#I just looked up 'anthropologist' and when it said 'human societies' I was like 'oh so no other aliens? hm...' BITCH. GET A GRIP!!! HEHEH

[bumblingbabooshka]

Something something the Janeway/Chakotay/Tuvok dynamic when it comes to religion, mysticism, spirituality and science.

[jadequeen88]

Crimson Canopy

The last thing you thought you’d be doing that day was seducing a god-like, mythical creature... 

PAIRING: Harpy!Hawks x Female!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: oral/penetrative sex, praise kink (if you squint), wing kink, (it’s all pretty vanilla)

AS WITH ALL MY WORK THIS IS NSFW. ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS PLS

This is an AU with no quirks. Humans live a long side mythical races and creatures that they abuse for the most part. You’re part of a secret organization that saves and protects them. 

**************************************************************

Sweat dripped into your eyes as you reached the top of the trail. Panting, you wiped it away with the back of your hand. Wishing (not for the first time today) you’d gotten your ass out of bed earlier so you’d be out of the afternoon heat, you take a long drink from your insulated water bottle. You knew you had patrol duty today, but you still thought it was a good idea to stay up trying to drown your depression with bourbon.

As your breathing slowed, you pull out your phone to see a new message.

Bre: “Done yet? It’s really hot out! Did you find anyone/thing that was injured?”

You: “Not done yet. Got a late start. No sign of any traps set off so far. I’ll text when I’m done.”

Bre: “Good news! Stay safe :)”

You slide your phone back into the pocket of your cargo pants and sit on a nearby stump. From this vantage point, you could use your binoculars to scan the wooded valley below for anyone who needed help.

As you scanned the area, a thought you’d had a million times before flirted through your brain. “I really am disgusted by my own species most days.” If humans weren’t so ruthless, greedy, and arrogant, you wouldn’t have to be out here in the first place.

You were part of a secret rescue agency that saved endangered mythical creatures and races of humanoids from poachers. Whether it was unicorns murdered for their horns and blood, wood elves captured for horrific genetic experiments, or griffins murdered just for existing, humans were relentless. Although, most of the human population grouped elves and other intelligent humanoids into basically being animals themselves. Despite the fact that these races had their own languages, customs, art, and social hierarchy just like humans. The lack of empathy on the part of your race made your stomach turn and your blood boil.

It didn’t take long to spot your first victim. But this seemed... different. The cries were not fully human, not fully animal, but completely full of rage. And the wind! It was as if a small cyclone had suddenly rose from the ground and threatened to swallow the small patch of forest in the valley. You had no idea what could be causing the commotion, but you did know it was caught and needed help. It needed help fast. A lot of poachers had cameras or alarm systems to alert them when a trap was set off. You knew you had a small window or time before things got dire.

You expertly navigated your way down the hillside, having made a crude path over time on your patrols. Within a couple of minutes, you approached the ring of trees that were being violently shaken by the forceful wind.

When you looked into the chaos, you could see enormous, crimson feathers beating wildly into the air. Your eyes widened in wonder and horror when realization washed over you.

“Holy shit.... A Harpy....”

They were so rare and so removed from human society that many believed them to be fairy tales. But what you saw in front of you was definitely real. The creature beat their wings so furiously you couldn’t even make out the rest of their body. The growls and cries of rage still pierced the air as the wretched creature thrashed against its metal wire trappings.

It never got easier seeing just how brutal these traps were. A simple bear trap would be a mercy in some cases.

Not knowing a better way to get the creature’s attention, you let out a loud, high whistle.

The massive wings froze and you were able to see flesh between them. The harpy’s skin was crisscrossed with thin, metal wires that began to dig angry, bleeding cuts all over. A pang of despair rang through your chest. You noticed a golden blonde head slowly turn to face you.

For the second time today, you were absolutely astounded by what you saw in front of you.

A MALE Harpy! You knew enough about the creatures to know that only about 1 in 20 babies born were male. You’d never in a million years expect to come face to face with a Harpy. Let alone a male.

Once the shock wore off, another realization fell over you. He was absolutely, drop dead, gorgeous.

His long golden tresses hung wild around his face and his amber colored eyes burned through you. He had the chiseled jaw line of a Greek god and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

You quickly snapped out of it when you realized why you were there. You had to save him.

You slowly circled around to face him, palms out showing you weren’t a threat to him. He wasn’t buying it, though. You knew if he wasn’t bound by metal wires, he’d be eating away at your throat right this second.

Once you were face to face with him, you were able to appreciate the full extent of his terrifying beauty.

His perfectly sculpted chest was bare and bleeding from struggling against the wires of the trap. His mouth was pulled into a snarl, baring sharp canines and you were absolutely sure they could slice through you in a second. The only article of clothing he wore were a pair of woven cropped pants. They were made in an intricate pattern. The anthropologist in you wanted to ask what the material was made of and how it was woven... until a half growl, half whimper brought you back to the reality of the situation.

Your eyes trailed back up to meet the Harpy’s honey-golden irises. The pain in them made your chest ache.

“H-help.... p-pl-please...”

You froze, shocked that this mythical creature was actually able to communicate with you. Most elves you came in contact didn’t speak English. How could a Harpy, an even rarer species, speak it?

You didn’t have time right now. Questions could wait until later. You quickly swung your bag off your shoulder and pulled out your wire cutters.

The closer you got to the creature, you could notice tremors through his body. Especially at the base of his large wings. His right one was bound in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

You held the wire cutters out in front of you and made eye contact with him.

“These will cut the wires. Okay? This will help.”

You made sure to use the word “help” since he seemed to understand that.

You received a curt nod, his golden, feathery hair flopping into his eyes a bit more.

After snapping ten of the vicious wires loose, he was able to remove himself from the rest. You noticed his hands had long, black nails that were reminiscent of talons. You looked curiously at his feet to see if he had talons. You always heard that Harpy’s had long, nasty talons for feet that they’d gut their prey with. You were slightly (pleasantly) surprised to see perfectly normal feet wearing plain, deerskin moccasins.

You heard a deep, rumbling chuckle and looked up to see him laughing at you while rubbing at his sore biceps.

“You expected horrible talons that I’d use to gut you with, no?” His eyes widened and he exposed his sharp canines when he said “gut you”. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach and you stiffened with surprise.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry! I’ve just... I’ve never met a Harpy, much less a MALE Harpy and you know, we hear so many rumors. I’m just fascinated by your species and culture and-“ you were silenced when he clasped one of his large hands over your mouth. He looked around, obviously sensing something you couldn’t.

He pulled you into a bear hug. You barely had time to register what was happening when the Harpy growled “Hold” into your ear.

With one thrust of his powerful, crimson wings, you were above the tree line. That’s when you heard a gunshot. The Harpy shot forward with incredible speed and didn’t slow down his speed until you were over the next mountain. When you were well away from the danger of the poachers, his wings flapped a little lazier and you were gliding along the air currents at a more relaxing speed.

After the initial shock wore off, you became more aware of your surroundings. You clung to the male like a koala hanging onto a tree. Your arms wrapped around his back tightly and legs around his waist, linking your ankles so you wouldn’t fall.

You immediately blushed as you noticed how hot the flesh of his arms were around you. One arm was positioned under you grabbing your outer right thigh. The other arm gripped your upper back, his strong fingers digging into your ribs right under your breast. You stiffened, embarrassed at the warmth growing between your legs. It’s not like you could really pull away.

You shift your hips nervously, hoping to make your position less awkward. The Harpy caught on to this subtle gesture and you felt his chest rumble against yours. Was he... laughing at you?!

“Excuse me... umm, Harpy... sir. Is something funny?” you ask, growing redder in the face by the second.

“Hawks” he purred in your ear. This did not help the growing heat your body was producing.

“What?”

“Name. Call me by Hawks. It is easier for a human to say than my birth name.” his voice was deep and he spoke with a musical lilt to his voice that was hypnotizing to you.

“Oh...” you trailed off, losing the train of thought you’d had.

There was a long pause before he continued speaking, as if he were pondering the right way to frame his thought.

“Amusing... it is.. amusing to me how easily a human female is....” he trailed off, searching for the right word. “Aroused” the last word was purred directly into your ear.

A shudder went through you and just as you were about to unleash a flurry of curses on him, you felt a jolt as his feet landed on wooden planks.

Hawks leaned forward and let you down gently. You could see you were on a balcony in the top of a massive tree. Branches concealed any evidence that there was a structure built into the tree. You followed the Harpy (or “Hawks” as you now knew him) into a small cabin like structure. Inside was one open room set up like a studio loft. You were amazed at how human everything felt. One wall was lined with bookshelves (guess that’s how he can speak English). There was a small kitchen area and on the opposite wall, a neatly made bed. You didn’t know what to expect a Harpy’s home to look like, but it wasn’t this.

You had so many questions to ask, but didn’t know where to start.

Any questions you had fell silent as the angelic Hawks turned to face you. Two slow steps forward and he was inches away from your face. You froze as his inquisitive eyes trailed your face. From your hairline down to your collarbone. He looked very serious; like he was studying a text book.

Hawks held up one of his hands and gently ran the tip of his index finger down the bridge of your nose. His soft touch ghosted over your lips causing you to involuntarily part them slightly. This caught his attention and his head cocked slightly to the right. He leaned in and you thought he would kiss you, but his face found the crook of your neck and he buried his nose into your warm flesh. You felt him breathe your scent in and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“You do not stink, human.” Hawks spoke into your skin.

“Umm. Thank you?” You questioned, not knowing if you should be offended or not.

“As children... we learn that humans are vile and evil. But you...” hawks trailed off, nuzzling his nose into your neck. "You are my savior”

Warmth spread through your chest and without thinking, you tangled your hands into his golden mop of hair and massaged his scalp. You felt his hands gently touch your hips and his beautiful wings encircle you both.

“Most of us are vile and evil, Hawks,” you whisper into his hair, breathing in his woodsy scent. “But some of us try to do better.”

As you continued to massage his scalp, you could feel a humming against your neck and a slight vibration running through his chest. Was he... purring?

Now was your turn to giggle. His face met yours with an embarrassed expression this time. He pulled away and his wings drooped slightly.

You cupped his face in your hands and touched his forehead to yours to ease his discomfort.

“That was a beautiful sound...” you whisper against his lips.

His liquid gold eyes met yours and you froze wondering what would come next.

Slowly, Hawks nuzzled his cheek against yours in a tender gesture. The purring noise quietly started back up and you returned his soft nuzzling gesture.

The earthy, warm smell of his skin was hypnotic. You sighed, wondering what his lips would taste like under your tongue. As your thoughts started spiraling further into your fantasies, Hawks froze.

“Taste...” he whispered, “May I taste you, human?”

Your eyes met again.

“Yes...” you whispered, mere centimeters from his face.

Hawks planted his lips onto your collarbone. After a soft kiss, you felt a long, languid lick trail all the way up to your shoulder. You bit your lip to stifle a moan.

Hawks was obviously not concerned with you hearing his reactions, because a low growl/moan escaped his lips as contact broke and he licked up your neck just as slowly.

The second lick made you shudder and your voice escaped before you could bite it back.

The purring sound got louder and he nuzzled your ear with his nose. The grip he held on your hips tightened and he pulled you in to meet his body. You gasped as you felt the bulge rubbing against your thigh.

“CHRIST he’s huge...”

“Hawks...” you choked out his name in a whisper.

He met your gaze. He was smiling sweetly and his eyes were wide with excitement. You paused and looked from his bookshelf to his face. Then, your eyes traveled around his walls. They were littered with paintings of humans (mostly women) and a lightbulb clicked on.

You grinned slyly and he looked confused.

“You have a human fetish....” you growled seductively.

His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red. His embarrassment only turned you on more. Realizing you had an advantage over the god-like being gave you an abundance of confidence.

“Please sit,” you gesture towards his bed. Slightly confused, he follows your direction.

You walk over and stand in front of him. You hold his hands and look into his eyes.

“First thing’s first. My name is Y/N. You should probably know my name before we begin.” He returns your soft smile.

“Y/N.... I like it.” Hawks says softly.

You melt hearing your name on his lips. Still holding his hands, you place them at the hem of your shirt.

You tremble slightly, in complete disbelief. Seducing a rare, mythical being wasn’t even close to on your mind when you awoke this morning.

“You can undress me if you’d like” your voice cracks and he senses the nervousness in your voice.

Hawks grabs you around the waist and gives you a reassuring hug, burying his face in your stomach.

He pulls away and stands to face you. You raise your arms to make it easier for him to remove your shirt. First your shirt, then bra, then pants are removed. You’re standing face to face with Hawks in nothing but your panties.

He sits back on the bed studying you then kneels in front of you on the floor. Your heart does a somersault in your chest as he grabs your ass.

Hawks plunges his face between your thighs and breathes in deeply. You shudder and moan as you feel his sharp nails dig in to your flesh.

He looks up at you, pupils so dilated you barely see the gold irises.

“I will try to be gentle... human” he pauses and smiles showing canines “Y/N”

Hearing him growl your name causes your knees to weaken and Hawks is quick to hold you up in his firm grasp.

With speed and precision, he takes your panties in his mouth and rips them off, tossing them to the side. Before you register what happened, you’re tossed onto the bed and have you legs draped over Hawk’s broad shoulders.

The Harpy’s wings fly open blocking almost all the light in the small room then slowly descend to tuck behind his back. You watch, hypnotized by the beauty of them. He notices and sports a prideful smile.

“Maybe this is part of their mating ritual? Remember to ask him later...”

Your inquisitive thoughts were ripped from your mind as you felt Hawks’ tongue enter your sopping wet hole. Your hips bucked into his face as a guttural moan escaped your throat.

He begins lapping at you gently, drinking you in. Then he pulls away meeting your gaze.

He takes a finger and experimentally rubs your swollen clit. You throw your head back and nearly scream out with pleasure.

“This... is a human female’s pleasure point. Yes?” He smiles, knowing the answer by your reaction.

“Shit, FUCK, yes... ahh, yes it is. But it’s very sensitive and has to be handled gently” you try to talk while he’s still rubbing small circles around your clit.

“Mmmm...” he hums removing his finger. You feel his arms wrap around your thighs then his soft lips wrapping around the sensitive nub.

Your body rolls upward to meet his mouth. This causes Hawks to resume the involuntary purring from earlier. Feeling the vibrations from it nearly sends you over the edge. His speed gradually increases as you reach your climax.

“Hawks!” You scream out his name as you come, tightening your thighs around his face.

He looks up at you, your slick glistening all over the lower half of his face. A wide grin showing sharp canines spreads across his face.

“That was.. orgasm?” He asked, massaging your thighs.

“Yes. Oh fuck yes it was...” you pant.

Hawks licks his lips proudly then pounces on top of you enveloping you in a strong embrace. You bury your hands in his hair and giggle as he peppers your neck with kisses.

You gently grind your thigh into his his crotch eliciting an animalistic growl.

“When a human female orgasms,” you purr into his ear, “it means her body is ready to take the male,” another slow grind into his bulge, “inside her...”

This sent Hawks completely over the edge. His pants were off with lightning speed and you felt the head of his swollen member at your entrance. His wings flex out again in another impressive display. As he slowly enters you, his wings draped over your bodies forming a cocoon of crimson feathers.

You writhe and moan as he plunges into you, inch by delicious inch. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you. This awakens something in Hawks. He growls and plunges into you.

As he ruts into you mercilessly, you feel sharp canines begin to bite into your shoulder. The mixture of pleasure and pain causes you to cry out.

“OH FUCK, Hawks... yes!” You scream, clawing into his shoulders.

This causes him to bite hard enough to draw blood and his pace quickens. Without thinking, your hands trail inward to pet the downy feathers at the base of his wings. This set Hawks over the edge.

Throwing his head back, he growls and you notice a trickle of blood dripping down his chin. You take it as a good sign and begin massaging the base of his wings. A shudder runs through his body and his eyes roll back into his head.

Feathers trembling, Hawks cries out as he releases inside of you. Your hips roll into his as you ride the wave of your second orgasm. Your walls clamping around his cock causes him to whimper and sink into your chest.

Once you both even out your breath, you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist and massage his muscles.

“So...” you pant looking into Hawk’s golden gaze, “ your wings?”

He turns red and grins sheepishly.

“A Harpy’s pleasure point.” he whispers, gently touching his lips to yours. You realize this it the first time you actually kissed him and close your eyes relishing his velvety, plump lips.

“Mmm...” he hums before breaking the kiss, “Y/N... you are the most...” he stops to run his tongue along your lower lip, “delicious creature...”

Your smile widens as you kiss him again. This time, your mouths part and tongues touch gently.

“Hawks, you’re amazing,” you whisper, relishing the taste of him lingering on your lips.

Hawks nuzzles back into the crook of your neck and resumes his hypnotic purring.

“My... savior...” he breathes. Your hand strokes his golden locks as you feel him drift off to sleep.

A smile lingers on your lips as you drift into sleep under a canopy of crimson feathers

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 32: Tampered (Transcript) - 18th April, 2016

tw: none

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

I grew up watching a television show called MacGyver. If you’ve never had that chance to watch this icon of the 80s, do yourself a favour and give it a try. Sure, the clothes are outdated and the hair… oh my gosh, the hair. But aside from all the bits that didn’t age well, MacMullet and his trusty pocket knife managed to capture my imagination forever. Part of it was the adventure, part of it was the character of the man himself – I mean, the guy was essentially a spy who hated guns, played hockey and lived on a houseboat. But hovering above all those elements was the true core of the show. This man could make anything if his life depended on it. As humans, we have this innate drive inside ourselves to make things. This is how we managed to create things like the wheel, or stone tools and weapons. Our tendency towards technology pulled our ancient ancestors out of the Stone Age and into a more civilised world. Maybe for some of us, MacGyver represented what we wanted to achieve: complete mastery of our own world. But life is rarely that simple, and however hard we try to get our minds and hands around this world we want to rule, some things just slip through the cracks. Accidents happen. Ideas and concepts still allude our limited minds. We’re human, after all, not gods. So, when things go wrong, when our plans fall apart or our expectations fail to be met, we have this sense of pride that often refuses to admit defeat. So, we blame others, and when that doesn’t work, we look elsewhere for answers, and no realm holds more explanation for the unexplainable than folklore. 400 years ago, when women refused to follow the rules of society, they were labelled a witch. When Irish children failed to thrive it was because, of course, because they were a changeling. We’re good at excuses. So, when our ancestors found something broken or out of place, there was a very simple explanation – someone, or something, had tampered with it. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The idea of meddlesome creatures isn’t new to us. All around the world, we can find centuries-old folklore that speaks of creatures with a habit of getting in the way and making life difficult for humans. It’s an idea that seems to transcend borders and background, language and time. Some would say that it’s far too coincidental for all these stories of mischief-causing creatures to emerge in places separated by thousands of miles and vast oceans. The púca of Ireland and the ebu gogo of Indonesia are great examples of this – legends that seem to have no reason for their eerie similarities. Both legends speak of small, humanoid creatures that steal food and children, both recommend not making them angry, and both describe their creatures as intrusive pranksters. To many, the evidence is just too indisputable to ignore. Others would say it’s not coincidence at all, merely a product of human nature. We want to believe there’s something out there causing the problems we experience every day. So, of course, nearly every culture in the world has invented a scapegoat. This scapegoat would have to be small to avoid discovery, and they need respect because we’re afraid of what they can do. To a cultural anthropologist, it’s nothing more than logical evolution. Many European folktales include this universal archetype in the form of nature spirits, and much of it can be traced back to the idea of the daemon.

It’s an old word and concept, coming to us from the Greeks. In essence, a daemon is an otherworldly spirit that causes trouble. The root word, daomai, literally means to cut or divide. In many ways, it’s an ancient version of an excuse. If your horse was spooked while you were out for a ride, you’d probably blame it on a daemon. Ancient Minoans believed in them, and in the day of the Greek poet Homer, people would blame their illnesses on them. The daemon, in many ways, was fate. If it happened to you, there was a reason, and it was probably one of these little things that caused it. But over time, the daemon took on more and more names. Arab folklore has the djinn, Romans spoke of a personal companion known as the genius, in Japan, they tell tales of the kami, and Germanic cultures mention fylgja. The stories and names might be unique to each culture, but the core of them all is the same. There’s something interfering with humanity, and we don’t like it.

For the majority of the English-speaking world, the most common creature of this type in folklore, hands down, is the goblin. It’s not an ancient word, most likely originating from the middle ages, but it’s the one that’s front and centre in most of our minds, and from the start it’s been a creature associated with bad behaviour. A legend from the 10th century tells of how the first Catholic bishop of Évreux in France faced a daemon known to the locals there as Gobelinus. Why that name, though, is hard to trace. The best theory goes something like this: there’s a Greek myth about a creature named kobalos, who loved to trick and frighten people. That story influenced other cultures across Europe prior to Christianity’s spread, creating the notion of the kobold in ancient Germany. That word was most likely to root of the word goblin. Kobold, gobold, gobolin – you can practically hear it evolve. The root word of kobold is kobe, which literally means “beneath the earth��, or “cavity in a rock”. We get the English word “cove” from the same root, and so naturally kobolds and their English counterparts, the goblins, are said to live in caves underground, and if that reminds you of dwarves from fantasy literature, you’re closer than you think. The physical appearance of goblins in folklore vary greatly, but the common description is that they are dwarf-like creatures. They cause trouble, are known to steal, and they have tendency to break things and make life difficult. Because of this, people in Europe would put carvings of goblins in their homes to ward off the real thing. In fact, here’s something really crazy. Medieval door-knockers were often carved to resemble the faces of daemons or goblins, and it’s most likely purely coincidental, but in Welsh folklore, goblins are called coblyn, or more commonly, knockers. My point is this: for thousands of years, people have suspected that all of their misfortune could be blamed on small, meddlesome creatures. They feared them, told stories about them, and tried their best to protect their homes from them. But for all that time, they seemed like nothing more than story. In the early 20th century, though, people started to report actual sightings, and not just anyone. These sightings were documented by trained, respected military heroes. Pilots.

When the Wright brothers took their first controlled flight in December of 1903, it seemed like a revelation. It’s hard to imagine it today, but there was a time when flight wasn’t assumed as a method of travel. So, when Wilbur spent three full seconds in the air that day, he and his brother, Orville, did something else: they changed the way we think about our world. And however long it took humans to create and perfect the art of controllable, mechanical flight, once the cat was out of the bag, it bolted into the future without ever looking back. Within just nine years, someone had managed to mount a machine gun onto one of these primitive aeroplanes. Because of that, when the First World War broke out just two years later, military combat had a new element. Of course, guns weren’t the only weapon a plane could utilise, though. The very first aeroplane brought down in combat was an Austrian plane, which was literally rammed by a Russian pilot. Both pilots died after the wreckage plummeted to the ground below. It wasn’t the most efficient method of air combat, but it was a start. Clearly, we’ve spent the many decades since getting very, very good at it. Unfortunately, though, there have been more reasons for combat disasters than machine gun bullets and suicidal pilots, and one of the most unique and mysterious of those causes first appeared in British newspapers. In an article from the early 1900s, it was said that, and I quote, “the newly constituted royal air force in 1918 appears to have detected the existence of a hoard of mysterious and malicious sprites, whose sole purpose in life was to bring about as many as possible of the inexplicable mishaps which, in those days as now, trouble an airman’s life.” The description didn’t feature a name, but that was soon to follow. Some experts think that we can find roots of it in the old English word gremian, which means “to vex” or “to annoy”. It fits the behaviour of the creatures to the letter, and because of that they have been known from the beginning as gremlins.

Now, before we move forward, it might be helpful to take care of your memories of the 1984 classic film by the same name. I grew up in the 80s, and Gremlins was a fantastic bit of eye candy for my young, horror-loving mind, but the truth of the legend has little resemblance to the version that you and I witnessed on the big screen. The gremlins of folklore, at least the stories that came out of the early 20th century that is, describe the ancient stereotypical daemon, but with a twist. Yes, they were said to be small, ranging anywhere from six inches to three feet in height, and yes, they could appear and disappear at will, causing mischief and trouble wherever they went. But in addition, these modern versions of the legendary goblin seem to possess a supernatural grasp of human technology. In 1923, a British pilot was flying over open water when his engine stalled. He miraculously survived the crash into the sea and was rescued shortly after that. When he was safely aboard the rescue vessel, the pilot was quick to explain what had happened. Tiny creatures, he claimed, had appeared on the plane. Whether they appeared out of nowhere or smuggled themselves aboard prior to take-off, the pilot wasn’t sure. However they got there, he said that they proceeded to tamper with the plane’s engine and flight controls, and without power or control, he was left to drop helplessly into the sea.

These reports were infrequent in the 1920s, but as the world moved into the Second World War and the number of planes in the sky began to grow exponentially, more and more stories seemed to follow – small, troublesome creatures who had an almost supernatural ability to hold on to moving aircraft, and while they were there, to do damage and to cause accidents. In some cases, they were even cited inside planes, among the crew and cargo. Stories, as we’ve seen so many times before, have a tendency to spread like disease. Oftentimes, that’s because of fear, but sometimes it’s because of truth, and the trouble is in figuring out where to draw that line, and that line kept moving as the sightings were reported outside the British ranks. Pilots on the German side also reported seeing creatures during flights, as did some in India, Malta and the Middle East. Some might chalk these stories up to hallucinations, or a bit of pre-flight drinking. There are certainly a lot of stories of World War Two pilots climbing into the cockpit after a night of romancing the bottle – and who can blame them? In many cases, these pilots were going to their death, with a 20% chance of never coming back from a mission alive. But there are far too many reports to blame it all on drunkenness or delirium. Something unusual was happening to planes all throughout the Second World War, and with folklore as a lens, some of the reports are downright eerie. In 2014, a 92-year-old World War Two veteran from Jonesborough, Arkansas came forward to tell a story he had kept to himself for seven decades. He’d been a B-17 pilot during the war, one of the legendary flying fortresses that helped allied air forces carry out successful missions over Nazi territory, and it was on one of those missions that this man experienced something that, until recently, he had kept to himself. The pilot, who chose to identify himself with the initials L.W., spoke of how he was a 22-year-old flight commander on the B-17, when something very unusual happened on a combat mission in 1944. He described how, as he brought the aircraft to a higher altitude, the plane began to make strange noises. That wasn’t completely unusual, as the B-17 is an absolutely enormous plane and sometimes turbulence can rattle the structure, but he checked his instrument panel out of habit. According to his story, the instruments seemed broken and confused.

Looking for an answer to the mystery, he glanced out the right-side window, and then froze. There, outside the glass of the cockpit window, was the face of a small creature. The pilot described it as about three feet tall with red eyes and sharp teeth. The ears, he said, were almost owl-like, and its skin was grey and hairless. He looked back toward the front and noticed a second creature, this one moving along the nose of the aircraft. He said it was dancing and hammering away at the metal body of the plane. He immediately assumed he was hallucinating. I can picture him rubbing his eyes and blinking repeatedly like some old Loony Toons film. But according to him, he was as sharp and alert as ever. Whatever it was that he witnessed outside the body of the plane, he said that he managed to shake them off with a bit of “fancy flying”, and that’s his term, not mine. But while the creatures themselves might have vanished, the memory of them would haunt him for the rest of his life. He told only one person afterwards, a gunner on another B-17, but rather than laugh at him his friend acknowledged that he, too, had seen similar creatures on a flight just the day before.

Years prior, in the summer of 1939, an earlier encounter was reported, this time in the Pacific. According to the account, a transport plane took off from the airbase in San Diego in the middle of the afternoon and headed toward Hawaii. Onboard were 13 marines, some of whom were crew of the plane and others were passengers – it was a transport, after all. About halfway through the flight, whilst still over the vast expanse of the blue Pacific, the transport issued a distress signal. After that, the signal stopped, as did all other forms of communication. It was as if the plane had simply gone silent and then vanished, which made it all the more surprising when it reappeared later, outside the San Diego airfield and prepared for landing. But the landing didn’t seem right. The plane came in too fast, it bounced on the runway in rough, haphazard ways, and then finally came to a dramatic emergency stop. Crew on the runway immediately understood why, too – the exterior of the aircraft was extensively damaged, some said it looked like bombs had ripped apart the metal skin of the transport. It was a miracle, they said, that the thing even landed at all. When no one exited the plane to greet them, they opened it up themselves and stepped inside, only to be met with a scene of horror and chaos.

Inside, they discovered the bodies of 12 of the 13 passengers and crew. Each seemed to have died from the same types of wounds, large, vicious cuts and injuries that almost seemed to have originated from a wild animal. Added to that, the interior of the transport smelled horribly of sulphur and the acrid odour of blood. To complicate matters, empty shell casings were found scattered about the interior of the cockpit. The pistols responsible, belonging to the pilot and co-pilot, were found on the floor near their feet, completely spent. 12 men were found, but there was a thirteenth. The co-pilot had managed to stay conscious despite his extensive injuries, just long enough to land the transport at the base. He was alive but unresponsive when they found him, and quickly removed him for emergency medical care. Sadly, the man died a short while later. He never had the chance to report what happened.

Stories of the gremlins have stuck around in the decades since, but they live mostly in the past. Today they are mentioned more like a personified Murphy’s Law, muttered as a humorous superstition by modern pilots. I get the feeling that the persistence of the folklore is due more to its place as a cultural habit than anything else. We can ponder why, I suppose. Why would sightings stop after World War II? Some think it’s because of advancements in aeroplane technology: stronger structures, faster flight speeds, and higher altitudes. The assumption is that, sure, gremlins could hold on to our planes, but maybe we’ve gotten so fast that even that’s become impossible for them. The other answer could just be that the world has left those childhood tales of little creatures behind. We’ve moved beyond belief now. We’ve outgrown it. We know a lot more than we used to, after all, and to our thoroughly modern minds these stories of gremlins sound like just so much fantasy. Whatever reason you subscribe to, it’s important to remember that many people have believed with all their being that gremlins are real, factual creatures, people we would respect and believe.

In 1927, a pilot was over the Atlantic in a plane that, by today’s standards, would be considered primitive. He was alone, and he had been in the air for a very long time but was startled to discover that there were creatures in the cockpit with him. He described them as small, vaporous beings with a strange, otherworldly appearance. The pilot claimed that these creatures spoke to him and kept him alert in a moment when he was overly tired and passed the edge of exhaustion. They helped with the navigation for his journey and even adjusted some of his equipment. This was a rare account of gremlins who were benevolent rather than meddlesome or hostile. Even still, this pilot was so worried about what the public might think of his experience that he kept the details to himself for over 25 years. In 1953, this pilot included the experience in a memoir of his flight. It was a historic journey, after all, and recording it properly required honesty and transparency. The book, you see, was called The Spirit of St. Louis, and the man was more than just a pilot. He was a military officer, an explore, an inventor, and on top of all of that he was also a national hero because of his successful flight from New York to Paris – the first man to do so, in fact. This man, of course, was Charles Lindbergh.

[Closing Statements]

[wrldwrn-blog]

I'm curious-- Could you expand on how the phrase "It belongs in a museum" was racist? As I under stood it, Indiana wanted the stolen artifact to be where people could see and learn from it, while the guys trying to steal it were trying to exploit it, sell it, profit from it. Have I misunderstood something?

hello! ok, so maybe racist wasn’t necessarily the right term for that specific phrase, but i stand by my point that it’s a nasty phrase regardless. the idea that anything “belongs” in a museum is actually wildly eurocentric bc it implies that native/minority artifacts, people and culture exist for us to study, which is…..not rlly true at all.

anyways, this is kinda long, so if you don’t want to read my lowkey sleep deprived and rambly answer, i can probably just sum it up with a quote or two:

“The problem is that these films rarely spend any time considering the actual cultures from which artifacts are stolen. Ind.iana Jon.es is supposedly a professor, but we almost never see him reading, writing, or speaking to the living descendants of the communities he supposedly studies. Artifacts that have cultural and spiritual value are described as either mysteries or priceless treasures: they exist to be solved or sold, instead of preserved as the tangible heritage of past generations.“

“Many of the world’s richest and most renowned museums are filled with artifacts seized during colonial conquest. The wealth of Europe and North America came, in part, from looted treasure — not only gold and diamonds, but also the human beings who were turned into commodities by the atrocities of slavery.”

“Although the character of Indi.ana Jon.es arguably raised the profile of archaeology as a whole, and L.ara C.roft could inspire young women to go into the field, both figures have little regard for the cultures whose histories they collect. ‘It still promotes a problematic smash-and-grab mentality to irreplaceable artifacts and lives.’“

  x

this was actually a big thing back during that time period, and the mindset still kind of exists today  –– the concept that taking things away from people and studying them is somehow more important than the autonomy of a group. it is a wildly western (read: European/North American/white) mindset, that was mainly used against non-Western people to show that they don’t necessarily know what’s best for them and therefore have no place handling their own material goods. this is an actual archaeological thought process of the time, so like….while archaeologists hopefully don’t do “archaeology” the way ij does it anymore, it was still a prevalent thought process at the time, and probably is for some people today. basically, ij is a highly dramatized version of what archaeologists have done to people for the past few centuries, but the end result is kinda the same.

if he went to the people from which those artifacts were taken and was like ‘hey can i have this so that i can study it’ and they were like ‘yeah sure we don’t want it’, then that’s one thing, but a lot of early anthropology was based in the idea that non-white people weren’t really capable of handling their own stuff. what white people do with that information is usually take it and go ‘oh wow look at how backwards/ancient these primitive people are compared to us!’,  which is also…super racist.

you also have to understand that archaeology, by nature, is a really destructive process because once you take a site apart, it can’t be put back together. this can also be said for the places in which you do archaeology, because if you just walk in and start taking stuff, you’ve probably just fucked up relations with those people, and say goodbye to ever being able to get better data bc you’ve stolen stuff and now they hate you. anthropology highkey depends on having good relationships with the people that you’re studying, bc you’re not going to get good data if you don’t communicate and cooperate with those people.

because of that, it can also be a super politically/socially controversial process, and any good archaeologist should take great care to work with the people from that area, and to take really good notes and show a lot of care in how they conduct their research and excavations. what indiana does is like….go in, take some stuff, destroy some more stuff, and then pretend like he is somehow better than the people who are trying to make a profit off of those artifacts. he might be “better” in a sense because artifacts aren’t on the black market, but the museum is still making a profit off of those artifacts, and i highly doubt that any of those profits are going back to the communities from where those artifacts came. either way, those artifacts are being stolen, and the people really had no say in the matter. like yes, learning about other cultures is a good thing, but we don’t need to be walking all over hundreds to thousands of years worth of culture and tradition in order to do so.

basically the best way i can kinda explain it is like….imagine you live in a house. your parents lived in that house, your grandparents and their parents, and their parents and a whole bunch of your ancestors lived in that house. it’s probably got a lot of sentimental value to you, and you have certain stories and objects that mean a lot to you because of the history you have in that house. and then all of a sudden, some random white people come barging in and take a bunch of your stuff out of your house, and you’re not really being consulted on it because they don’t think you know best when it comes to your stuff, or how to take care of your stuff. if one guy says to you that he’s taking it so that people hundreds and thousands of miles away can “study” you (which is also a super dated concept, as most anthropologists today believe that you need to go participate in a society in order to study the society), that probably won’t make you feel any better bc no matter what he says (even if he’s taking your stuff so that other people don’t also…take your stuff), he’s still like…stealing your stuff, with no apparent plans to bring it back?

anyways, i know this is super rambly and it’s probably a wild stream of consciousness so i’m sorry if it makes zero sense, but also here’s some articles that probably put it a little better than i could: x x x

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(Attention conservation notice: science fiction, language, the fever dreams of an author raised on too much Beowulf. Rough draft, part 1 of ?; next)

Hie ne ƿendon ðætte æfre menn sceolden sƿæ reccelease ƿeorðan ond sio lar sƿæ oðfeallan: for ðære ƿilnunga hie hit forleton, ond ƿoldon ðæt her ðy mara ƿisdom on londe ƿære ðy ƿe ma geðeode cuðon. --Alfred of Wessex

The late spring had the effect every year of laying some kind of magical enchantment on Dublin: a city that for eight months had been some combination of wet, dark, and cold suddenly rediscovered blue skies, blazing summer sunlight filtered through leafy green shade, and the pleasure of spending the afternoon lying on the grass. Or, if you were a student, staring out the window of your advisor’s office, desperately wishing that that was what you were doing. Which is why Katherine thought she misheard Dr. Gordon the first time.

“Wait, what?”

“You’ll have to learn the language,” Dr. Gordon said again calmly.

Katherine stared blankly at her for a long minute trying to work out what she meant. When it clicked into place, she felt like an idiot. Stupid springtime.

“You mean there’s no module?”

Dr. Gordon nodded.

“Of course. I should have thought of that.” There was no money in translation modules for small languages, to say nothing of dialects spoken only by tiny communities in the middle of nowhere. “Ugh. So. I’ll need a fieldwork module, maybe something like they use in the linguistics department. Something that can build up a library of vocabulary and morphology as I hear it--”

Dr. Gordon shook her head. “No, that won’t work either, I’m afraid. Those need at least one language in common to work. They’d have to be able to understand what you were saying, or you’d need an interpreter available. All the information we have says they don’t share any languages with outsiders, or even any of the nearby settlements.”

“They’re monolingual? They don’t have any modules of their own?”

“The few people who have had contact with them report they have no cyberization of any sort.”

Katherine looked down and rubbed her forehead pensively. She was beginning to wonder if she made the right choice for a research topic. It was still a great idea in principle: isolated societies fascinated her, and were becoming increasingly rare. It used to be, before globalization and four hour New York to Sydney flights, before assistive language tech and cybernetics, it was actually possible for a human community to exist in isolation. To really be cut off from the world. Some people had made that choice deliberately, and sometimes geography chose it for them. Was it better? Worse? Probably neither, in the grand scheme of things. It was just another way of existing. Of course, if you went far back enough in time, most human societies were more or less like that, wherever they were. There was a time when there were no large cities, no global trade networks, where there was always a horizon beyond which lay only mystery. Not that you should romanticize it too much. Limited contact with outsiders meant hostility and suspicion prevailed, and a chance meeting with a stranger often meant mortal danger. And that was a memory civilization had struggled against ever since.

But this study was going to be harder than she had anticipated. The Dry Valleys People, as they were rather dully known to the anthropological literature, lived in what was still one of the most isolated places on the planet. They survived with limited means in one of the harshest environments on Earth--one people used to think couldn’t even support human life--and if that wasn’t enough to dissuade Katherine from going down there for six months, they were notoriously unfriendly to outsiders. Not hostile, and certainly not violent, as far as Katherine could tell. Just that every time the government, or a university research team, or a census taker, or even a passing fishing boat tried to speak to them, or spend time among them, the Dry Valleys People ignored them, totally and completely, until they went away.

“What are you thinking?” Dr. Gordon asked.

Katherine smiled. “Do your remember what you said when I proposed this topic to you in the first place?”

“I think it was--oh yes, ‘People have been trying this for longer than you’ve been alive. What makes you think you can do it?’“

“That’s it. You’ve always been so encouraging.”

Dr. Gordon laughed. “You’re a natural optimist in a lot of ways, Kate. You don’t give up easily, or often. But you do sometimes need a dose of realism to temper your perspective once in a while.”

“So you think I should give up?”

“Not at all. I merely want to keep you informed of the challenges you’re likely to face. As far as these things go, this is a small one. Linguists, anthropologists, and explorers have been picking up new languages as they go for centuries. You’re just going to have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“And how’s that?”

“Slowly. You won’t be fluent in six weeks. I have some scans of old books I can send you. By the way, do you remember how you answered my question?”

“I said I’d been obsessed with the Dry Valleys ever since I learned about them. That no one knew where the Dry Valleys People had come from, they’d just appeared out of nowhere right in their present location a century and a half ago. Nobody found the ships or planes or skimmers that might have brought them there. And that every time somebody tried to contact them--a government official, a social worker, a linguist--they’d been completely ignored. Like they were invisible. And you said, it sounds like they really want to be left alone. And I said, yes, but I have something none of those people ever did. I have a letter of introduction. And then you said, let’s go into my office and talk.”

“That sounds about right. Pessimist though I may be by nature, even I have to admit you have remarkable determination--and some remarkable abilities. If anyone at this university--indeed, anyone I know--can accomplish what you’re hoping to accomplish, it’s you. It won’t be easy.

“I didn’t think it would be.”

“Good. I won’t keep you any longer. Read the manuals I send you; let’s meet in, say, two weeks to talk about them, and go over your funding proposals. Now go out and get some sunshine!”

Katherine sprang to her feet. “Yes, boss!” She paused at the door, and looked back over her shoulder.

“Dr. Gordon?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for believing in me.”

(next)

[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 3 - Talal Asad Khartoum International Airport

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/07Pf4STyxpY5EcMMvBv4uH?si=7b4b9c36d9f44368

(Beep indicating a voicemail message) 

Susan 

Do you think I’m stupid? You think I believe your flight got diverted to South Sudan? South Sudan? Oh and it just so happens that it’s thematically appropriate for your little podcast? Get back to London. Now. We need to have a serious conversation.

(Fade in on airport sounds) 

John 

That’s the voicemail I got just after I arrived at Juba airport. I’d been ignoring Susans phone calls, because… well because i was scared of talking to her and I knew I was in trouble. 

I’m going to level with you listeners, in the spirit of honesty and full disclosure which I have learned is important to some people in anthropology. For some reason. The truth is my flight did not get redirected to Juba. The trunk of ethnographies is real but I already knew about evans-pritchard. I saw he did research in South Sudan and I fancied it, I’d never been and what’s the point of anthropology but to visit new places? 

It was actually really hard to get there. I flew from Brisbane to Dubai then from there to Kenya. Stayed in Nairobi for a night then went to Juba. Took me almost two days. 

I think that that gets lost in all this. That I’m working really hard, and in some ways what i’m doing is very innovative! 

I had been planning to go to Indonesia, I was going to cover Geertz next but I suppose I should head back to London and placate Susan. I just hope she doesn’t fire me. God my dad and grandad would be so angry. Do you ever feel like the useless one? My sister works at Shell you know? What am I doing? Sitting in an airport talking to no-one. I guess Indonesia can wait, an airport is as good a place to do an episode. I guess we’ll cover Talal Asad, seen he did his first ethnography in North Sudan. And we are in Khartoum. I’m not going to describe it, you know what an airport looks like. 

In Anthropology we are kind of into liminal spaces like airports. Liminal is just a fancy way of saying between two places. Anthros like a liminal space because they tend to be areas where normal social rules break down a bit, witches in some contexts tend to live in liminal spaces for example. Usually between the village and the brush. 

In other good news I managed to lose that weird guy who has been following me around. Gave him the slip at the airport, I told him I’d go back via Nairobi but then I booked myself onto a flight here. I mean it sucks now because the flight back to London isn’t until tomorrow, if i’d gone to Nairobi i’d be home by now. Worth it to get away from that guy though you would not believe what he told me he was doing in Papua New - 

(Phone rings) 

John 

Hi Susan. 

Yes I got your messages. 

Well I think you maybe weren’t getting through because I was in umm south Sudan, signal wasn’t amazing. I called O2 about it, they said it was not really within their service area.

Yeah, no i understand why you’re angry, but really it was purely an accident that I ended up in Juba. Act of God is a pretty good excuse right? 

Where am I now? Well… you’re gonna laugh, I mean it’s pretty hard to believe but there’s this guy who has been sort of following me around and I was running away from him so…

No, it is the truth…

Right… 

No I understand why you wouldn’t believe me - and why you’re angry. In my defence though, and I was just saying this on the podcast - 

No! No, no, Don’t listen. - 

Just because it’s not very good. - What do you mean you can believe that? Anyway, in my defence I think what i’m doing is quite innovative....

Well Derivative is a little harsh - 

Well, that’s as maybe but I think they students are getting a lot out of this, you know they’re more engaged with the texts than if I was just in London talking dryly about them - no, not your lectures they aren’t dry. 

Ah, I hadn’t thought of office hours. No, that’s my bad. No I didn’t reply to the students email but again, the plains of South Sudan aren’t great for wifi - yes I suppose that is my own fault. 

Well I’m coming back as fast as I can. 

(We hear from down the phone “What do you mean as fast as you can? Where are you!?”) 

I’m in Khartoum, like I said I was trying to run away from that guy. 

(Down phone “You have a tutorial today! When do you fly?”) 

Sorry, not till tomorrow. But I can do it from here, the airport has pretty good wifi. 

(Exasperated noises “If I could fire you right now I would.”) 

Sorry, Susan. 

She hung up on me! Well I suppose I should give you guys a little bit of background on Talal Asad before the tutorial seen as the students have dictated that that is what we’re doing next. 

The students have been insisting on Talal Asad for a while. So here it is. I was honestly unsure if Asad really fits into the tutorial, but then I found out Evan-Pritchard’s was Asad’s doctoral advisor.  So we’ve got some continuity going on. 

Anyway, I have been getting insistent emails about Talal Asad for a while. Hold on, let me read out one of them. (shuffling noises) ummm “Dear Mr. Johnson, You still haven’t given me feed—” okay sorry wrong email. Oh, here it is 

“Dear Mr. Johnson, I actually enjoy your tutorials. But I have some suggestions for the future. Also, if you could check my latest assignment and” Blah blah blah this and that, oh here it is. “I think Talal Asad would be a good fit for your tutorials. Asad is a postcolonial cultural anthropologist, he is Saudi-born and brought up in Pakistan—”

Ok see, here is where I think we all go wrong as a generation. People think where this man was born and brought up somehow changes what he has to say? Is he automatically post-colonial because he was born in the Middle East? Anthropology in practice is about being objective, being the fly on the wall, I know we’ve talked about objectivity, but I still think being an outsider gives a less biased look. What does identity politics have to do with it?

And I know the students have been insisting on alternate field work and auto-ethnography, but the feeling of being on the field. Being part of somewhere different, the grass under your feet, water in your shoes? Slipping out of yourself and becoming someone else! That’s irreplaceable. 

Tannoy

“Can the owner of a large wooden trunk full of books come to the customer service desk. It is blocking the Mens toilets. If the trunk is not collected it will be removed and destroyed. The name tag says John Johnson. Again, can John Johnson come to the customer service desk and retrieve his large wooden trunk.”

Oh that’s my trunk give me one second.

(transition thing)

Okay, where were we? Yes, the student's email. She says “Asad is a post-colonial anthropologist. Much of his work focuses on anthropology of religion. He will fit right into the introduction to anthropology course we are studying because he moves away from locations and towards themes. 

Most of his work focuses on being critical about the things in anthropology which are taken for granted. 

Specifically, the conceptualization of Islam and human rights in the global arena. He said that a lot of the colonialist anthropologists concentrated on categorising different groups of people. They went to the field and found differences through limited observation which they then turned into official documents. Those documents were used to justify colonialism and/or to divide and conquer”

Isn’t that a bit harsh? I said as much in my reply to this student. Which I CC’d to the whole class. I said these are still the fathers of anthropology. And as Asad himself says, historical context is important (smugly) Besides what is anthropology without the field? “A move to themes” Sounds like someone didn’t like getting their hands dirty. 

The back of that guy's head looks familiar. Is that him again? But no, I’m pretty sure I lost him in Juba Airport. 

(Deep breath)

Besides I’m pretty sure that student is wrong. Asad did do field work. His first book was built on his ethnography in North Sudan hence why we’re in Khartoum. Although it is true that Asad is careful to specify that his work does not encompass the lives of the Kababish tribe but rather focuses on certain aspects of their lives, such as their ecology, economics and social organization of the tribes. That’s a big change from traditional ethnographers like Malinowski who said the aim should be to describe all of society. 

After that first work Asad shifts towards being critical; critical of secularism, critical of human rights, and even of what his peers had to say. 

Like there’s this guy, an anthropologist, Ernest Gellner, and he is not exactly what my students would call ‘woke’ and the thing is I am not much for “cancel culture”. 

But Asad really rips him a new one. Very unprofessional. Asad criticizes Gellner for having a limited perspective of Islam. Gellner thought Islam had a strict blue print, whilst there is more flexbility in Judaism and Christianity. So Gellner is kind of a structural functionalist for Religion. But Asad said Islam was also felixible and Gellner failed to apply his critique of Islam to other religions...maybe because he had other motives? Like my students and their “anti-colonial” issues with EP. 

And personally I don’t think EP or Gellner were intentionally being colonial. Gellner’s ideas are based on the Middle East aka the birthplace of Islam. So surely that’s the authentic form? Also, I mean Gellner is an older man, he can make mistakes and he was a product of his time…. wait what? Sorry, it says here Gellner is only 7 years older than Asad. (clears throat)

Regardless, I don’t understand why we have to cancel EP or Gellner for it. 

Oh shit it’s time for the tutorial. 

(Skype call sound)

John

Wait is this everyone? Should I wait five minutes to start or something?

Zahra

No...I think it’s just me. After they read your email where you kind of ranted about cancel culture they all said they weren’t going to come. 

John 

Oh… Right, I guess I should keep my opinions to myself. (kind of mumble this) 

Zahra 

Um, Mr. Johnson? Sorry, I don’t want to be rude. But I don’t think anyone is trying to cancel Gellner? I just don’t think you understand what Asad is trying to say with his criticisms.

John 

Well why don’t you just explain it to me then. Because clearly you all understand anthropology better than me.

Zahra

Well that’s kind of your job but okay. 

Asad is not just being critical of Gellner, to be mean. He is being critical of the kind of academia that Gellner represents. Especially in Anthropology, where much of the colonial discourse argued that when someone goes into the field the outsider has an objective idea of the field. Hence, Gellner believing as a non-Muslim, and as not being a part of the group, that he has a more neutral understanding of the group he is looking to study.

While Asad is criticizing this exact practice, he is also saying there needs to be more of a focus on the history behind how certain concepts come to be rather than just the group. So for example, Gellner says Islam is political, and Christianity isn’t. So Asad wants people to examine where that idea comes from. 

To do that Asad says there needs to be like frameworks that look at religious tradition not as static and the opposite of modernity, but rather look at tradition and modernity together and how they create specific social structures and varied collections of beliefs and customs. So we should think of  religions as conversations between lots of people throughout history rather than a monologue laid down by a handful of powerful people.

So it’s like academia, we build it together, Malinowski has an idea then EP criticises it and improves it and so on. It’s not cancel culture, we’re building knowledge as a community. Sometimes that means saying your hero is wrong, or even - maybe - like racist. 

Are you listening to me?

John Johnson 

Yeah, yeah sure...I - I just saw this guy who has been like chasing me. It’s definitely him! 

Zahra

Chasing you?

John 

Well not exactly chasing but like pursuing? 

Hey sir, can you help me take this desk into that toilet?

Yeah that toilet there. 

Hey Zainab, sorry I need to hide. Why don’t you just finish out the tutorial by listening to this extract. 

Zahra 

It’s actually Zahra--

Extract 

In 1975, while I was teaching at the University of Hull, I learned that my mother had advanced cancer. I decided to go to Saudi Arabia and stayed with her there until she died a year later. The political atmosphere and the social rigidity in a society awash with newfound wealth was very uncongenial, but the entire experience had a considerable impact on me and my ideas. I tried—unsuccessfully—to sort things out in my 1978 Malinowski Memorial Lecture (which I had been invited to give before my year in Saudi Arabia) in which I dealt with the definition of ideology, the classic Marxist theoretical term for false consciousness, as well as with the ‘authentic’ accounts of cultures studied by anthropologists. I tried to distinguish language in life from the language used by anthropologists about life, and to trace the slippery role of ‘meaning’ in anthropological accounts of other cultures. I tried to think in that presentation about matters that interested anthropologists of the time, as well as larger issues that had shaped my life up to that point.

Improbable though it may seem, my struggle to articulate my ideas and criticisms was largely prompted by my reflection on my mother's religious life. My father spoke and wrote impressively about the religion to which he had converted. My mother, by contrast, lived as a Muslim without expounding the doctrines of Islam, without defending it from attack or trying to persuade others of its superior virtue. My point is not simply that she was a pious woman—that she performed her prescribed prayers regularly, read portions of the Qur'an aloud early every morning, and fasted during the month of Ramadan. It is that I now realized I had thought of her life in terms of a lack instead of trying to understand it in her own terms, as she had lived it. I began to see that, like so many non-intellectuals, her religious practices were embodied, and that her embodied religion did not offer itself to hermeneutic methods—to the deciphering by observers of the real meaning of what she did—although it obviously ‘meant’ much to her.

In a very fundamental sense, these ‘religious’ activities had been no different from the mundane part of her life because they were mundane and integral to her everyday life. And while I had seen her act in this way as far back as I could remember, it was only after her death—when I turned in a sustained way to Wittgenstein for an understanding of religion (although he himself was not ‘religious’)—that I began to see her life differently. I saw it now not as an attempt to deepen and aestheticize her experience (as it is fashionable in some quarters to say), but as a way of being. My mother didn't intellectualize her religion, but by that I don't wish to say that she was ‘a blind follower’. Her prayers, recitations, and fasting were intended neither for other people to decode nor for enhancing her own experience; they were addressed to her God. During her married life she had not been always receptive to my father's enlightened arguments about changing some of her religious practices. Was this because she was irrational, incapable of responding to a rational argument, as I thought at the time? I have come to believe that I was wrong in thinking so: she didn't abandon particular practices because she felt that the change wouldn't fit easily into the entirety of her life as a Muslim. The idea that her feelings of fear, reverence, love, and so forth were to be understood as ‘emotions’ and therefore as ‘non-rational’ had for long seemed to me an unsatisfactory way of thinking about devoutness. This became clearer over time as I learned to think of embodiment not as mechanization but as the articulation of a particular encounter—in my mother's case, of her relationship to her God.

John

Okay, i’m safely in the bathroom, so sorry for any - (flushing) interruptions… 

I’ve been really struggling with my students. It’s like they want to challenge everything. What about theories that are good? Can’t we leave well enough alone? Do they think i’m like stupid or something? I just have respect for those that went before me. Even if I didn’t agree with EP, or Malinowski or Gellner, academic freedom is a thing you know? I’ll defend their right to say their theories to the death. Students be damned.

Zahra 

Umm Mr. Johnson - I’m still here. 

John 

Oh, hi Zahra, look I didn’t mean you. I’m sure you’re a very respectful - okay she hung up on me. Why is everyone doing that today? 

Gellner was trying to make an honest attempt to understand Islam. Objectively. Not with the bias of being a muslim. Isn’t that what we were criticising EP and Malinowski for? Their personal opinions affecting their theory? Sure maybe if you’re muslim you can have a more nuanced view and understand how it feels to be within that religion. 

And maybe people should have a say in how they are defined. Especially when those definitions can have a massive impact on your life. Like under colonialism. And maybe Gellner had a blindspot for Christianty, but so what? I like Gellner. His theories make the world simpler. Sometimes you need to use simple categories to clarify a complex world. Asad just complicates everything. And if Asad can see everything that’s wrong in Gellner, What’s his solution? 

Susan calls

What do you mean “a complaint”? 

The email? Oh my goodness I'm being silenced! I have complaints about them too like how they aren’t showing up to the tutorial. 

Well, yes the tutorial was a little short today but in my defence that guy is after me. And I had to run away. 

Well, You don’t have to believe me but it’s true. Do you think I usually take phone calls in a bathroom?

(flushing sound/bathroom sounds)

Yes I’m in a toilet. 

You know what, i’m sick of being told what to do and think by you and the students and my parents and my grandparents! I’m going to indonesia. And if you want to fire me then go ahead and talk to my grandfather, I believe he made a very generous donation that he would like back!

Ha! His time I hung up. Okay, I’m going to get a flight to Indonesia, hopefully that’ll shake this weirdo following me. 

Thank you for listening to notes from the field desk - this episode was written by Fatimah Ahktar and me. 

Lucy Hansen was supervisor Susan 

Our artwork was by Julie Karremans 

Our music was “dark side of my students” 

Asad, Talal The Kababish Arabs 1970

Asad, Talal Genealogies of Religion 1993

Asad, Talal Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter 1973

Asad Talal Autobiographical Reflections on Anthropology and Religion 2020

Gellner, Ernest Muslim Society 1981

Acclivity - Dubai Departures 

https://freesound.org/people/acclivity/sounds/49118/

Astounded - Christopher J Astbury Switzerland Airport departure lounge Zurich International

https://freesound.org/people/Astounded/sounds/481818/

Polymorpheva - London Heathrow Airport 

https://freesound.org/people/polymorpheva/sounds/104541/

Mario1298 - Waiting for passengers at the airport background. 

https://freesound.org/people/mario1298/sounds/155798/

For full Links visit us on Soundcloud, twitter and instagram at notesfromTFD

[lyriumlotus]

A New Dawn: Asunder

Fixed~

(AO3)

Well…. This is it then.

                                                    The New Age. City of Arlathan.

Amanita re-adjusted the bag around her shoulders, & sighed, taking a personal moment to collect her thoughts as the carriage pulled away, leaving her at the grand cities gates..

Time and life itself, had changed much, since the end of the Heralds legendary teaming up with Fenharel and his ancient peoples army.

A time where they scoured the world together.

Freeing the rest of her people from slavery and oppression, as well as waking and freeing the last of his own.  

You see, solidarity had brought the two groups finally together to fight for a just cause.

Against an awakened old vengeful elven god.

Of the name of Elgar’nan.

A wannabe god, gone mad, void-bent on devouring the world over once more,

and a power hungry Chantry determined to sink its teeth in rather then let go its cruel leash.  

But perhaps most astonishing of all, that the two,

The Dread Wolf and the Herald, his heart,

had the support from many other groups across the lands,

The Dwarven, Qunari and Human alike..

Those who fought for true peace, against corruption and whom wanted change or simply, acceptance. Those that didn’t care to see the world in which they resided, destroyed.

When the time came for action, everyone of all walks of life, answered the call.  

They would sing melodies and chants, of the Lady, the Herald,

and tell of many courageous or colorful stories,

that where ever the Herald walks, Hope is sure to follow.

She who turned one of the worlds threats, into its greatest allies.

She who would appear on battlefields, when all seemed lost,

to balance the playing field, and help win the fight.

And Amanita would know the weight of its truths.

As she had witnessed it countless times, with her very own eyes.

For when the Herald, one of her very Clan,

rose slowly to become a beacon of light to them & their ilk.  

Each and every single time, when all seemed lost, Her Herald, Lavellan would always reappear to face whatever darkness the Times would bring, and always against innumerable odds, she would win with the Dread Wolf by her side.

People thought her a Herald, others, a Goddess of justice or harbinger brining an end, depending what side you were on, Some even called her simply, acquaintance, ally, friend.

Amanita knew her only as an exceptional gifted student, next in line to become Clans Keeper, before destiny ushered her away.  

But that story , The Herald and the Wolf… is one best told for another time.

Here today,  Amanita stood instead.

Five years had passed since that dust had settled, and with it, the last of the ancient Elven, known  around the world as either the Arlathanians to outsiders or the Elvhenan amongst themselves had begun to rebuild their home, New Arlathan, on the promised lands, or rather, a remnant of it.

Sharing the territory with the Dalish and the Elves of the Free Marches.

For certainly, the divided groups had overcome differences to fight alongside one another,

but with times of peace,  they had all divided again.

To each their own corner of the map,  or so it had seemed..

For change doesnt come easily to anyone,

no matter the culture, nor how advanced its society…

Change is always met with unease, displeasure and resistance …

Which is where She came in.

It had been decided that a great divide would do neither groups survival well.

Especially if the next war ever came.  So a compromise had been reached.

One which would see small numbers of each group intermingle and integrate , in order to learn from one another.

Those chosen,

would represent and act as Anthropologists ‘in a way’.

Studying how the other lived. Its cultural and Social differences, as well teaching that of their own people in turn.

Amanita was an average student to Clan Lavellan, Yet when the time came to recommend a few students to exchange with them, She had been quick to volunteer.

If she were being entirely honest, curiosity had tugged at her for far too long,

wanting to see the shining crystal spires one could only barely glimpse, above the great rune gates amidst the ever present mist, keeping hidden what and whom lived within.

Wanting also, to confirm the many rumours that had drifted her way of the strangeness to

the ancient elves ways.. Like ‘did they really bathe in public large hot saunas? Did their mages really all come together to spend days casting magnificently extravagant spells?

And did they truly own great magical mirrors that could transport you to new areas in a single step?’ Or were they just ridiculous rumours,  not much unlike those she had heard spoken of her own people?

Amanita had so very many questions that needed answering.

But perhaps the most important one of all?

When was this bloody gate going to open??? Seriously?!

As if it somehow privy to her very thoughts,  did said gate suddenly rumble, groan and creak,

Coming to life before her very eyes…

It did not open like any normal gate,

the majestic patterns adorned within the structure , seemed to shudder and move

as if alive, unwinding and untangling its golden and emerald branches, to reveal an opening just for her..  So stunned was she, at the bizarre display, that Amanita had become momentarily frozen in shock, Mouth agape like a wild tusket,

until a voice, loud and shrill, broke through to bark  “Well? Don’t just stand there.”

“O-oh.. Right. Sorry!”

Said she, grabbing her belongings and proceeding to haul them through, as the giant gate closed itself quickly around her, with such a heavy sudden gust that she found herself briefly blinded by her own tangle of hair as it fell across her face..

The brunette huffed..  and shook her head, clearing her vision once more as she eyed the one whom greeted her.  

A middle aged elf?, bald, like most of the ancient ones seemed to be.. Female? No… Male.. ? Too hard to tell sometimes.

“I apologise for the delay… I am Amanita of Clan Lavellan.”

Amanita bowed graciously, as she had been shown, by her elders.

And was met with a disgruntled ‘Of course you are’ as her receiver turned to walk away

“This way then. Don’t tally.”

Amanita quickly collected her things and hurried after.

“You will be given adequate living arrangements, across the building from where you will teach.

Times for these lessons, will be arranged by you, to your class, after the first mornings meeting, once we have you comfortably settled in of course.“ They replied blankly, stopping for a moment to let some kind of spirit pass.

Amanita would never get used to those.

“It will be upto you, to feed yourself, as we do not provide door to door room service down here.” They continued on.  “The main city courtyard is where you can find most meats and vegetables, should you prefer to make and prepare your own meals,  though most of us, come to the Dinner Halls twice a day. You will know these times, as a bell will be rung twice.

Once for mid morning meals, and later again towards Dusk.  

However, The Halls stay open all day, so should you find yourself hungry, there will always be food plentiful.”

Now that they had finally made it through the entranceway,

Amanita was met with a most truly wonderful sight.  

Before them, stood what she could only imagine was the city courtyard.

Lights filled the streetways. Hanging in midair. Some supported by beams and torches,

Others, simply by magic. She even spotted a few lights here or there trailing along with passers-by.

She couldnt tell if it was their own magic controlling these, or if they were wisps of some sort, since a few seemed to twirl and dance as if alive.  Even the pavements themselves, shone.. a very soft light underfoot, as dusk fell around them.  

Elvhen people hurried to and forth, carrying silks and other colourful materials, the hint of silvers and golds glinting like the precious jewels they probably were, as they whisked past.

Jugs and pots were carried (sometimes on heads), clothings, weapons and books.

Several were packing away their store tents for the night, others yet, led fanciful decorated Halla, wyvern, Horse or Hart, as each beast carried some load or other behind it.

Music could be heard from the distance, and faint laughter and song, accompanied it. Tunes, she had never heard of, nor ever knew what instrument could possible be behind creating such sounds.

“Ah, Yes”

Her Guide, noticing her distraction. Paused a moment too.

“As you will no doubt have guessed. Our public house is down this street…

I do personally recommend their Embrium Cider…

However , I would ‘also’ recommend, you do not make too much of a habit of frequenting there too often… as we will not tolerate wild drunkards wishing to ruin the peace.” Did they mean her people? Or was she just being defensive?

“Regardless, your room, is down ‘this’ pathway.”

They beckoned to the left, with a wave of their hand,

and she smiled politely following again

Astonishingly enough, she found herself surprised by the ancient elvhen love and extreme overuse of crystal. Certainly, she had heard tales of their ancient kingdoms, made with the stuff.. but she had assumed they were nothing more then fanciful elftales, told to keep Dalish children interested.

The buildings, the pathways, everything of wall and ground, seemed to be, in some way shape or form… decorated by Crystal. Crystal flowers, vines, swirls, crystallised patterns of wolves entwined with halla, dragons dancing with Mythal-like figures, murals added faint splashes of colour along walkways, patterns of animals, beasts, spirits, warriors, with bows, staffs or swords to daggers.

Though, polished white marble stone, was what made up the main foundations.

It was dizzying trying to take it all in.

Few trees, and bushes, plants and flowers littered the place. And what did, looked almost out of place, with the rest of the scene. Unnatural even, as many of the plants they passed, she recognised, should be well out of season, currently here in full glorious bloom.

Some smaller tree’s, beautiful pink and white Thedas blossoms, had crystal wrapping around their trunks all the way up, to their branches, keeping them contained, or helping shape their growth.

Lights glowed, along the thinner crystal, basking the flora wrapped within.      

The ancient elder guide lead on, finally arriving to the building in which she was to stay..

It was massive. Like most of the buildings really.. So much so, she had to crane her neck back, to take in its towering height.  It too, was made from white marble and crystal. No surprise really.

“How in Thedas, do you ever know your way around here?” She asked, arching a brow and side eyeing the other beside her.

“I’m sure you will manage.”

They replied indifferently as they stepped past her and entered within.

She followed them with her gaze, when they passed and disappeared from sight.

Clearly, it wasn’t their problem, if she were to become lost or not.

Amanita took one last lingering look of its height, and entered as well.

Warmth was the first thing to hit her, and she was glad for it too, as giant open fireplaces were centred in the middle of each common room, where some elves sat at tables , or on well furnished lounges and chairs, reading or chatting amongst themselves. Some wrote or drew in books, some sat in circles, telling stories and grand tales.. or puffing away on smoke pipes.

Had her guide not been in such a clear hurry to bring her to her room, and be done with her,

she would have liked to have stayed and listen to such extravagantly colourful tales.

They walked up two sets of stone stairwells before finally coming to a stop down one of the grand arched hallways.

She was thankful for the moment to pause, and sunk heavily against the wall, catching her breath, as the majority of her body ached from carrying her luggage and the steps it took them to get here.

“Here is your room my Lady.”

“Ohhh…”

Amanita  lugged her things the last few paces, and stepped in.

She had expected something modest, truly modest, but this room looked big enough to house a clans family of five. Comfortably.

A large bed to the far corner, with dark green velvet and gold trimming, covers, an assortment of colourful pillows of various make, like wool, velvet, fleece, and cotton.

An open large fireplace, fire already crackling away, candles already lit and tables, one for study work, another for food preparations? Perhaps.

Chairs… Actual chairs with fine red and green upholstery. A luxurious lounge set at the end of the bed. Heavy dark red and gold curtains that hid an open balcony behind large mosaic stained glass windows.

Amanita remembering herself suddenly, turned, to thank her guide for their time and for seeing her to her room. Only to realise with a pinch of guilt, that they had already left her be.

Shame.

She wandered over to the bed and began unpacking her things.

A few memento’s, gifts, from her Clansfolk , were set atop the dresser.

Miniature carvings of Halla, one of feharel (old habits sometimes died harder then others, but then, the meaning behind this one had changed. For now, they believed FenHarel protected their dreams),

as well a few other Dalish knick-knacks, a straw doll, given to protect her, from a small Dalish child, and a nearly full journal that she had fondly begun sketching & writing in, as well.

She hadn’t ever owned much clothing to begin with, so it took little time to pack those away, and by the time she was done, exhaustion had well passed kicked in.

She stretched, falling back on the green rug to stare mindlessly up at the ceiling, then pulled herself to her feet and dragged herself sluggishly to the bed.

She collapsed atop it with a “Ompf”, kicking off her leather bound shoes, and in mere moments,

sleep claimed her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

*Knock, knock, knock*

“Hmnnfff-snort-……”

*Knock, knock, knock*

“Hmmssnaughhh?!!”

She bolted upright in bed. Dazed. Trying to remember where she was.

The sound that pulled her from her dreams, came again, only this time, alittle more insistently.

Knock, knock, knock.

Reality kicked in hard and she sprung from the bed, only to find her foot tangled in the blankets,

as she tumbled instead to the floor.

Ah .. Ouch…. ~

*Knock, knock, … knock*

“Yes! Yes!, I’m coming!!”

Amanita kicked herself free, stood briefly, attempting to fix her mess of hair, then hurried over to open the door.

A large figure towered above her,

and she looked up from armoured chest to see a stern face and cold golden eyes peering down a large nose at her.  He was hooded and from the looks of it, in gold plaited armour to boot. A guard? Sentry?  Had she already somehow broken a law?  Was he here to escort her out of the city,

or worse, to prison????

By the Gods.

She needed a coffee..

She hoped absent-mindedly as they continued to stare at one another silently,

that they served coffee in this prison.

Then he finally cleared his throat.

“I am called, Abelas.” A slight tilt of the head as he observed her silently gaping at him.

“I am here to escort you..”

Oh god… she knew it. Prison.

“..To where you will be teaching”

what??? OH .. RIGHT!!!

“Thank goodness.. “

She sighed aloud, relieved, resting a hand over her heart and chuckled shaking her head

“I thought I’d done something wrong..”

“Why?”

She’d say he arched a brow at her in this moment when she looked to him again,

yet he apparently lacked them.

“Well, you’re….” She waved at his attire. “Dressed like one of the guards..from the looks of it”

He straightened.

“Regardless, you are late. I had arrived at the required time earlier, yet when you had not answered, I assumed you had gone down to the study halls already. Found you absent and thus returned again, to escort you.”

Amanita rubbed her forehead

“Sorry.. Sorry.. I …slept in… “

“Clearly”. He bemused looking past her.

“Right… Can I.. - Would you give me a moment to collect my things?” He nodded. “Then I shall meet you downstairs.” And left her too it.

Ok. Best not take too long then. Amanita hurried over to the wash room. A small out of the way room.

She wouldn’t have enough time to bathe properly,  so instead she hurried up to the smaller water basin, grabbed the flannel and attempted to wash her face, Goodness though, did she look a sight. A flustered cheeked dazed woman looked back at her from across the mirror, face puffy & usual amber eyes. reddened from deep sleep. Dried drool and a wild tangled mop, in place of her hair.

She washed quickly, ran a brush through until the tangles became less a disastrous mess and more its natural wavy self.  Then grabbed the books and headed down.

Abelas awaited her, as he said he would be, arms crossed, looking out to the other elves that passed by on their own way to whatever their mornings had in store for them.

“Sorry, sorry!” She stammered up to him balancing the books on her hip & running her free hand back through her hair again. “Thank you for waiting though. Shall we go?” She smiled.

Abelas looked at her briefly, as if to say something, only to then change his mind and uncross his arms  “Very well, This way if you will, Please” He began walking and she hurried to keep up.

It had dawned on her years ago when she had first met these ancient elves, that his people were larger then her own. Abelas was no exception to this fact, as his longer legs kept such a pace she had to put some speed into her step, just to keep up with the man.

“Oh, I didnt have enough time to introduce myself before..  I’m Amanita Lavellan, of Clan Lavellan. … Though, just ‘Amanita’ is fine.. ” She beamed, proudly, but he only grunted an acknowledgement to her words, sparing her a brief glance before looking ahead of them again.

“The city..” He began. “Has many different buildings dedicated to each area of study.. Some for literature, History, Agriculture, Magic, Battle training… Arts, Medical studies“

He stopped out the front of one of the buildings to look at her.

“This building, is where we house guest teachers from all across Thedas. And.. it is where you will teach your classes.”

She was thankful it was literally just down the road and across the block from her own building and she had a funny feeling, Abelas, likely felt the same way too.

They went inside.

“Your classroom, is the last down the hall to your right.” He continued, following closely behind her.

Amanita cleared her throat, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

To an entirely empty room.

“ah.. are you sure, its ‘this’ room?”

She asked, looking at Abelas as he came in, to stand beside her. Taking in the equally empty view together.

“I am.”

“Then perhaps, I was alittle too .. late?”

He shifted on golden plated feet and linked his hands behind his back

“It was just as empty… When I arrived here at the earlier intended time as well”

She grimaced.

“I.. Knew.. it wouldn’t exactly be ‘easy’ to teach.. but.. I imagined there might be a few,

eager to learn or simply curious, to what the Dalish know”

“And, What knowledge, pray tell, could the Dalish possibly possess, that would be worth learning of?” Abelas enquired, indifferently, arms crossed infront of his chest, once more.

“Well, I dont know…” She fumed. Feeling alittle frustrated now.

“How we managed all these years, what medicines we can make from what plant?

How to hunt wildlife? Or how to track? Even just the missing gaps between our people”

She could tell by the look of him, that he wasn’t at all convinced nor interested.

“Really? … We have nothing you could care to learn from?”

He didn’t care to answer. Just tapped his fingers absent-mindedly on his arm.

“If .. You will not be needing anything else. I will leave you to it” He bowed, then went to leave. “Good day”

“Wait, Abelas? Please, I’m curious? Why did you escort me here if you don’t care for the Dalish even being here in the first place, either??” “Because.” He replied. “No one else volunteered to do so.” A pause, before he continued again

“But, also, If I am being honest, Miss Lavellan, It was out of respect to your Herald. Though I may have little trust for outside people. We do owe her a great debt none the less. So as you see, you have your answer.”

Amanita sighed inwardly, then shrunk back, when the taller elf leaned in closer as if studying her face, before straightening again.

“If I might suggest something? Perhaps you might use the day to go back to your lodgings and clean up alittle. Then explore the rest of the city. I am sure you could even find more suitable clothing.. from some of the stores.. and  you could sit in on other studies if it so pleases you.”  

And with that, he left her too it.

Amanita wandered over to the front desk, or ‘rather’, slunk, placing the books down and sat, hiding her face in her hands as she groaned aloud, feeling defeated on day one.

That had to be some kind of a record for her.

Utterly wonderful.

She had herself a classroom , but no students to even teach?

And ontop of this, she clearly hadn’t excelled at representing her people well enough either,

as she apparently looked a sight, and from Abelas none so subtle remarks, she probably smelled bad on top of that.  She raised an arm and sniffed.

Yep.

Sweat.

To be fair..  she had spent part of the journey on foot , and the last couple days in a carriage, without chance for a proper decent bath in days.

It would do no good all the same, to sit around moping and sulking, so perhaps it best she did head back and, as Abelas suggested. Freshen up.  She huffed, grabbed the books up again, then headed back.

Fresh hot water bath, here I come.

[drv3imagines]

You can probably tell I got waaaay too into this…I ended up having to add a page break -___-’’.

Rantaro Amami

You two were going out for a lunch date, and while he hated the idea, you were going to be driving.

“Amami, we are not taking your bike.”

Amami: Sad.

Anyways, you were driving to your predetermined lunch destination, listening along with your boyfriend to the radio.

It was a great song, and you couldn’t help but sing along.

Apparently, Amami knew it too, singing along with you, that is until he turned the solo to you.

Silence.

“Um, s/o? The solo is all your- S/O! ARE YOU SLEEPING?!”

It was sudden and unexpected, but indeed you had nodded off while the car was still in motion.

Amami: Panic.

He reaches for the wheel, steering you both straight, barely missing the other cars.

He’s desperately trying to wake you up, slamming down on his fist on the horn, but no avail.

When you do come to,

Amami: Angry.

Biking is now required for date transportation.

Korekiyo Shinguuji

You two were wandering in the garden.

Every plant there seemed to have a story, and Korekiyo had no problem explaining their relations with humanity (surprisingly flowers had a lot to say!)

While you two passed by a lone bushel of roses, the anthropologist began with an elongated explanation of the grand symbolism roses brought to humanity

It was actually pretty interesting, partly because he knew so much about the flower, and partly due to-

“…it is tender and dangerous. The simple and delicate flower that teaches us to be wary of the beauty we as humans perceive. It is a constant reminder to even I, who sometimes pushes the boundaries in my studies. Humans are delicate and beautiful, but we must not disturb them or… S/o? Hmm, it would appear that I have once again come across the thorn of human nature. Boredom.”

He carries you to your room to rest

When you see him again you apologize profusely, insisting his lesson wasn’t boring, and it just happens sometimes.

He brushes off the incident, forgiving you, and also making a mental note to shorten his presentations. At least you’ll get to hear the rest of the lesson before dozing off again.

Kaito Momota

Today Kaito decided the fair would be an ideal location for a date.

You were skeptical at first, but then you took notes of all of your favorite rides and decided it would be totally worth it.

After a long day of running around to nearly every ride and carnival game, you two stop your thrills and he buys you a carnival style meal.

While enjoying your food, you both turned your gaze to the enormous Ferris Wheel.

You didn’t even get to finish your cotton candy before he was pulling you excitedly towards the ride.

He was buzzing with excitement at the romantic gesture, while you try to calm him down.

The mood was perfect, it was night, and you two would be in a seat together alone. He couldn’t have dreamed of a better romance. (Well if it was on the moon, that’d be waaaay cooler, but he’d have to figure out the mechanics on that one later)

You two finally get on the ride.

Kaito: OMG.

The ride slowly climbs up.

Kaito: This is actually happening!

The ride slowly crawls to the top.

Kaito: Almoooossssttt….

By now he’s totally pumped. His arm was wrapped around you tenderly when he finally turns to you for a sweet kiss.

Zzzzz….

You had face planted right into his chest, sleeping rather peacefully.

He couldn’t even be disappointed or upset because you were so cute.

When the Wheel reaches the ground, he bridal style carries you to your ride and you go home.

Kokichi Ouma

Paintball.

Ouma was overly excited about this.

You, not so much.

It wasn’t the sport, it’s just you know how Ouma is, he’d probably cheat…

But deciding to trust him, you found yourself in the middle of the “battlefield” peering around suspiciously for you boyfriend.

He was nowhere in sight, and you flag was still safe.

Maybe he went-

The sudden bombardment of paint told you otherwise.

It wasn’t even one color?! Who are those other people?!

Turns out Ouma got some of his secret society members to help him “win.”

So that’s how he wants to play?

S/o: Ninja mode.

You took cover behind the nearest tree, preparing to defend your rightful spot.

Ouma was victorious. It would be easy walking straight up to your flag and taking it from the pole, with you hiding out. He gave the order to fire as soon as you even thought of leaving your hiding spot.

However, it was too easy??? No one came out for almost twenty minutes now? What were you planning?

He sent over a couple of his members to check out the scene, shocked when he didn’t see them get surprise attacked.

What?

Turns out you fell asleep while trying to load your gun.

You’ll probably get a very upset boyfriend when you ever regain consciousness.

Saihara Shuuichi

You had shown up to his house to hang out, but you were not expecting him to be engaged in what looked like a Scooby-Doo marathon.

And you thought he was into more serious crime.

Hey! Scooby-Doo does have serious crimes in it! (Besides he wanted to take a short break from the real-life cases, one, in particular was extremely disturbing, and he needed to mellow)

While he’s a little defensive about his interests, you decided to take up the spot on the couch.

“The cases are so obvious,” he comments. “They’re always going to be the rich guy who thinks he will get away with it.”

“Or the guy they tick off in the beginning of the episode,” you add.

“Exactly, kids these days should be exposed to real puzzlers!”

“Did you just say ‘puzzlers’?”

“They should have more room to add detail so meticulous, they’re almost impossible!”

“But not for you right?”

He blushes and turns away from you for a moment. “Oh well, I’m not that good…but it could be worth a shot… Let’s watch something else…”

The afternoon wears on and it’s almost sunset. By that time you two had gotten hungry, and Saihara was more than eager to make you something.

He had proudly made two of the best sandwiches he’s ever made in his entire life and was going to present them to you.

He wasn’t nervous. I mean, why would he be? You were just going to eat? Not like you’d been spending the entire day or something together and your satisfaction from hunger depended on his sandwich-making skills.

Shuffling back out shakily, he offers you your plate hoping you’d be okay with what he made.

If only you weren’t half-way on the floor fast asleep.

Kiibo

Reading is fun.

Reading Shakespeare is pretty cool too, right?

Well, not when it’s in the Old English, non-translated version.

It was like reading a foreign language…which it technically is…

Why were you two doing this again?

Kiibo insisted that if you two were to continue your romance, he would learn how to properly cater to you from an expert.

…

Most Shakespearean romances ended in tragedy? Hardly was there ever a good moment! Who told him this?!

Ouma.

You make a mental note to get back at the dictator later on, but for now, you tell Kiibo that Shakespeare was not one of the authors you go to to learn about romance.

Although, his poems were considered the most romantic of all time. Maybe that’s what Ouma meant? No? His plays? Specifically Romeo and Juliet. He’s definitely going to get a lecture.

That’s when the idea of reading Kiibo one of Shakespeare’s sonnets came to mind. There was one you favored in particular that expressed how much you adored the robot.

You began reciting it from one of the books lying on the table, putting nearly all of your emotion to it.

Kiibo analyzed every word you said, making notes where he felt the most “fluttery” feelings. It was a true work of humanity, and he could see why it was deemed to be possibly the most romantic of its time.

Just as he felt the burning endearment you two shared from just those simple– no they weren’t simple, they were amazing…and disheartening at the same time.

He realized this once aging became the topic, the beauty began to turn sad. If romance was going to end in sorrow then wha-

Suddenly your reading had ceased.

What?

You faceplanted into the open book just when the sonnet was nearly complete.

Kiibo couldn’t help himself, humans were cute, especially his s/o. Romance, even if death brought them apart, was still a thing of beauty.

Gonta Gokuhara

Who could imagine a more perfect way to spend the afternoon than on a picnic date?

You had packed away a nice lunch for the two of you after your bug hunting adventures.

It was a surprise, really, because you had even made the effort to shape your food in cute little bug shapes.

Just as you were getting tired, Gonta immediately took notice and suggested you take a break. He’s so sweet.

While the two of you set up, you noticed a particularly interesting butterfly fluttering in the breeze.

When you point it out to Gonta, he fanboys.

It is called a Gifu butterfly (etymology term: Luehdorfia japonica/Japanese luehdorfia) and they are pretty rare around this season.

You two observe the graceful creature, patiently awaiting for its resting point.

By sheer chance, the butterfly decides its resting place would be on your nose.

Gonta is beyond excited, not only did this beautiful critter find its way out at the end of its season, but it graced you both with its decision to land.

Today could not be any more perfect…if only…you were not sleeping???

The butterfly flew away and you missed the whole thing…

Admittedly Gonta is kind of disappointed, but he still gets to treasure his rarest butterfly

Ryoma Hoshi

This was not his idea.

This would never have been his idea.

Ever.

The beach was fun. A lot less for him than you, but he was willing to comply.

What he didn’t expect was for you to go to the beach at five in the morning, almost an hour before sunrise.

You two weren’t even there to swim, just splash your feet in the water and eat breakfast.

You had gotten the crazy idea off of the Internet and he was not the happiest person in the world.

But he couldn’t really stay mad at you. Love takes sacrifice. And he was willing to sacrifice just a measly two hours from his sleep schedule for you.

Besides afterward he made you promise to do tennis workouts with him since you were up and out.

It was freezing outside, but the water felt comfortably warm between your toes (specific heat is a beautiful thing).

The hour soon passed and you excitedly pointed over to the horizon.

Your breakfast picnic was already set up, and all you had to do was settle down to watch the sun rise.

He’d never say, but he was actually glad that you brought him there to see it. He usually doesn’t do stuff like this, but with you, he was-

Zzzzz

Did you seriously fall asleep?!?

You missed the sunrise and when you woke up Hoshi was definitely not a happy boy.

But you’ll make it up during tennis workouts.

[stonerboy-writings]

A L’Avis De Victor : Une Réponse à la Première Essai que J’Avais Ecrit

The general dissatisfaction that I had with the mark I had received, compelled me to “re-interview” my friend so that we could bond over my most unfortunate loss. Even though this our discussion had begun as a means to remedy my overall disappointment with the system under which I had been judged, it did provide me with a sense of pride surrounding my work as well as an improved understanding of Victor’s field of study.

I messaged Victor via Facebook to express my discontent at around 12:30, which had been 6:30 in Paris. I was happy to receive a quick response from him, which said:

“Darling I’m almost home, let me tell you about my day. It will make yours seem like nothing. I’ll be on skype in five minutes.”

I smiled and knew that we would have a marvelous session complaining about the insignificant details of our lives.

I put down what I had been doing, placed my phone on my desk, and woke my laptop from its most somber sleep. After entering my password, I logged into skype, to then be happily greeted by skype’s “wheep” tone, which notifies its user that they have a new message. Unsurprisingly it was from Victor, who then initiated a phone call. I answered, to be greeted with Victor’s dark apartment and his unkempt hair, which had to be accompanied by a nearly overflowing glass of two-euro red wine.

He smiled and said, “well darling tell me about your troubles.”

I looked down to say, “well was nothing, it was just a bad mark, and I’ll be able to make it up later in the semester.”

“Yes, too bad you are no longer in high-school when your grades were actually something –

I cut him off “Ah, grades how American of you, even I don’t even call them that anymore”

He glared in continued, “As an Albertan, I take offense in drawing those conclusions, but as I was saying, it’s too bad that those do come more frequently than they once did”

“Yes that is true, but I do have four more essays to improve help improve my mark,” I responded.”

“hmm” …Victor glanced up to then go on to say, “well why don’t we just redo it, it is a shame though as I feel that your essay did capture my, essence.”

I chuckled to then say, “well if you wish dear, we can”

I opened my marked word document to then go through the specific criteria required for this assignment.

“I have it!” I exclaimed, “Okay Victor, let’s start from the top, first question, what ‘specific claim about the literacy (reading and writing practices) in [your] field’ would you make? (Phifer-Byrne)”

Victor smiled to then say, “the study of Anthropology, or rather the study of people has gone through great changes over the past half century. The field’s conception was out of European Imperialism, and with this background, it has and continues to oppress the people it studies. I feel that it has changed to become less oppressive, but the goal of Anthropology is to critically analyze, or judge the people it intends to study and to some that can appear to be oppressive. This analysis is then contained in the various essays that we make on a number of subjects related to our people of study.”

Very good, “Now how and why are you Victor, ‘appropriate for insight to a specific field, (Phifer-Byrne)’ or for your case Anthropology?”

“Well darling you and anyone who read your initial assignment would know how accomplished I am in my field, so I believe we can continue.”

“The next question asked Victor, would be, ‘adequately explore the reading and writing practices of the specific field, considering different variables like: what types of texts and genres are read, referenced, and produced. What methods and and technologies are used to consume, use and produce texts. What work of the field is accomplished through reading and writing? (Phifer-Byrne)”

“Well we do use primary sources, I remember that in one of the papers that I wrote during my master’s program I included a notebook written by this prostitute that I had been interviewing. Materials such as these are invaluable as they act as an account of a multitude of interviews over time, which allowed me to study a number of experiences that my subject had experienced. We can also use visual references, such as photography, or works of art. I know that in my line of Anthropology some Anthropologists have examined Picasso’s “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon,” and Ingres’ Grande Odalisque to understand the historical perceptions of prostitution in Europe over the past centuries. So because of that there are countless forms of expression that we analyze as Anthropologists to gain an understanding of the people we study.”

“Now Victor, I must, ‘include appropriate evidence from the interview to support an analysis (Phifer-Byrne)’ would you mind elaborating on the ‘evidence relevant to [your] main points and [your] overall claim[s], (Phifer-Byrne)’ ‘make evidence appropriate for [your] topic[s], audience, and purpose[es] (Phifer-Byrne)’ that you covered, and ‘provide detailed connection [or] description of how the evidence supports the point [or] reason, [or] claim? (Phifer-Byrne)”

Victor paused and said, “well I guess one could say that Anthropology is the study of people; however, that is the first definition out of your Oxford English Dictionary. I think that what we have learned as a field is how to be more respectful of ‘the other,’ since the mid-twentieth century. All you need to do to understand how Anthropology and Archaeology was used during the third Reich to support Aryan claims to ethnic superiority. I feel like there is much more that needs to be done in that regard as there is still a level of judgement to scholarly superiority in regard to the study of non-western peoples. Because of that I decided to people a social anthropologist as I would be studying sub-groups within the western world, which would help me stay away from issues such as ethnic and cultural superiority that has been the means under which abuse has been committed against non-western peoples. I think that we will eventually become better as time goes, on. Typically, philosophers are the ones that inspire the artists, whose art compels us to become better at understanding the human condition and the pressures we face as members of our world’s various societies.”

I interjected to say “I agree with that opinion.  I know that when we had spoken a few months ago about our own educations, primarily in Canada and the United States, there were rituals that w preformed to have a sense of collective superiority. With the arts, which artists do you think have been deconstructing this Euro-centric superiority complex?”

“Oh yes Ted I do remember that, very good point. I think that many of the apparatuses rituals that we have as people and within our western societies help speak to a certain hierarchy, which is common throughout many cultures; however, it is not an essential part of human society as a whole. I remember studying collectivism at University and how many so called ‘primitive’ societies used inclusion rather than deprivation as a means of supporting their societies. I think that Artists such as Marta Minujín, especially in her Destrucción (1963) speaks to how arbitrary our societies place value on certain practices. In her performance, the Destrucción (1963) she destroyed all of the art that she had made throughout her career as an artist to symbolize rebirth as an artist that was free of the so called “high-arts,” an artist that excluded herself from this arbitrary valuation. This performance acted as her first great performance and launched her career as a visionary who challenged our western status quo. I hope that someday the social-sciences, sciences, and humanities at some point might be able to become more universalist, rather than the critical exclusive disciplines that they had originally been drawn out to be.  I feel that once our Universities can help shed light on these misfortunes that we might be able to provide a truer understanding of plant’s peoples and cultures. Anyways, sorry for going on is there anything else that I should respond to?”

I looked down to examine the rubric to see I had stayed true to its requirements in order to receive a higher mark, but then realized that beyond proper grammar and syntax that all the questions that I had been asked to question Victor on had been answered.

I looked up at the screen and said, “No Victor, I think that is everything, so long as I remember my student ID number and section number this paper will have all the content necessary for a ‘proper’ mark.”

He smiled and said, “well darling, I hope that it all goes well. I would love to chat longer but I have a gig tonight so I should put get ready.”

“A gig?” I asked.

“Why yes I gig,” he said while winking at me.

I giggled, we then said our good-byes, and ended our call.

***

As this has been the first one-hundred level course that I have taken at the University of Arizona, I would like to apologize as I am used to having more creative freedom in my writing. I hope that this would answer all of the requirements that I would be asked of for this assignment and I hope that I might be able to improve myself in the future assignments for this course. The problem is that I am typically used to writing a paper around a general topic, that would be covered within a specific course. One example would be one course that I took on Conflict Management and Resolution. The general requirement was to write a final essay that carefully examined a conflict and then provide suggestions and commentary on how this conflict could have been more easily resolved. For this assignment I examined it as an exercise on conducting and recording interview surrounding aspects of academia. In that regard I do believe that I was to some degree successful at that in my first essay that I submitted for this course. Either way I hope that the response above can help show that I am trying to remember how to navigate a first-year course and that I am capable of following a rubric’s specified guidelines.

Figures:

Figure 1:

Marta, Minujín. Destrucción. 1963. Performance Art/Photograph. MoMA, New York. Image Courtesy of: Henrique Faria Fine Art, New York. Online. Accessed 24 Feb 2017. http://post.at.moma.org/sources/8/publications/129

Figure 2:

Pablo, Picasso. Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. 1907. Oil on canvas. MoMA, New York. Acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss Bequrest. Online. Accessed 24 Feb 2017. https://www.moma.org/explore/conservation/demoiselles/

Works Cited:

Phifer-Byrne, Kasey, Erin. Grading Criteria. 2017.

Originally published on Old Wordpress site: edwardjelliott.wordpress.com on Feb. 27 2017

[cashcounts]

Searching for Life Beyond Earth, Finding Our Dreams Instead

How would do you recognize another Earth while you’re on this one?

That’s a question astronomers often try to answer. Oh, the scientists say, they could look at orbital models, temperature models, atmospheric models, formation models. All kinds of models. “None of these models include anything like pollution or warfare or any of the things that make Earth a human world,” says Lisa Messeri, an anthropologist of science and technology. There was a striving quality to their answers.

In the hunt for exoplanets, we often speak of finding “Earth’s twin.”

“We don’t want to find a world with warfare or stricken with poverty,” Messeri says. We want a perfect world, she continues, “a world that is untouched by human activity.”

Messeri herself doesn’t study these great-beyond planets: She studies the people who study them. And in their presentations, papers, and talk amongst themselves Messeri notices a few things: that the astronomers have turned these light-years-away planets into real places—not just plots and pixels—defined in comparison and contrast to this terra firma. Most importantly, though, Messeri sees evidence that while exoplanet science is a field of the present and future, it also reaches, fundamentally, toward the past.

The astronomers Messeri studies often spend their lives searching for so-called Earth-like planets. These worlds could potentially have life. They could have liquid water or continents or oxygenated air. They’re the right sizes at the right distances from their suns, and could have the right atmospheres and oceans. We sometimes call this search one for “Earth’s twin.”

But that’s not quite right, Messeri says: It’s actually the search for Earth’s perfect twin. Earth as it used to be, before humans got to it. A whole-world Eden.

Yearning for Home

After attending a meeting of Kepler space telescope scientists, Messeri read more about the philosophical concept of home, she says, “and what a home is and this idea of ‘Can you ever go back to your home?’ ” She had first picked up this thread in graduate school, and now she returned to work from mid-20th-century philosophers, who’d grown up before World War II and had to continue living after it. They missed their prelapsarian place.

And, Messeri realized, exoplanet astronomers felt that same feeling—for a place that they’d never known: an Earth without them.

There’s a word that conveys that feeling, actually, in Welsh: hiraeth, longing for a home you’ve never had or can’t return to.

Finding Herself

“Anthropologist” wasn’t a thing Messeri initially intended to become. At MIT as an undergrad, she was poised to enter the workforce as an aerospace engineer. She loved space: the existence of it, the bigness of it, the big questions it forced you to try to answer whether you wanted to or not. “But by the time I got to my senior year, I began to realize that the actual day-to-day work of an engineer wasn’t something I was particularly enamored of,” Messeri says. Expanding her interests, she took an elective course about the history of science. The idea that science had a history—that it came from somewhere and had not always been thus—had never exactly occurred to her.

Lisa Messeri says our search for habitable exoplanets reveals our yearning for a perfect world.

But she liked the idea so much that she went on to get a doctorate in the history and anthropology of science and technology. When it came time to pick a dissertation project, she went back to what had first caught her scientific interest: all that stuff beyond our atmosphere, all the people who tried to figure it out. Messeri’s roommate was a planetary scientist and offered to introduce her to some people in her department—people who included Sara Seager, who, back in 2008, wasn’t yet the rock star she is now and hadn’t yet been profiled by CNN or the New York Times. So Messeri began to (with permission) follow these exoplanetary scientists around—watching them code, watching them use telescopes, watching them make sense of the dots and lines decorating x-y axes.

Finding Places We’ve Never Been

Messeri’s scrutiny of these scientists came to focus on placemaking. It’s not a gerund we think about often: transforming a position in x-y-z-t space into something with more sentiment happens seemingly automatically in our minds.

But while it’s normal for humans to do that, it still takes mental work. “Places don’t just exist,” Messeri says. “We have to make them.” Each place is tinted by our particular history, our sensory interpretations, our social contexts. In just about every case, we placemake in places where we’ve visited or lived or of which we’ve seen copious Street Views. “But can there be places,” Messeri wondered, “that are not on Earth, where humans haven’t been?”

It seemed to her that the exoplanet astronomers thought so. They had transformed their planets into places, seeing each of them as a small step on the way toward the real goal: that perfect place, the never-inhabited-by-humans habitable home.

Seeking a Perfect Species

But those homes may not be uninhabited—they potentially may be someone else’s planet. That thought frames the work of SETI scientists, another group of researchers who are looking not just for habitable worlds or for the chemical signatures of biology, but for smart, technologically capable inhabitants. In their quest for advanced civilizations, these SETI—search for extraterrestrial intelligence—scientists bring their own idealizations to their quest. They are usually scouring the universe for a type of species we hope to become: nonviolent and stable, the kind that sticks around long enough to broadcast signals that lesser beings like us might pick up.

Their field began around 1960 and solidified around a conference at the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Green Bank, West Virginia. There, a young astronomer named Frank Drake came up with “the Drake Equation,” which gives researchers a framework for talking about how many intelligent civilizations might inhabit the Milky Way galaxy. Drake’s formula steps through the conditions required for life to arise and gain intelligence: First comes the rate at which suitable stars form (R), followed by the fraction of those suitable stars that have planets (f*p). Then, one must consider the number of planets around those stars that are “habitable” (n*e), the fraction of those habitable planets on which life arises (f*l), the fraction of those life-having planets on which the life becomes intelligent (f*i), and the fraction of those intelligent civilizations that use technology to send signals to space (f*c).

Some of those variables are straight physics: questions that have easy answers, albeit ones we don’t fully understand yet. The evolution of actual life and serious smarts and the development of detectable technology are less quantified and perhaps less quantifiable.

Proxima b orbits in the habitable zone of its star, Proxima Centauri.

But there’s one more variable in the equation—and it could be the biggest question-mark factor determining whether we can find alien life. Scientists call it L: the length of time that intelligent civilizations keep broadcasting.

What L actually connotes is “the amount of time a technological society usually stays around before it destroys itself or significantly regresses.” If L is small, it could mean humans are the only ones in reasonable shouting distance. If it’s large, there could be many more intelligent others out there.

Humans are the only example of intelligent life that we have. So L, based on our personal stats (and because we could blow ourselves up tomorrow and stop broadcasting signals into space), is on the order of 100 years—the approximate amount of time we’ve been producing radio transmissions. Of course, we could stick around and stay smart for a lot longer and prove that conservative estimate of our own L wrong.

But if SETI finds anything (or anyone), those aliens likely will have been around for a long time (the chances that we’d find aliens that had popped up just 50 years ago is smaller than minuscule). That means any intelligent alien civilization alien civilization would probably have an L much longer than 100 years. And that would, SETI scientists have long said, give humans hope: In addition to knowing we’re not alone, we’d also suspect that however we’ve changed our planet, whatever marks we’ve left on it and each other, we could figure out how to continue existing. Those aliens figured out how, after all—and they’re aliens!

As researcher David Duner, a professor of the history of science and ideas at Lund University, put it in a recent paper, such a civilization must have encountered difficulties like the ones that face us today. “Wars, climate change, pollution, decreasing biodiversity, and so on,” he wrote. “The mere fact that they have survived would indicate that they have a functioning social structure that can handle and avoid crises (or at least that they are able to recover from them), and that they have a complex social system that regulates risks and destructive behavior.” Finding extraterrestrial intelligence, in other words, would show us an ideal version of our future selves—a more cohesive society, one that’s better at stewarding its planet and less murderous of each other.

To search for such a civilization indicates a hope that those versions of intelligence are out there, stably surfing through the universe. These beings may not have kept their Earth-twin planet pristine. Neither would it be that Ur-Earth for which astronomers feel hiraeth. But it would be a place—a real place—that would look nice on a poster. “It may not be perfect,” these ideal aliens may beam in a message to us, “but it will always be home.”

Missing an Imagined Planet

Just as American states have tourism offices and ad campaigns, touting their lush landscapes and theme parks, NASA has an “Exoplanet Travel Bureau.” On its website, you can click to twist and turn around the foreign (illustrated, imagined) surfaces of other worlds, or you can buy a promotional poster that portrays these orbs as vacation destinations. There’s the double-starred planet Kepler 16-b, “where your shadow always has company.” Or Kepler 186-f, “where the grass is always redder,” because it orbits a red-dwarf star whose longer-wavelength light may have influenced photosynthesis. On PSO J318.5-22, “the night life never ends”—because it travels through space starless. On huge HD 40307g, meanwhile, you can “experience the gravity of a super earth.”

NASA produced a series of posters that evoke vintage travel advertisements, suggesting a nostalgia for places we’ve never known.

The posters are done up in the vintage 1930s style of Works Progress Administration advertisements—the Baushaus-inspired, dreamy types that people now hang framed in their hip houses. Those creations encouraged contemporaries to “See America.” NASA, though, wants the viewer to see something else entirely: planets they can never actually visit. The agency’s posters show a two-shadowed solo pioneer facing a frontier; a person in front of a white picket fence, fronting red foliage; a formally dressed and handsy couple at a late-night social event; and a person skydiving toward a planetary surface.

Exoplanet astronomers almost always put these posters in their public-presentation PowerPoints, Messeri says. Here’s what it might be like if we could go to the places we study, the images convey. Fun!

We humans miss that perfect place, creating a bizarro nostalgia that tinges the science, and the artistic representations from the Exoplanet Travel Bureau: the vintage style, the long-gone American-dream fence, the couple that’s happier and having more fun than we are right now. These posters, these planets, present us with the idea that although an Edenic and unspoiled life isn’t possible on Earth anymore, it could perhaps exist somewhere else—a somewhere else for which we’re homesick.

“What does it mean to be nostalgic for something we haven’t discovered yet?” Messeri asks. “To long for a sense of home in a place that’s not our own planet?”

[tortuga-aak]

LinkedIn founder Reid Hoffman reveals what it was like building PayPal with Elon Musk and Peter Thiel and what it takes to make an $26.2 billion company

.

Kevin Moloney/Fortune Brainstorm Tech

Reid Hoffman is the billionaire cofounder of LinkedIn and served as its CEO for four years.

He's also an investing partner at Greylock Partners.

Hoffman was on the early executive team at PayPal and created web-based social networks in the 1990s.

People talk about Reid Hoffman as a philosopher of Silicon Valley. That's by design.

Before he was the billionaire cofounder of LinkedIn and a partner at Greylock, he planned to be a "public intellectual." Hoffman says his philosophical training guides his business and investment strategies every day.

"Formulating what your investment thesis is, what the strategy is, what the risks with the approach are, what kinds of things you would be doing with it, are all greatly aided by the crispness of thinking that comes with philosophical training," Hoffman said on Business Insider's podcast, "Success! How I Did It."

He's now one of the foremost experts on entrepreneurship and careers, sharing his theories through his podcast "Masters of Scale," presentations, essays, and books. He's built one of the most robust networks in Silicon Valley — Tesla/SpaceX's Elon Musk and Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg are among his many friends — and he's always gathering insights from them.

On this episode of "Success! How I Did It," Hoffman talks about how he sees his place in the world, his 30-year friendship with his political opposite Peter Thiel, and his love of playing board games.

You can listen to the podcast below:

Subscribe to "Success! How I Did It" on Apple Podcasts, RadioPublic, or your favorite app. Check out previous episodes with:

"Shark Tank" star and real-estate mogul Barbara Corcoran

Former White House press secretary and Fox News host Dana Perino

Zillow CEO Spencer Rascoff

Lyft president John Zimmer

Following is a transcript of the podcast; it has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

Courtesy of Reid Hoffman

Rich Feloni: Let’s start at the beginning — a young Reid Hoffman playing board games.

Reid Hoffman: Probably my younger self would be embarrassed about how less good my older self would be. But, like, in Settlers of Catan, I think it's one of the most entrepreneurial of the kind of social board games because it involves trading — you trade resources and so forth — and that kind of dynamic actually makes it much more entrepreneurial than your typical kind of board game slash war game.

There's nothing obsessive like a kid. I spent literally days and days and days and days just doing that, and that led me to a sense of strategy, which was then, of course, very helpful when I later got to my entrepreneurial and business life.

Feloni: So we have that experience from your childhood carrying over into adulthood. You grew up in California, but you persuaded your parents to send you to a boarding school, Putney School in Vermont. That's far from your typical school, right?

Hoffman: It is. I got bitten by the independence, to be out of the house a little earlier than your average kid. And part of what appealed to me about Putney was that, in addition to having academics, it was doing blacksmithing and woodworking and working on the farm and art and a bunch of things that I wouldn't otherwise had experience to do.

I think it really led me to the view that you could, in fact, construct your own path because there were lots of paths available, and then the second was almost like a very pragmatic kind of "work on solving the problem" versus "being an expert within a discipline." This kind of entrepreneurial focus on a personal life — not necessarily on building companies — but on the how you take risks and how you cut your own path and how you think about just solving the problem versus identifying yourself as, "Oh, I'm a member of this discipline" — like, "I'm a product manager," or "I'm an artist," or "I'm a lawyer," but rather, "These are the problems I'm working on. This is how I'm making a serious difference in the world."

Meeting Peter Thiel

Greylock Partners

Feloni: Your next stop was Stanford, and that's where you met Peter Thiel.

So Thiel, the billionaire investor — he's quite controversial. He's as much known today as being the first investor of Facebook as he is for being President Donald Trump's connection to Silicon Valley. On the surface, you guys can seem to be total opposites, but you've had a long running friendship. How did the two of you even end up becoming friends?

Hoffman: Peter had heard about me as this really lefty person, and I'd heard about him as this really right-wing person, and we ended up being in the same philosophy class. And we heard about each other — "Oh, we need to talk" — and then we started talking and arguing, and the first umpteen conversations were all literally discovering all of the areas where we disagreed. Part of the reason that our friendship formed was that in those discussions we both realized that we had a real strong belief in truth; we had a real strong belief in discourse as the way of getting there; we had a strong belief in kind of listening to alternative perspectives. And I know that he certainly made my thinking a lot sharper, and I hope I did the same for him.

Feloni: Yeah, and didn't you guys have a public-access show together where you debated politics?

Hoffman: We did that very briefly — I think it was 1996. This was actually a Peter idea. He said, "You know what we should do is we should do a public-access TV show with this," and so we would invite on guests, and through a set of topics around the guest, we would argue with each other, and I think the guest was, like, "Huh, I guess I'm here to be kind of dodging between the two of you."

Becoming a public intellectual

Courtesy of Reid Hoffman

Feloni: As you continued your education, you got your master's in philosophy at Oxford. I think a lot of people would probably joke that someone who is getting their master's in philosophy would be setting themselves up for a life of poverty, but clearly things didn't go that way. How do you think that studying philosophy — studying abstract thought — helped get you to where you are today?

Hoffman: So a couple of ways. A simple one is that philosophy is a study of how to think very clearly and, for example, when I'm being an investor, which includes being an entrepreneur, because as an entrepreneur you're kind of an all-in investor: formulating what your investment thesis is, what the strategy is, what the risks with the approach are, what kinds of things you would be doing with it — are all greatly aided by the crispness of thinking that comes with philosophical training.

One thing every entrepreneur in consumer internet is doing is essentially embodying a theory of human nature as individuals and as a group for how they'll react to the service, especially if it's community or network properties, how they'll interact with each other, how this will fit in their landscape of how they identify themselves and how they communicate or transact with other people. That's particularly of course part of the reason why, at Greylock, I tend to look at networks and marketplaces centrally in my investment thesis, and these kinds of things are the concepts that actually come out of philosophy. There's almost a sense in which part of being an entrepreneur or being an investor is being an applied philosopher or an applied anthropologist.

Feloni: Before you went the business route, you were thinking that you were going to be a public intellectual, but then you ended up going into tech. Could you kind of give me the moment when you realized that you needed to really have this shift in the plan that you had set out for yourself?

Hoffman: Well, my goal was, how do I help humanity evolve? And what that means is, how are we better as individuals and as a society — as a group?

And my original thought was, I could become an academic and then be a public intellectual as an academic, writing essays and books that would cause people to reflect and grow in this direction and I myself grow and discover through those books. And then what I realized from my experience with academia is that academia is, kind of default, fairly hostile to academics being public intellectuals. They want them to be scholars, they want them to be in the narrow focus of that discipline, and I realized very quickly that that wasn't me. I didn't have the interest — perhaps I didn't have the talent — and it was just something that I didn't really want to do.

And so that was what started me thinking about, like, well, if what a public intellectual is doing is writing essays and books in order to help humanity scale, what are other ways to possibly do that? And I realized that software was another form of media, and so if you actually work on the software as the media object, that's something that could then in fact have a similar kind of impact, which is kind of helping humanity at scale, and helping humanity both the individuals and the group think about, like, who are we and who should we be and how do we get there?

Stanford is such a central part of Silicon Valley that helped me encounter those thoughts and think about them as an option, where, if I hadn't gone to Stanford, it's unclear I would have thought of that.

Feloni: That's a tremendously big goal, trying to impact humanity as a whole. Was that ambition something that drove you throughout your career and still is driving you?

Hoffman: Yeah, and very much so.

I tend to think that you should always have a fairly big goal, and I, of course, know that the likelihood that I'm going to make big changes for the billions of people on the earth is very difficult. Luck will play a huge component of it, but as you think about it, you go, OK, well, maybe I won't get the billions. Maybe I'll only get to hundreds of millions or tens of millions, as the impact that comes out from the kind of work that I'm doing and I help improve how a very large number of people live. How, in the case of LinkedIn, their economic career transforms, and what kind of economic opportunities they have.

Feloni: How much do you think success is a matter of effort and hard work, and how much do you think would be luck in terms of where you were born, who your parents are, gender, race, et cetera?

Hoffman: So this is one of those false-dichotomy questions because the answer is massively both, right?

Some people who are successful like to say, "It's all skill! It was my capabilities!" And it's, like, "No, no."

Like, I was lucky to have been born in the Stanford Hospital, to have gone to Stanford, to know about the network, to participate in it, to make some great friends and connections that kind of helped me along with it. All of that stuff is hugely serendipitous. On the other hand, you also try to think and act as strategic as you could, you try to learn constantly, you work hundred-hour weeks, are constantly kind of trading lessons and information with each other in order to make it happen.

So the short answer is, it's both massively luck and massively hard work. Sometimes it's more luck than hard work, and sometimes it's more hard work than luck. But every success requires both.

Starting a social network: part one

Courtesy of Reid Hoffman

Feloni: So back to this notion of your aspiring to be a public intellectual. You essentially became one for entrepreneurs. You founded your first company in 1997, SocialNet.com, which was an early social network. Do you consider being an entrepreneur foundational to your identity, and, if so, was it always there? Or when did you realize that?

Hoffman: I actually never really thought about myself as an entrepreneur until years into LinkedIn, which is after I had founded my second company. What I had been focused on, almost from those early days at Putney, was just building stuff, being a public intellectual, making something happen, and then what's the way you do that?

Oh, well, you raise some money, you hire some people, you launch your product. It's what an entrepreneur does, but it wasn't like my identity was: "I aspire to be an entrepreneur. I think of myself as an entrepreneur." I was more thinking of myself as, "I'm a person who is helping create ecosystems, and what's the way that I can do that?" And I realized that one of the pieces of progress that we're making as a society and as a world is realizing that entrepreneurship isn't just the odd kid at school or the occasional or random thing, but, at least in some areas of the world like Silicon Valley and China — but also a number of others; entrepreneurship is spreading — to almost be a pattern that's a choice, not for everybody, but for a number of people. And the creation of these companies and these products and services is part of how we're going to create more products and services. We're going to create more jobs.

And so then I became an advocate for entrepreneurship, and, exactly, as you mentioned, in some sense, a substantial part of my kind of current expressions as a public intellectual is about why entrepreneurship is key, how to do it well, what are the key lessons for it, how to think about it from everything from as a government or as a corporation, but also entrepreneurs building new, interesting companies.

Feloni: You essentially saw the rise of social networks before that even became a thing. Maybe you were a bit too early there. But when you had a chance a few years later to be the first investor in Facebook, you turned it down. How do you figure that?

Hoffman: Oh, actually, I didn't turn down that investment. Because I was worried about the appearance of conflict with LinkedIn, I sourced it to Peter and then I co-invested a small amount of dollars along with Peter. So it was financially very expensive, but it's always good to act first and foremost with a sense of ethics and integrity, and what I had been worried about was that people would say, "Oh, well, you're both invested in Facebook as a lead investor and you're doing LinkedIn," and I said, "OK, well, Peter has no conflict, so he can lead and then I can essentially co-invest."

So I would say that as part of the social revolution on the web, in addition to my very first company being SocialNet — which kind of lacked some key components — starting LinkedIn, investing in Friendster, investing in Facebook, investing in Flickr, right? There was a wide variety of these social movements.

Feloni: What do you think that SocialNet was missing?

Hoffman: I had had this notion of having a network be a platform, and what a platform is, is a number of applications are built on top of it. But a network is a platform primarily when it has your real identity and real relationships. When it is, in fact, Reid Hoffman and Reid Hoffman's colleagues and friends and so forth.

SocialNet still used what was very prevalent in the first stage of the internet: pseudonyms. Right? So you would choose a fake name so that you could hide behind it because quote, unquote cyberspace was dangerous. And there were good things in SocialNet: It had a really good "how do you match two people together who might share interests, how do you make a platform of that in terms of profiles and micro profiles for matching together, how do you allow two people to be anonymous to each other and start communicating and then reveal identity?" All of that was you know useful and interesting early work, but it lacked this identity and relationships as a network platform, which I think is key to part of the reason why we've had the entire social web revolution, or web 2.0.

Joining the PayPal Mafia

AP

Feloni: You ended up at PayPal. Thiel was one of the founders. And you started off on the board and then ended up working full-time as an executive there from 2000 to 2002. This was the age when — and I know you hate the term — what a lot of people like to refer to as the "PayPal Mafia," which was just an intense collection of very talented people, including Thiel, yourself, Elon Musk, the founders of YouTube, the founders of Yelp. What was the energy like at its peak, and how do you manage so many alpha personalities all at once?

Hoffman: Well, fortunately, this is a little bit more Peter's problem than mine, but PayPal did hire very entrepreneurial, very high analytic, clock-speed-IQ folks who were very focused on succeeding, and part of what allowed us to kind of naturally pull together and be and work pretty intensely was that PayPal got started kind of in late '99 — it got started a little earlier than that, but it got launched in late '99 — and then as we kind of went to market, the internet crash, the bust, started to happen, and so pretty quickly PayPal was one of the very few companies that had really interesting prospects that it could still create something that was big and valuable. It wasn't the only one — Google was there, et cetera — but it was one of the companies that had that kind of unique characteristic and so everyone had a tendency to put aside their own tendency to say, "Well, it's my idea — I want to be in command" to "Boy, this is a really valuable company, and I want to make it work. OK, let's work together to make this work." But there was a tremendous amount of, like, very strong personalities. I think it was partially circumstances, partially love of the mission, and partially the difficulties of the time that kept the ship together.

Starting a social network: part two

REUTERS/Mike Segar

Feloni: You began a new chapter in your career when you cofounded LinkedIn, in 2002, and that was after PayPal sold to eBay and everyone in that executive group — that high-powered group — kind of went off, started their own companies, became really influential in Silicon Valley. You've said that when you cofounded LinkedIn, you weren't exactly passionate about professional networks themselves the same way that you weren't really passionate about online banking at PayPal. So do you recommend that people prioritize market opportunity over passion? Or is there a way to find balance?

Hoffman: Well, the good news is it wasn't that I didn't care about them; they just weren't the top thing in the world for me. So actually, in fact, the answer to your question is, you do a cross product, an intersection of market opportunity for building something new, entrepreneurial, et cetera, the teams and resources and assets available to you, and the things that you're passionate about.

And so the notion of getting everybody better enabled through their network, to maximize your economic opportunity, is part of how you really advance society. And so that form of it really interested me. Now, some people approach it as professional networking. For example, I walk up to people at cocktail parties and hand people my business card and try to explain — kind of cold-calling them — why it's great to do business with me, and that's not something that I'm passionate about, and we enable that, too.

But the thing that I was kind of looking at was, "How do you essentially enable everybody to share information and connectivity to other people in order to best realize their economic opportunity?" And that's something that's important to me — maybe not the top thing in the world, but definitely important to me.

And then, similarly, with PayPal, part of PayPal was saying, "We'll actually in fact enable a swath of entrepreneurship because participating in electronic payments is extremely important for the acceleration of your business." And if you're an individual person, or you're a small business, being able to participate in electronic payments is really important and that actually unlocks a lot of entrepreneurship. And that is also something that is super important. So it isn't that I didn't care about them — it was that they were like, "Oh, they're important things, just maybe not the most important things." But they were important things that had the right product market fit and the right opportunity at the right time.

Feloni: So at LinkedIn you served as CEO for four years and then eventually you found your perfect CEO with Jeff Weiner in 2009. When did you know that it was time to step back, and when did you know that Jeff was going to be the person you were going to stick with?

Hoffman: So I knew that my best capabilities are around being a strategist, a product-strategy person, a business-strategy person, a collaborator, and not, per se, in the CEO job. Because the CEO job as you scale becomes very much a "How do you build a high-performance organization?" — which I appreciate, which I have learned a great deal of things about, but which is not the kind of core thing that I focus on.

And so I knew from a fairly early day that I would want to hand over the CEO reins. I wouldn't want to go through my whole professional career being a CEO at all, let alone, like, by the way, a CEO of LinkedIn, but I just didn't want to be a CEO. And so I was looking for: When do you have the right kind of raw acceleration and value in the network that bringing somebody in so that they would then be essentially a later-stage cofounder? Because they so much valued the mission, valued the progress that you're making, your inertia, your kind of default momentum? Part of what made it very clear very early that Jeff was the right CEO is that he had actually really started embodying, acting as a founder. For example: "I have a vision for what the company is doing," but it's like, "I have a vision for how I'm transforming the world, I have a different way of thinking about this product and thinking about their transformation." And then that together, with recruiting some great executives, you know, being a very sharp product person, which is important in the consumer internet, all those things led me to go, "Oh, yes, Jeff is the right guy."

Feloni: Then last year, Microsoft acquired LinkedIn for $26.2 billion and you joined the board of Microsoft. How did you decide to make that decision?

Hoffman: Well, any of these kinds of decisions are, in fact, very difficult. I mean, one of the things that Jeff and I and the exec team at LinkedIn share is, we're in service to the mission. So the mission is: How do you enable as many people to have as many transformative economic opportunities as possible? How do you allow them to take control over their own career progress, their own economic progress? And what the decision, fundamentally, came down to is, is that better in combination with another company or is it better solo? And we basically said, "OK, let's take a look at that." And with Microsoft, and that fact that it's already focused on, as a mission, how do you make organizations more productive, how do you make individuals more productive? There was a natural alignment of those missions, and we realized that we could better reach our mission combined.

Making a difference through investments

Max Morse/Getty

Feloni: Parallel to LinkedIn, you've had a career as an investor, and today you're a partner at the venture-capital firm Greylock. Can you use the example of your decision to invest in Airbnb in 2009 as an example of what you look for in an investment — and what that meeting was like?

Hoffman: At Greylock we tend to have a depth of expertise in both consumer internet software and enterprise software, and, in both cases, we tend to say, "Look, we ourselves have been company builders, we've built products like this, we've built companies like this." And so we have a very good pattern for both recognizing what's interesting, and also we aim to be the best possible help to entrepreneurs within these two areas.

And for me, as I had mentioned a little earlier, that tends to be networks and marketplaces, and obviously Airbnb is a marketplace for space. Brian and Nate and Joe sat down with me on a weekend and started running me through their pitch, and I think it was only a couple minutes in that I said, "Hold on. I personally would like to invest, and I'd like to bring you into the partnership. This could be rapidly huge. It could be industry-transforming." And that's almost always what I look for in investments. We went from that meeting to a partner meeting — I think a few days hence — to an offer for investment the next day.

Feloni: Do you typically work that quickly when investing?

Hoffman: Sometimes you do. Sometimes you might meet with an entrepreneur on the weekend, bring them in partnership on Monday, and give them an offer that afternoon. Sometimes it may take a few weeks, doing due diligence, thinking about it, trying to understand the entrepreneur and the business. It all depends both on the idea, and how much information you have on the company and the entrepreneurs going into the first meeting.

Feloni: And as you've grown your network, you've gotten connections in politics, you've backed Hillary Clinton and were an initial investor in the entrepreneur Mark Pincus' "Win the Future" movement, which is a grassroots movement for progressive politicians. How do you think you can effectively wield influence in a public way as someone who's coming from a position of power and with a lot of money to invest if Americans are increasingly wary of money's influence on politics?

Hoffman: Well, just because it's money doesn't necessarily mean it's corrupting or challenging. I think with power comes responsibility; it's essentially "Spider-Man" ethics. And money is, essentially, reification of assets, of essentially power, and so for me, what I try to do is I try to do a set of investments and things that really enhance human potential, including within political or other arenas. Overall, I would say that I kind of take a Silicon Valley investing approach to the whole thing, which is, I look for where I can invest money, time, support, and a project could make a really big difference in the world, including potentially a really big difference in providing the right sort of governance for the society that we all live in.

Feloni: What would you advise to some of the listeners who are wondering how they can improve their professional network and kind of want to avoid that whole just-passing-along-business-cards sort of deal?

Hoffman: I mean, this is part of the LinkedIn design, which is: It's much better to get an introduction, a warm connection, than it is to cold call. Sometimes a cold call is all that's available to you, but when I'm introduced through somebody, it's like, "Oh, this person's known this person for a while, they're trustworthy, they're good to do business with, they're really committed to the long game, and playing it out," and all that stuff is really helpful in knowing, "Well, should I really dig into and really understand this business?" And so the general advice to entrepreneurs is figure out how to get a good, warm introduction. And of course you don't have to use LinkedIn, but LinkedIn is a good way to figuring out what that possible mutual connection might be.

Feloni: Thank you so much, Reid. I really appreciate the time.

Hoffman: Likewise.

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