’ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasn’t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldn’t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ‘chacha’s’ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
‘What am I supposed to say if he asks?’
‘Make up something,’ I was told.
‘Why should I?’
‘You will slowly understand,’ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didn’t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ‘sir’ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ‘new energy’ to rekindle the ‘old energy’ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the god’s chamber aka the Shahenshah’s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a character’s resolve. He denied it was written. I said that’s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
‘What changes do you suggest?’ he asked.
‘We should sit on it collectively and decide,’ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ‘We all walk on eggshells around him.’ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ‘That’s not how art is made.’ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, let’s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a master’s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didn’t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroff’s ‘Bacchi ho kya,’ dialogue comes to mind.
‘You are talking like those critics who find fault but don’t know how to write. They should write the film,’ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writer’s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ‘From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,’ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasn’t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box –office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didn’t care for that. He was assisting ‘sir’ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself don’t use my Muslim surname. I’ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. That’s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ‘He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.’ I didn’t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ‘When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.’
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasn’t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmaker’s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ‘kachra’ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. “He is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,” he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldn’t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLB’s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.

Above stanza, courtesy Poe, poem: The Raven.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friend’s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ‘This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
‘Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. I’ll get him to read it.’
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my mother’s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said it’s not working out.
There’s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. You’ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadn’t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.’
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLB’s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ‘I’ve heard he is very anal, is he?’
The vibrator jokes never stop.

Good morning sisters and brothers, fellow Saints of our aspirational Zion. I was asked to speak and allowed to decide what the topic would be. After a lot of consideration I felt inspired to speak about being Actively Engaged in a Good Cause and how that relates to the full name of the church.
I was glad when President Nelson decided to put more emphasis on the full name of the church. Not that I mind using the term Mormon, but because I do find the full name of the church to be significant. When the church was organized in 1830 it was called the Church of Christ. In 1834 the members voted to change the name of the church to the Church of the Latter-day Saints. Then in 1838 Joseph had a revelation for the name to be The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While this effectively combined the two previous names, it also highlights something that I think most people overlook. Namely that the church is not only Jesus’s church, but that the church also belongs to us, the Latter-day Saints. We too have ownership of the church. While this may sound strange at first, it actually also fits very well with another concept that Joseph Smith taught: Theodemocracy.
Joseph spoke of this most actively the year before his death when running for President of the United States and when the Council of Fifty was created. The idea also holds in it that while God is in charge, we also have ownership and must have a say, actively vote, propose new ideas, and generally be actively engaged in moving things forward. It is not a theocracy with a fake voting system attached like that of North Korea. However, we have largely seen our own tradition move from one in which we do things by common consent including adding to our canon or as in 1834 voting to change the name of the church, towards something much more akin to voting in North Korea. This has coincided with other shifts in which we have taken less and less ownership of our church and as a result failed to properly sustain and support our leaders.
It is unfair to our leaders for us to sit back and wait for them to do frankly most of the heavy lifting when it comes to the running and functioning of our church, stake, and ward. In the past when I’ve been in callings that required me to be overseeing the assignments of home teaching or really any other church assignments, my experience has been that occasionally some inspiration will strike for some of the assignments, but that for the majority, I felt like I was left to figure out myself what assignments seemed to make the most sense. I know that many leaders that I have spoken to on this topic have also had such experiences. When we as members speak with our leaders, share information with them, it makes it much easier to make the best decisions. Without that feedback much more is left to guesswork.
We need to support and sustain our leaders, but this becomes difficult or challenging if we bring some assumptions to the table when considering how we do this. A major one as I see it is when we put too much trust in the arm of the flesh and grant our leaders infallibility or the lesser but largely equivalent functional infallibility.
As the saying goes: “Catholics say that the Pope is infallible, but none of them believe it. Mormons say that the Prophet is fallible, but none of them believe it.” Brigham Young recognized the potential for harm in this setting and said:
"I am fearful [the Saints will] settle down in a state of blind self-security, trusting their eternal destiny in the hands of their leaders with a reckless confidence that in itself would thwart the purposes of God in their salvation, and weaken the influence they could give to their leaders, did they know for themselves, by the revelations of Jesus, that they are led in the right way.” – Brigham Young 1862 General Conference (quoted in General Conference of the church in 1963 and in 1989)
And this one is also important:
"And none are required to tamely and blindly submit to a man because he has a portion of the priesthood. We have heard men who hold the priesthood remark, that they would do anything they were told to do by those who presided over them, if they knew it was wrong; but such obedience as this is worse than folly to us; it is slavery in the extreme; and the man who would thus willingly degrade himself should not claim a rank among intelligent beings, until he turns from his folly. A man of God… would despise the idea. Others, in the extreme exercise of their almighty authority have taught that such obedience was necessary, and that no matter what the saints were told to do by their presidents, they should do it without asking any questions. When Elders of Israel will so far indulge in these extreme notions of obedience as to teach them to the people, it is generally because they have it in their minds to do wrong themselves.” – Millennial Star, vol.14 #38, pp. 593-95
Yet does this functionally happen in the church? Do we follow this council to find out for ourselves instead of simply assuming everything from our leaders is divine? Apostle Charles W. Penrose, who would later serve as counselor to President Smith, declared:
"President Wilford Woodruff is a man of wisdom and experience, and we respect him, but we do not believe his personal views or utterances are revelations from God; and when ‘Thus saith the Lord’, comes from him, the saints investigate it: they do not shut their eyes and take it down like a pill.” – Millennial Star 54:191
Do we do this? When the prophet says “Thus saith the Lord” do we take the time to investigate it? Do we remember President Kimball’s reaction to Elder Benson’s talk on the “14 fundamentals of following the prophet”?
"Spencer felt concern about the talk, wanting to protect the Church against being misunderstood as espousing ultraconservative politics or an unthinking “follow the leader” mentality. The First Presidency again called Elder Benson in to discuss what he had said and asked him to make explanation to the full Quorum of the Twelve and other General Authorities… A First Presidency spokesman Don LeFevre reiterated to the press the day after the speech that it is “simply not true” that the Church President’s “word is law on all issues—including politics.” – Lengthen Your Stride – Working Draft, by Edward Kimball
I’ve had the opportunity to know some great Mormons who do take this approach, but I’ve also known many who treat quotes from church leaders like downloaded messages from God (no human filters involved).
If we can believe that God is capable of inspiring our leaders, surely we can believe God is capable of letting us know when they’re wrong. If instead we assume that their judgment is always superior to our own, perhaps we’re helping to put up a massive iron gate.
"How often has the Holy Spirit tried to tell us something we needed to know but couldn’t get past the massive iron gate of what we thought we already knew?" – Dieter Uchtdorf 2012 Worldwide Leadership Training
Moses once opined “Would that all the Lord's people were prophets, that the Lord would put his Spirit on them!” We have all been confirmed members of the church and in that confirmation told to receive the Holy Ghost. It is easy to forget that when the spirit tells us something, that is a member of the Godhead speaking to us. If we can believe that God can give guidance to our leaders surely we can also believe God can give us guidance.
Another important and often overlooked point is the context to this oft quoted verse:
"We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion." -D&C 121:39
This statement wasn’t given in a vacuum. It is in the middle of a long discussion of priesthood and priesthood authority. This is talking specifically about priesthood leaders. When we read that “many are called but few are chosen,” we’re reading that many priesthood leaders abuse their power and only few truly honor it. The saints in Joseph’s day understood this. I think we’ve sanitized it over the years to make it seem like an aside, an intermission on the discussion of priesthood. This statement is as true now as ever. This verse, with its proper context, needs to be a lesson for us as members. We need to sustain and support our leaders. This doesn’t mean following them blindly. This doesn’t mean we must become “yes-men” to them. This does mean pray for them to be chosen instead of just called. This does mean to influence our leaders to do God’s will. Remember, one of Brigham’s concerns about us acting as if all our leaders decisions were divine is that it will “weaken the influence [we] could give to [our] leaders.”
What questions our church leaders will take to the Lord are impacted by our own openness to those things. In 1977 President Kimball expressed concern that if the Race-ban on priesthood was removed that there would be pushback from members in the American South and from some in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. When President Hinckley was asked in an interview about the Gender-ban on priesthood his response was that “there’s no agitation for it.” Until we better engage in our own history and understand how we got to where we are now it will be very difficult if not impossible for us as members to be prepared for the removal of the current gender-ban on priesthood.
Sometimes we might justify our own spiritual laziness by saying that while our leaders are fallible that God will never let them lead us astray, granting them a sort of functional infallibility. Nevermind that this was first said when my 3rd-great-grandpa President Woodruff was trying to convince members not to leave over the Manifesto. Nevermind that it means that we’re denying our leaders their agency by assuming that God removes their ability to make mistakes in their callings. Maybe some make such a statement more nuanced. Maybe they think that our leaders can make mistakes, but they won’t be majosignificant mistakes. Well, what is and isn’t significant depends a lot on who you are and how you’re being affected by it. I’m thinking that the women and children who were slaughtered in prophet-sanctioned genocide in the Bible considered that a significant mistake. I’m thinking that the thousands denied temple blessings their entire lives because of the color of their skin might consider that significant.
Let’s just recognize that few are chosen and that we need to give our leaders constructive/interactive support. We place a lot of responsibility on our leaders and they are very likely to make mistakes. Because they are human and doing their best, but as humans we all err from time to time. Recognizing the mistakes of our leaders is essential to giving them true support; it is vital to sustaining them. I would hope that we would avoid enabling or cheerleading bad decisions that friends or family are about to make. Pointing out why a decision will be or was problematic is what we expect of people who we truly love and support us, because it helps us to avoid pain and pitfalls and enables us to be our best.
Here’s a story from our little section of Salt Lake City in which members recognized the potential for mistakes and took ownership of our church. On August 23rd, 1896 Stake President Angus M. Cannon proposed a man to be the bishop of a new ward which was to be divided from the Sugar House Ward. The congregation voted against the proposed new bishop. President Angus M. Cannon then purportedly shouted "Sit down! and shut your mouths, you have no right to speak!" When Cannon engaged in a shouting match with the dissenting congregation, a ward member and policeman threatened to arrest the stake president for disturbing the peace. President Cannon more calmly repeated his attempt but was voted down "again several times." The Secretary of the First Council of the Seventy was in attendance and wrote in his journal: "I have been taught that the appointing power comes from the priesthood and the sustaining power from the people and that they have the right of sustaining or not sustaining appointees.
When it comes to being actively engaged in church endeavors our neighborhood and the general Sugar House area has done a lot. The "stake missionary program" began in the Granite Stake under President Frank Taylor in the early 1900s. It was an idea presented to President Taylor who then prayerfully considered trying it out as a stake. It proved successful and was later picked up by the General Authorities who made it a church-wide program.
The seminary program was also started in our stake after Joseph Merrill (a newly called member of the Granite Stake Presidency) felt inspired to start it and worked out agreements with the school board and got it going at the very new (at the time) Granite High School.
Also, in 1909 the Granite Stake started a monthly family home evening program. After counseling with many sisters and brothers in the stake, the Stake Presidency asked each family to spend Tuesday evening home together. All of these were local things which were eventually picked up and run at the church-wide level. We have a history in our area of being anxiously engaged and pioneering with new ideas.
While those are all instances of members, wards, and stakes starting programs for good causes in our area of Salt Lake City, they are just a few examples of Saints starting inspired efforts which were eventually accepted and promoted by the top church leaders. The relief society started when women in Nauvoo came together to do some good. The Primary program, Sunday school, Mutual Improvement Association, welfare/farming, organized genealogy efforts, and Young Adult programs all also started as members and local leaders were anxiously engaged and thereby gave influence to the top church leaders.
So as we consider how we can more actively engage in the church and look at what we can do now that would help to further the kingdom of God, I’d like to share a few things that have been on my mind which I feel would be steps which we can do now and which doesn’t require any new doctrines, revelations, or organizational adjustments from our leadership.

1. Give leaders their agency and remove the false idol of functional infallibility

I’ve already said a lot about this. The only thing I’ll add is to encourage everyone to read and learn about our history. The church history department has been putting out a lot of new, well-researched material, and there is a very high chance that it will be different than how you learned about things over the last several decades. Interestingly, most historically thorny topics become vastly easier to deal with when we stop denying leaders agency and ability to get things wrong.

1. Stop turning into a time capsule of the 1950s

This is really a small thing, but sometimes small things can have an outsized impact. Assuming someone comes into church for the first time, they will likely be a little weirded out because in dress and culture they walked into a time capsule of the 1950s. The Amish did this with mid-1800s, some Mennonites have as well. FLDS have with when they split in the 1930s/40s. These groups that have followed this pattern of freezing time and culture because they have been integrated into their religious practice are generally ones that are not really growing and have little-to-no impact or relevance in society. If we want to do the most good and build the most bridges, it is easier to do if we don’t continue falling into this pattern. Any efforts on our part to make our meetings look like a place that people in the public could come into and not feel out of place are steps in this direction. Dresses, suits and ties aren’t part of Christ’s gospel. Missionary clothing is changing for similar reasons. New guidelines for missionaries include allowing sisters to wear pants and Elders to go without jackets, so surely we can extend the same to our church attendance.

1. Always speak at church as though the audience is the general public

I have many times felt like I didn’t fit in or belong at church, and many times this has been because people speaking at church have done so with the assumption that everyone in the building must share their views on a given topic. Simply imagining that a gay couple, an ex-mormon, an investigator, some in the midst of a faith crisis, and others who live in our neighborhood are in the audience will help us to make sure that as we teach our lessons, give our talks, etc. that we will do so in the most open and welcoming way possible, which frankly is how i believe Jesus would have spoken. I truly believe that if we try to do this it will drastically improve our lessons and dialogue and help to make church a place that more people want to be. It is a change that (to borrow imagery from Jesus’s parable of the sower) will be akin to tilling and prepping the soil to improve the likelihood of allowing seeds to take root.
There are near infinite ways that we can innovate and get engaged in good causes. Awake and arise, join in the cause of Zion. The aspiration of Zion is to be of one heart and one mind and have no poor among us. I think it is worth noting that being of one mind doesn’t mean agreeing on everything. It means that we are united in love; love for God and for all persons. When this is our top priority, when we worry about how our actions impact others and whether our words and actions are conveying love, we become united. I’ve been a long-time fan of Eugene England’s essay “The church is as true as the gospel.” In it he makes the case that the church is true because it is a vehicle in which we are able to actually try to put the gospel into practice. In doing so we encounter difficulties as we interact with other fallible mortals and try to navigate our interactions in a Christ-like way. We all try and this mix of imperfect people who unite in love and service can help to bring each other and others to Christ. It is my prayer that we can find ways to engage with love, and humble ourselves like little children, to change our ways as needed to come closer to Christ. I leave this with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Hoping this post of just sharing my experience doesn’t break any rules but let me know if it does and I can revise. None of this is intended to be medical advice. Obviously consult your healthcare professional. I'm also not advocating for lying on a health screener; I'm just telling you how it works.
I’m not going to opine on whether you need / don’t need / should take / shouldn’t take Paxlovid. There are plenty of posts on that already (just search Paxlovid on this sub). This post is assuming you’ve determined you do indeed want or need it. I’m just sharing my experience in case others are wondering how to do the same thing or what the process looks like.
This was extremely easy and only took about 10 minutes.
Here’s the link that should go straight to the Covid-19 treatment online visit page: https://clinic.amazon.com/dp/B0BL1Z6VXB?ref_=sf_ac_covid
If for some reason that doesn’t work, go to the main clinic page, click “Find a treatment,” and then click Covid-19. https://clinic.amazon.com/
Click “Get Started.”
I did “Message Only.” No phone or video call. Basically just a chat screen. Messages also go to your email and phone if you choose and you can exit out of the chat window and return later if you need to.
I had 2 choices of an “online clinic” - Curai and Wheel. Both were the same price. Curai quoted me a shorter wait time. This probably depends on your home state because it asks that first.
The health screening questionnaire is basically a maze that you have to navigate correctly to get to your desired destination (a Paxlovid prescription), and the correct path is pretty narrow. It’s looking for a high-risk individual with a positive test in the last 5 days who doesn’t have immediate risk of a cardiac event. That last part is important because on my first attempt I checked the box for “chest tightness” and it kicked me out and told me to go to the ER. Pretty sure a lot of the initial symptoms it asks about are serious ones where it will just tell you to go to the ER. You’ll probably answer something wrong. Don’t worry; you can just click the back button in your browser and stay inside the questionnaire. BMI was my high risk qualifier.
Cost for the “visit” was $34 billed to my credit card saved with Amazon.
A family medicine MD replied in about 10 min. asking for timeline of positive home test and symptom onset. 10 min. later he replied with a proposed treatment protocol of a Paxlovid prescription and asked if I agreed with the proposed treatment plan. I agreed and the prescription was immediately sent to my local CVS and I got it within hours.
Neither Amazon nor the pharmacy will deliver Paxlovid to your house. You have to go pick it up in person. Both Amazon and my pharmacy explicitly stated this on the screen.
Pharmacist told me the 5-day course (10 packs of 3 pills each) would have been $1,500 without insurance, $325 with my insurance, and I happened to Google “Paxlovid coupon” and stumbled upon the Paxcess program/coupon and that made it completely free. American healthcare; go figure. Coupon is here: https://www.paxlovid.com/enroll-in-co-pay-program
Also, obligatory reminder to thoroughly check all the interactions and contraindications before taking this drug. There's a pretty long list.
Keep your heads up.

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the NOP Universe.
Hey, I hope everyone's doing well!
Today we return to the namesake of this fic, an actual lesson about animals. This one focuses on Koalas! One of Australia's most recognisable critters. I hope you enjoy.
It's hardly worth mentioning, seeing as I'm an infrequent poster at the best of times, but I'll not have another chapter out for a few weeks due to limited free time and devoting most of my writing time to an upcoming ficnapping. Be sure to look out for that!
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Memory transcription subject: Rysel, Venlil Environmental Researcher
Date [Standardised human time]: 8th September 2136
“Koalas!”
Bernard’s energised voice boomed through the air as the classroom's monitor flickered into life, images of this paws lecture topic popping up one after the other until the entire screen was filled with a collage of furry quadrupeds.
Squee! I’ll never get tired of this, it’s all so cool!
As usual the sight of something new stirred immediate discussion, hushed murmurs swelling into vibrant discourse in little more than a heartbeat. Most of the class swiftly huddled together into small herds to bounce ideas around while the rest opted to stick to the solace of their own thoughts as they took in the display.
I’d be quite happy in either situation, though seeing as Sandi had already sunk into deep concentration and Kailo had peeled off to talk with Ennerif and Solenk, it seemed the decision had been made for me on this occasion. Wasting no more time on idle inspection of the people around me, I focused my full attention forward, eager to form first impressions before the lesson began in earnest.
Now then, time to make some educated guesses. What traits does this animal have? I wonder if I’ll get any right this paw?
Professional assumptions went paw-in-paw with the lectures, examining and coming up with hypotheses about the specimens was only natural. Recently however, I’d started to make a little game of it to make things even more interesting than usual. A veritable bonfire of ideas had been set ablaze within me, fueled by my newfound knowledge of Earthen wildlife. Every flash and spark of the flame was a fresh theory I could try to apply to the lectures. It was an invigorating exercise that further stoked my unceasing wonderment.
So far I’d only done this once during the previous class and, to my disappointment, I’d not done too well.
I was right when I guessed that chickens were omnivores, but wrong in my assumption that they could fly. And that red thing on their head, the um… what was it called? The comb! Yes, the comb. I thought that was to attract mates, but it regulates body heat instead. It’s fascinating. Oh! Stars damn it I’m rambling!
I bapped my tail against my leg, the soft thud being just enough to snap me back from my runaway thoughts before I went completely wall-eyed. I was becoming more and more accustomed to getting lost in my own head while remaining conscious of the fact; it was happening so frequently now that it was pretty much impossible not to. Now I was able to pull myself back to the world around me without having to rely on someone else shaking me out of it. Most of the time anyway.
Sandi still keeps an eye on me, and Kailo even decided to help out once without being too snide about it. Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, Koalas.
Glancing at the furred animals, two things immediately stood out. Firstly, their eyes were in a more central position on their face. And second, all the images showed them being on or close to trees. There were other noteworthy observations of course, such as the Koala’s prominent nose and rounded features, but they fell to the wayside as I honed in on these points first.
Hmmm… ok. I already know to discount the idea that they’re predators just from eye position, so let’s get that thought out of here. Maybe omnivorous? Herbivore? Agh no, I can’t just guess that for the sake of guessing, that’s the same problem! Hrm, it’s tough making these assumptions now that everything I thought I knew has been turned on its head.
Nevermind, I’ll focus on the other thing. All the trees make me think they’re arboreal, that seems to be a reasonable assumption. I wonder what else they-
Clearing his throat, Bernard broke my concentration, his call for attention silencing the murmuring conversation and redirecting everyone's focus to the lecturer's podium.
His gaze panned across the room as he waited for everyone to settle, a beaming smile lighting up his face, “As ever I’m delighted to see you all get so into the subject matter from the get go. I’m looking forward to hearing what you were discussing should you wish to share. For now though, how about we get started, hm?”
A chorus of merry bleats rang out from across the audience, ears and tails flicking happily in agreement. Bernard's grin grew in tandem with the class's fervour, clasping his hands together enthusiastically as he launched into the lesson, “Excellent! Then let’s get started.”
The pictures on screen dissolved away until only one remained, enlarging to cover the entire monitor with the fluffy grey face of a Koala peacefully reclining in the crook of a tree.
“Ah, there we are,” Bernard’s baritone timbre drifted through the room as he looked up at the image, his own tone reflecting the relaxed attitude of the animal on screen, “He looks so comfortable doesn’t he? Perfectly at peace with the world, not too surprising considering they sleep almost 20 hours a day. A full paw!”
A wave of beeps and gasps rippled through the herd, punctuated by a single yawn-dressed comment from Rova, “A full paw? Hwuuu… jealous.”
Her drowsy remark elicited several whistling giggles from the herd, Bernard's own jovial chortle joining them as he turned to face her, “Late evening Rova?”
I twisted a little in my seat, panning an eye in Rova’s direction just in time to see her bleary eyes bulge open and her ears shoot up, now intensely aware of the fact she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she had.
Sitting up abruptly, she hastily tapped down errant tufts of wool that’d flared in surprise as she composed herself, though her nervousness at becoming the centre of the class's attention was still plain for all to hear, “Uh- I um… achem, a little bit yes, um- …sorry. Lokki dragged me out to a movie viewing in the rec centre. It went on pretty late.”
A melodramatic bray from the other side of the room drew everyone's ears away from Rova to the now aghast Lokki, paw splayed across his chest in faux indignation, “Dragged you? Well excuse me for trying to broaden your horizons with human movies. That’ll be the list time I- …Ahaaaa…”
Lokki’s theatrics were cut short by a heavy yawn of his own, a swell of whistling laughter rolling through the herd as vibrant bloom lit up his snout, a sight that elicited a particularly amused bleat from Rova.
Turning away from the duo I looked back at Bernard, pleased to see that he was chuckling along with us. Behaviour like Lokki’s would never have been tolerated in my school and university days but, in stark contrast, Bernard revelled in it, the liveliness of his students fueling his own bombastic style of teaching. It was a pleasant change of pace having a teacher who let us all be ourselves in class; provided we weren’t too disruptive to the lesson plan.
Speaking of which.
His laughter still rumbling through the air, Bernard clapped his hands to pull everyone's focus back to him, “Ok, ok, let’s get back to it then shall we? Rova. Lokki. Hopefully the two of you can stay awake long enough until you can grab yourselves a coffee.”
As the class settled down and the last few giggling beeps petered out, Benard pointed a hand to the screen, “So, the Koala. Let’s start simple shall we? They are herbivorous marsupials native to the eastern and southern coasts of Australia. Easily recognised the world over, they are a well known and beloved symbol of their homeland, along with other animals such as the Kangaroo and the Emu. The former of which you might remember from one of our earlier lectures.”
Indeed I did remember, along with how angry Bernard had gotten after some speh-head had derided the Yotul after he explained how he held specific disdain for such attitudes.
Uuuggghh… I never want to see him angry again. So chilling.
I shook my ears in an effort to dismiss the unpleasant memory, panning my eyes back to the monitor to try and distract myself by inspecting the Koala’s physical appearance once more. Thankfully, by some Star's blessed intervention, Bernard had the exact same idea.
“Koala’s are rather squat in stature, ranging around sixty to eighty-five centimetres in length and weighing little more than fifteen to sixteen kilograms at their full size. As you can see, the fur of this fellow before you is a lovely silvery grey, but their fur can also sport a chocolaty brown hue as well. Arguably the most distinctive part of their appearance is their head, being rather large for their body size and having rounded ears, a large nose, and a pair of small eyes. These are often brown but variations do occur.”
It didn’t slip past my notice that Bernard didn’t bother to point out that the Koala’s eyes were forward facing. I didn’t think he’d simply forgotten, so perhaps he just felt it wasn’t necessary given that he’d already stated it was herbivorous. Either way, no one stuck up a paw or tail to question him.
“Now this will hardly be surprising considering how long they sleep, but Koala’s are largely sedentary and it’s rather easy to see why when you have a look into the contents of their diet.”
With the press of a button the Koala on screen was replaced by images of vibrant green vegetation. Soaring trees and flowering shrubbery weaved together across landscape framed pictures pulled admiring trills from the herd, the diversity of the plant life being shown standing as a reminder that it wasn’t only animal life that flourished on Earth.
After giving everyone the chance to take in the picturesque scenes, Bernard casually hammered that point home, “This is eucalyptus or, more accurately, a choice selection of more than 700 plants belonging to the eucalyptus genus, though the Koala itself favours 30 of them in particular.”
700!? Stars…
Realising that my ears had drooped in my momentary awe, I twisted them back to tune into the lesson, only for them to splay out in shock at the next words to come out of Bernard's mouth.
“The leaves of these plants are the primary food source of the Koala and there are a couple things worth mentioning when talking about these plants. For starters they do not have much nutritional or caloric value, leading to the Koala’s low-energy lifestyle. Additionally, they contain toxic compounds.”
A shiver instantly ran through the herd, ears flicking rapidly in confusion and alarm followed by a few quizzical whispers. It didn’t take long for someone to decide to give a proper voice to the murmuring.
“Excuse me Doctor. Did we hear that right? Their diet is made up of toxic flora?” Vlek’s grumbling incredulity cut through the herd's mutterings with ease. Until Kailo’s recent change of heart, the fifty something rotation old blonde Venlil had been a close second in terms of scepticism. Mercifully his rebuttals had always been relevant questions as opposed to ranting diatribes, so he at least remained on topic if nothing else.
Bernard nodded in confirmation, smiling back at Vlek while absentmindedly twirling the end of his moustache, “You heard me right, they do indeed consume plants that are toxic. Just not to them.”
Any worry or uncertainty still clinging to the herd was swept away by the provision of the glaringly obvious answer, leaving me chuckling inwardly at the oversight.
Ah of course! The plant might be poisonous but they’ll have evolved to deal with that. Stars… I’m so used to expecting the unexpected with Earth that I didn’t even consider the simplest solution.
“I see, thank you Doctor,” Vlek replied, a tinge of interest still audible in his tone, “I assume they’ve developed some adaptation to become immune to the harmful effects?”
The question immediately evoked a smirk from our teacher, but he hurriedly suppressed it while bobbing his head, “They have indeed. There are several factors that aid in their digestion of eucalyptus leaves without succumbing to the plant's baleful properties. The first is a part of the intestinal tract called the cecum. It contains a microbiome that allows the Koala to digest the eucalyptus. Coupled with this is an enzyme in the Koala’s liver that helps them break down the toxins. They are also capable of sniffing out the plants with the least amount of toxins, ensuring that they ingest as little as possible.”
Pausing for a breath Bernard looked back at the screen before turning to face us, another grin curling at the edges of his mouth as he continued with his explanation, “This is mostly for adult Koala’s, because while their young also possess these same adaptations, they don’t just go straight to munching through foliage right after being born. No, they need a little help making that jump and getting a stomach full of all that good gut bacteria. It’s nothing bad, but those of a sensitive stomach may wish to prepare themselves for this next part.”
Bernard’s assurances did little to assuage the concern that his warning had foisted upon us. Having been exposed to so much of the weirdness Earth had to offer everyone always ended up on edge whenever Bernard gave advice like this, even if he did say it in jest.
What strange nonsense thing do Koala pups do then? Judging by the way he’s acting it probably isn’t something as simple as drinking milk from the mother. Hmmm…
“So,” Bernard began, snapping us from our pensive stupor, “Young Koala’s, known as joeys, have a gestation period of thirty-five days on average, which is approximately forty-two paws. Once born they travel from the birth canal to a pouch in their mother so that they can continue to develop and grow. In the pouch the joey finds and latches onto one of two teats and these provide the newborn with a steady stream of nourishing milk. It spends the next six to seven months growing in the pouch, its eyes, ears, and fur all developing as time goes on.”
Okay, interesting. But this is exactly how I thought it’d go. What’s different?
The unexpected normalcy of the Koala’s birth and growth cycle had calmed everyone's nerves, only to be replaced with an air of suspicion as we waited with rapt attention for Bernard to drop the other claw and upend our expectations like he always did.
Not wanting to keep us in further suspense he forged ahead, the tempo of his voice picking up as the smile started to crease his face once more, “Now to make the switch from milk to eucalyptus, the mother also feeds the joey a substance called pap. It comes from the cecum I mentioned earlier, and contains all the gut bacteria required to help the young Koala in making the switch to eucalyptus.”
He stopped and looked around, searching us for a reaction to what I felt was a rather bland statement of fact. What was it he was saying without actually saying? Koala pups drink milk to mature and then include this pap substance so that they can start eating plants. I don’t see what-
The cecum is part of the intestine.
I blinked.
I blinked again, the intrusive interruption scouring my brain clean of any other thought bar the one it’d just implanted itself in the forefront of my mind.
Oh stars. They-
“They eat their own poop!?”
The shocked bleat shattered the peace of the room to reveal that most if not all of us had come to the same tail curling conclusion. As the hall filled with unrestrained vocalisations of disgust, an ‘Ugh’ over here and a ‘Blegh’ over there, Bernard’s own bellowing laughter joined the throng of voices.
“Ha! Everytime! Each and every time. Clearly it doesn’t matter if my students are Human or Venlil. Whenever someone learns about the Koala’s dietary development the reaction is the same!”
Pleased with himself beyond reason, Bernard chuckled away while the rest of us grappled with this ghastly reality. While there were plenty of animals that feasted on things that ranged from simply unappealing all the way to the stomach churningly grotesque, I’d never heard of an animal that actively consumed the excrement of its own species. Benefits aside, the prospect of having to do that to survive to adulthood sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.
Ewww… Stars, I hope I forget this feeling by 2nd meal. They’re serving sturen and magamroot stew later. I was really looking forward to it.
With the herds mood beginning to temper Bernard tapped the podiums controls, removing the verdant collage of eucalyptus to display several similar yet distinct environments, still chortling merrily to himself in the process, “Ok then, with that little foray into their diet complete, why don’t we look at their habitat in more detail? As you might imagine given their diet and arboreal nature, Koala’s live in forested regions, and can be found in tropical and temperate zones. About a century ago they were classed as a vulnerable species, however efforts were made to turn this around and increase their numbers. Sadly the largest factor in their decline was human activity, as the fertile lands that gave rise to their bountiful forests were coveted farm land for our settlements.”
It was strange to hear Bernard so matter of factly admit to humanity's negative impacts on other species. He’d alluded to such things in the past but always with an air of caution, carefully pawing the line between honestly answering a question while not painting humanity as uncaring and destructive. AKA, the ‘predators’ we’d all initially expected them to be.
Perhaps his comfort in making such admissions was a reflection of the class's comfort with him, for no one so much as batted an ear. Even Kailo, who I would’ve expected to jump at the chance to use this as a prime example of predatory danger, only flicked an ear in stern yet silent concern.
A cough from Bernard drew my attention back, a new picture on screen that showed a forest from a bird's-eye view. Drawn across the image were around a dozen ringed areas, some bordering one another while others overlapped to some degree. It took me a moment, but I soon recognised that what I was looking at was a map, the rings representing what I assumed to be territories. And it didn’t take much effort to guess who each one belonged to.
“From habitats we move onto behaviours, so let’s start with territories. Koala’s are solitary animals. Yes, despite being herbivores. Considering they’re only awake for roughly four hours of the day I can hardly blame them. Lots to do and not a lot of time to do it. Jokes aside, once they mature they are quite independent, carving out a little slice of land for themselves, as displayed in this example, called a Home Range. That is not to say they go it alone and leave everything else behind however. Rather, as shown in the map behind me, they live in their own space while still being part of a larger social group.”
With another press of his pad the picture was updated to show one of two symbols in each segment, along with a key to the side of the map displayed in helpful Venlang. A quick glance told me that the symbols were representing whether the territory belonged to a male or female of the species.
“As you can see there is quite a bit of overlap between different Koala’s territories. It is in these areas that most of the socialising takes place between neighbours. The trees in these locations represent the few areas where intrusion across territories is acceptable for the sake of social interaction. Outside of that the Koala’s stick to their own territories for the most part, with the exceptions of Koala’s who are passing through, attempting to become part of the social group themselves, or dominant males who sometimes go off into another Koala’s range. But how do they know where one range begins and another range ends you might ask? Well, this brings us onto the next part of the lecture. How do Koala’s communicate?”
Wiping away the map from the monitor, Bernard loaded up a video of a Koala sitting in a tree and pressed play. Head held high, the Koala’s body shook as it belted out a reverberating call into the wilderness that could only be described as a garbled combination of a car engine failing to turn over mixed with the hiccups of someone with a particularly sore throat.
That’s how they sound? Oof that must be rough on the lungs.
I clearly wasn’t the only one to share such a thought, because I clocked Sandi tracing a paw along her neck as the noise went on, ears fluttering in discomfort at the noise.
Bernard himself cleared his own throat as the video came to an end, minimising it and replacing it with another image of a tree with a Koala rubbing up against the bark, “I think they’ve got me beat on who’s got the deeper voice!”
His joke garnered several amused beeps, a rare reaction that caused a beaming smile to shine across his face at lighting speed, “Oh you’re too kind. I’ll be here all week. Now where were we? Oh yes! Communication. As you’ve just heard, Koala’s are capable of loud low pitched bellows that can carry over vast distances. These express everything from ‘Hello I’m over here’ to ‘This is my turf, stay away’. Bellowing is more common in the males than the females, opting for shouting matches as opposed to outright fights when it comes to asserting dominance. Other vocal expressions include grunts, wails, and snarls if they’re acting particularly angsty. Mother and joey pairs also communicate through gentle clicking, squeaking, and murmuring sounds. And there’s one more thing worth mentioning. Something they have in common with Humans and Venlil when it comes to emoting.”
Really? They do something we do?
Curious, I pressed myself against the desk, straining as close as I could to once more scrutinise the Koala’s features. Not a lot stood out to me at first, the grey marsupial not sharing many similarities with a Venlil that I could identify.
Ok think. We show emotion with our ears, tails, and our wool on occasion. They don’t have tails so it’s obviously not that. Wool standing on end is more a reaction than a conscious expression. So it must be the ears then.
To my quiet satisfaction, my hunch was soon validated by Bernard, “As well as their vocalisations, Koala’s are very emotive through their facial features. Just like humans, they use their mouths and lips to show how they feel, but these tend more towards the aggressive side of the scale than what you might see on a human. Regarding yourselves however, Koala’s utilise their ears in tandem with their mouth movements when showing strong emotion.”
I was delighted to hear that my assumption was correct, a little happy flick twisting out through my tail and bapping against my chair with a muted thump against the plastic.
Hehe yes! Got one right!
“Now then, we are getting close to lunchtime so I’ll finish this segment off with something I think you’ll find particularly interesting. Diplomacy.”
Perplexed mutterings followed in the wake of the bizarre inclusion to the lecture, my own thoughts being dominated by bewilderment as I tried and failed to make sense of how the two could possibly be related.
Why would Koala’s, or any animal for that matter, be linked to diplomacy? Hmmm...
I could understand dispatching exterminators to deal with a predator issue as a show of goodwill, that at least includes animals, but Humans aren’t like that so I think I can safely scratch that off the list.
Maybe the humans who live in that region benefited from Koala’s in some way. Could they have gotten something from them? But what?
Hopefully not what the pups get from their mothers.
Agh no! Begone awful intrusive thoughts. Blegh! I don’t need that in my head.
As I wrestled with the short-lived revulsion inflicted upon me by my Star's damned subconscious, Bernard placed a new image on screen, one that was decidedly different from all that had preceded it.
On screen were more than a couple dozen pictures of humans. Some were pictured alone while others congregated in large groups while cameras surrounded them from all angles. Across all the images, I noted two common themes. First of all, a solid majority of the humans were wearing formal wear similar to what I’d seen worn by UN representatives on TV. If the gaggle of journalists in the background of the photos didn’t already confirm my suspicions, then it was this similarity which made me conclude they were all people of some importance. Likely politicians judging from context clues.
Secondly, each of the individuals was interacting with a Koala in some form. Some cradled one against their chests while others were feeding it eucalyptus leaves or pellets of some kind. One of the assumed politicians had become an impromptu bed for a snoozing bundle of fur, a gleeful smile spread across their face as they lovingly gazed down at the sleeping Koala in their lap.
As I continued to stare at the assorted photos something clicked into place, a sudden spark flickering into life. A burgeoning light of comprehension that flared and swelled with every wide-eyed breath I took. Some things still escaped me, things I hoped would soon be explained, but in staring at all of the humans happy smiling faces, I was struck with an instant of pure understanding.
If someone, say a Nevok for instance, offered to gift me a creature that was common to them but which might exotic and breathtaking to a Venlil, how could my feelings not be swayed? How could I walk away from that encounter and not have grown closer to them as a result?
“Koala diplomacy,” Bernard waved his hand up at the monitor, a slight reverence in his tone, “My favourite kind of soft power diplomacy. Where political leaders take photo ops with Koala’s and, on occasion, the Australian government loans Koala’s to other nations for a time to bolster positive relations. It certainly helps that Koala’s are a beloved animal worldwide, drawing large crowds and revenue for countries fortunate enough to host the adorable critters.”
The truly alien concept predictably sparked instant discussion in the herd, two polar opposite schools of thought swiftly cementing themselves as the most popular opinions. Simultaneously, I heard one voice trill excitedly while another scoffed at what they clearly saw as a ridiculous and offensive notion.
“Squee! That’d be so cool! I’d love to get the chance to see a Liri from Coila. Remember the Rainbow Boa? Think of that shimmering effect and colour but put it on a bird! Ah! I’ve only heard their song on video. It’d be a treat to hear it in person!”
Ooo! I’ve read about them! I’d love to get up close to one.
“Loaning. As if animals are property to be hoarded and traded? Pugh! Another predatory trait the humans don’t want to acknowledge for what it is.”
Ugh, typical. Jump right to the worst possible option.
However, despite my dismissal of their disparaging fumings, an uncomfortable thought pressed upon my mind. While it was plain to see how much humans cared for the Koala, it didn’t change the fact that humans did keep animals as property just as the scornful herd member had said.
This begged a rather important, disquieting question. Aside from keeping some animals as cattle, a stomach tightening minefield I had no desire to step a claw onto right now, how else did humans keep other creatures. And how did they treat them?
Before I was fully conscious of doing it my paw was in the air, the question primed on my tongue.
Noticing my elevated paw Bernard pointed at me, smiling warmly, “Yes Rysel? What’s on your mind?”
Sorry Bernard. I hope this one’s not too awkward for you to answer.
Flicking my ear in appreciation, and waiting for everyone to settle enough so that I could be heard, I voiced my concerns as neutrally as possible, “Thank you Doctor. I uh, just had a thought. We know that humans keep certain animals for… particular reasons, and we know why. From how you’ve spoken about Koala’s I think it's fair to say that the same cannot be said for them. However, this makes me wonder, what other reasons do humans have for keeping animals and how do you treat them?”
A flash of surprise blinked across Bernard's eyes but vanished so quickly that it felt like I’d imagined it. Had he not expected such a question? Maybe he was just shocked that it’d been me who’d ended up asking it?
Stars, am I so predictable that no one expects me to ask difficult questions?
Unfortunately, a quick glance at my deskmates seemed to prove that to be the case, as both Sandi and Kailo were looking at me with differing degrees of astonishment flapping in their ears.
Well speh.
“A very good point Rysel, certainly one that’s worth raising. Yet another example of you all anticipating what I have to say before I can bring it up myself.” Bernard tapped the podium, switching off the monitor before returning his focus to me, “We won’t be needing that. I’ve nothing prepared that I can show you and we’re heading to lunch in a few minutes anyway. Still, that’s plenty of time to give you a bit of an answer.”
A bit? What does he mean just a bit?
Made even more curious by Bernard's preempted admission that he wasn’t going to fully answer my query, I dialled both my ears on him, fixing him with an inquisitive stare as he started to explain with a tone that was noticeably more nonchalant than any of his previous explanations.
“So, animals in captivity for reasons other than what you already know. Honestly I would love to delve into other reasons regarding why we keep animals. However, I have a lesson plan in the works that I hope to share with you all in the not too distant future. Some of it touches upon this very topic and I’d quite like to bundle it all together. That said, I can tell you how animals in captivity are treated. In short, the answer is very well. There are a mountain of laws both on private and public interests that govern the standards and ethical treatment of animals, and breaches of these laws are quite severe even for relatively minor infractions.”
While I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed by the vague answer to what was really the bulk of my question, I was at least satisfied by Bernard’s assurances that animals in captivity, such as the Koala, were well looked after. Considering the barely subdued grumbling coming from some corners of the audience it was clear that several of the herd didn’t believe Bernard outright, but I trusted him to be honest. Additionally, the mention of an upcoming lecture focused on humans keeping animals caused quite the buzz.
I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation at exploring the topic further. He’d pretty much confirmed we wouldn’t be talking about cattle farms, for which I was relieved, but that still left a huge amount of uncertainty in what was to come.
Humans keeping animals as cattle was a forgone conclusion. As horrifying as that reality was, it was one I could understand from a detached and strictly clinical point of view. Being predators they ate meat and therefore they kept cattle. But the concept of keeping animals for any other reason baffled me.
What could be the purpose? The diplomacy thing makes sense now that I have context, but what other reasons could they have.
The class's discussions were interrupted by the recognisable ring of the break bell, the shift in attention eliciting a change in conversation from confused hypotheses to peppy conversation on how everyone was planning to spend their break and what they had in mind for 2nd meal.
“Well I can see everyone’s excited for lunch, and who am I to disappoint,” chuckling Bernard waved us all up from our seats, pocketing his pad from the podium and heading to open the classroom door for us, “Enjoy your break, get a good rest along with a hearty meal, and I’ll see you all back here at the usual time.”
As everyone else filed out I stayed behind, waving at Sandi and Kailo as they left, and pawing over to Bernard once he and I were the only ones left in the room.
Ears folded down and with an apologetic tinge in my voice I greeted him as I sidled up to him, “Hey Bernard, I uh… sorry if that last question was unexpected.”
Chortling in reply, Bernard waved a hand through the air in a sign I’d come to understand meant ‘not a problem’.
“No need to apologise Rysel. It was a good question and most certainly not a problem.”
Heh, called it.
I sighed, allowing tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding to relax itself from my shoulders, “Phew, that’s a relief. I’m glad. I’m curious to hear what this new lesson is you’ve got in store for us by the way.”
Bernard wagged a finger at me, throwing up his eyebrows in mock amazement, “Oh are you now? Well I’m afraid you’ll have to remain curious for the time being. It’s going to be quite the surprise if all goes to plan. But…”
He trailed off, glancing at me before looking to the door like he was making sure no one else was around.
Wait, is he going to tell me? Oh please yes let me know now!
Stopping myself from jumping on the spot in excited anticipation, and trying my damndest to stop my tail from wagging in equal measure, I stared up at Bernard as he stewed in his thoughts before turning back to face me.
“I can’t tell you the specifics, but I’m working with Alejandro and Tolim to get something together. A trip that’s not a trip as it were. And when it happens, I’m going to need a few of the more accepting members of the class to lend me a hand. I’m hoping you and a couple others will be able to help with that?”
A trip that’s not a trip? What does that mean? Agh who cares about that right now! Bernard’s relying on me to help out!
Still trying not to keep myself from bouncing around with pup like glee I swished my tail and nodded my head in joint agreement, happy to help with whatever Bernard had in store for us, “Of course! Anything you need I’ll be there to lend a paw. You can count on me!”
A broad warm smile lit up Bernard's face, a hand patting me on the shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you Rysel. I knew I could rely on you but it still warms my heart to hear it. And, as thanks for this and for the many times you’ve shown your support, the surprise includes a little something special I think you’d appreciate the most.”
If my earlier enthusiasm had been at a nine, then the implication of a supposed gift sent it rocketing all the way to a hundred in a heartbeat.
“Wait… WHAT!? What do you mean? What are you doing?”
As impossible as it seemed, Bernard's grin grew even wider as I almost lost myself in wool shaking exhilaration, “Call it my own form of Koala diplomacy. But I’m afraid that’s all I can say for now. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise even for you!”
“Oh you ass!” Whistling jovially I bapped my tail against Bernard’s leg in fake indignation, evoking a barking bellowing laugh from the man himself.
Still laughing, the two of us departed the class and made for the canteen, my rumbling stomach leading me on while my mind spun with fantastical thoughts as to what Bernard had prepared for us.
And what specifically he had in store for me.

Wanted a few opinions on this situation: moved out of a rental at the end of march and did a walkthrough where the landlord said everything looked great and we (my husband and I) were the best tenants he'd ever had. We only lived there 11 months (left 1 month early due to military orders). At the walkthrough, he said 'he didn't have the funds to return our security deposit because he thought he would have found a new tenant by then and would have given us their security deposit. We gave him nearly double the notice required to terminate a lease due to military orders. He said he had 30 days to get it to us. We moved away out of state.
31 days after we move out we receive a horrible letter accusing us of all sorts of things and saying we aren't allowed to break the lease so he's keeping the deposit. Unless he never hears of this again, he'll be charging us for various things (one is a retroactive increase in rent). The only thing fathomable that could actually be charged to us is he is claiming water damage from a wall ac unit and a months rent for not being able to rent the home due to repairs. The home was listed for rent and the listing updated every few days during the month it wasn't rented. He lowered the rent and the listing has been down now for about a week so I doubt he did any repairs but just couldn't find a tenant. 100% we had absolutely no knowledge of a leak from the ac unit. He is claiming the ac, wall, door, doorframe, and front porch light are all not repairable. The ac was above what should have been the front door but he lived in the garage of this house so we were basically not allowed in the front yard and used the back door as our front door and exited to the street behind the street this house was actually on. He put large plants and other of his items on the porch essentially blocking us from coming out as well. It's a very long story regarding our backwards house but essentially we did not use the front door at all, under 10 times in that year. We did clean the filter for all of the acs monthly (I have extremely severe asthma) and never noticed any water issues. There was no water on the floor or dripping. I have a picture from the day we moved out and in the picture there is no visible water damage. The ac was working on the day we moved out.
Before we moved in, he told us he was going to replace all 4 wall units. That didn't happen and he told us he was going to do it while we lived there and that didn't happen. All of the acs were horrible and we used to make passing remarks of how hot it was to the landlord. He eventually said he's not replacing them until the one above the door stops working completely. I also have texts from him saying that particular ac can't be turned down past 76 or it will break. He literally lived right below it and heard it running (it was on 76). Basically, I am certain there were problems with that ac and he was aware of it but I was not aware at all that it was causing water damage, if it actually was. I wish I had known because I would have insisted he replace it. I'm thinking he either did actually get around to replacing it and discovered it or is making it up.
I have contacted a lawyer to send him a demand letter but my husband is now worried about what if he does actually try to sue us? What if he decides to rip out the whole wall and sue us for tens of thousands? Doesn't he need to prove we were aware of this water damage? In his letter he stated he asked for entry into the house each month to service the ac but we denied him and broke the ac by never cleaning the filter in 12 months. He never asked us once to service the ac and entered the house on several other occasions, once to fix a plumbing issue and once to replace the dishwasher. Plus a few other times we invited him in. There is no clause in our lease saying anything regarding reporting damages, water damages, or we are responsible for maintaining the ac. My parents also came to stay with me for nearly 2 months while my husband was away and they are willing to write a statement that they never saw any water damage whatsoever. My husband doesn't want to send the demand letter at all because the letter we received we full of just bizarre untrue statements and he feels like he will make up a huge lawsuit. Even appearing for a lawsuit would cost us a ton in travel so we really don't want to get involved with that. I do want my deposit back but I feel like this water damage thing is totally made up or can't reasonably be blamed on us?

Delivering the commencement address to the graduating seniors at Morehouse College today, President Joe Biden addressed the nation. After thanking the mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, and all the people who helped the graduates get to the chairs in front of the stage, Biden recalled Morehouse’s history. The school was founded in 1867 by civil rights leader Reverend William Jefferson White with the help of two other Baptist ministers, the Reverend Richard C. Coulter and the Reverend Edmund Turney, to educate formerly enslaved men. They believed “education would be the great equalizer from slavery to freedom,” Biden said, and they created an institution that would make the term “Morehouse man” continue to stand as a symbol of excellence 157 years later. Then Biden turned to a speech that centered on faith. Churches talk a lot about Jesus being buried on Friday and rising from the dead on Sunday, he said, “but we don’t talk enough about Saturday, when… his disciples felt all hope was lost. In our lives and the lives of the nation, we have those Saturdays—to bear witness the day before glory, seeing people’s pain and not looking away. But what work is done on Saturday to move pain to purpose? How can faith get a man, get a nation through what was to come?” It’s a truism that anything that happens before we are born is equidistant from our personal experience, mixing the recent past and the ancient past together in a similar vaguely imagined “before” time. Most of today’s college graduates were not born until about 2002 and likely did not pay a great deal of attention to politics until about five years ago. Biden took the opportunity to explain to them what it meant to live through the 1960s. He noted that he was the first in his family to graduate from college, paid for with loans. He fell in love, got a law degree, got married and took a job at a “fancy law firm.” But his world changed when an assassin murdered the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King—a Morehouse man—and the segregated city of Wilmington, Delaware, erupted with fires, looting, fights, and occasional gunfire. For nine months, the National Guard patrolled the city in combat gear, “the longest stretch in any American city since the Civil War,” Biden recalled. “Dr. King’s legacy had a profound impact on me and my generation, whether you’re Black or white,” Biden explained. He left the law firm to become first a public defender and then a county councilman, “working to change our state’s politics to embrace the cause of civil rights.” The Democratic Party had historically championed white supremacy, but that alignment was in the process of changing as Democrats had swung behind civil rights and the 1965 Voting Rights Act. Biden and his cohort hoped to turn the Delaware Democratic Party toward the new focus on civil rights, he said. In 1972, Biden ran for the Senate and won…barely, in a state Republican president Richard Nixon won with 60% of the vote. Biden recalled how, newly elected and hiring staff in Washington, D.C., he got the call telling him that his wife and daughter had been killed in a car accident and that his two sons were gravely injured. The pain of that day hit again 43 years later, he said, when his son Beau died of cancer after living for a year next to a burn pit in Iraq. And he talked of meeting First Lady Jill Biden, “who healed the family in all the broken places. Our family became my redemption,” he said. His focus on family and community offered a strong contrast to the Republican emphasis on individualism. “On this walk of life...you come to understand that we don’t know where or what fate will bring you or when,” Biden said. “But we also know we don’t walk alone. When you’ve been a beneficiary of the compassion of your family, your friends, even strangers, you know how much the compassion matters,” he said. “I’ve learned there is no easy optimism, but by faith—by faith, we can find redemption.” For the graduates, Biden noted, four years ago “felt like one of those Saturdays. The pandemic robbed you of so much. Some of you lost loved ones—mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, who…aren’t able to be here to celebrate with you today…. You missed your high school graduation. You started college just as George Floyd was murdered and there was a reckoning on race. “It’s natural to wonder if democracy you hear about actually works for you. “What is democracy if Black men are being killed in the street? “What is democracy if a trail of broken promises still leave[s]…Black communities behind? “What is democracy if you have to be 10 times better than anyone else to get a fair shot? “And most of all, what does it mean, as we’ve heard before, to be a Black man who loves his country even if it doesn’t love him back in equal measure?” The crowd applauded. Biden explained that across the Oval Office from his seat behind the Resolute Desk are busts of Dr. King and Senator Robert Kennedy, challenging Biden: “Are we living up to what we say we are as a nation, to end racism and poverty, to deliver jobs and justice, to restore our leadership in the world?” He wears a rosary on his wrist made of Beau’s rosary as a reminder that faith asks us “to hold on to hope, to move heaven and earth to make better days.” “[T]hat’s my commitment to you,” he said. “[T]o show you democracy, democracy, democracy is still the way.” Biden pledged to “call out the poison of white supremacy” and noted that he “stood up…with George Floyd’s family to help create a country where you don’t need to have that talk with your son or grandson as they get pulled over.” The administration is investing in Black communities and reconnecting neighborhoods cut apart by highways decades ago. It has reduced Black child poverty to the lowest rate in history. It is removing lead pipes across the nation to provide clean drinking water to everyone, and investing in high-speed internet to bring all households into the modern era. The administration is creating opportunities, Biden said, bringing “good-paying jobs…; capital to start small businesses and loans to buy homes; health insurance, [prescription] drugs, housing that’s more affordable and accessible.” Biden reminded the audience that he had joined workers on a picket line. To applause, he noted that when the Supreme Court blocked his attempt to relieve student debt, he found two other ways to do it. He noted the administration’s historic investment in historically black colleges and universities. “We’re opening doors so you can walk into a life of generational wealth, to be providers and leaders for your families and communities. Today, record numbers of Black Americans have jobs, health insurance, and more [wealth] than ever.” Then Biden directly addressed the student protests over the Israeli government’s strikes on Gaza. At Morehouse today, one graduate stood with his back to Biden and his fist raised during the president’s speech, and the class valedictorian, DeAngelo Jeremiah Fletcher, who spoke before the president, wore a picture of a Palestinian flag on his mortarboard and called for an immediate and permanent ceasefire in Gaza, at which Biden applauded. “In a democracy, we debate and dissent about America’s role in the world,” Biden said. “I want to say this very clearly. I support peaceful, nonviolent protest. Your voices should be heard, and I promise you I hear them.” “What’s happening in Gaza…is heartbreaking,” he said, with “[i]nnocent Palestinians caught in the middle” of a fight between Hamas and Israel. He reminded them that he has called “for an immediate ceasefire…to stop the fighting [and] bring the hostages home.” His administration has been working for a deal, as well as to get more aid into Gaza and to rebuild it. Crucially, he added, there is more at stake than “just one ceasefire.” He wants “to build a lasting, durable peace. Because the question is…: What after? What after Hamas? What happens then? What happens in Gaza? What rights do the Palestinian people have?” To applause, he said, “I’m working to make sure we finally get a two-state solution—the only solution—for two people to live in peace, security, and dignity.” “This is one of the hardest, most complicated problems in the world,” he said. “I know it angered and frustrates many of you, including my family. But most of all, I know it breaks your heart. It breaks mine as well. Leadership is about fighting through the most intractable problems. It’s about challenging anger, frustration, and heartbreak to find a solution. It’s about doing what you believe is right, even when it’s hard and lonely. You’re all future leaders, every one of you graduating today…. You’ll face complicated, tough moments. In these moments, you’ll listen to others, but you’ll have to decide, guided by knowledge, conviction, principle, and your own moral compass.” Turning back to the United States, Biden urged the graduates to examine “what happens to you and your family when old ghosts in new garments seize power, extremists come for the freedoms you thought belonged to you and everyone.” He noted attacks on equality in America, and that extremist forces were peddling “a fiction, a caricature [of] what being a man is about—tough talk, abusing power, bigotry. Their idea of being a man is toxic.” “But that’s not you,” he continued. “It’s not us. You all know and demonstrate what it really means to be a man. Being a man is about the strength of respect and dignity. It’s about showing up because it’s too late if you have to ask. It’s about giving hate no safe harbor and leaving no one behind and defending freedoms. It’s about standing up to the abuse of power, whether physical, economic, or psychological.” To applause, he added: “It’s about knowing faith without works is dead.” “The strength and wisdom of faith endures,” Biden said. “And I hope—my hope for you is—my challenge to you is that you still keep the faith so long as you can.” “Together, we’re capable of building a democracy worthy of our dreams…a bigger, brighter future that proves the American Dream is big enough for everyone to succeed.” “Class of 2024, four years ago, it felt probably like Saturday,” Biden concluded. “Four years later, you made it to Sunday, to commencement, to the beginning. And with faith and determination, you can push the sun above the horizon once more….” “God bless you all,” he said. “We’re expecting a lot from you.” — Notes: https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2024/05/19/remarks-by-president-biden-at-the-morehouse-college-class-of-2024-commencement-address-atlanta-ga/https://www.inquirer.com/news/a/wilmington-del-riots-occupation-martin-luther-king-jr-national-guard-20181207.htmlhttps://www.reuters.com/world/us/morehouse-graduation-thanks-god-woke-class-2024-2024-05-19/

https://heathercoxrichardson.substack.com/p/may-19-2024

I apologize in advance for the length of this thread, but by far this is the user that wrote the most comments in the video of our song. At first, he suggested Scepter and Reign, but he debunked this lead by saying: "Scepter and Reign can be crossed off. I have been corresponding with the lady whose name is mentioned in the legal document, Naomi (first name used with her permission, and only her first name) since Thursday. She was legitimately shocked her name was on the document because in all these years NOBODY ever contacted her regarding it. She thinks they may have realized how much money it would cost and probably withdrew. She knew both bands fairly well, scale of 1-10 she answered "6.5 maybe 7'ish". She designed 1 "logo" for each band that was literally just a sketch she made with their band names on them she could print out in the Xerox store she worked at. Scepter's original name was actually "Dungeon Master" but they changed it to fit their name on her design. As for the abandoned demo from Scepter, she said they abandoned it because they couldn't afford to produce it. They didn't even make it far enough to name their 3 or 4 songs. So, on to the big question, are either bands involved with this song? According to her both bands came out in 1985, and according to her this "The Falling King" song predates both bands by a year or 2. This is not Scepter or Reign, this song is older than both bands. According to her, she first heard this song on a Detroit station while visiting family. Even back then, the Detroit station personnel had absolutely NO CLUE who this was. She remembers her father making fun of the singers accent claiming it was a "Posh" accent and also used to think the lyric was "The fall, the fall in the king" lol. I explained how this song was recorded off of several stations in 1987 and she replied "How many songs do you hear on the radio that are several years old?". She was stumped this was played on Z-Rock because this does not sound like an amateur band to her. She is not the only person to make comments that this does not sound like an amateur band, this sounds professionally recorded and produced, something EXTREMELY few amateugarage bands could have done. I thought i had something, but at least i tried. By the way, apparently Reign still performs in the Pittsburgh area under the name "Metallic Thunder"." (THIS IS HIS LATEST COMMENT) If this is true, it means our search will be even more difficult.
In one of his earliest comments he said this: "My 2 oldest sisters (born in 1970 and 1972) actually remember this song being played by garage bands and local talents in the Coatesville PA area. However, they both swear on mom and dads ashes that the first time they heard this song, a local music festival in Exton PA, I was NOT born yet (I was born in 1984). Even back then nobody could say who it was or what the title was. In fact the one band from Downingtown PA used to refer to it as "The Dungeons and Dragons song". And by that i mean, according to my sisters the lead singers girlfriend (or his sister....they could never tell?) would be in the crowd and when they were ready to end their performance she would shout "Play the Dungeons and Dragons song". My sisters also remember the adults thinking this song was somehow a promotional thing for the PA Renaissance Fair. Unfortunately they cannot offer any clues to the identity of this band or songs title, their guess, back then and still today, was Manowar."
At first, he claims our band is Manowar, explaining: "I do not think Manowar is an obscure band, nor do my sisters. The "obscure" bands mentioned in my postings are all the local garage/amateur bands that they remember playing this song and most of those garage/amateur bands even back then, along with my sisters, were under the impression this was a Manowar song. Many people, not just on this post but others feel this is Manowar "pitch" song, other bands thrown around have been Iron Maiden, Overdrive (Or Overkill, i'm not sure if it's the same band?), Blackmane, Axis and Cirith Ungol (spelling?). Keep this in mind, it's not that uncommon for mainstream/well known bands to have unreleased music in their "library". A good example, ask the most diehard Rammstein fans what their first song ever was, they'll probably answer Du Recht So Gut or Rammstein. Most people have never heard their 1992-1993 pitch song, "Tier" (Monster, beast). In fact, Till Linderman himself stated in 2018 he was unaware Tier was ever recorded by anyone, yet alone put up on the internet. Like this "Fall of the King" song, "Tier" was toted as an mystery song for years but was in a group of 4 or 5 other songs that Rammstein did but never released. One of my favorite bands, Corvus Corax, actually had something similar happen, a song they did back in the early 90's, "Vampire", opening for another band was recorded by a fan in the audience and made rounds on the Neo Folk community ages later. Corvus Corax themselves heard it on a radio station in Denmark roughly 2009'ish and called them asking how and when they got that song because they NEVER recorded it for public use. Personally i cannot give a wager who this is? I am not that good with this genre so i go with what people older than me and much better with this music say. To me it could be Manowar, something they never intended to be released publicly, it could be the Z'Rose a bunch of people feel it is, it could be Overdrive/Overkill (i do not know if these names are the same band or 2 separate ones?), it could be me time traveling impersonating my great uncle Fred......ok that last one was just meant to be a joke lol." Then someone says: "has your sister contacted erik to see about the the song?" and he says "OH HELL NO!!! They haven't spoken since they broke up in 1991-1992. I did reach out to his brother probably a year ago and never heard back."
He suggests it's either Manowar or Sarissa (he mispelled them): "@aSome1 There's some confusion, my sisters never said Z'Rose was playing the song in our hometown area. Local teenage to early college yrs bands were playing it. They recognized this song when I was on a family Zoom chat, i had this song on in the background (by accident actually lol) and my oldest sister (#1 born in '70) asked what i was listening to. I turned it up and she shook her head and asked the other sister (#2 born in '72) "Oh my gosh isn't that that stupid Manowar song Erik and his brother used to play all the time?". Erik was the name of her high school boyfriend. They remember hearing it first at an amateur music fest when my brother (born in '82) was still a baby. Mainly they remember mom fitting all of them in her old "Batmobile" station wagon. By the time i was born in '84 that station wagon was gone for at least several months. The band names they specifically remember playing this, and keep in mind these were "Garage bands" from the 80's were: Venomous Vomit, Razors in your Coffee (Erik's band), Ash to Ash, Cauldron Kings, Coven of Metal, Pridesville, South of Hell and Purgatory. They said there were a few more, but didn't remember....or care....to know their names. (Disclaimer: Several peoples associated with those mentioned bands have been contacted by me and several have replied.....the most common reply is "How the hell do you know us!?" lol)
"I have actually been looking at this song for almost 3yrs. I've had some "good leads" and some "bad leads" and i've also had "WTF leads".......but at the end it is still unsolved. So far the biggest contenders, from people way better with this music than me (I'm more a symphonic or extreme metal person) have been: Manowar, Iron Maiden, OverDrive, Overkill, Onslaught of Destruction and Sonic Mahem. My sisters really believe it is possibly an unreleased or "pitch demo" of Manowar but they also said it might be a Greek band from the early 80's called Sarassa or something like that?"
Then he denies it's Z-Rose: "@lostwavefinder587 I have seen that name tossed around a lot on forums and random chats (this being one of them). Most people way smarter and better with this music than myself seem to have the opinion that it is not Z'Rose. They range in reason from: the equipment sound professional and they were not, the dates don't add up, Z'Rose only did covers so even it is them in the recordings it's still not their song.....one individual (a supervisor at work who lived in Texas during this time frame) actually said "Z'Rose wouldn't have been sober enough to finish that song". I have only heard 1 Z'Rose recording, and unfortunately the person who recorded it (I think the date says 1989?) spends the majority of the 5 minute video talking during the performance so all i hear is them and not the singer. I have to emphasize about %99 of this info i'm presenting is NOT from me but people who know this genre of music way better than me....i'm more Symphonic metal and neo folk (Corvus Corax, Heilung, Faun etc."
"Out of curiosity, since a lot people think this might be Z'Rose, has anyone contacted the family/families of Nick or Joe Cavazos? My "team" is looking into a blog page from 2018 of a pretty intense exchange between a blogger and a woman who is believed to be "Rocker Joe's daughter. In this exchange she states this song is NOT her dad and uncle's band. But it gets pretty rough because the blogger keeps pressing and let's just say some NSFW language is exchanged. I will only say this, the woman's name does match one of the names in Julio "Joe" Cavazos obituary, but they can't tell if it is actually HER or someone posing. I also find it interesting that in another posting of this song someone is claiming to be the nephew of both Nick and Joe.....but about a dozen people ask about this song and he does not answer them......but someone else will ask something unrelated to this song and he answers??"
"About a year ago on another posting of this song, someone had a link to a conversation with a woman who was allegedly Joe Cavazos daughter. She very adamantly denied this was her dads band, Z'Rose. They person kept pressing her and she did not budge a single inch, "NO, its not my dad's band". The only thing that could be confirmed was the woman's name did match a name in Julio "Joe" Cavazos obituary as his daughter. But if it was her or not I can't say? Many peoples on other postings and on forums have all claimed to have gotten in contact with Z'Rose and stated they responded "No" to this being theirs.
So the "Kings Fall" song by Bernard Cavazos is actually a completely different song. He is also not related to the Z'Rose Cavazos. Somewhere I read that the "Kings Fall"/"Fallen King" song by Bernard Cavazos is about a corrupt politician or mafia like "king" not an actual king. Again none of this is from me, it's from things I read, not me.
When 'Wang' did a video about several mystery songs he included this one. In his video (I don't know if he made more than one?) he talked about how that Bernard Cavazos has been contacted and has denied this is his Fall of the King song. If my memory is correct Wang read a message from him explaining his "king" was a corrupt politician or gang leader like king. Wang also mentioned there was another Bernard Cavazos who was a doctor and he is sick and tired of people contacting him about this song"
Someone that replied to him said:
"@CharlesMarkward probably this tape recording was an attempt from them to make something of their own, many bands have started this way, an example is the Brazilian power metal band Angra, they were first meant to be an Iron Maiden tribute but as things went by, they have decided to release things of their own...I couldn't find anything about this "Z'Rose" band in metal-archives, neither at Google with a simple research, but the data gathered until this moment make sense: the Z Rock radio is from Texas, the so called "Z'Rose" band is also from Texas, it was the 80's, so, without internet, this was the way bands used to promote their work...but your story adds some drifts from this sensible data available until now...they are/were from Texas, ok...but until then, they weren't any big group, which means they were probably 9 to 5 salarymen whose musician activity was on weekends and the money earned wasn't enough to keep up with, so, a trip from TX to PA is a long ranged one and expensive for their then standards, I can remember when I've read the Mick Wall's Metallica biography, in which they highlight how hard was for them to go all the way from CA to NY to record Kill em' All, well, unless someone sponsored the so called "Z'Rose from Texas" (like the Zazula couple to Metallica) to play in the events you've mentioned in PA...which means they were good and had potential (this "mysterious recording" doesn't let me lie), because it takes a lot for someone at the other eastern extreme of a big country like the USA to call someone all the way from TX to play in an event when probably there were good bands around and without the need of a sponsorship to travel and get some place to sleep and eat..."
Therefore Charles says: "Also, i am not the one saying it's not them. People much better with much more access to metal archives/records are saying it's not them. BUT, everything you said makes perfect sense to me and I have no argument against any of it. It would make perfect sense if it was a possible pitch demo Z'Rose recorded and kept along for a few years before a station played it. My sisters are %98 certain it was a Manowar song, the only other band they mentioned as a possibility is a Greek band i can't find anything about called something like Sarassa??"
Someone told him to contact Erik: "A little bit ago someone in here suggested i contact my sisters ex and ask where he got this song. I could not get a hold of him, but i did get in contact with his brother he played with. According to the brother they got the song from their aunt who lived in Philly (Center City) and would send them tapes of songs to play. This song was on a tape sandwiched between "4 or 5" Manowar songs. He specifically remembered this for 2 reasons: 1, their aunt wrote "Killing of the king by No Name" and 2, the last song on the this tape was labled as a Venom song (he did not recall which) but was actually "Melody of Love" by Bobby Vinton😂. So i think this is why my sisters keep saying it's Manowar, because if it was on a tape with a bunch of their songs that chances are they heard a crapload of times?"
He contacted Erik's brother (Erik is supposedly the ex boyfriend of one of his sisters) and received this reply: "Erik's brother returned another email I sent about this song. I made a post about it about a week ago. The brother says their aunt who lived in Philly included this song on a mix tape of stuff for him and his brother to play. This song was sandwiched between several Manowar songs and the last song on the tape was supposed to be a Venom song but was actually Bobby Vinton's "Melody of Love" 🤣"
Therefore debunking the possibility it's a Manowar song, he also adds: "She (the aunt) passed in 2014. She would record songs off the radio for them. She lived in Philly (Center City) but also had a place in Florida, so he was never sure which cities radio stations she would record from. This song she wrote "Killing the King?" As the title and "???" as the band name, but it was between several Manowar songs. I think this might be why my oldest sisters are so insistent this is a Manowar song because they may have listened to it with Erik and his brother.....it's a theory lol"
He also thought of Iced Earth as the possible band: "lostwavefinder587 I immediately thought of Iced Earth when I heard this song. Although it's likely just a coincidence, it's interesting to note that Iced Earth was originally called "The Rose".
Someone said to him: "if that's any help, the Greek band's name you're talking about is probably Sarissa. I don't think it's them, though: the vox sound kinda different, and their songs are mostly Ancient Greece-themed." And he replied: "Yes, thank you! All this time I've been spelling it wrong. I gave a quick listen to a demo of theirs from '86. In terms of sound and beat and tempo etc, they are pretty close to this song. In terms of vocals, they sound nothing alike." Therefore, he debunked Sarissa himself.
Now here he changed his version and provides a new lead given by his sisters:
"Holy crap for some reason my last post got cut in half and didn't include the following info, sorry! So the individual i spoke to and got the new possible lead is the former singer of the one band my sisters mentioned, Purgatory, (i do NOT have his permission to use his real name but his stage name was Tarantula). He confirmed he played this song "once or twice" but didn't know the lyrics so they just repeated several "blocks" over and over again. He heard it from a band in NJ and when he asked if he could use the song they replied along the lines of "It's not our song, we don't care" but gave no indication who it was or they even knew who it was? He suggested the band "Knightmare" because they were from Texas and he remembers all of their songs being medieval or medieval fantasy related. Supposedly they wore what looked like full on plate armor (he does not know if it was actual metal armor or something made to look like it). He saw them perform a handful of times because he spent summers in Texas on his grandfathers (mistakenly said uncle in my last post, sorry) ranch and would sneak off at night to "the metal scene" (i do not know if that was a club name or if he just meant that in general?). He began visiting his grandfathers ranch in 1980 and stopped when his grandfather retired in 1992. He gave an estimated timeline for "Knightmare" of 1981-1989."
He corrects himself by saying they are not called "Knightmare": Interestingly, my supervisor at work lived in Texas during this timeline (roughly mid 70's to mid 90's from what i can gather?) and when I asked him about Knightmare he had no idea. But when i mentioned they dressed up like knights in armor he suddenly looked startled and said "That wasn't their name, their name was Battle Battalion or some s*** like that".
But then he says: "So i posted a few months ago about this song, my sisters remember garage bands in the area playing this… I checked every band called Knightmare on Metal Encyclopedia and it doesn’t look like it’s our band." "Forgive my French.....Damn. I thought maybe it could have been a lead but i guess like dozens of others I've come across, dead end. I did a quick search for Knightmare a few weeks ago and I got all excited i saw one band dressed up like monks or Druids, but that band only came out in 2017. I think it's safe to say the name has been used by many bands."
Then someone asks him: "Does the name "Battle Battalion" show up on any Metal "pedia" sites? That's what my supervisor claims this "dressed up in medieval armor" bands name was?" and another one told him: "I saw some bands with Battalion on the metal encyclopedia and discogs and none of them are our band. I don’t think we should go based on what a band wears as our lead."
Then he debunks the Knightmare (and the Conquest) lead: "So a little bit ago i mentioned a band name "Knightmare" as a possibility for this song. Well the band was actually called "KnyghtBlyde" (Knight Blade) and i got in contact with the daughter of the vocalist last night. I played this song for her and after some confliction/hesitation she said it is NOT her dad. The biggest thing was all of her dads songs were based of Aruthurian lore and filled with references to Camelot, Arthur, Morgana, Lancelot, Excalibur etc. Since this song has none of that, its not them. She has no idea who this is. I did a quick search "Conquest 80's metal band Texas" and found 3 results. Conquest from San Antonio, split in either '85 or '87. Conquest from Dallas, '86 - '90. Khan'quest (possibly same band as Khanquistador?), no location given but split up in '88 then reformed in 2000 then......nothing? I could not find anything about any of their songs or demos or releases or band members. But it's obvious I was thinking of the wrong Conquest bands 😂 Conquest was ruled out. Someone who owns the tape was contacted and told us this isn't them."
And he says the singer of KnyghtBlade is convinced this song is from Battallion:
"So a little bit ago I mentioned getting in contact with KnyghtBlyde singers daughter who states that this is NOT her dad. She contacted me this morning, her father thinks this song might be by a band called Battalion. But her father said Battalion also went by the name AAA, Anti Aircraft Assault (or Artillery) in their early days. According to her father AAA/Battalion were from Texas but at least 2 of their members were originally from Chicago. Has anyone ever heard of either Battalion or AAA, Anti Aircraft Assault? The closest I can say is my one supervisor at work mentioned a band Battle Battalion from Texas when he lived there."
Then someone replies to him: "you are right there is a band named Battalion formed in 1984" He says: "I cannot find a single piece of music from this particular "Battalion"? From what I could find they formed between 1983 and 1985, split, reformed under a few possible names, split, repeat. 2 people I asked did say they remember a band of some sort from "out west" Anti Aircraft A-something, but neither could give any info."
Now here, he suggests it could be a Talon song:
"So here's a potential lead for everyone: I was just playing this song for a friend who is obsessed with all metal music. She asked me "Where did you get that Talon song?" Talon was/is a German heavy metal band from the early 80's that released several demos and full on albums between '83-'89. Almost all of there songs were medieval themed, especially their 2 demos. Herr's the thing, they supposedly have 3 unnamed tracks from both demos, one allegedly called "King Slayer". I listened to a bunch of there songs and I have to say there are several songs where the singer sounds exactly like our mystery singer, but then the next song they sound nothing alike. There was one song called something like "Execution" that the opening guitar sounds like this songs opening only slower? I'm not saying it is Talon, but it is possibly something to look into or at least consider?"
He also claimed the singer sounds like Bruce Dickinson (which has been suggested many times):
"I've said many times that I personally feel this vocalist sounds extremely close to Bruce Dickinson. There is a clip of Bruce singing Tom Jones' "Delilah" on either a talk or game show, and his opening of that song is nearly identical to this Fall of the King vocals! Tone, tempo, cadence, pitch......it's really really on spot. I am NOT saying it is Bruce, I'm just saying whoever it is does a good job singing like him."
He says this song could be made by Eviscerator:
"Hello again everyone, has anyone ever heard of a band from Britain, late 70's through late 80's called "Eviscerator"? Very very long story short: I played this song at a Viking/Pagan/Neo-Folk/Black Metal "bar" about half a mile up the road from my place and the one patron who looked like Elvira and Lilith Bathory had a daughter together (HOT HOT HOT) comes over and asked me to replay it and she sang along with the recording with about %95 accuracy! Oddly, at the end after the 4 or 5 "The Fall of the King"s, she suddenly sang "The evil one now wears the crown, all hail the evil one" and head banged for a few moments. According to her, this song was by a band called "Eviscerator" and they always claimed this song was written as a pitch track for the movie Heavy Metal? I mentioned how this song by numerous accounts was recorded here in the USA in 86-87 from stations in Texas, Chicago, Cleveland, NYC and (by only one account) possibly Florida. She didn't feel there was an issue with that as stations will often play random things just to fill the spot including songs that are several years older. I asked about her added line at the end and she stated "I didn't add s*** bud, whoever recorded it must have cut it off before they got to it". I mentioned how numerous people strongly believe this is the work of Z'Rose, she said they probably covered it a bunch of times but it is not their song and even stated that this particular recording sounds like it could be them covering. She was more familiar with Z'Rose than me, she commented "The 3 Cavlaros brothers from Texas right? The singer was the oldest brother Jeff?" (I know that's not their name, i only included it for aunthenticity per context of our discussion, the last name is Cavazos and there was only 2 of them right?). She also told me Z'Rose had about a dozen other names through their years including "Gypsy Rose". I asked how she knew this British band "Eviscerator" and she answered that she lived in London from 78-85 and this song was played a lot on "amateur hour" on several stations, especially university stations. This kind of took me by surprise because i thought she looked younger than me (I'm 39) but she lived in England for college and her first husband in the late 70's??"
"In my last comments i mentioned a bar i went to was going to have a mini concert featuring bands that specialize in black metal and 80's tribute metal and i would play this song to see if any of the band peoples or concert goers would chime in. I did just that and got a few hits on the radar with a few of the band members. The one band, Inviaat, the singer says he remembers this song being played on a radio station in Philly PA for an entire summer because that station was trying to find the band. He does not remember the specific station but said it was near the Taylor University campus (my understanding is that there is several?) because the station thought it was the students from that university's music program. When i asked him when exactly that would have been he said Summer of 1983 because he was married on Halloween 1983 and was hoping the station would find the band so they could play at his wedding. A member from the local band "inductus Mortis" said he recalls that song being played "somewhere in the mid 80's" but does not remember if he heard it in Chicago or Cleveland because he bounced between them. I asked several bands, include the Venom tribute band Poisonous Whisper if anyone had ever heard of a band name Eviscerator from the 80's. Only one person thought he heard the name but it wasn't a band name it was a compilation album of NWOBHM from roughly '83-'84, but couldn't tell me anything other than that. As for the other concert goers, the #1 response i got from them was along the lines of "Dude you can sing, you should go pro!".....in other words they thought it was me promoting myself (I wish i could sing like that!!). the #2 response was people thought it was Manowar. After those 2 the guesses were the usual ones i have seen here and everywhere else this topic comes up: Blackmaine, Axis, Overkill, Overdrive, Black Sabath, Iron Maiden, Anthrax, Slayer, WitchAxe and 2 people even asked if it was an Ozzy Osbourne demo."
"I asked around, including my oldest sisters I've mentioned in my postings, about Eviscerator. The only person who heard of them, the one from this time-frame not the other 8 or 9 bands from the 2000's with that name, said they were a generic ManowaIron Maiden/Judas Priest tribute or more accurately, ripoff, band who sucked. I am not saying I buy this woman's account, but i'm also not discrediting it or calling her a liar. Her familiarity with this song and her accuracy with the lyrics makes me believe she knows this song from somewhere.....what that somewhere is, i can't comment because i don't know?"
"So far my friends and I have several "pings" to look into, the name Eviscerator has absolutely nothing from the time frame we're looking at. But there is (was?) a "Lee Lesaat" Canadian/British "mercenary" (did not belong to any band but would play for others) drummer who now lives in NYC my friends are looking into.
There is an 80's metal/black metal tribute concert this Saturday at the bar I was at last weekend. After the bands play their sets they have an open mic like set up where you can play your own music (as long as it fits the theme). I'm going to try and play this song and see if anyone, bands or crowd or food vendors etc, have any reaction.
And by "pings" I just mean responses/possible possible long shot leads. The guy or girl claiming to be a psychic vampire who time traveled and wrote this song for The Lost Boys movie is NOT going to be one of them😂"
Then someone asks: "What band is this Eviscerator ? I found a band that was formed in 2012 . Furthermore tthe song is not in the metal archives I searched through lyrics was not found." He says: "Allegedly they were in England in the 1980's, but the woman stated 2 of them had New York accents. If all of her account is true and accurate, they were NOT a professional big name band. I did find several bands with the title "Eviscerator" (in different variations) but all of them were from the 2000's. The only "pro" band with that title I could find was a Hungarian band from the mid 2000's. I asked Satanic lady if she remembered any of the other bands that played alongside "Eviscerator" and she only remembered 3: "Band-Shee" (an all female band....get it?) Gargoyle, and Werewolf Tears."
"I have a very very small update for everyone, but it's still an update nonetheless. The mystery succubus looking woman who said this song was by Eviscerator and sang along to it (even when I "accidentally" muted my phone to see if she was just repeating what she was hearing.....she was not) has been identified by my journalist friend! We are going to try and get in contact with her and see if there is anything else she can remember about "Eviscerator" that could help. I'm not going to get my hopes up, but her familiarity with this songs lyrics and the fact she sang almost in perfect synch with the beat makes me feel she really did know this song from somewhere in her past. That or she is a very good actress? Lol
I found only 1 solid, confirmed band with that name but they were from mid 2000's Hungary. But several peoples now and then tell me they remember hearing that name in the 80's as various things; crappy garage band, NWOHBM compilation album/work, some sort of event space or name, most recently someone claimed he thought it was the stage name of a singer but didn't know who or what band. I'm trying to get in touch with the woman who originally mentioned that name."
He posted this comment that lead nowhere: "2 very small updates for everyone:
1) The Viking/Pagan/Goth/Black Metal themed bar just around the corner from me is having a New Years event tomorrow night. They actually agree to give me a "booth" where i can have a "guess this song" set up. And, it will be right next to where the bands play...I'm going to be between the "stage" and the food truck lol
2) The one radio station i submitted this song to will play it on their "X hour" on 1/8/24. It is not a hugely popular segment, maybe a few hundred listeners, but it's better than nothing.
Here's to the New Year and hope this song and numerous others get solved!"
"So the station played this song Sunday night/Monday morning. They played it 4 times between 2:07am - 3:12am. They received 9 calls about it and about a dozen emails (I seriously didn't know they had an email!?!?!?). Unfortunately the majority of contacts were people either asking for them to replay it or people thinking it was Manowar. There were a few Iron Maidens and one or 2 Ozzy Osborne's. Only 2 people stated they heard this song before. Unfortunately they heard it from "some kilt wearing guy at blank bar plays it, I think it's him self promoting". Yes that's me they referenced and no it is not me singing lol"
He suggest matrixx as a possibility: "There's a band called matrixx that has been giving me interest. They were only around for two years due to financial struggles in their stage. If you look up attaxe and fiinal notice they share two members of matrixx. Their drummer and guitarist sound very similar to the band from this song. It's pretty crazy too because they have a song called defy the king. They also had a label to produce their songs which is called Suma Recording Studios. This may be the reason why the audio sounds too good for a small band. I hope that this is the band! Too many good clues that I found"
He debunks the Steven Lindfield lead: "One of the names thrown about here and there on posts about this song is a Steven Linfield ("Lindi") who bounced between Chicago and NYC in the 1980's. His alleged involvement varries between being the DJ who allegedly played it on a NYC station, to being a Chicago stations record manageclerk etc etc. I got in contact with him yesterday. He denies having ANYTHING to do with the airing of this song and does not know how or why his name came up. While he did work at 2 stations (NYC, then Chicago during the summer) he was an overnight watchman (security). However, he does recall this song being played on "some amateur hour crapshoot" in '86 in NYC a bunch of times. At that point in '86 he claims people were referencing it as "The King Song" or "The song of the King" (drawn out to match the singers "The Faaaalllll, the fall of the kiiiiiing") and it was already 2 or 3 years old at that time. He did explain that at least at the Chicago station there was an amateur drop-off slot that the dj's would pick through and play random "no namers" labeling them as "space filler". Because they would be played, literally just to fill space, they were NOT mandated to keep any records of them. Sometimes the dj's would just make up names to some of these. One of his main duties was to check the drop-off to make sure there were no bad things thrown in there instead of cassettes. Another dead end, but at least we rulled out one theory......silver lining??😂 LINDFIELD, not Linfield. Darn autocorrect on this phone."
He is convinced it's a professional band's demo: Thats why a lot people I have introduced to this song think it's a professional band, or at the extreme least an amateur band playing with top level equipment/sponsor? 1983 guy stated they sound like they have equipment his garage band "couldn't even afford to dream about looking at yet alone use". It's also one of the reasons my 2 oldest sisters insist this is a professional band (sister #1 says Manowar, #2 says Manowar or Sarissa) because there are no goofs or mistakes or errors. My sisters gave an example of a garage band from their Kutztown university days, "Freefall Abyss" that self released a demo and in one song you can hear a telephone ringing in the background and in another you can hear a fan or ac unit going.
He contacted a girl named Della: "This song was actually played on an old Philly/NJ station on the segment "Della names your tune" in 2009. I was able to get in contact with "Della" (real name withheld by her request) who at first stated "I played thousands of unnamed songs bud, I probably played this one 100 times, sorry i wont be much help" . Then a few days later replied "I do recall this one, it was sent in from a local listener who had it labeled as Dungeon Master or maybe Dragon Master on a CD with a bunch of old early Manowar, JudaPriest, Iron Maiden, Megadead, Metallica and AngelWitch songs. He or she claimed their father had this song on a tape from his college days. Nobody knew what or who it was back in '09 or '10 and as far as I know nobody figured it out when I left the program in '15." The only name she gave, and I don't know if this was even a real name or the drummers "stage name" was Leopald Lestat.........I do have 2 people looking into it (from a metal dating site of all places). Disclaimer: I know some of those bands are misspelled, I purposefully left it that way because that's how she sent it to me."
"I went down that road, you nailed it right on the head. There is no way to track down who that listener was. The only hint she had, in the form of the note attached to the CD was the person said they were from Radnor PA. I couldn't tell you because the other songs kind of bounce around in terms of year: there's a Judas Priest and an Angel Witch song both from 1980 but then there's a song from Megadeath (I believe Megadeath came out in '85?) and a Metallica song from '86? For some reason my one comment didn't show up? Della gave a pretty big hint, she said the mailing address on the CD was from Radnor PA, but the phone number included was a landline for a Chicago address. Her and the station managers assumed it was a "shadow number" and didn't bother keeping record of it. A lot of her requests had local addresses with out of state phone numbers, cellular and landline."
He suggests Dungeon Masters: "I have a potential lead, "Dungeon Masters" from Pittsburgh PA? Long story short: everyone at work talks about a "hot nerdy chick" who works at the one antique book store in town and she is a music genius and knows EVERY song people play. So i decided to test it. I played this song and she stated "I think thats Dungeon Masters, they were from my hometown of Pittsburgh PA back in the early to late 80's. Thats either Dungeon Masters or someone doing an incredible job imitating them?". Given that Cleveland is only a 2-3 hr drive from Pittsburgh (from what Steelers players say) i think this could be a possible lead and explain the Cleveland recording? Again, this is only a POSSIBLE lead, but i think it has potential?
Currently my one "source" is looking into it. He is not always accurate (as evidenced when we were looking into Conquest) but its better than nothing."
And someone adds this: "Della said the same Dungeon Masters so better look into it"
But he says this: "Close, "Della" stated the listener who sent in the CD had this song labeled as "Dungeon Master?", not a band name. But I am looking into it as best as I can. I found a Pittsburgh band "Dungeon" but they're NOT metal they're an Omnia/Faun like band (neo-folk I think is the term?) formed in 2018. I sent word out to the people I know and my "team". Now it is a waiting game."

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Ok reddit buckle up this is a long one. As a growing fan of the subs, I’ve decided to tell my story. I 26M was dating my high school sweetheart for five years. We’ll call her CF for short. Yep, you guessed it, young love ignorant bliss the whole nine. At the time, this girl was my world, my life, my future. Well as the title suggests, things got interesting. Reflecting on the relationship now and all I’ve learned, it was unstable, toxic and at times abusive. There were so many red flags I ignored trying to make it work. Not knowing any better I fought to keep us together despite constant fights, arguments, and sleepless nights. Nearing the end of the relationship, in a last-ditch effort to either save what was or get closure that it in fact is over, I naively suggested to open our relationship. My thought process was, if she slept with someone else and felt rotten and/or dirty, then there was hope we could move passed it together. If she had slept with someone else and came home to me seemingly unbothered, then I knew it was over and beyond fixing. I however did not consider the emotional damage I would in turn subject myself to. Now I should clarify I had done some homework on my suggestion and found most blogs, forums and panels all mentioned that rules are important. So, as I mentioned before, this was a trial in finding out just how far gone the relationship was. The rules we set forward are the following: we bring no one to our house, protection must be used, we would never meet the persons together, and the last and most important one for me was I wanted to know as soon as she hooked up with someone, so we could talk and I could make my decision based on her behaviour. I should mention I had no intention of seeing anyone else at this time,I was devoted to her, and had no desire to see anyone else. This was purely to see if she still had love in her heart for me. Ok now into the nitty gritty, so not only was her hook up less than a week after we opened, she also broke a rule and saw her partner for over two months without telling me. Now I know this may be a point to argue, but I saw this as betrayal and cheating. We made rules and they were ignored. Turns out CF was seeing a 45-year-old cop going through a divorce of his own, at the time CF and I were 22. I’m not shaming age gaps, but this one made me sick. One week after our 5-year anniversary yep, she dumped me.
Now I know this is becoming a novel, but the best is yet to come. Ok now where does the dog fit in you might ask. Right, now onto that. Two years into CF and I’s relationship we were given the opportunity to foster a rescue dog, lets call her GA. The day this beautiful kind soul of a companion came into my life, I was in love. Screw fostering we’ll take her. Now GA wasn’t perfect at first but with love, guidance and patience she honestly is one of the best dogs I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting- let alone getting to call her my girl. Now like I said before, GA came with some areas to work on, like not eating couches; two to be exact. Also having a strong dislike of thunderstorms, and other behaviours most common with rescues, but she most notable has epilepsy, requiring medication twice a day to keep them at bay. This is important for later.
Alright so now we’re caught up to the breakup. After dealing with my world burning the best I can, I became angry and decided I wanted nothing to do with her. I helped get all her stuff out and she moved in with her dad. Knowing that GA would remind me of her, I told CF to also take GA. Now her dads a chain smoking, explosive drunk. After giving GA away, I lasted all of two hours before I begged to get her back, I realised I can’t lose everything all in one day. CF very willingly gave GA back. Both of us agreed that my house had more yard space for her and it was a cleaner, more stable home for her. I once again had GA in my life, and it was the best thing to have ever happened to me. Ok fast forward two weeks later I got sited from animal control for having an unregistered dog in the house and had 48 hours to register and pay the fee or I risk massive fines. I went that day, now where I live, pets become registered to the occupant of the registering address, then dog tags are issued to that name. GA also is micro chipped to the same address. So, to recap: CF moves out two weeks later, I’m forced to register GA solely in my name and my address. Now its time to talk about the verbal agreement we made regarding GA’s health, so I had agreed to what I’m choosing to call visitation rights. I’ll explain, so I worked weekends; three 12 hours shifts. GA gets her meds at 9am and 9pm so enter CF. She would come by on the weekend, with written notice, give GA her meds, and spend some time with her, then I would take over when I got home and the rest of the week when CF was working. So, the rules to the visitation: she was to give me written notice prior to stopping by and if I said no to her picking her up, that was final. CF was rarely told no unless I was already out with GA or it was late at night. Its worth mentioning CF still had her house key so effectively she could come and go as she pleased from my residence.
Now fast forward just under two years CF was very good at keeping with the program, written notice, healthy boundaries, and limited contact. I should add at the start, CF and I would chat about the relationship and possibly getting back together or not, then I was told that if CF couldn’t find anyone better than me, we would get back together. I’m no one’s safe bet and that comment broke me. I was hurt, broken, and angry from then on I was personally done with her. I started seeing other people and really living my own life. I’m a firm believer that when you buckle down and take charge of your own life, the universe will reward you. So, from then on, it was limited contact, if CF would message for GA. Then she could take her and I would leave the house and get coffee so I didn’t have to see her.
Ok let me introduce all of you to my current GF lets call her JT for short. She is an incredible, beautiful, smart, funny, and witty. I could use every possible vernacular in the English language to describe her and it still wouldn’t do her justice. Honestly folks, I couldn’t have gotten a better GF if I had ordered one from a magazine. She is truly my first love. CF may have been my first with a few things, but love wasn’t one of them, although at the time I thought she was. Ok I’m off topic so I met JT and things where surreal for the first time in two years since I was dumped. I believed I could love again. As my relationship with JT grew and the love not only grew but blossomed, its worth mentioning CF’s behaviour to me, and our arrangement became sparce. CF began showing up without notice to take GA. At one point me and JT were laying in bed bare under the covers, when CF opened my bedroom door to retrieve GA. Obviously this startled us both. I rushed to check my phone, that perhaps I missed a text... NOPE ok that was unsettling. Now to add to the disrespect of the arrangement, CF was keeping GA for days at a time without informing me. I would have to text her and ask “hey you got GA” CF. “ oh yea she’s with me” Me. “um ok no problem but as per our arrangement you need to make me aware of your plans with my GA”. CF. “yea ok slipped my mind”. Ok, so now you see my growing concern with the ongoing disrespect. I had no obligation to even let CF see GA legally, she was my sole property. Let me clarify real quick: remember how I was sighted by animal control? Well yeah, where I live animals are seen as property, and seeing as how I was sited after she left, GA became mine. Amiss my new found love and bliss, and growing concern, life hit me with one more unfortunate curve ball. I got evicted. Landlord got his GF pregnant and wanted the house I was renting for them to live in. Man, when I tell you that was a shock at the time, with some other things going on it was overwhelming. Turns out it was a blessing in disguise. We found an amazing house 40 minutes away from the city. I live on the cutest farm. Things with JT and I are going amazing! Not only has she made me feel things I thought were long dead, but she made me feel new experiences as well. Ok, decision time. I HATE CF for what she did to me, and I love JT with everything and more. One is getting in the way of the other. So, I devised a plan, taking advantage of my new residence and the distance, along with anonymity: I’m going to move out and cancel the arrangement with CF. Alright time to get to work. One week leading up to the move, I denied CF’s attempts to see GA. I rented a large box truck, and with the help of a small army of close friends and available family, we packed and move the entire house in one day. I would like the take the time now to thank all of you that helped me that day. It was such an empowering and liberating day. Right, so two pickup trucks and a mini van load go out off to the new house. Me, my old man and a dear friend pack the last into the box truck. Now I pre-wrote the message to CF in my notes, consulted a lawyer appraising them of the facts and documents to make sure what I had written was clear, concise, and contained the right verbiage for legal standing if need be. I hopped in the truck, started the engine, sent the text and drove off. Oh, I forgot to mention I did in fact change the locks and made my landlord aware of everything. Off I drove to start my new life happy, healthy, and full of bright prosperity.
So, as you may have guessed, my phone blew up from CF. Texts, calls, voice mails everything, it all fell on deaf ears. My word was final, and I was finally ready to close this ugly painful chapter of my life. So, well um, I will tell you all, I’m naturally a logical thinker that sometimes leads to a healthy level of paranoia. So, my new address was given to trusted people only. Written on paper and requested once we all met up at the new place and burned in the lane way. Why? Well, I know CF and her family, and I’ve seen them do less than legal things, and know who her dad is- and the contacts he knows. I took ZERO chances when it came to keeping my new life and address safe. Also remember I told you she’s dating a cop... knowing the fallout that awaits me, I took steps into protecting what I longed for. We moved in for June first of 2022. I should mention I live with my now GF and my roommate, my brother from another mother. My roommate moved in a month after CF moved out and I can update for any questions regarding him but for now back to the story. All members of the house were to follow strict security measures anticipating a reaction from CF. I had quickly found out that CF was trying to find out where I live through contacting friends, family and my old landlord trying to find the new address to no avail. Now, I work a full-time job, as well as run my own woodworking business. One day I was filing paperwork in the front office and I saw CF drive by in her vehicle. She drives an extremely recognizable car, so I knew it was her. I wasted no time. I drove to my local law enforcement and made them aware of everything. I wanted to start a case just to be safe if anything happened.

So, side note but very important, I was given the opportunity to purchase a puppy; FT for short. After discussion with the house, we decided getting GA a little sister was a great idea, you know, get her company and give her a friend to run around the farm with. To say they were inseparable is an understatement. They loved each other so much and it was the best move we ever made. I promise this is important later.
Right, June was great settling in, getting used to the new place, and watching GA play, mentor and thrive with her sister all was great! Moving to August 2022, our guards began to fall and we started letting the two out without being helicopters to them. August 12^th 2022 oh man that day will forever remain with me rent free. JT and I are at work and the roommate’s home with the kiddos. 4:15pm I receive a phone call that will change my bliss for some time… yes GA, GA is gone “the hell do you mean”!! roommate “I let them out back, door open I was doing the dishes turned around and only FT was there”. “well did you look for them?” “yes I did, call in the damn microchip now!!” roommate hangs up. It’s worth mentioning he misunderstood how a K9 microchip works and thought It was like a GPS tracker. Work refuses to let me leave early and by the time I got home, three hours have passed since the disappearance.
I spent at least an hour exhausting any search method I could think of at the time, thinking if she ran off, she couldn’t have gotten far. After that hour I started to think, no way GA runs off and FT, 6 weeks old at the time, doesn’t follow.. Welp now it dawns on me, what? No? damn she must have taken her… off to the police I go. “ hey officer M, remember me from a few weeks ago?” “yeah what can I do for you?” “umm well I think my fears came true, I think CF stole her?” Ensue crying, panic and fear. How’d she find me? How is this possible?? Officer M “ ok take a breath tell me everything.” As I explain, I’m asked questions like are you sure she didn’t run off? I explain, no way she did and FT a young pup didn’t follow. I make my statement, broken, drained and beside myself with concern and fear I go home. No more then two hours later I get a call from M “Hi T so I’ve made some calls and I’m 99% sure she took her.” Me “what how? I mean what did you find?” M “I called your vet and an order for medication was placed by CF 10 days ago.” Me “ok damn so what happens now?” M “well this seems pretty clear cut I’ll investigate a bit more and make a case to the Crown.” Ok well my fears are confirmed. Damn she somehow found me and actually stole my beautiful GA. To this day, I have no idea how she found me. I suspect she put a GPS tracker on my truck. I had officer M looking into the possibility if her cop BF looked me up in the system, but that was ruled out very quickly.
Now the painful waiting game hoping justice will prevail. Each week I call for an update. On week 3 I’m informed he’s built a case and sent it to the Crown to see if it’s a clear-cut case of stolen property. Week 5 I’m told to hang tight its under review. At this point I became impatient and decided I can’t sit and wait. I took all the evidence and paperwork I had. I took it to both our vets as well as every vet in the region I knew she lived, explained and made airtight protocols for if, and when statements. Week 6 again I call, and I’m hit with bad news: the Crown, quite annoyed I was told, made it clear to M that this was a property dispute and needs to be settle in family court. Well, now it’s time to lawyer up. I scraped every extra penny I had to hire a good family lawyer and man did I find a good one. Turns out she was divorced and took my case a bit personally. She starts to prepare the necessary documents. 2 more weeks go by and thank whomever you believe in, I became impatient and went full proactive mode. I receive a phone call at work from my family vet. Vet “hi this is vet clinic just confirming your appointment for Monday at 11:25am?” well I sure as hell am now. I ring my lawyer, explain what happened, and put a rush on the papers having to call my dad to borrow money. You see now that I know exactly where CF is going to be with GA, I needed a legal reason to wait for her. So, I used the court case as a reason to serve her in person, thus being able to obtain GA custody until the hearing.
That Sunday I didn’t sleep a wink. 6:30am, I park my truck at the hardware store around the back of the vet, so CF wouldn’t see it. 8:00am the clinic opens. I walked in, documents in hand, and tell them everything and insist they let her in so I may serve her the documents and take GA. Regrettably, I forgot this was a functioning clinic and was told this could not happen inside, out of respect to the other patients. Me “Oh crap that’s more then fair, well what are my options?” Vet. “Well, we can bar her from the clinic under the proceeds of crime and you can serve her in the parking lot.” Me. “perfect I’ll wait in the sub shop down the way. you absolutely can not inform her of this.” Vet. “Not a problem we hope you get her back; we wish you luck.”
Off to the sub shop I go, for the longest 2 hours of my life. I get a phone call from JT, fully aware of my plan “hey we got rained out I’m off work do you want me there?” Me. “YES please come right away you can help record and dial the police.” The dominos are stacked, my shaky finger on the last one. JT shows up and we rehearse the plan; I must have checked the time a million times. The time comes I say where the hell is she. JT, with the calmest voice goes “she’s right there.” Me. “WTF!!” I ran out, papers in hand. JT calls the cops and starts recording. I utter the legal jargon, serve her the paperwork and latch onto GA as gentle and firm as I can, so CF can’t break my grip and wait for the police. They arrive in minutes. Get our stories. Check my paperwork. Separate us and attempt to figure out the situation. Low and behold, cop BF shows up. I’m told he’s “off duty” and is here in a BF capacity. Me, JT, two uniformed officers, CF, and cop BF talking, waiting with a level of uncertainty of the outcome. 2 hours goes by, and we ask what’s going on. I’m told that they are trying to defuse the situation, but cop BF has requested a supervisor. Well, he shows up and talks in great length to the BF, seeming frustrated. 3 hours go by, the supervisor walks up to me and demands our paperwork; I happily oblige. He reviews the documents and walks off, then comes back a minute or two later. “You gotta leash?” This clinic happens to be right next door to a pet store. So, just in case, I bought a leash in the three hours I was waiting. I hand him the leash. Words cannot describe the feeling as we watch the supervisor walk GA over to us after so long. Gone for 10 weeks total and waiting for three hours for the cops to deal with the situation. October 31, 2022, will be a day I will never forget. We will forever celebrate that day. Folks WE GOT HER!! What was once stolen by someone who couldn’t move on, was finally returned.

Thank you to anyone who read all of this. I needed to tell my story and I hope this was a good cup of tea for someone. I mean what I say, if anyone is going through something similar and is looking for help, please don’t hesitate. to reach out. For any questions, comments, or PM’s, I will read them, but I wish to update them publicly

At the time of this post 145 thousand people are still without power going on almost 6 days without power. Tornado wiped out our power grid in select areas throughout Texas (I believe the number was about 800 thousand people got hit without power). Here's some things I learned and a situation report of my experience living with a very large family of mixed ages.
Context: We had been getting hit with some pretty gnarly weather however business as usual in Texas. I didn't think much of it usually when our grids down they're pretty quick to respond minus the snow storm years back. So when I heard there was a storm brewing I didn't even flinch I always keep some very very basics, battery's, lights, water, 2 weeks minimum of non perishable foods, self defense protection, and ammo, etc. But I hardly consider myself a prepper anymore, but I know some people don't even have that.
I use to be really on top of my preps overtime, however my stockpile had dwindled, as did my thirst for knowledge and hands on experience/training. I just honestly wasn't on top of my game anymore, and quit taking this as serious years ago. This tornado really brought me back to reality, so this post is mostly for entry level preppers looking at some practical advice from a 5 day experience, I fully regret the fact I quit taking this serious years ago.
First Day: Around 6pm, emergency alert on phone stating tornado in your area, seek shelter immediately. Thought ok let's shelter in the master bedroom closet. Wind rocked the house pretty good, could hear limbs from tree's falling, within about 10 minutes the power shuts off, and glancing outside within a hour the streets flooded. The storm had died down, as did the flooding, and it was time to asses the damage in the immediate area. Got in the car, power had blown out pretty much every store/house within a several mile zone. Found one square zone with a few places that had power, got some fast food but waited about 30 minutes because everyone went there.
What I wish I had on day one/ and general notes:
Rain boots: The streets had not only flooded but was blocked by limbs in the roadway. Luckily our flooding wasn't too severe but had it been I wish I did have rainboots so normal shoes didn't get soaked, or some type of beach sandals, etc.
Chainsaw, electric saw, axes, regular saw: Would of come in handy if the limbs in our area blocking the road were any bigger.
Higher up vehicles: Some vehicles couldn't make it through the flood due to being so low to the ground, so take into account your vehicles.
More variety of quality flashlights: Electric Lanterns came in clutch, but wish I had more handhelds, head mounted, and higher end lanterns.
Battery Inventory checks: Wish I had not only more batteries cause you really do burn through these quick, but wish I had checked all my lights battery condition, and stored new batteries in waterproof containers.
Alternative sources to battery's: Not a huge fan of candles due to fire risk, but some not scented beeswax or soy based candles would of came in handy to help ration battery supply. Maybe glass lanterns as well for safety and ease of transport. Glowsticks would of been great option too.
Car chargers: Believe it or not some of us didn't have car chargers for our cell phones cause we mostly charge our phones at home, although we were able to share, wish we had this on day one for all our phones.
Fully charged portable battery bank, or portable phone chargers: If we had this we wouldn't of been out in our cars late at night charging stuff putting us at more risk for being possible victims to crime.
Quality of cell phone, and cellphone provider: Have a POS phone but keep putting off upgrading it? Don't. Luckily mine was good but some of our cellphone providers carriers had better signal then others, some of are phones were in bad shape and it was noted we wish we didn't put off upgrading it sooner. You can't predict how well your provider will do but maybe do your research, unsure how this works but now I can do my research and learn from it. I had 0 issues with boost mobile but other family members weren't so lucky.
Cash: This is obvious but due to us moving towards a cashless society its pretty uncommon, but this would of came in handy due to how many places didn't have power. You can do so much with cash.
Battery powered or rechargeable camping fans: I did have one of these, it even had a light but wish I had more.
Larger ice chest: Now we had a few, but they were smaller. We lost everything in our fridge/freezer besides canned drinks, I mean everything. We had just bought grocery's too, lesson learned.
OTC sleeping medication: We had melatonin, and Tylenol pm, but it was so quiet you could hear a mouse sneeze a block over, until the generators turned on. First two are OK options but given its only going to be cool at night, and we knew tomorrow would be hot, we took kratom to sleep. Check your area some states it's illegal, not recommending it but it's what we used. I wish I had stockpiled more kratom, I took it when I got the flu on top of C word to relieve body aches and found out it really helped me sleep and ease pain/stress. Usually cycle this 3 days on max, one day off to prevent habit forming.
(This is really for day two + but ill post this here cause I noticed it on day one)
Backup supply of my personal vices or quitting personal vices: I know this may sound stupid but I am fully addicted to caffeine, and nicotine. I picked my poison and know what I signed up for. Caffeine really? yeah really not sure if you know this but for some people caffeine withdrawal can make you really suffer, and I mean really suffer check out decaf. I was in the process of lowering my caff intake to 1 cup of tea a day, and quit soda. Was one month off soda before the storm came in, but had to relapse due to us not carrying high caff tea on supply.
But yeah stock up on your vices so you aren't going through withdrawals during an emergency. Was on 3mg per ml of nicotine and had to dish out 30$ for a disposable vape thats 50mg per ml at a gas station on day two to prevent withdrawals. So I was on way higher dose of nic then usual due to only being able to purchase what I could find, for reference 50mg per ml if you use that in 10 days thats about a pack of ciggs worth of nic per day. So yeah either quit your vice or stock up, I don't advocate hard drugs at all so this isn't for that but this is mainly aimed at coffee/caff use, etc. Instant coffee packs may be great for some people.
Battery powered radio: Can't stress enough how mentally taxing silence can be long term. We had one, but the battery port crapped out. Lesson learned, test your preps.
Backup food for your pet friends: Luckily I was pretty good on pet food but imagine if I wasn't, and this was more severe.
Water situation: Had a decent amount of drinking water, we had running water. If we didn't I would say I wish I had filled up the giant jugs I bought for flushing the toilet/doing dishes or running through a berkey water filter if we ran out of drinking water. I had bought 5 gallon blue jugs specifically for this years back. However I cleaned them out, and didn't refill, Lesson learned.
2nd Day: We were able to cook some stuff on a gas stove, luckily. People at gas stations were stocking up on ice, filling their gas cans up for their generators, and shelves were getting empty at stores with power only on some things though wasn't too bad cause the power outage was scattered some had power, others didn't. Mostly a waiting game at this point, most of the preps I wish I had on this day were the same as day one, but ill toss in some stuff I wish I had. Obtained a portable battery powered radio, the morale boost was real for everyone, even the dogs.
What I wish I had on day two/ and general notes:
BBQ style lighters to light gas stove: We had two but recently tossed em out due to being empty. Realized I had no bics, and only had one box of matches, feels bad man.
Entertainment: Board games like checkers, board games for kids, chess, basic poker set, etc. These would of been awesome and a great way to keep the kids entertained and the adults, the boredom was real. We hit local goodwill's that had power to look for radios, and cheap prep supplies and games, but no luck.
Third day: By then reality set in for most people, neighbors who could afford to do so booked hotels or bugged out to places with power. The generators really started up by day three, everyone was buying gas for them and you could hear them in almost every direction. Pretty sure some people had it from the start but noticed them more by day three. A lot of people were sitting outside the front of their homes trying to escape the heat. Ice from most places were completely sold out, so you had to really shop around to find any.
Finding news about the power outage day 1-3 was kind of hit and miss, KHOU news updates were pretty short and it took us some time to know how severe the storms damage actually was, cause we were focused on trying to get stuff done around the house and conserving battery. I believe at one point CenterPoint's actual website went down. Mostly resulted to local news channels, and nextdoor app. We couldn't watch live news and had to rely on when KHOU posted youtube videos.
Private security company's hired guards and they started patrolling certain stores that could afford the security, obviously to deter looters. Traffic everywhere was insane in every which direction during peak hours more then usual, PD presence was pretty high, more then usual.
What I wish I had on day three/ and general notes:
Generator: Pretty obvious why, had no experience with them but wish I did, and wish I bought one pre-blackout when I was more into prepping and took time to learn about them and how to use and maintain them properly.
Ham radio: Or something to pick up on local freqs to monitor radio comms for information regarding the storm and local activity if any. I think this may of been better then waiting on local news to post videos.
Day Four: Buddy had power so he dropped off his generator and gave me quick instructions on how to run it, how far away to place them, etc. By day four the temps really ramped up, and this thing definitely kept us cool. When you think of bartering you think of some post apocalypse stuff, but no. In reality you can barter during any emergency, buddy dropped it off free of charge but was able to offer some booze as a thank you. So even if you don't drink stock up on booze/ciggs to barter, never know what you might trade it for. Times are tough in this economy and I honestly didn't have much money to spare, family had to pool our funds together to get last minute preps to survive this, cause we didn't know how long this would really last. In certain areas they said it could be weeks. However the alcohol was a small thank you that I could afford and he was happy so all worked out.
Gas cans were sold out, and extension cord supply's were looking extremely low at local hardware store. From what I overheard they also completely sold out of generators. Honestly wish I knew more about electrical stuff but my buddy gave me a small crash course in wiring everything. You can't just plug it in and pray for the best. Bought the best gauge extensions cords I could afford for our needs, and the distance and hooked it up.
We ran one bedroom AC unit, fans for the dogs, wired a light, and a charging station. Also don't cheap out on gas cans it's not worth blowing your face off or starting a fire, or having it leak. If you get a generator do your research on how to properly run it, and safely fill it. Crime in this area can be fairly high we've had a few drive by shootings and other not so good police involved things. Read this book along time ago about post collapse security, so I blacked out our windows so when we turned lights on no one knew we had power. You may hear the generator, but from the street we look like we don't have anything going for us. My biggest fear was looters from people who were less fortunate or really down bad. We near a common site for homeless people as well so they foot traffic the area.
Generators are very loud, between that and listening to the radio 12 hours a day, I was beginning to audio hallucinate lyrics that weren't there with the radio off, and suffered from heat exhaustion. That and the fact we had homeless in our area and tweekers who might loot I was running off adrenaline a bit. 24 hours almost that night without sleep, and didn't even feel tired. Slept near my firearm until my family woke up at daylight and when daylight hit I knew we were in the clear and I passed out.
What I wish I had on day fou and general notes:
Knowledge of generators.
Knowledge about electricity/wiring them safely.
Security: Some type of physical alarm bell to put on the door like metal door knob alarm bells so it jingles if anyone enters to alert the dogs, had to keep the door slightly cracked so the wires hooked up to the generator would fit. So we couldn't lock the door, which is probably where my anxiety of tweekers coming in came from.
Day Five: Same shit different day, power came on that evening.
Conclusion: Just cause it doesn't look like societal collapse or WW3 prep your shit for emergency's native to your area or go beyond, idc but prep. They ain't coming to help for awhile, or at all if it's very severe...so it's up to you and your community to pull through. This was a wake up call, thanks for coming to my prep talk.

Noah The Pilgrim
Previous First Next
'Noah.'
You can't feel your body, you try to move but receive no feedback from your arms and legs. You open our eyes, or were they always opened? It's difficult to tell when only darkness surrounds you.
'You're here again.'
It's that same voice you heard before waking up in that pod. You try to speak but fail. It feels like you left your body behind, existing only inside your mind.
'Allow me.'
From the dark, a circle of light emerges, filling your vision. The light is not blinding, nor is it too bright to obfuscate the dark, it's just bright enough to reach your eyes without prompting discomfort.
It's the Star. That much, you know for certain.
Normally, you'd feel hopelessly scared, but somehow, all you feel is soothed by its light.
'I remember telling you we wouldn't see each other for a long time. Why are you here?'
Although you wished to answer the question, you could not. Both because you have no control over your body, and because you don't know the answer.
'...'
You recall the AI telling you the purpose of the ship you're in. It was to study this star.
Why? What's so special about this particular star? Sure, it's on the very edge of the ever-expanding universe, but aside from that, it's just a star. A very odd-looking star, but a star nonetheless.
'What's so special about me... Nothing.'
A shiver runs down your spine. It feels as though you've forgotten a significant thing about yourself, and you're sure this star has something to do with it.
'How are you feeling, Noah?'
Like shit. That is what you wanted to answer.
You've been going with the flow ever since you woke up in that pod, not asking yourself neither how or why you've been put in that place, only nodding your way to the bridge.
You've been bombarded with memories that you're sure aren't yours, but your own memories also feel shrouded in a thick haze, and yet, you didn't bother to even think about why it was, only accepting that as truth without understanding this strange phenomenon.
When confronted with things beyond your current knowledge you refuse to acknowledge it by not asking yourself what it is, or by illuding yourself into thinking it's a dream.
Even now, you refuse to acknowledge this impossible place you've found yourself in.
'Why is it that you turn away?'
What to blame for that? You didn't even feel the need to ask anything about yourself. Randomly remembering things as though you were reading them off a manual, taking whatever FYARN says as an absolute truth, and not even reacting to the abhorrent state of the Odyssey.
When FYARN told you about the relationship between the alien and the human races, it told you how superior humans were, and it also told you that the human race lost the war. You didn't bother to call out that clear discrepancy then because you felt as though it didn't concern you, despite being clearly at the forefront of that conflict.
When FYARN asked what you remembered, you simply stated you didn't remember nearly anything, and yet you've made no strive to fix that issue, accepting it as the absolute truth.
All there was left to blame was yourself.
'You're doing it again, turning away from the truth.'
Was it because your situation was impossibly bizarre?
Waking up in a half-blown spaceship could be enough to drive a man to the brink with how random and impossible that notion was. Especially when that man was just a salary man, living month to month, working an unfulfilling job, all while being called the best.
'Perhaps. But I believe that the issue lies much, much deeper.'
The utter darkness shifts and contorts unexplainably. Moving shadows take formless shapes before you. From black to grey, and from grey to different shades of it. Those shapes of impossible geometry cast shadows downwards, as the star stared at you from above.
The shapes expanded and contracted into euclidean and understandable structures. Tall rectangular towers filled the horizon, decorating a path akin to buildings in a busy city.
On the foot of one of those structures, you see a man dwarfed by the sheer size of the scenery.
'Who do you think that is?'
You approach him.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. Your brown eyes stare back at it, analyzing the bags beneath his eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, hastily combed to hide the laziness behind his look. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
He's wearing a white tuckered-in buttoned shirt with a pair of jeans. A black backpack weighed on his back as he walked through this empty street.
A position you could imagine yourself in, every day of the week.
If you had failed to piece together who that was, it became clear once you noticed the empty look on his face.
It's obvious who that is.
He is a man whose bright dreams have been crushed under the weight of mankind.
How cruel, to be forced to gaze into a dirty mirror...
'You are starting to see it. Let's go further.'
The ractangular towers floated away, as the man continued to walk into the grey void.
Four white walls covered both you and the man, grey shapes transformed into a chair and desk, inviting the man to sit on it.
It was a plain desk and a plain chair, and when the shapes stopped transmogrifying themselves, a plain computer, monitor, keyboard, and mouse rested atop the desk.
Fitting for a plain man. You watch him sitting down in the chair, putting his backpack on the floor beneath the table.
From the backpack, he conjured a notebook and a set of pencils and erasers. He quickly turned the computer on.
This was his job.
The monitor remained grey despite how the man typed on the keyboard. The notebook remained grey despite how the man scribbled on it with the pencil.
A humanoid figure came to be from the geometric mess of grey nearby. It passed by the working man. "G'day Noah." It spoke, as he vanished into the white walls that surround you.
The man didn't bother to respond, he didn't bother to stop his work, and he didn't even bother to look up from his notebook.
Another humanoid figure passed by, holding what looked to be sheets of paper. "Hey Noah, could you sort these documents out for me? I'm swamped today..."
The man looks at the thick collection of papers in the figure's hands. He just started his shift and already lacks the energy and motivation to keep going with his day.
And despite that, he did not want to disappoint.
He points to the empty space on his desk, motioning for the figure to leave it there.
The figure places the paperwork on the man's desk. "Thanks, I owe you big time for this!" After saying that, the figure disappeared into the white walls of the room.
He did not speak a singular word.
You recall this... Feeling.
'Do you remember their names, Noah?'
You could not.
'Do you remember their faces, Noah?'
You could not.
'These people, you used to see them every day. Why do you not know who they are?'
What was the point of it? Why did it matter? Why did they matter?
'Because they are people.'
To you, those figures were nothing but placeholders for those who did the same thing as you. They were nothing special, just like you. So why bother to recall their faces?
'We must go further.'
The white cubicle ceased to be, alongside the man in plain clothing.
The towering rectangles swiftly returned, and with it came a young adult in his early twenties.
Your brown eyes stare back at his. The short dark hair looked as though it was combed for hours until it was perfect. You see a trimmed beard, neatly cut with a blade most sharp. You see that his face has been recently subjected to a daily skin-care regime.
This young man looks to be full of energy.
He's wearing a white tuckered-in buttoned shirt with a pair of jeans. A black backpack was strapped to his back as he walked through this empty street.
Again, you know who this is, yet you don't have the guts to accept it.
'...'
The ringing tune of a cell phone came from the young man's pockets. He promptly picked it up.
"Hey, Noah!" You hear the voice coming from the other side of the call. "The boys and I are going to throw a party today in my place to celebrate finishing high school. You better show up tonight!" It sounds like the voice originates from a man. He is yelling at the phone.
You watch as the young man smirks. "You can bet I'll be there." He answered. "I'll be done with today's interview and head there as soon as possible."
"Great... Something came up, catch you later bud!" And just like that, the call ended. The young man pocketed his phone.
You know how the rest of that day went. The young man passed the interview and secured his spot in a large IT company, then he went to his friend's place and had the best night of his life.
Those memories were the ones you revisited endlessly.
The grey shapes and humanoid figures vanish, returning to utter blackness.
Once again, all you see is the star.
'What happened, Noah?'
You couldn't say. Maybe it wasn't some big thing that happened, but rather a large quantity of small things that eventually crashed down upon you like an avalanche that built up for a long time.
Friends leaving to live their own lives.
Underappreciation of your career.
Your incapacity to form meaningful relationships.
The feeling of being small in the greater scheme of things.
The notion of your life being wasted for nothing.
A lack of accomplishment that was caused by a lack of problems.
You letting your physical appearance go.
But, even amongst all of those aggravating motives, there was one thing that always pained your heart to even recall. For that reason, you refused to acknowledge and even think about it. A trend that would continue for the upcoming years of your life.
Your dream.
Once adulthood came and expectations weighed on you, you had to choose. Live a comfortable life, or throw it all away in exchange for an idea that probably wouldn't even work, to begin with.
You refused to let go at first. Holding unto what little hope there was left for that dream of yours.
In three short years, your life shifted completely.
Friends grew distant, and now all you had as a replacement for them were faceless figures who spoke to you about a job you never really wanted.
Those very same figures held you in high regard, always saying how talented you were or how impressive your skills were. In truth, you never felt like what you did was worth the effort or the praise.
All you ever did in that company was half-assed at best, yet they praised you like their savior. You grew complacent under those who put you on a pedestal.
Your salary increased, and so did the responsibilities, but never were it challenging or engaging. It felt tasteless and odorless.
You refused to even respond to small talk from those people. How could you? If you did, they would shower you with praises you didn't deserve. That theory was proven time and time again.
All you did every day was sitting on a chair, eyes glued to the screen to meet an assortment of numbers and labels. This was nothing. There were people out there, changing the world, fixing the real problems, and you're there, sorting out numbers for a company created to sort out data for a company created to sort out data.
A null uroboros.
Twenty-eight years of a human's life, and for what? To waste away like a gear on a machine?
You remained ignorant of your ignorance. There were no problems since you had more than enough money from your ever-increasing salary you felt you didn't deserve.
You couldn't even bring yourself to quit, afraid to face the consequences, afraid to be replaced. A fact you understood fully well, yet you refused to acknowledge.
Clinging to a feeling of guilt, you couldn't help but hold on to this life. Your life, Noah.
You longed for a change, but wouldn't bring yourself to change it.
Your dream that you lived for so long ago, is something you couldn't even remember. You hid it away in a dark corner of your mind, hoping to never face it again, or else you would break down.
That is what happened.
The coldness of the world is what happened.
You wouldn't go as far as to say that you were a victim of fate.
Instead, you'd say you were a victim of yourself.
'And yet, you're here now. In an impossible place. In an impossible life.'
Are you to waste away on this place as well?
'You had conviction, but lacked guidance.'
Can you even muster that much courage? You fear what the future could bring.
'I presented you this chance for a reason, so you may show them that your soul is the brightest of them all.'
Fear is born for there is hope, but bravery is born for there is fear. You recall someone telling you that once, but...
'Remember this, Noah.'
Where does the courage to take a step forward come from? When it's so dark that you can't see the path ahead, how should one muster enough courage to make the right call?
'Whenever you feel lost, or alone; Whenever you feel like there is no way forward;'
Your vision starts to blur. The star begins to fade.
'So you may never lose your way again;'
Looks like it's time to return to reality.
'I, am your...'
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be two to three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Hey all!
So the premise here is that a young couple are moving in together for the first time, and it's a brief look at their first evening and morning together. I've written it as a girlfriend as this is actually based on real events, but the listener can be anyone. Girlfriend can also be changed to boyfriend if preferable :)
Fine to monetize, just give me credit and link back here :) also, if anyone wants to fill this, awesome!!!
There is a mix of internal and external monologue here. Hope I've kept that clear in the text but, if not, please let me know!
Girlfriend
(knocking on the door)
Hello! Is anyone here? Oh, hi! Sorry I’m a bit late. Took ages to load up the car. Hmm? Sorry, I know you have other clients! Yeah, of course, I’m sure they’re on the way.
(internal, sarcastically)
Well, this estate agent seems lovely. Is she actually going to let me in?
(spoken)
Are we okay to wait inside? I think it’s going to rain. Thankyou…
(internal)
I still can’t believe we’re doing this! I hope I haven’t brought too much stuff. They said they’re barely bringing anything! Oh, this place looks a little dusty! Floor’s a bit messy! I’ll have to give it a clean. God, I hope they don’t lose patience with me. Their room at home always seems so tidy, but I know their mum is a bit of a clean freak too.
(spoken)
Sorry? Yeah, this is our first place together. We’ve been going out for three years and I just got a new job, so we figured why not? Renting for now, but hoping to buy a place in a year or two.
(internal)
If they don’t run a mile after living with me for a few weeks. I’m okay to live with, right? My housemates didn’t have an issue at [insert Uni or college, depending on location]. Oh god, what if…
(spoken)
Sorry, I’m here now. Oh yeah, I remember I really liked this kitchen! New oven, cool! Tell the landlord thanks! Yeah, I may as well start signing everything whilst we wait. I’m really sure they won’t be much longer.

The sound of knocking.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Oh, that’ll be them now! Come up! We’re just in the kitchen. Hey!
(internal)
Ah man, I still get jittery when they smile at me like that! I still can’t believe we’re doing this. I know we spend all our weekends and most evenings together but it is going to be different, actually living together. We need to get a joint account set up, we’re going to need to go shopping ASAP – there’s literally nothing in! The internet people better turn up tomorrow! I’ve only got [speaker to insert their favourite show] boxsets for us to watch and I’m not sure that’s their thing…
(spoken)
Sorry, I was miles away. So we both sign here? Oh, rules? Okay?
(internal)
Gosh, do they think we’re going to be throwing mad parties every week? We’re not kids! Security deposit? We know this already! Ah, I shouldn’t be so harsh. She’s just doing her job. But does she have to act like we’re planning on burning the place down? Oh, one year’s tenancy? No early release? Eeesh, what if they don’t want to stay… oh wow, they signed really quickly!
(spoken)
Thankyou. I don’t think I have any questions. Do you?
(internal)
There’s that smile again. They look so excited! I hope they’re not as nervous as me. Oh, she’s leaving. Good.
(spoken)
Well, here we are. Just the two of us now. No… second thoughts? No, of course not! All my stuff’s outside, is yours? Shall we get it all in first and then think about where everything is going to go? Oh, your dad’s given us that TV? Fantastic! Think my laptop might be about to die!

Around half an hour later…

Girlfriend
(spoken, sounds out of breath)
Okay! Big pile of stuff. Least we got it in.
(internal)
How do they only have like three suitcases? I couldn’t even fit everything in my car!
(spoken)
I knew I shouldn’t have brought so many books! No idea where we’re going to put them. And the bathroom really is small! I know we said we didn’t mind, but…

Sound of a kiss.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
I love you too. Sorry, I’m overthinking things again. How are you feeling? I know! Still can’t quite believe we have our own place. We really needed it. I swear my dad was deliberately being annoying half the time. Always banging around downstairs! Shush, I’m not just like him! He’ll be okay. He’s got mum. I guess it must be weird with all your kids gone.
(internal)
Dad was so great about everything. Maybe I should have let him come help us move in, but I kind of wanted this to just be us.
(spoken)
Yeah, let’s take a proper look around.
(internal)
I need to chill. This place is really nice, especially for the price. I love the living room. Still can’t believe the sofa and chairs came with the flat. The sofa looks so comfortable. I can’t wait for us to snuggle up on there. They even left a little reading lamp in the corner! I hope they don’t mind if I want to just read some nights. They didn’t really seem to before, but now it’s just us all the time…
Ahhh, I wish the bathroom was bigger! The shower’s a bit ancient. I dunno if we’d both fit in… shit, now they can see me blushing, great! Let’s move out of here quickly!
Really good cupboard space for a small bedroom. I’ve got so many clothes though. I may need to use some of their space as well! Dad was right. I should have had a clear out before I came.
(spoken, laughing)
Don’t jump on the bed like that! Because it’s all tidy! Yeah, I know nobody’s coming round today, but… I am chilled! Wait, what? Okay, fine, I’ll try it out. Yeah, it is very comfy.
(internal)
They smell so good today. I love it when they wear this. I don’t even know what it is. Guess I’ll be seeing it in the bathroom, so I know what to get them for their birthday.

Sound of kissing.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Are you happy we’ve done this?
(internal)
It’s weird how right this feels. I know it’s just the two of us here now, and I don’t feel nervous. This is just so cool.
(spoken)
What? Let you show me? How… oh….

Sound of kissing and giggling.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Hey you. We have a lot of unpacking to… oh, you’re so mean.

More kissing.

Girlfriend
(internal)
I love it when they stroke my hair like this. Okay, pinning my hands above my head. That’s… new. Kinda like it though. It is so good that nobody can possibly disturb us. We can literally do anything we want to! Okay, my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Typical.
(spoken)
Okay, we can, ohhh…
(internal)
I could get used to this.

The next morning…

Girlfriend
(internal)
What time is it? Must be getting late, it’s so bright in here. We need better curtains! This bed is so comfy though. I must have fallen asleep so quickly last night. Urgh, I’m so groggy in the morning. Wait, where are they? Can I hear noises in the kitchen? And what’s that smell? Oh, they must be cooking something. Bless them. I’m still so full from last night. It was so awesome to just have the night together in our own place! They’re getting better at cooking. I’ll need to make us something tonight.
I better get up soon. It’s just so warm in here. Ah, I need the bathroom. I still feel a bit awkward about that, but they’re so lovely about it. I’ll just sneak in now…
(spoken)
Oh hey! I thought you were in the kitchen. Oh, what you carrying? Wow, breakfast in bed! Thanks!

Sound of eating.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Oh man, this is so good! When did you become a Michelin Chef? Your mum usually cooks for us!
(internal)
How do they look so awesome even though they’ve just woke up? I bet I look a right mess. Ah, there’s that smile again.
(spoken)
What? Haha, pull the other one. If there’s one thing I look like now, it isn’t beautiful. Have you seen my hair? Looks like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Okay, now you’re just teasing me! I guess I better get dressed in a sec. How long you been up? An hour? You’ve been trying to build the TV stand? How’s that gone? Oh…
(internal)
Bless them. They really aren’t very good at DIY. Good thing the landlord should take care of any repairs we need. My bookshelf should arrive today. Might be better to get Dad to come help us with that. If they’re not offended.
(spoken)
Okay, I am full! That was awesome though, thankyou! I’ll cook tonight. Unless you wanted to try that takeaway we saw round the corner… haha, you really know me so well.

Sound of kissing.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Okay, I’ll jump in the shower then I’ll come and help you! There’s something I wanted to give you as well. I meant to last night but by the time we got everything unpacked I forgot! It’s in my bag, hold on, I’ll get it.
(internal)
They’re so cute. I can see them checking me out. Don’t know what’s so hot about these pyjamas. They’re like three years old and literally have super-heroes on them. Oh god, why did I wear… no, I can’t keep overthinking this stuff. Not if we’re going to live together.
(spoken)
Here it is! I got it custom made. Open it.

Sound of ripping paper.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
It’s that picture I took of you and Bounce a few years back. Remember, for one of our first dates you took me for a walk in the forest with her? We almost lost her when she tried to chase after a bird? I know you’re going to miss her living here, so I thought you’d like a picture of her. I’d say she could come round any time, but I don’t think we’re allowed pets.
(internal)
Ah man, I hope this is okay. They really love that dog and I know it was hard on them to leave them.
(spoken)
You love it? Of course, you’re welcome! I love you too.

Sound of kissing.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
You know I over think everything and I’m a little, well, full-on sometimes, but I just want you to know I’m so happy we’ve done this. I can’t wait for, well, everything! You mean the world to me, and I’m so happy you want to live with me.
(pause, then spoken)
Here’s to the next forever!

So before these last couple weeks, I had only ever played ME2, with my disk copy of ME1 being broken so the game would crash when arriving at the Citadel for the first time. But after playing Andromeda, I couldn't help feeling after 60 hours and 96% completion, that I just played 3 different games.
Let me explain.
The first game was personally my favourite. Arriving at Habitat 07, finding the Nexus in it's unfinished state, arriving at EOS and exploring the failed outposts and experiencing a limited progression until you progress the planet's story further. I loved how the wider world was cut off by high radiation that kept my exploration limited to a managable amount initially. I loved how once I set up the colony, I got to decide what type of colony it was (I picked Military for obvious reasons), and even got an awesome cutscene of the prefabs and shuttles landing on the planet. I loved how soon after fixing the vault, things started to improve, more of the map opened up, SAM gave me a run down of what was now available and the environment seemed to change visually.
This set up my assumptions for the rest of game quite high and I was all for it. However, things quickly changed after going to the second habitable planent. Aya.
Suddenly I've been thrown onto a small accessible hub area with no planetary exploration, and instead been presented with fish lipped, bug eyed, wannabe Twi'leks. I am no longer in my explore, adapt, overcome mind set and I'm suddenly brought into a "Gotta make these new aliens like me unlike the other group of aliens" mind set. This is in itself isn't terrible as it varies the gameplay and the story, however the game NEVER returns to the previous experience that I was greatly looking forward to, but I pressed onwards with the hope that my EOS experience would continue.
I was wrong.
More systems were now made accessible (Despite the Nexus saying that their probes only reached as far as Aya's system), so naturally I checked, did the repetetive task of going from planet to planet with a roughly 20% payout of either 270xp or a mineral vein visable from space that gives less than a single mineral node you find planetside, and then proceeded to Havarl. My hopes remained high as the map appeared small and the Nomad wasn't usable, and 2 of the 3 remnant towers were already activated, massively bringing down the amount of busy work I had to do. I didn't consider this as a planet to colonize and instead treated it like a large hub area with a few story progression quests, like finding our lovable gay Turian spectre Avitus and getting the first clues as to the status of the other 3 Arks. I did the Vault, established a research outpost with the Angaran's and was satisfied.
Then I moved onto Vauld.
Up to this point and a little more, I had believed that my EOS experience would return now that I had Aya and Havarl out of the way. When I landed on Vauld, I loved the atmosphere. It was dark, cold and clearly had something for me to achieve. My first thought while walking through the snow (aside from wondering why there was a pilot telling me he was ready to assault the enemy stronghold once I gave the go ahead), was "Wow, I can't wait to see how things change once the vault is active, I bet the ice is going to melt gradually and you'll see the ground underneath". Suffice to say my Vauld experience peaked after leaving the resistance base, approaching the 2 Angaran's standing outside and looked down at the large open area for me to explore. And with my hopes still high, explore I did. However this was the first major sign that things had changed.
There was no longer locked progression, waiting for me to restore the vault (Unlike EOS which had lvl 1 and lvl 3, Valud only had lvl 1 and lvl 2 which only stifled exploration but didn't directly prevent it). There was no awesome cutscene or meaningful choice once I established my outpost. There was no visual change except for somewhat clear skies, and I really had no reason to come back to the planet afterwards except to complete quests I was too lazy to do straight away, or continue missions that brought me back. At this point it was clear that my assumptions of the game were incorrect and the experience I enjoyed from EOS would not be returning.
Then we moved onto Kadara, the planet I hate the most. I landed into another hub area, again with no accessible exploration area, but unlike Aya, this planet had one that was separated by a loading screen. Sloane was a bitch and I questioned how the Angara here had been mingling with the Milky Way exiles for the last 14 months, yet our landing on Aya was apparently first contact with the Angaran's who were already associated with our lovable rogue.
Again, planet exploration disapointed me, except this time there was even less than Vauld. Now the only environmental hazard was sulfur water which was practically an insta kill if you so much as touched the water with your toe. I did the usual, went to every forward base, collected every mission and task, completed the story progression and then resolved the conflict that would allow me to get an outpost down. And despite Vauld giving me little reason to return after, Kadara gave me even less! With the only reason to return being follow ups of other missions and loyalty missions. But hey at least the water no longer kills you. I guess that's "progression".
And to my dissapointment, Havarl was actually considered an Outpost/Colony, meaning the last place I had to go to was Elaaden. The second Desert planet (Though this one is hot instead of radioactive), the home of the exiled Krogans, and another planet where the Angaran have an established presence and have been in contact with the exiles for 14 months with Ryder being first contact 14 months later. Though I was just glad to finally find out where Drak had apparently come from ever since he mentioned moving with his clan after leaving the Nexus and being found on EOS, despite his clan being firmly established in Elaaden.
Like Vauld and Kadara. I drove around without any temporary limitation. Got the forward bases. Collected the quests and met the bitch in charge (In Elaaden there are actually 2 bitches in charges, though only 1 of which you can actually get rid of and replace). I did the story progression, resolved the local problems, watched an epic battle between 2 Krogan that I had absolutely no influence over (Couldn't even decide who to put incharge of New Tachanka like I could do with Kadara port), and just as quickly as I arrived at Elaaden, I had left. Leaving the Arks and Meridian to resolve.
Resolving the arks were a little dissapointing. I had hoped to recover the Arks, expand options for colonization, gain more quests and give me more reason to explore. Instead all I ended up with was 2 functional arks. A loss of about 25% of the Turians, Asarians and Salarians that came to Andromeda and not a single original Path Finder on the Nexus. And despite in game dialogue mentioning that the retrieval of the Arks had allowed for construction to continue on the Nexus, there was no visual changes of the Nexus which remained in the same half built state since the start of the game (When I saw Nexus levels, I had incorrectly believed that each time the level increased, the Nexus would gradually be completed).
And then there was Meridian, which was actually a Remnant space station/city that you needed to bring back online. At this point it was felt like the 3rd game had come into effect. While the first game had great exploration and colonization, while the 2nd game felt like a more tedius version of ME1 with less meaningful choices and plot, and more filler. And now we've moved onto the 3rd game, which is a massively rushed attempt at "ending" the game and giving some minor rewards/punishments for choices you've made through the mid game and the end boss fight being a partial Architect fight filled with many remnant forces, which follows a "warthog run" populazised by the final mission of Halo Combat Evolved.
There is nothing reflective of the rest of the game in the final missions, and after the final mission, the epilogue sets up or leaves unanswered questions that would have/should have been answered in DLC or a Sequal.
These being:
Qaurian Ark (Probably chased by 1 or more Reapers that escaped by the Crucible destroying everything)
Removing the Scourge (Implied that it could be removed in Meridian, but then never brought up again)
Uncovering the Benefactor (Likely The Elusive Man or The Shadow Broker (Could be Liara or the previous one))
Turning outposts into Colonies
Construction of Port Meridian
Fixing Ryder - 01 (Previously Habitat 07)
The Ancient AI (Disapears after the Hyperion gets stolen)
Waking Ryder's mother
Restoring Communication with the Milky Way (They questioned why communication wasn't open after setting the nexus up)
Connecting the Engine (Meridian) to the Remnant City and activating all Vaults remotely
Primus informing the Kett Empire about what's happened in the Heleus cluster
And probably a few other smaller that I can't recall at this time.
So there it is. Why does the game feel like 3 different games in 1 package? Why did the game peak at EOS and then slowly decline for the rest of the game?
I look forward to discussions in the comments.

Wade held Jasmine in his arms as he flew a low height down the long road to another section of the staryard, Tina on his back and Nathan and F right behind them in the air. Together, the five glided across the base grounds, taking care as to not irritate the aerial security during their search for the meeting room. Being outside for the flight, the group considered it a blessing that Wade's 'enhanced cooling unit' allowed his body to tolerate the breaching sun in the still cloudy sky, which, according to F, was dangerous to drones like her due to the inefficient cooling she and disassembly drones like her suffered from. Given F's physical fault, she had to fly under shady areas in order to safely traverse the base at day.
Originally, Wade and his friends had planned to walk to the meeting zone, but after running into a trooper experiencing a health mishap, the group did what they could to help the distressed officer. By the time he was brought to the medical ward by other soldiers, Wade found that him and his team would be at least a few minutes late if they kept on their way with their walk.
Deciding to speed things up, Wade, understanding the concern for performing such an effort, opted to carry the Fowleys around the base to the meeting area. Reluctantly, F decided to come along, carrying Nathan in a similar manner that Wade was carrying Jasmine. Taking notice of the time on his HUD, which read, "9:47 AM", Wade scouted for the building he and his friends were directed to. "8072" He said to himself, the number being for the building that would house the imminent meeting.
"They said it was down here, right?" Wade asked aloud to Tina before stopping himself in mid-air, the girl holding onto him tightly as he tried to speak over the growing sound of a retrofit Apache flying overhead.
Looking about, Tina nodded as she spotted the target building. "Yes, I believe that's the one over there!" Pointing past his head, Wade followed her finger to a large building ahead at his right. The structure was moderately tall, only about two stories high, with several soldiers and officers going in and out of the building. Wade smiled as he noticed the target number, as well as the big, bold words describing the building's designation. "8072, Briefing Center B"
"Good eye, honey. Hang on!" Continuing his low glide, Wade zoomed towards the building's entrance before stopping just meters above the ground, his two friends close behind as they slowed down as well. The troopers around them initially looked startled by the sudden arrival of Wade and his group, but quickly regained their composure as Wade hovered still above them.
"At ease! Just visitors." One of the soldiers declared as they identified the newcomers, who touched down before Wade let Jasmine down to her feet, Tina hopping onto the ground along with her.
Putting his hands up, Wade apologized for his swift surprise. "Sorry for the scare, we got delayed for a meeting we're invited to."
The soldier gave an understanding nod as he replied to the former worker drone sternly. "I can see that, just be a bit more careful next time, Mr. Carter. You gave the boys here quite a scare."
Wade returned the gesture in embarrassment as F put a hand to his back, chuckling at his efforts as Tina questioned the officer. "Is Mrs. J in there? She's the one who called for us."
The guard gave his reply as Wade and Tina pulled out their IDs for clearance. "Yes she is, Miss. The meeting's set to begin in under ten minutes." Checking the two drones' IDs, Jasmine and the others pulled out theirs as well, the watchman motioning another trooper over to verify the group. Once the guard finished checking the five's cards, he nodded in approval as the watchman spoke once more. "You're clear to enter."
"Thank you Sir, again, sorry about that spook back there." Wade replied with a smile as the trooper gave one of his own, the disassembly drone and his allies making their way towards the office door before stopping upon the call of a voice.
"Hey, Felice!" Wade turned to find the origin of the voice, F doing the same as the two quickly spotted a quartet of soldiers walking excitedly towards F. The disassembly drone glanced to her friends with a smile before turning back to the approaching entourage.
Wade examined the four troops as they got closer: Two human men, one woman, and a male worker drone. One of the male soldiers had short, blonde hair, and a small scar to the right side of their face. The second man bore a tan skin tone and had black hair, with blue strips that went down slightly in a mullet style. The woman bore a set of long, dark green hair, with the hair going down and over her left shoulder. As for the worker drone, he wore the standard green soldier helmet, single eye visor and all. He had no hair on him from what Wade could tell, and bore a pair of whiteish purple eyes on his visor.
As F walked over to the soldiers, the same one that called to her spoke again. "Felicity, I didn't expect to see you around here today! Where you been?"
The girl soldier interrupted his initial chatter. "Hang on Carlos, do you even know if she remembers us?"
"Aye, don't she have one o' them memory locks, or sumthin?" The drone added in a heavy Scottish accent.
F waved her hand as she replied to the group. "Easy, everyone. Thankfully I still got my memories, courtesy of my technician back at Central." Lowering her hand, F let down her usual persona as she gave a wide smirk to the soldiers, clearly pleased to see them. "Good to see you guys around here."
The soldiers gave light cheers to F as they all embraced her, the group having a surprise reunion as Wade and the others watched in surprise. These must've been F's old colleagues from when she was in the service, Wade thought. Quite the coincidence for them to be here at this base of all places.
Not bothering with the convenience of the matter, Wade shook the thought off as he and his friends watched F and her old friends breaking the hug, Tina wrapping an arm around her boyfriend as the second male human spoke to her in what the two discerned as Spanish. "Ay, who your new friends, F?"
"Oh, these guys?" F replied in the same language, quietly startling Wade and the others as they had never heard her speak like that until now. Glancing over to Wade, F motioned him and the others to come over. "Everyone, these are some friends I made in the past few days. Wade, Nathan, Tina, and Jasmine." She pointed her hand to the four as she said each of their names. "I met the boys here during my time on Ceres. Jasmine and Tina here are sisters."
The four soldiers gave various forms of excitement, ranging from hearty laughs to low woops and even a whistle from one of the guys. As F stood next to her old teammates, they each introduced themselves to Wade and his friends. The blonde soldier went first. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you all, name's Carlos, Lieutenant Marksman."
"I'm Private Alvaros, good with close-range and stealth operations." Said the tan soldier with a salute.
"Sergeant Lucia Vasquez, usually the one who leads this bunch around these days." The female warrior stated with a humorous smirk.
"And Corporal Duncan Wallace, at your service!" The soldier drone stated proudly as he saluted to the bunch in front of him, who gave warm smiles as Wade shook his hand.
"Quite honored to meet you all, seems you have quite the history with F." The former worker drone said as Carlos patted F on her back.
"Oh, we do! She's the one who took charge when we didn't! Did you all hear of the Pasting of Nola VI?" Jasmine and Tina gave nods of affirmation while Wade, not as familiar with such history, held his hand up in a questioning manner.
"I think, wasn't that the battle where the Navy just barely held the outpost in that system? From the Stryker Clan?" Wade asked as Carlos nodded approvingly to him.
"That's right, and if Felice weren't there, WE would've been the ones getting pasted!" Carlos' statement brought victorious cheers and "oorahs" from the group, F letting a blush loose as she chuckled at her team's praise of her efforts.
"Well, that's not wrong." Although she didn't want to break off from her friends and discuss the past few years since they'd last met, F remembered the briefing. Clearing her throat, she continued. "And as much as I'd like to chat about the good times, I've been called to a meeting here, as have Wade and his crew."
The soldier group gave understanding looks to F as Lucia spoke up. "Thought so, Carl here was real eager to see you, though."
"Maybe we can talk after the meeting?" Nathan proposed as the soldiers collectively nodded in agreement, F readying a smartcomm attachment before turning to face her friends again.
"We're probably getting low on time, you all go in, I'll catch up in a sec." Wade nodded in acknowledgement before taking Tina's hand, the lover drones continuing towards the briefing center as Jasmine and Nathan followed behind them.
Passing through the door, the four guests observed a short hallway, which seemed to split into two paths as they came closer to the other end. Looking to a sign on the wall above, they saw arrows pointing to two separate areas, "Primary Briefing Room; Main Lobby + Secondary & Tertiary" Going to the right, they entered the moderately active lobby, several officers walking and standing about in mass chatter. Walking over to the desk up against the wall to their left, Wade and his group waved a hand to the occupying attendant.
"Welcome, what do you need?" The desk attendant asked as Tina raised a finger to reply.
"We're here for a meeting, Mrs. J called us here."
The attendant nodded in understanding before directing an arm towards the other end of the room, where a single door stood. "She should be in the second briefing room down that way."
"Thank you." Tina replied warmly before she and Wade began walking towards the door, their friends behind them as they proceeded into the room.
The room beyond the door was quite sizable, a large circular table occupying the middle with several chairs surrounding it. The walls went up a few meters, with four whiteish blue lights illuminating the room. On the wall opposite to Wade and Tina were three monitor screens, all of which showed the USN in bright blue. In several of the seats were faces both familiar and unfamiliar, several men and women in varying styles of uniforms conversing about quietly or taking notice of the recent visitors. Standing up near the monitors were three people: A decorated officer whom Tina identified as a ship captain, and the so-called operatives, Tessa, albeit as a hologram, and J.
Walking slowly into the room, Wade gave a low wave of his hand as he tried to hide his nervousness. Noticing his shyness in front of the officers, Tina held his hand and rubbed his arm comfortingly while returning a pleasant smile to the staff in the room.
"Ah, Wade, Tina. Glad to see you all here." J stated with a smile as she scanned the group, raising a digital eyebrow as she noticed one missing guest. "Or, most of you, I see. Did F run off somewhere?"
Wade shook his head as he replied to his fellow disassembly drone. "Oh, no. She just ran into some old friends, she should be back-"
"Right now." F finished aloud as she entered the room, seemingly having heard Wade speaking about her absence. The warrior drone fast walked to Wade's team, taking a seat near them as they prepared to do the same. "Not too late, are we?"
"Not at all." The standing officer answered as the group took their seats, Wade and Tina sitting next to each other as they got comfortable. The captain examined the lot for a moment, glancing to J as he asked about them. "So, these are the ones you helped rescue from the Mojave?"
"Yes Captain, and they helped us out greatly in turn. This is Wade Carter, one of the captured drones whom became a disassembly drone before we could mount the rescue. The luckiest one, if you ask me." Motioning her arm over the others, she continued. "And there's his girlfriend, Mrs. Tina Fowley, and her sister Jasmine." Smirking to F and Nathan, she finished her friends' introductions. "And these two are Serial Designation F and Mr. Nathan, whom I've heard were once under your ranks."
The military captain gave a welcoming smile to the five as they returned the gesture, eyeing F and Nathan specifically before speaking to them. "Indeed they were, we still have records on their contributions to the colonies." Eyeing F, he continued. "Though, in Mrs. F's case, I won't blame her if she doesn't remember us. We've been very well aware of JCJenson's 'memory suppression' protocols when it comes to their DDs."
F laid back in her seat with a smug look as she replied to her former superior. "Well, my friend on the station's a good tech gal. She's... waived that hindrance from me."
"I see, that means your still with us, am I right, Mrs. Lee?" Unlike her friends next to her, F was not startled by her original name being said aloud, rather smiling proudly as she saluted to the captain. "Good to see you again."
"Pleased to be here, Sir." F replied as she lowered her arm, glancing to her companions next to her as J spoke up.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Captain Preston Mitchell, commander of the USNV Vickers down at the stardock."
Wade gave a respectful salute to Preston as he spoke first. "It's an honor to meet you, Sir."
"Thank you, Mr. Carter. I've heard about your efforts from J, you did an admirable job back there, son." Wade failed to hide an embarrassed blush from the compliment, but it quickly faded as a beep sounded from a small device on the table. It was swiftly silenced by the captain as he tapped a button on the small, pyramid shaped timer, then facing Wade's group before continuing. "Though, as much as we could use some small talk, it'll have to wait till later."
"Indeed, we're running late at this point." Said another officer, a highly decorated member of the base with dark skin, dark grey hair and a thin beard. He immediately won the attention of everyone in the room as he spoke up. "I'm General Hugh Hood, overseer of this base. I'm certain you know some of the reasons you're here with us, correct?"
Wade nodded as he spoke to Hood. "Yeah, it's cause of those rogue agents from the JCJenson corporation." Glancing to J, the corporate drone nodded in affirmation before speaking herself.
"Tessa and I spent the last hours of yesterday evening clearing up the matter with General Hood, along with several other officials stationed here." She stopped as the middle monitor behind her flashed with a banner at the top, reading, "INCOMING TRANSMISSION", and in place of the USN emblem was a textless version of the JCJenson logo. Below the profile image was another two lines of text. "N. Jenson (Company Exec); Comms Source: Yottrite IV"
"And also told our boss about what happened here too, he wanted to give his say on this ordeal." Looking to the general, J asked him, "May I put him on?"
Hood only gave a nod of approval to the corporate drone before she picked up a remote on the table and tapped a button, accepting the call as the picture shifted to show a middle-aged man in a pristine-looking business suit on the screen.
Wade and Tina glanced to each other before J introduced their guest on the screen. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the CEO of JCJenson: Mr. Noor Jenson."
Jenson gave a pleased nod to his subordinate as he spoke to J. "Thank you for the pleasantries, J. I see we are ready to discuss our plans on dealing with this 'recall' disaster I've bore witness to on the news this morning?"
J nodded as she replied to her boss. "Indeed, I've explained to General Hood here about our efforts yesterday, and, as of recent, we've just received a message from a source we believe to be close to the company."
Mr. Jenson looked down to J attentively as he spoke to her. "Well, that's quite intriguing news, J. Do you have this message available for us to view?" J and Hood both nodded in affirmation, but didn't get an immediate reply as Jenson gazed to Wade and his friends. "...And I presume these are some of the drones rescued from one of the factories?"
Again, J nodded to her superior before explaining her colleagues. "Yes Mr. Jenson, the two drones at the front in particular were among those taken by the Administrator and their subordinates." Pointing an arm to Wade and Tina, she introduced the drone couple. "The disassembly drone here is Mr. Wade Carter, a brother to his-technically speaking-owner, the late Ron Carter. The latter helped us recover Wade during an initial raid inside the Nevada facility." When bringing up Ron, J gave an apologetic look to Wade as to show she did not mean to be offending on him and his brother's relationship. "And this is his romantic partner, Mrs. Tina Fowley. I heard she and her sister Jasmine are pilots."
Jenson looked over the two drones as his obedient employee described them to him, quietly sighing as Wade and Tina returned the gaze with nervous smiles. Once J finished, Jenson spoke to Wade. "I... would say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carter. But, given recent events, I don't hold fault to you for feeling frustrated at me for my... former subordinate's actions."
Wade shook his head lightly, taking Jenson's light apology with a faint smile as he replied to the CEO. "Actually, I don't. The only person I have such feelings put towards is," He hesitated for a moment, his anger at Dr. Halloway returning for a short moment before he eased himself. "..That bastard Halloway."
"The feeling's mutual, Mr. Carter. Dr. Halloway has been trying my patience for years now, especially with you and your fellow disassembly drones." Looking to J, then F, he returned his gaze to Wade before questioning him on his new body. "I don't know if J has told you of this, but if there's one truth my company has admittedly not held up to for a while, it's our quality. Recently, some of my research staff here made blueprints for an upgraded variant of the disassembly drone design. It's intended to fix several faults we expected to be nonexistent previously, most notably that atrocious cooling unit."
As a schematic pulled up on the left monitor, everyone glanced to the improved design before F spoke up about it. "If I may ask, Mr. Jenson, how big of an improvement is this new cooling unit supposed to be?"
"Good question, F. Frankly, it's supposed to do away with the issue entirely. Saves us from sacrificing enormous supplies of oil for the poorly built unit in the previous iterations. We even tested it with a repaired drone just a few days ago, and it worked flawlessly." Then, glancing to Wade again, he questioned the former worker drone on his new form. "Speaking of, how does your enhanced body feel, Mr. Carter? I'm certain it feels better to not have to-"
"Actually, Mr. Jenson," Wade interrupted, pulling out one of his canteens as he answered the CEO on his upgrades. "I guess Halloway changed up the blueprints, cause unfortunately this new cooling unit didn't cure the overheating problem. I... kinda learned that the hard way." Wade glanced to Tina apologetically, still feeling bad from her seeing him eat the corpse of the dead murder drone back at the factory.
The corporate CEO grimaced in frustration as he took in Wade's statement, already intolerant of the head researcher's actions as he replied. "...I was worried about that, Edgar always likes to run things his own way, making excuses for that 'Administrator' he watches over." Taking an agitated breath, he continued on with his spew on the two culprits of yesterday's events. "It was only because of all the very impressive creations and enhancements she and her research team provided that I tolerated them for so long, but this..." Sitting up straight in front of the camera, Jenson finished sternly. "J said the Administrator... Cyn, I believe? She was apparently something worse than we presumed originally, and I'm very inclined to believe so after yesterday."
"As well as the program tied to the Administrator, the AbsoluteSolver." J clarified before receiving an agreeing nod from Mr. Jenson, standing corrected on his placing of blame.
Raising a hand, Nathan asked about the supposed plans. "Yeah, about this "Solver Project", what do we plan to do about that?"
"Good question, Nate." Tessa replied as she crossed her arms before looking to Jenson and beginning her explanation. "Initially, we were going to investigate the other factories spread across Earth in order to get some more info on the Administrator before things get worse. But, just this morning, it seems someone else saved us the trouble." Just as Tessa neared the end of her sentence, J held up the remote again, tapping a few buttons before the left monitor shifted to show a slightly grainy video onscreen.
The video only showed a single being, a worker drone, dressed in a chrome suit and bearing a set of yellow eyes. Behind them was what appeared to be a vacant room, a few shelves holding many books within them standing still in the back. The drone's visage indicated they were filled with immense anxiety, terrified of being caught as they spoke quietly to the camera.
"I can only hope someone gets this in time, they're gonna be on me once they find out the transmitter screens are down!" Turning the camera, he showed what appeared to be a large factory room, several more of the mysterious conveyor belts like at the factory slotted next to each other. It was hard to discern every detail due to not only the window reflection, but also the dark lighting in the inactive conveyor room. Filming the room beyond, the drone continued. "Dr. Halloway's a madman, he's got more of those stolen drones being brought here and he's going to be overseeing it in the afternoon tomorrow! I've seen what happened back in Nevada, I can't take this any longer! I'm at coordinates ##.######, -###.###### Please, send someo-"
The suspicious, partially scrambled transmission immediately cut off to static, leaving Wade, Tina, and their friends with confused expressions as Tessa spoke up. "Yeah, that caught me by surprise too."
"So, that guy says they got more drones being sent 'there', but... where is there, exactly?" Jasmine asked with immense curiosity.
"I was hoping you'd ask that, Mrs. Fowley." The technician replied as she glanced to J, who tapped a few more buttons on the remote before speaking over her boss-friend.
"While the transmission itself isn't much to work off of, our friends from Comms over here managed to intercept the signal earlier, and even better, discern where it originated from." As J started her explanation, the screen shifted once more to show a large city, with one skyscraper highlighted in red as it was zoomed towards on the screen. "That scrambled audio wasn't a simple glitch, it was intentionally done so as to hide key information for us to uncover. Upon cleaning up the message, we managed to recover a set of coordinates, which direct to this structure here, in San Francisco."
Wade and his friends stared at the building in shock, examining the tall structure as it stood over the shorter buildings in the city. Tina broke the silence in her gaze. "So, this is another factory? It looks... terribly different from the one we got out of."
"Not exactly, Mrs. Fowley." Mr. Jenson answered, Tina and the others looking to him as he continued. "THAT is the Administrator's main laboratory, its location was kept on the down low so other authorities and terrorist groups wouldn't find out what the buildings true purpose was." Sighing, Jenson completed his reply. "But, with this recent mistake of Halloway's, that place has lost all purpose for us at the company."
Wade raised a hand to speak. "So, we're going to pounce on that place? Get Halloway before he runs off again?"
"Exactly." General Hood replied as he looked up to Mr. Jenson. "This whole 'recovery/recruitment' effort has gotten out of hand all across Sol. We've gotten countless reports of people being killed because of this, be it the brutal robberies here in Nevada or the bloodbath on Ceres. Even if Mr. Jenson refuses to cooperate, this has become a dire matter for us now. One way or another, this insanity will be stopped with due haste."
The CEO nodded in acknowledgement before explaining his own plans for the mission. "Speaking of cooperation, upon seeing what was happening at Earth, I ordered a detachment of our corporate starships in orbit at the time to depart for Sol in order to help with investigating the situation. They're not warships, but they are well-armed. I'll dispatch them to your authority upon concluding this call." Glancing to Wade and his team for a moment, Jenson continued. "As for the mission, I may not have much of a say, but let it be known that you have my blessing to do whatever it takes to end this madness. I don't care what you do with Halloway or any of his lackeys, or what happens to that facility down there... I want that program shut down."
"Thank you for the extra hands, Mr. Jenson. We'll make sure this Administrator is dealt with." Hood replied gratefully as Wade sat firm in his seat, Tina and the others following suite.
"General?" The former worker drone said aloud, catching Hood's attention before he made his request. "I know I'm not a soldier, but I want to help with dealing with Halloway and his grunts. After what he did, after losing my brother, I can't rest until I see that man stopped."
Tina raised a finger as well. "As do I, Wade could use a hand with those people, and given how we did during our escape run out of that place, I think the two of us make quite the duo." She glanced to Wade with a smirk as she referenced their combat prowess when flying together.
Nathan and F stood up before the latter gave her own request. "Sir, I wish to take part in this mission as well. I can also recommend Wade for you too, as I fought alongside him during the factory raid."
"Wouldn't mind giving a hand myself! And I'm sure my pal Kurtis would love to help, he's here at the base too!" Nathan added with a confident smirk, the group's determination encouraging Jasmine to stand up as well.
"I'd like to help too." She stated simply, a smile on her face as the general and his companions observed the five guests.
Admittedly, Hood knew it would be a bit absurd to allow these people to take part in an operation which would certainly involve bloodshed, especially considering most of them merely had civilian status at the moment. But, upon careful evaluation of the five, their desire to see this problem dealt with, and the fact that some of them had experience on the field...
He paused his train of thought as Captain Mitchell spoke to him. "General? I read up on the Fowleys' files when we recovered Mrs. Jasmine here, they provided service in their early careers." He smirked to the pilot sisters as he finished adding his say. "And to be frank, we need more people like them here. The records we have of them showed them to be damn fine pilots."
Tina blushed at the praise from Mitchell as she spoke to the general. "That is true, we uh... did get discharged for our... 'fancy maneuvering'."
"Sir?" Jasmine said, the general's attention on her as she added to the conversation. "Even if our flying is a bit out of protocol, Tina saved a lot of people on that starjet a few days back. I can promise you, she's an excellent woman to have at the wheel."
Glancing to Wade again, Hood took in his face, one of begging desperation as he spoke once more. "Please, Sir. My brother, the troops he brought from the Coalition, Halloway's gotten them all killed cause of this. I want to do this. I HAVE to do this, at least for them."
The good general took a deep, quiet breath, considering his decision once more before finally revealing it to Wade and his friends. "Mr. Carter, Fowleys? I'm probably making myself a fool for saying this, but you're permitted to assist us in this mission."
The drone couple contained their gratefulness in the form of ecstatic grins as Wade replied to the general. "Thanks, General. We won't let you down."
"And Mrs. Lee?" Hood said as he glanced to F, who returned the gesture as he told her, "You're technically under Mr. Jenson's authority, whatever his answer is, it's mine as well."
Bringing her yellow-orange eyes to her CEO, F awaited Mr. Jenson's answer. "F, yes? I heard Mr. Hood call you by a different name just now, I assume you have some experience with the army?"
The warrior drone nodded as she explained herself. "I once inherited the name of Felicity Lee, Mr. Jenson. I served under the USN Defense Forces before joining the DD Division." Then, glancing to the military staff near her, she finished with, "I had hoped to provide my enhancements to the Force one day."
Jenson gave a hint of a proud smile as he finally gave his decision. "Well, it seems you'll finally get that chance. From now on, even after this mission on Earth is over with, you're hereby dispatched to serve under the USN."
F admittedly couldn't hide her excited smirk as she flung a salute to her now former boss. "Thank you Sir!"
Looking up to Jenson, General Hood asked the CEO, "Mr. Jenson, how long until your ships can reach Earth?"
Jenson glanced down at his communication console as he answered the military leader. "At max speed, their Ion drives should be able to bring them into orbit in as little as one to two days. I believe there should be some ships within the system that could help as well."
"Signal them when you can, Mr. Jenson. We could use all the help we can get from them." The CEO nodded to Hood as he stood firmly to the viewer, the general turning to face Wade and his colleagues. "And Mr. Carter? We'll be mobilizing our forces immediately after this meeting concludes. It'll be a minute, but I want you to gather whatever items and belongings you'll need for this operation. Be ready to head to the flight pads in no more than three hours."
"Understood Sir!" Wade said with a salute, Tina, Jasmine and Nathan giving their own as Jasmine raised a finger.
"What about the area around the lab? That place looks like it's in the middle of the city."
J raised a finger as she told Jasmine and the others about their resolution of the civilian obstacle. "Shortly after reporting our findings on the transmission, Hood told us that they were sending in some teams to clear out the civilian population within several miles of the facility. Once we get there, it should be of no concern."
Jasmine sighed in relief as Tina spoke up. "So the people should be safe from any sort of danger?"
"Correct, Mrs. Tina." Preston answered before continuing. "Given the resistance Halloway and his men showed during the Coalition's raid, they most certainly won't hold back there."
"One more thing, Sir." Nathan asked. "The Coalition's going to help us out with this too, right?"
"You can count on it, Mr. Nathan." The Vickers' captain replied as he looked to J, then to Jenson as he spoke further. "I met the leader of the Coalition's detachment working with us when I was introduced to J and Mrs. Elliott here, they intend to see this conflict finished. I highly doubt they're willing to sit back and let us do this by ourselves."
"And their help will be much appreciated." Hood added, everyone's attention returned to him as he looked to Tessa, curious eyes scanning her holographic form. "And Mrs. Elliott, if I may. Do you mind heading down here to assist us in our investigations later on?"
"Funny you say that, General. I'm almost done with my own snooping around on the JCJ up in orbit, Cyn has some small departments of hers aboard, and I thought I'd gather some more intel before coming down." Glancing to Mr. Jenson, she saw him giving an understanding nod before returning her gaze to the military staff. "I should be down there by the evening, judging by where you're located."
"Do what you must, Mrs. Elliott. We could use whatever you find." Hood replied firmly as he turned once more to the JCJenson CEO. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Jenson. We will get to the bottom of this."
"It's my pleasure, General." Glancing to J and Tessa, he spoke to them once more. "J? Contact me when you've finished with Halloway and his Administrator."
"It'll be done, Mr. Jenson." The obedient servant answered before saluting firmly, receiving a final nod from her boss before he ended the transmission.
With their off-world guest out of the way, Hood looked to Wade and his friends, J, Tessa and Captain Mitchells sharing the gaze with them as the general spoke to them in finality. "Well, you know what comes next everyone. You're all dismissed for now. And remember, landing zone by 1300."
"We'll be there Sir." Wade said with a nod as he and his friends stood up, pushing in their chairs before making their way out to the door.
As they neared it, Wade stopped for a moment as they heard Hood call to one of his friends. "And F?" The soldier drone looked to the general as he continued. "Before we depart, would you mind changing your uniform? I believe it could help with identifying you from the other disassembly drones more easily." Glancing to J, then back to F, he finished with, "I recall hearing about the most formidable drones having clones prepared, yes?"
"Correct, Sir. I'll stop by the nearest barracks while I can." F replied before turning back to the door with her colleagues, Wade opening the door for them all as they passed through. After them, Wade passed through himself, shutting the door to the meeting room as he returned to the lobby.
Walking about together, F spoke to Wade and the others. "Well, that went smoothly. I'll be heading down to the barracks, then head over to your place to help out."
"Actually," Wade replied, raising a finger up as he asked his fellow murder drone, "You think you could bring your friends over? We could get to know each other while we're getting ready."
F glanced to Nathan with a smile before returning her eyes to Wade. "I could see about that. You're gonna like them, I can promise you that."
Taking Tina's hand, Wade walked with his girlfriend alongside Jasmine and the others, nearing the hallway they came through as they prepared for the walk back to the apartment.