#foreign ministers protection protocols

[youthchronical]

Watch: UK opposition MP Bob Blackman raises Jaishankar's London security breach issue in Parliament - The Times of India

IK Conservative MP Bob Blackman The United Kingdom’s security for the foreign ministers became a question after external affairs minister S Jaishankar was attacked by “Khalistani thugs” in London. Raising the issue in the House of Commons Conservative Party MP Bob Blackman said that this incident is an affront to democracy, to friends and allies in India. Blackman also urged for measures to…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

China hacked Verizon, AT&T and Lumen using the FBI’s backdoor

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

State-affiliated Chinese hackers penetrated AT&T, Verizon, Lumen and others; they entered their networks and spent months intercepting US traffic – from individuals, firms, government officials, etc – and they did it all without having to exploit any code vulnerabilities. Instead, they used the back door that the FBI requires every carrier to furnish:

https://www.wsj.com/tech/cybersecurity/u-s-wiretap-systems-targeted-in-china-linked-hack-327fc63b?st=C5ywbp&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink

In 1994, Bill Clinton signed CALEA into law. The Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act requires every US telecommunications network to be designed around facilitating access to law-enforcement wiretaps. Prior to CALEA, telecoms operators were often at pains to design their networks to resist infiltration and interception. Even if a telco didn't go that far, they were at the very least indifferent to the needs of law enforcement, and attuned instead to building efficient, robust networks.

Predictably, CALEA met stiff opposition from powerful telecoms companies as it worked its way through Congress, but the Clinton administration bought them off with hundreds of millions of dollars in subsidies to acquire wiretap-facilitation technologies. Immediately, a new industry sprang into being; companies that promised to help the carriers hack themselves, punching back doors into their networks. The pioneers of this dirty business were overwhelmingly founded by ex-Israeli signals intelligence personnel, though they often poached senior American military and intelligence officials to serve as the face of their operations and liase with their former colleagues in law enforcement and intelligence.

Telcos weren't the only opponents of CALEA, of course. Security experts – those who weren't hoping to cash in on government pork, anyways – warned that there was no way to make a back door that was only useful to the "good guys" but would keep the "bad guys" out.

These experts were – then as now – dismissed as neurotic worriers who simultaneously failed to understand the need to facilitate mass surveillance in order to keep the nation safe, and who lacked appropriate faith in American ingenuity. If we can put a man on the moon, surely we can build a security system that selectively fails when a cop needs it to, but stands up to every crook, bully, corporate snoop and foreign government. In other words: "We have faith in you! NERD HARDER!"

NERD HARDER! has been the answer ever since CALEA – and related Clinton-era initiatives, like the failed Clipper Chip program, which would have put a spy chip in every computer, and, eventually, every phone and gadget:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clipper_chip

America may have invented NERD HARDER! but plenty of other countries have taken up the cause. The all-time champion is former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, who, when informed that the laws of mathematics dictate that it is impossible to make an encryption scheme that only protects good secrets and not bad ones, replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable, but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.zdnet.com/article/the-laws-of-australia-will-trump-the-laws-of-mathematics-turnbull/

CALEA forced a redesign of the foundational, physical layer of the internet. Thankfully, encryption at the protocol layer – in the programs we use – partially counters this deliberately introduced brittleness in the security of all our communications. CALEA can be used to intercept your communications, but mostly what an attacker gets is "metadata" ("so-and-so sent a message of X bytes to such and such") because the data is scrambled and they can't unscramble it, because cryptography actually works, unlike back doors. Of course, that's why governments in the EU, the US, the UK and all over the world are still trying to ban working encryption, insisting that the back doors they'll install will only let the good guys in:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Any back door can be exploited by your adversaries. The Chinese sponsored hacking group know as Salt Typhoon intercepted the communications of hundreds of millions of American residents, businesses, and institutions. From that position, they could do NSA-style metadata-analysis, malware injection, and interception of unencrypted traffic. And they didn't have to hack anything, because the US government insists that all networking gear ship pre-hacked so that cops can get into it.

This isn't even the first time that CALEA back doors have been exploited by a hostile foreign power as a matter of geopolitical skullduggery. In 2004-2005, Greece's telecommunications were under mass surveillance by US spy agencies who wiretapped Greek officials, all the way up to the Prime Minister, in order to mess with the Greek Olympic bid:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_wiretapping_case_2004%E2%80%9305

This is a wild story in so many ways. For one thing, CALEA isn't law in Greece! You can totally sell working, secure networking gear in Greece, and in many other countries around the world where they have not passed a stupid CALEA-style law. However the US telecoms market is so fucking huge that all the manufacturers build CALEA back doors into their gear, no matter where it's destined for. So the US has effectively exported this deliberate insecurity to the whole planet – and used it to screw around with Olympic bids, the most penny-ante bullshit imaginable.

Now Chinese-sponsored hackers with cool names like "Salt Typhoon" are traipsing around inside US telecoms infrastructure, using the back doors the FBI insisted would be safe.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/07/foreseeable-outcomes/#calea

Image: Kris Duda, modified https://www.flickr.com/photos/ahorcado/5433669707/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[skyovereuropeldkde]

Major General (ret.) Schultze-Rhonhof speaks out 24.12.2023 "Ladies and gentlemen! I did not serve as a soldier for 37 years to preserve peace in Germany, and now to watch idly and without comment as Germany is slowly but likely headed toward active participation in a foreign and senseless war. Our "Three Wise Men," Chancellor Scholz, Minister Lindner, and Minister Dr. Habeck, all initially refused military service in their younger years for Germany's law and freedom and the preservation of our democracy. They are now spending far more than 10 billion euros of taxpayer money per year on "law," "freedom," "democracy," and Western values ​​in a foreign state that is neither a democracy nor represents Western values. They are using our taxpayer money and the blood of foreign conscripts to prolong a war that has now become senseless.

Ukraine is by no means a democracy, and its values ​​are not ours. Eleven opposition parties are banned in Ukraine. Zelenskyy has banned the presidential elections scheduled for March 2024 (such elections are taking place in Russia). In Ukraine, all media outlets are under control. No reports critical of Ukraine from Ukraine are permitted by German journalists (comments critical of Russia from Moscow are quite common). In Ukraine, political assassinations are commonplace (according to the three-week protocols of the Federal Agency for Civic Education up until the outbreak of the war). Ukraine and Russia are together the two most corrupt countries in Europe (according to Transparency International). Buying out of military service is just as common in Ukraine as it is in Russia. With its record of breaches of international treaties and violations of UN conventions and international charters, Ukraine's record is in no way inferior to that of Russia in terms of frequency and severity. The nature and frequency of Ukrainian war crimes are similar to those committed by Russia; only the misuse of humanitarian facilities protected under international humanitarian law as human shields for fighting troops occurs only on the Ukrainian side (according to the OSCE report of June 29, 2022).

This Ukraine is neither a democracy nor does it stand for our values, as the German media and the majority of our political parties would have us believe. The official interpretation presented to us that Ukraine would help defend our values ​​is as foolish as Struck's "Defense of Germany in the Hindu Kush." ​​I expect the former conscientious objectors in the Bundestag and the federal government—true to their former sense of peace—to actively work for the quickest possible end to the war in Ukraine and to abandon their unrealistic, phantom visions of a Ukrainian victory. I expect the same from all other governments and parliamentarians. The idea of ​​a possible reunification of two quarreling and now hateful sections of a nation, who had already waged war against each other for eight years before the Russian invasion, into a future Ukraine of its former size is the pipe dream of fools. Regarding the zeal of the majority of German parties to help the Ukrainians achieve victory with money and arms deliveries, I'm reminded of a saying by Russian Lieutenant General Alexander Lebed, who said during the first Chechen war: "Let me recruit a company from the sons of the elite, and the war will be over the next day." (Lebed was an unsuccessful presidential candidate in Russia in 1996.)

The second question at issue here is whether the Russian Federation has actually threatened the West, or even a NATO member state or other neighboring country since its withdrawal from Central Europe following the end of the Soviet disintegration process. I will answer this question in detail in the explanatory statement for the following letter to the politicians. This explanatory statement is attached as Appendix 1 to this email.

Since August 15, 2022, I have tried to inform hundreds of members of parliament about the background to the Russian invasion and the events inside Ukraine. Then, I proposed a German initiative for a rapid end to the war to the Federal Chancellor, former chancellors, and leading politicians with still open channels of communication with Moscow. I made my final attempt at Christmas 2023 with the following letter, sent to members of the Federal Government, the parliamentary group leaders of all parties in the Bundestag, to all party leaders and general secretaries, and to all state premiers. Only two party leaders, sitting on the sidelines of the plenary hall, responded with approval and in any way, but they stated that they could do nothing. I have just received a polite but dismissive response from the leader of the largest opposition party, whose silence and disregard for the long history of the war I cannot accept and whose insinuations against Putin I largely cannot confirm. Incidentally, allegedly proven but unfounded allegations were also a common element in the dynamite of the two world wars. Despite all courtesy, the reply gives the impression that its author hasn't even read the justification for my proposal (Appendix 1).

The German people are tired of not being informed about the background to the war in Ukraine and of investing 10 to 15 billion euros annually, despite their own tight budgets, in a senseless, foreign war and the continued deaths of tens of thousands of Ukrainians and Russians. If the German government, disregarding German interests, risks the war in Ukraine escalating into a conflagration and involving Germany as well—as Chancellor Scholz originally feared—the people themselves must remind the government of their first duty. So far, the vast majority of German politicians have been primarily interested in a Ukrainian victory and a Russian defeat, and only secondarily in peace. Please read my Christmas letter to politicians and pass on my thoughts to other interested parties. And try to convince your representatives of the possibility of an early end to the war. Yours, Gerd Schultze-Rhonhof Major General (ret.)

[blueiscoool]

European Court Upholds Italy's Right to Seize Greek Bronze from Getty Museum

A European court on Thursday upheld Italy’s right to seize a prized Greek statue from the J. Paul Getty Museum in California, ruling that Italy was justified in trying to reclaim an important part of its cultural heritage and rejecting the museum’s appeal.

The European Court of Human Rights, or ECHR, determined that Italy’s decades-long efforts to recover the “Victorious Youth” statue from the Malibu-based Getty were not disproportionate.

“Victorious Youth,” a life-sized bronze dating from 300 B.C. to 100 B.C., is one of the highlights of the Getty’s collection. Though the artist is unknown, some scholars believe it was made by Lysippos, Alexander the Great’s personal sculptor.

The bronze, which was pulled from the sea in 1964 by Italian fishermen and then exported out of Italy illegally, was purchased by the Getty in 1977 for $4 million and has been on display there ever since.

The Getty had appealed to the European court after Italy’s high Court of Cassation in 2018 upheld a lower court’s confiscation order. The Getty had argued that its rights to the statue, under a European human rights protocol on protection of property, had been violated by Italy’s campaign to get it back.

The court ruled Thursday that no such violation had occurred.

“This is not just a victory for the Italian government. It’s a victory for culture,” said Maurizio Fiorilli, who as an Italian government attorney had spearheaded Italy’s efforts to recover its looted antiquities and, in particular, the Getty bronze.

The Getty has long defended its right to the statue, saying Italy had no legal claim to it.

Among other things, the Getty had argued that the statue is of Greek origin, was found in international waters and was never part of Italy’s cultural heritage. It cited a 1968 Court of Cassation ruling that found no evidence that the statue belonged to Italy.

Italy argued the statue was indeed part of its own cultural heritage, that it was brought to shore by Italians aboard an Italian-flagged ship and was exported illegally, without any customs declarations or payments.

After years of further legal wrangling, an Italian court in Pesaro in 2010 ordered the statue seized and returned, at the height of Italy’s campaign to recover antiquities looted from its territory and sold to museums and private collectors around the globe.

Thursday’s ruling by the Strasbourg, France-based ECHR was a chamber judgment. Both sides now have three months to ask that the case be heard by the court’s Grand Chamber for a final decision. But Thursday’s ruling was unanimous, with no dissenting judges, and the Grand Chamber can refuse to hear the case.

There was no immediate comment from the Getty, and its lawyers referred comment to the museum.

Italian Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano praised Thursday’s decision as an “unequivocal ruling” that recognized the rights of the Italian state and its ownership of the statue.

“Following today’s ruling … the Italian government will restart contacts with U.S. authorities for assistance in the implementation of the confiscation order,” he said.

In a statement, he doubled down on Italy’s campaign to bring its looted treasures home, and noted that recently Italy has ceased cooperation with foreign museums that don’t recognize Italian legal confiscation orders.

Recently, Italy banned any loans to the Minneapolis Institute of Art following a dispute over an ancient marble statue believed to have been looted from Italy almost a half-century ago.

The Getty had appealed to the ECHR by arguing, among other things, that Italy’s 2010 confiscation order constituted a violation of its right to enjoy its possessions and that it would be deprived of that right if U.S. authorities carried out the seizure.

The ECHR however strongly reaffirmed Italy’s right to pursue the protection of its cultural heritage, especially from unlawful exportation.

“The court further held that owing, in particular, to the Getty Trust’s negligence or bad faith in purchasing the statue despite being aware of the claims of the Italian state and their efforts to recover it, the confiscation order had been proportionate to the aim of ensuring the return of an object that was part of Italy’s cultural heritage,” said the summary of the ruling.

It wasn’t immediately clear what would happen next, though Fiorilli said the Getty had exhausted legal remedies and it’s now for U.S. the courts to enforce the Italian confiscation order.

“It’s not about guaranteeing the right to property, it’s about guaranteeing the internationally recognized value of every nation’s right to protect its cultural patrimony,” Fiorilli told The Associated Press over the telephone.

The statue, nicknamed the “Getty Bronze,” is a signature piece for the museum. Standing about 5 feet (1.52 meters) tall, the statue of the young athlete raising his right hand to an olive wreath crown around his head is one of the few life-sized Greek bronzes to have survived.

The bronze is believed to have sunk with the ship that was carrying it to Italy after the Romans conquered Greece. After being found in the nets of Italian fishermen trawling in international waters in 1964, it was allegedly buried in an Italian cabbage patch and hidden in a priest’s bathtub before it was taken out of the country.

Italy has successfully won back thousands of artifacts from museums, collections and private owners around the world that it says were looted or stolen from the country illegally, and recently opened a museum to house them until they can be returned to the regions from where they were looted.

The most important work to date that Italy has successfully brought back is the Euphronios Krater, one of the finest ancient Greek vases in existence. The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, which purchased it for $1 million in 1972 from an art dealer later accused of acquiring looted artifacts, returned it to Italy in 2008.

In 2010, the same year that Italy ordered the “Victorious Youth” statue confiscated from the Getty, a criminal trial ended in Rome against the Getty’s former curator of antiquities, Marion True. After years of trial, the Rome court ruled that the statute of limitations had expired on charges that True received stolen artifacts. She has denied wrongdoing.

In 2007, the Getty, without admitting any wrongdoing, agreed to return 40 ancient treasures in exchange for the long-term loans of other artifacts. Similar deals have been reached with other museums.

Under the 2007 deal, the two sides agreed to postpone further discussion of “Victorious Youth” until the court case was decided.

By Nicole Winfield.

[freehawaii]

AUGUST FREE HAWAII NEWS - TWO MORE COURT VICTORIES FOR HAWAIIANS

What Happens When Hawaiians Take A Stand For Protecting Their Homeland, The Controversy Over A New Caretaker For The Royal Mausoleum At Mauna Ala, The Latest Progress For Hawaiians At The United Nations & A New Kumu Hinaʻs Mana`o

The August “Free Hawaii News” airing tonight, August 2nd at 6 PM on `Olelo Television Channel 53 on O`ahu and online at FreeHawaiiNews.com reports on two more court victories which emphasize protecting Hawaiian sacred places and resources. “The legal setback which stops planned development of a new Coco Palms resort on Kaua`i and a big court victory for returning water to the Na Wai Eha streams on Maui highlight important progress being made to protect Hawaiian sacred places and preserving Hawai`iʻs resources,” says Free Hawaii News co-host Leon Siu. “As we report in our Pacific Way segment, these kinds of victories are what happens when Hawaiians take a stand to protect our homeland.” We also feature a special report with co-host Hinaleimoana Wong who interviews revered kumu hula Lehua Kawaikapuokalani Hewett about the recent controversy surrounding the appointment of a non-lineal kahu or caretaker of the Royal Mausoleum at Mauna Ala. “For the first time ever protocol is being ignored and broken as well as tradition going back many generations over the protection of the iwi or bones of our beloved Ali`i who rest at Mauna Ala,” remarks Free Hawaii News co-host Hinaleimoana Wong. We also update on progress for Hawaiians at the United Nations and a new Kumu Hinaʻs Mana`o segment. Free Hawaii News presents Hawaiian or kanaka maoli perspectives on a broad range of issues and topics affecting the Hawaiian Islands, the Pacific and the world. Brought to you by the Koani Foundation, Free Hawaii News airs every month on `Ōlelo Television on O`ahu, on all neighbor islands and on stations around the world. Check local listings for times. Hinaleimoana Wong is a kumu hula, filmmaker, cultural activist, Hawaiian language speaker, preservationist and community leader. She has served as a member of the O`ahu Island Burial Council. Leon Siu has for many years served as Foreign Minister of the Hawaiian Kingdom. He is active in that role at the United Nations in both New York City and Geneva, Switzerland. Besides being a diplomat, he is also an award-winning musician, composer and political analyst. “Free Hawaii News” is online at FreeHawaiiNews.com, Facebook, Instagram and other social media sites.

[beardedmrbean]

OTTAWA, Ontario (AP) — Two scientists at a high-security infectious disease laboratory in Canada lost their jobs after reviews found they failed to protect sensitive material and information and did not acknowledge links with China, newly released records show.

The scientists, Xiangguo Qiu and her husband, Keding Cheng, were stripped of their security clearances in 2019 at Canada's National Microbiology Laboratory over questions about their loyalty to Canada and the potential for coercion or exploitation by a foreign entity, the documents say.

More than 600 pages were made public Wednesday following a special all-party review of the records.

The records show Canada's spy agency, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, assessed that Qiu repeatedly lied about the extent of her work with institutions of the Chinese government and refused to admit involvement in various Chinese programs, even when evidence was presented to her.

The documents are likely to further chill relations between the two countries. Last September, Canada announced a public inquiry into whether China, Russia and other countries interfered in Canadian federal elections in 2019 and 2021 that re-elected Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s Liberals.

Opposition parties hoped the documents released Wednesday would shed light on why Qiu and Cheng were escorted out of Winnipeg’s National Microbiology Laboratory in July 2019 and subsequently fired in January 2021. The two have not publicly commented and are reportedly in China.

Three former senior judges had the final say on public disclosure of the newly disclosed documents, which are partially redacted.

The Canadian Security Intelligence Service concluded that, despite being given every opportunity in her interviews to describe her association with Chinese entities, “Ms. Qiu continued to make blanket denials, feign ignorance or tell outright lies.”

A November 2020 Public Health Agency of Canada report on Qiu says investigators “weighed the adverse information and are in agreement with the CSIS assessment.”

Investigators concluded that Qiu’s loyalty “remains of grave concern” due to her direct contact with the entities linked to a foreign state.

A Public Health Agency report on Cheng’s activities says he allowed restricted visitors to work in laboratories unescorted and, on at least two occasions, did not prevent the unauthorized removal of laboratory materials.

The report also says Cheng was not forthcoming about his activities and collaborations with people from government agencies “of another country, namely members of the People’s Republic of China.”

“Dr. Cheng’s actions reflect those of an individual who is careless with information and assets in his custody and not forthcoming and truthful when questioned about these communications.”

Health Minister Mark Holland said Wednesday the documents revealed a “lax adherence to security protocols.”

But Holland insisted that at no time did national secrets or information that threatened the security of Canada leave the lab.

“I think that there was an inadequate understanding of the threat of foreign interference,” he told reporters. “I believe that an earnest effort was made to adhere to those policies, but not with the rigor that was required."

[llewelynpritch]

Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson held key responsibilities including National Security, MI6, Intelligence, Protection of UK Citizens, International Relations As PM he misled Parliament about 'Partygate'. original image Guardian Editorial 22 March 2023

JOHNSON'S 'COVER-UP' JUSTICE FOR DAWN STURGESS Mother-of-three Dawn Sturgess died after coming into contact with the Russian nerve agent Novichok original image BBC

JOHNSON'S COVER-UP Indirect responsibility for murder of Dawn Sturgess original image Guardian Editorial 22 March 2023

���The common denominator linking Lord Evgeny Lebedev, Alexander Lebedev (a ‘former’ KGB agent), and Boris Johnson is primarily their interactions and the broader context of Russian influence in UK politics, as well as the handling of sensitive security and political issues.

Meetings and Relationships

- Boris Johnson, as the UK's Foreign Secretary and later Prime Minister, had significant and controversial interactions with the Lebedev family. In April 2018, Johnson attended a party at Evgeny Lebedev's Italian mansion, where he also met Alexander Lebedev, a former KGB agent, without any officials or security present. This meeting occurred shortly after Johnson had attended a NATO meeting to discuss the Russian response to the Salisbury Novichok poisonings [2][3].

Security Concerns and Protocol Breaches

- The private meeting between Johnson and Alexander Lebedev raises serious security concerns. Former MI6 agent Christopher Steele highlighted that such off-the-books meetings pose significant risks to the UK, as they may not have been properly recorded or reported back into the government. This breach of protocol is particularly alarming given Johnson's role as Foreign Secretary at the time [1][2].

Delay of the ISC Russia Report

- The delay in publishing the ISC Russia Report, which investigated Russian interference in UK politics, including the Brexit referendum and other events, is another critical point. Johnson's government was criticised for delaying the report's release until after the 2019 general election, despite the report being completed in March 2019. This delay has been seen as an attempt to avoid scrutiny of potential Russian influence during the election period [2][4].

Appointments and Conflicts of Interest

- Boris Johnson's decision to nominate Evgeny Lebedev for a peerage in 2020, despite concerns from UK intelligence agencies, further complicates the picture. This move has been criticised for potentially allowing Russian influence to penetrate deeper into British politics and society [1][2].

Handling of Russian Aggression

- The way Johnson's government handled incidents of Russian aggression, such as the polonium poisoning of Alexander Litvinenko and the Novichok poisonings of the Skripals and Dawn Sturgess, has been questioned. The timing of Johnson's meeting with Alexander Lebedev, just after discussing Russia's actions with NATO, adds to the concerns about his judgement and the potential for Russian influence [2][3].

Misconduct and Leadership Failures

- Johnson's overall handling of these issues, including his ill-judged prime ministerial ambitions and the allegations of misconduct in public office, obstruction of justice, and breach of duty, have raised significant questions about his leadership and integrity. His actions have been criticised for not adequately addressing the threat of Russian influence and for potentially emboldening Russian aggression, including Putin’s invasion of Ukraine [1][2].

In summary, the common denominator is the complex web of relationships and interactions between Boris Johnson and the Lebedev family, set against the backdrop of concerns about Russian influence in UK politics, breaches of security protocols, and the handling of sensitive security and political issues.’

Citations:

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag4qR91JUOc 

[2] https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/boris-johnson-ap-evgeny-lebedev-london-conservative-party-b2131696.html 

[3] https://www.gov.uk/government/news/novichok-nerve-agent-use-in-salisbury-uk-government-response 

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intelligence_and_Security_Committee_Russia_report 

[5] https://www.dw.com/en/uk-russia-report-brexit/a-54182899 

[6] https://www.europeansources.info/record/uk-conservative-party-leadership-contest/ 

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2019_Conservative_Party_leadership_election 

[8] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/election-2019-50765773

NOTES Explain why it is important for users of AI Language software to exercise critical thinking, independently verify validity, reliability -'fact-check' data from generally reliable sources and not solely rely on the model's responses for important decisions or information. Llewelyn Pritchard 21 October 2024: 

Perplexity: ‘Exercising critical thinking, independently verifying the validity and reliability of data, and fact-checking information from generally reliable sources are crucial for users of AI language software for several reasons:

Hallucinations and Inaccuracies: AI language models, even advanced ones, can generate responses that are not grounded in reality, a phenomenon known as "hallucinations." These models can confidently provide incorrect or misleading information, which can be particularly problematic if users rely solely on the model's responses [1][2][4].

Limited Training Data: AI models are trained on specific datasets, and their accuracy is limited by the quality and scope of these datasets. For example, Google's DataGemma tool, while effective, has limitations in terms of the data it can access and the questions it can answer accurately. If the relevant data is not in the model's training set or database, the model may not provide accurate or reliable information [1].

Real-Time Information Challenges: AI models often struggle with real-time events or breaking news, as their training data may not include the latest developments. This can lead to incorrect or outdated information being provided, as seen in the case of Meta AI's responses to the attempted assassination of former President Trump [4].

Subjective Framing and Nuance: Fact-checking is not always straightforward, as AI models may not capture the nuances of human communication. A quote or statement might be technically accurate but misleading due to the context or framing. Human judgement is often necessary to understand the full implications and context of the information provided [5].

Error and Unknown Rates: Studies have shown that even the most accurate AI fact-checking models have error rates. For instance, Originality.ai, which has a high accuracy rate of 72.3%, still has a small error rate and may return "unknown" results for certain queries. This underscores the need for users to verify information independently [2][3].

Manipulated Media and Information Warfare: Bad actors can engineer ways to circumvent AI fact-checking tools, spreading misinformation or manipulated media that might evade detection. This means that relying solely on AI for fact-checking can leave users vulnerable to misinformation [5].

Impact on Decision-Making: For important decisions or critical information, relying solely on AI model responses can be risky. Incorrect or misleading information can have significant consequences, whether in personal, professional, or public contexts. Independent verification from reliable sources ensures that decisions are based on accurate and trustworthy information.

In summary, exercising critical thinking and independently verifying the validity and reliability of data from generally reliable sources are essential because AI language models can generate inaccurate information, have limitations in their training data, struggle with real-time events, lack nuance in their responses, and are not immune to errors or manipulation. These factors highlight the importance of a multi-layered approach to fact-checking to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information used for important decisions.

Citations:

[1] https://www.technologyreview.com/2024/09/12/1103926/googles-new-tool-lets-large-language-models-fact-check-their-responses/ 

[2] https://originality.ai/blog/ai-fact-checking-accuracy 

[3] https://originality.ai/automated-fact-checker 

[4] https://about.fb.com/news/2024/07/review-of-fact-checking-label-and-meta-ai-responses/ 

[5] https://www.niemanlab.org/2022/12/ai-will-start-fact-checking-we-may-not-like-the-results/ 

[6] https://www.techtarget.com/whatis/feature/Steps-in-fact-checking-AI-generated-content 

[7] https://libguides.uel.ac.uk/artificial-intelligence/using-ai-critically 

[8] https://reutersinstitute.politics.ox.ac.uk/how-generative-ai-chatbots-responded-questions-and-fact-checks-about-2024-uk-general-election 

Source: https://www.perplexity.ai/search/explain-why-it-is-important-fo-wLezjtPtReucQFNpfsd9ZA #OpenSourceAI #Perplexity 21 October 2024 

DeepAI: ‘The text emphasises the importance of critical thinking and independent verification when using AI language models. Key points include:

1. Inaccuracy: AI may produce plausible but inaccurate information, which can be outdated or false.

2. Contextual Understanding: AI lacks human-like comprehension, leading to incomplete or skewed responses.

3. Bias: AI training data may include biases, which can influence the outputs and reinforce stereotypes.

4. Source Variability: AI responses can stem from both reputable and unreliable sources, necessitating careful evaluation of credibility.

5. Static Information: AI cannot provide real-time updates, making it essential to consult current, trustworthy sources for changing topics.

6. Complexity: Many subjects require deep understanding that AI responses might not adequately cover.

7. Consequences of Misinformation: Relying solely on AI for critical decisions can lead to severe consequences due to potential misinformation.

8. Promoting Critical Thinking: Engaging critically with information leads to better decision-making and understanding.

In conclusion, while AI can be a useful resource, users should approach its outputs cautiously and verify information to make informed, responsible decisions.’ https://deepai.org/chat DeepAI 21 October 2024

ChatGPT4o: ‘It is essential for users of AI language software to exercise critical thinking and independently verify the validity and reliability of information for several key reasons:

1. Potential for Errors: AI models, while highly advanced, are not infallible. They can generate incorrect, outdated, or misleading information because they rely on vast datasets that may include inaccuracies or biases. Although these models can analyse data efficiently, they don't inherently understand the truthfulness of that data.

2. Bias in Data: The data that AI models are trained on can contain inherent biases that reflect the information they were fed. This may result in responses that perpetuate stereotypes, skewed perspectives, or factual inaccuracies. Critical thinking allows users to identify and account for these biases.

3. Dynamic Nature of Information: The real world is constantly changing, and information - especially in areas like science, politics, or technology - may quickly become outdated. AI models, unless specifically updated or browsing current information, may provide responses that do not reflect the most up-to-date facts. Independent verification ensures that the information is current and reliable.

4. Limitations in Context Understanding: AI can sometimes misunderstand the full context of a user's question or lack nuanced interpretation. While it can produce highly accurate responses in many cases, it might miss subtle details or the broader implications of a question, which a human reviewer or expert could more easily identify.

5. Ethical and Responsible Use: Relying solely on AI-generated content for critical decisions (e.g., medical advice, financial planning, or legal matters) without verification can be risky. AI tools should be seen as aids to decision-making rather than the final authority. Fact-checking ensures that important decisions are based on robust, well-rounded information from multiple reliable sources.

6. Avoiding Misinterpretation: AI models, including language models, generate responses based on probability, not understanding. This means that they can sometimes output responses that seem plausible but are incorrect or misinterpreted. Users need to cross-check information from reputable sources to avoid potential harm.

In summary, critical thinking and independent fact-checking help ensure the responsible and effective use of AI. By verifying the reliability and validity of AI-generated content, users can avoid errors, mitigate bias, and make better-informed decisions.’ 

Source: https://chatgpt.com/c/67164309-62c4-8003-9c1b-58fdbb98ecad ChatGPT4o 21 October 2024

https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSy0h0Lxo1P6ZJAuewBDa2zGm_78ggYkvGpzVzkdJVbcPNQafNZ-ayPMuOXC9jQBrOdruPOmeybTQn2/pub https://unitedforclimate.blogspot.com/2024/11/the-common-denominator-linking-lord.html https://landprotectorshumanrightsmovement.blogspot.com/2024/11/the-common-denominator-linking-lord.html https://muskratfallscivilrightsmovement.blogspot.com/2024/11/the-common-denominator-linking-lord.html https://labradorleadstheworld.blogspot.com/2024/11/the-common-denominator-linking-lord.html ‘The common denominator linking Lord Evgeny Lebedev, Alexander Lebedev (a ‘former’ KGB agent), and Boris Johnson is primarily their interactions and the broader context of Russian influence in UK politics, as well as the handling of sensitive security and political issues.’ #AI #Perplexity Llewelyn Pritchard 1 November 2024

Links

https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vQ4mLpSPlG0cGz-RXCFa21Vo6AshonvWUwxydZu-o3TKvxiEp55ksNOwzw_1tTu-yEO6BLewd24Cg4_/pub JOHNSON DELAY ON RUSSIA DOSSIER HELPS PUTIN, SAYS LITVINENKO WIDOW wife of poisoned ex-spy warns of risks in suppressing report on RUS interference. Luke Harding, Dan Sabbagh 5 Nov 2019 #JohnsonsCoverUp #Sleaze #Fraud #Crime #ECHR #JohnsonLies #JailTime

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yXFGLRVD1pJN3hWySGJ3C8oFmkELlvYPVWx7YLSPV3g/pub https://unitedforclimate.blogspot.com/2024/09/will-dawn-sturgess-public-inquiry-terms.html https://landprotectorshumanrightsmovement.blogspot.com/2024/09/will-dawn-sturgess-public-inquiry-terms.html https://muskratfallscivilrightsmovement.blogspot.com/2024/09/will-dawn-sturgess-public-inquiry-terms.html https://labradorleadstheworld.blogspot.com/2024/09/will-dawn-sturgess-public-inquiry-terms.html Will the Dawn Sturgess Public Inquiry Terms of Reference allow its Report intentionally omitting civil and criminal liability to be ‘spun’ into the Johnson Cover-up Story? Consisting, at the very least of ‘Tory Sleaze’ unethical behaviour in office; ignoring his own agencies’ intelligence advice; breaching National Security in secretive meeting(s) with Alexander Lebedev, Perugia, Italy; media complicity for his own ends with Evgeny Lebedev; Russian Interference EU Referendum 2016; accepting Russian oligarch Conservative Party donations; ‘constitutional corrosion’ epitomised by ‘LondonGrad Laundromat’; enabling Putin’s Brexit by his failed leadership; interfering in an early, possible Russian-Ukraine peace deal; purportedly supporting the welfare of Ukraine whilst more concerned about ‘saving his own skin’; his Crony COVID Contracts and missing five COBRA meetings whilst otherwise distracted - becoming yet another example of unethical behaviour in the UK Government’s way of working? #AI #Perplexity #MoveOnNothingToSeeHere Llewelyn Pritchard 3 October 2024

https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vTamYLuCvWJJ_QQ5m96G3LILzAg8i7PGoXB1rrxlxZ1oa3c6_6RDKCmzOpNa8UpXcLd4GqaXBUj8d4_/pub https://unitedforclimate.blogspot.com/2024/10/in-summary-boris-johnsons-leadership.html https://landprotectorshumanrightsmovement.blogspot.com/2024/10/in-summary-boris-johnsons-leadership.html https://muskratfallscivilrightsmovement.blogspot.com/2024/10/in-summary-boris-johnsons-leadership.html https://labradorleadstheworld.blogspot.com/2024/10/in-summary-boris-johnsons-leadership.html In summary, Boris Johnson's leadership style, marked by hypocrisy, lack of integrity, abuse of power, failure to take responsibility, chaotic governance, incompetent appointments, communication failures, and erosion of institutional trust, all contributed significantly to the erosion of trust in his government. #AI #Perplexity #DeepAI #ChatGPT4o Llewelyn Pritchard 28 October 2024

[24-blog-news-press]

Shepherd Bushiri : Preacher flees South Africa ahead of fraud trial

A well-known Christian preacher has skipped bail in South Africa and fled the country.

Shepherd Bushiri, who had previously said he wanted to clear his name, has now returned to his home country, Malawi, with his wife Mary.

Earlier this month they were released on bail after being charged with fraud and money laundering.

He said there had been attempts on his life and he accused the South African authorities of not offering protection.

Mr Bushiri described his decision to skip bail as "a tactical withdrawal meant to preserve lives" while speaking to supporters on social media on Saturday.

Observers fear the issue could cause a diplomatic spat between Malawi and South Africa - as questions are being asked about how Mr Bushiri and his wife managed to leave.

There had been allegations that Mr Bushiri fled on Malawi's presidential jet with President Lazarus Chakwera - something that has been denied by both Mr Chakwera's office and the South African authorities.

There are also questions over whether the two countries will co-operate over bringing the couple back to South Africa.

The South African government announced on Sunday that they have started the process to bring the couple back from Malawi "to ensure that the two fugitives face justice".

The statement made a point to mention that Malawi and South Africa have already promised each other to send back fugitives, as part of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) protocol on extradition.

But when Malawi's Foreign Affairs minister Eisenhower Mkaka was asked previously, he wouldn't be drawn on the issue.

He told the 24-blog-news-press's Nomsa Maseko that it is the duty of the government to protect all Malawians but added that President Chakwera is a staunch advocate of the rule of law and that all diplomatic channels will remain open.

Who is Shepherd Bushiri?

Controversial millionaire preacher Mr Bushiri has been referred to as one of the richest religious leaders in Africa.

He says he has cured people of HIV, made the blind see, changed the fortunes of the impoverished and, on at least one occasion, appeared to walk on air.

He grew up in Mzuzu, a city in northern Malawi and moved to Pretoria in South Africa where he leads his church - the Enlightened Christian Gathering. He is so popular that he has been known to fill sports stadiums with followers. But he has also been accused of preying on poor people, desperate to improve their lives, by selling merchandise including "miracle oil". The authorities in Botswana shut down his church after it claimed that money could be summoned out of nothing, which contravened financial regulations.

What is he accused of?

Mr Bushiri is accused of money laundering and fraud along with his wife and two others.

Crime investigators say the case involves 102 million South Africa rand ($6.6m; £5m).

How far along is his trial?

He appeared at Pretoria's Magistrates Court on 21 October to hear the charges and was granted bail on 4 November.

The trial is expected to start in May.

[xtruss]

After Clown Johnson, Britain’s Relationship With The EU May Get Worse! Those Hoping For An Improvement Face Disappointment

— Britain, Brussels | Through a Glass Darkly | The Economist | July 08, 2022

The immediate reaction across Europe to Boris Johnson’s decision to resign was relief. The departing prime minister was a principal architect of Brexit; his chaotic government constantly needled Brussels. Michel Barnier, the eu’s former Brexit negotiator, greeted the news by saying it opened “a new page in relations” between Britain and the bloc. That is too optimistic. Indeed, as Fabian Zuleeg of the European Policy Centre, a think-tank, puts it, relations may deteriorate further rather than improve.

The biggest bone of contention is the bill to allow the government unilaterally to rewrite the Northern Ireland protocol, which by keeping the province (but not Great Britain) in the single market for goods necessitates a customs border in the Irish Sea. Maros Sefcovic of the European Commission says that the bill “illegally rips up the protocol and is highly damaging to mutual trust”. He notes that this part of the Brexit withdrawal treaty was negotiated at Britain’s express wish three years ago. Cheekily aping Mr Johnson’s own election-winning slogan, he has said it is time we “got Brexit done”.

Introducing the bill to Parliament last month, Liz Truss, the foreign secretary, said her preference was to negotiate changes to the protocol; the bill was insurance in case this fails. But Mr Sefcovic detects no appetite among eu leaders to reopen a treaty sealed after years of talks. Diplomats say serious political negotiation is impossible when they see a gun on the table. The eu feels that, were it to concede to unilateral threats, that would weaken it in all international negotiations.

The eu has resumed legal action against Britain for failure to apply the protocol in full. Diplomats in Brussels are also watching the bill’s passage carefully. It has passed its second reading in the House of Commons and is due to go to committee stage next week, where it may be amended. Some question whether the interim government that Mr Johnson still leads has the constitutional authority to push ahead with legislation this controversial; there are also hopes it might be blocked in the House of Lords.

Yet even if there are impediments to the bill’s progress, it is fanciful to expect any new Tory prime minister simply to junk it. Candidates to take over from Mr Johnson must seek support from hardline mps in the European Research Group, a Eurosceptic group of Tory mps. They know that Conservative Party members, who will make the final choice of leader, are more pro-Brexit than most backbenchers. Ms Truss herself is a contender; she is most unlikely to soften her attitude to the eu when canvassing support.

If the bill is enacted, even under a new and more emollient British prime minister, Brussels is bound to respond strongly. Mr Sefcovic has said that nothing is ruled out. The terms of Britain’s trade agreement allow retaliation for a failure to stick to the withdrawal treaty. That could include targeted tariffs and might even extend to scrapping the entire post-Brexit trade deal.

The bill has soured broader relations. Mr Sefcovic says it has made it impossible to strike deals on British participation in the Horizon scientific-research programme or over financial services. Co-operation over Russia’s war in Ukraine is a partial exception to this gloomy picture. But British hopes that their new fans in eastern Europe might stop trade retaliation are overblown: east European leaders are clear that sticking to treaty commitments and protecting the single market are higher priorities.

The eu clearly regrets Brexit, but it also sees some advantages in the absence of a curmudgeonly member. The view that Brexit is causing economic damage is widespread, and may be responsible for a rise in popular support for the club outside Britain. There is no prospect of a reversal even if the opposition Labour Party wins the next election. In a speech on July 4th Sir Keir Starmer, the Labour leader, promised that his party will seek neither to overturn Brexit nor to rejoin the single market or customs union.

Sir Keir has suggested that a more harmonious relationship with the eu could make Brexit work better, however, and diplomats in Brussels agree. Mr Sefcovic thinks more changes could be negotiated without changing the treaty text—he claims to have trimmed the form needed for a mixed-goods lorry to enter Northern Ireland from a theoretical 700 pages to just three—but only if mutual trust is restored. Mr Johnson’s departure may have been necessary for that happen, but it is not sufficient. ■

[unlackeyed]

《 SENT TO: Dr. Starline 》 Right m8 well. I was an only child, born prematurely, mum died in childbirth, dad never got the stick out of his arse about it.

Groomed to be a flawless quiet docile boarding school kid who was a total wallflower and social failure till I was twelve-ish and Uncle Julian.....father's younger brother....who pretty much excelled him at everything ever, particularly all things intellectually adroit....took a shining to me.  Had me come live with him. Taught me all things IT and mechanical. Found I had the knack, probably inherited it from him.

 It all started there.

 He took me in completely. No one else had ever given me positive affirmations for ANYTHING.  I was manic with the idea that I could mean something in the world.  Followed him right to a mission to space, where he planned to take over said mission.  Accidentally traveled through a temporal pocket and came out the other side in the present world, where humans coexist (not always peacefully) with you Mobians. 

So you see. Social isolation to the max. I was putty in his hands. I would do anything for him, and now we were displaced from our home and era, in a completely foreign world.

《 SENT TO: Dr. Starline 》 We settled in Mobitrpolis, home then to a king of the Acorn line, Maximillian.  You may have heard of his daughter, Sally. Anyway.  He thought Uncle J was just bloody brilliant. Named him his minister of science. Uncle J told me, "guess what, we're gonna overthrow this government and that'll be the seed for taking over this world full of filthy barbaric animals."   

Me, idiotic, starstruck, 14 years old by now, I followed his lead without question. Didn't think about the moral ramification of his "roboticizer," which was an early technology that turned organic matter into machines.  Coup was successful. Mere days into it he picked me up and  threw me across the room for calling him "Uncle Julian" instead of his new name, "Robotnik," or simply "Sir." Told me I'd better call it my new normal or else: I wasn't his co conspirator, but his lackey. And hey, Snively, you've got nowhere else to go, lad, cause we're people from the 22nd century and that was ten centuries ago. So get used to it, bitch."  Basically.

《 SENT TO: Dr. Starline 》   Oookie dokie.  Fast forward a couple weeks to A Day In the Life for the following 11 years.  I'm in charge of every Badnik. Every. Badnik. As well as city surveillance (his stronghold at the time was called "Robotropolis") and citadel security, roboticization protocols, and communications.  I'm second-in-command only to Robotnik, but this comes at a price. I rarely sleep...2, 3 hours a night. I live on stimulants to stay awake, and depressants (alcohol and opioids were my best friends) to numb the pain and PTSD. 

What pain, you ask?  Every mistake is met with corporal punishment (by his bare hands) and psychological threats. Being dangled off the edge of a bridge down toward a metal grinder, for instance.

 Most of the time, the faults are his, the mistakes his, not mine, but he convinces himself I did the things that led to a crisis, and takes it out on me, the whipping boy. 

 There is the occasional "well done," if only to make me work harder, believing his approval is even possible.  Sonic and Princess Sally call the Resistance "Freedom Fighters" at this point in time.  I catch them a handful of times, and Robotnik is always the one to lose them.  But back to the whipping boy we go.

《 SENT TO: Dr. Starline 》  If he fired you, Starline, count your blessings.  It would have eventually devolved to that sort of relationship. Competence is no protection against it. Neither is innovation.

《 SENT TO: Dr. Starline 》 He likes keeping an organic lifeform close. Loves feeling like he can exert power over them and they'll be willing slaves.  Even though he prefers the company of robots and A.I. most of the time, he wants juuuust oooone little living pet. Be careful.

[lombokupdate]

Jakarta, – The government encourages the Travel Bubble between Batam, Bintan and Singapore. Coordinating Minister for Economic Affairs Republic of Indonesia Airlangga Hartarto emphasized that this was done to encourage economic recovery, especially the tourism sector in Batam and Bintan. By implementing a policy that allows the entry of foreign tourists (from Singapore), but only in certain and limited areas, so as to maintain control of the spread of Covid-19 and the implementation of health protocols.

“The government has issued SE Head of Task Force Number 3 of 2022 concerning “PPLN Health Protocol (Overseas Travel Actors) Travel Bubble Mechanism in the Batam, Bintan, and Singapore Areas” which comes into effect January 24, 2022. Furthermore, its implementation has also been regulated in a decree Governor of the Riau Islands Number 201 of 2022 concerning “Tourism Areas in the Travel Bubble Scheme in Batam and Bintan, Riau Islands Province,” he explained in a press conference after a virtual limited meeting from Central Jakarta, Monday (24/01/2022).

The entrances for PPLN Travel Bubble are the Nongsapura International Ferry Terminal in Batam and the Bandar Bintan Telani Ferry Terminal in Bintan. The requirements are that those who come must have been vaccinated twice, be negative for PCR 3×24 before departure, have a visa, except for Singaporean foreigners, have proof of travel booking confirmation, have health insurance of 30,000 Singapore dollars, and use the Peduli lindungi application and BluePass.

“Of course, this must be well prepared, and the Area Manager is obliged to form a Regional Covid-19 Task Force. Both the SE Task Force and the Governor’s Decree have been prepared. Hotel managers and tourist attractions have also met the CHSE, later the implementation and supervision will be coordinated by the Covid-19 Task Force in the area and at each tourist location,” said Coordinating Minister Airlangga.

G20 Presidency Event and MotoGP Mandalika 2022

On that occasion, Coordinating Minister Airlangga also said that the Ratas had reported on the implementation of various activities of the G20 Presidency (Sherpa Track and Finance Track), of which 16 events were held in January 2022, and according to policy, all of them were conducted online. Furthermore, the events which will be held in February 2022, will be prepared to be held in a hybrid or offline manner, depending on the development of the Covid-19 case.

Regarding the MotoGP event at Mandalika in March 2022, Coordinating Minister Airlangga explained that currently the achievement of Covid-19 vaccination in Central Lombok for Dose-1 has reached 87.9% and for Dose-2 it has also reached 61.1%.

“We will continue to encourage increased vaccinations and a booster has been prepared for January to March 2022 in Central Lombok Regency as many as 76,718 targets,” concluded Coordinating Minister Airlangga.

Meanwhile, Dose-1 vaccination in Mataram City has reached 110.2% and for Dose-2 it has reached 78.6%, with a booster target of January – March 2022 of 158,301 people.

The government continues to monitor and evaluate the development of Covid-19 in Indonesia. Vaccination continues to be accelerated to protect public health, especially the Covid-19 variant of the Omicron which is currently causing an increase in Covid-19 cases in Indonesia. The government also pays attention to and encourages vaccination in provinces where the achievement is still below the target of 70%.

The Coordinating Minister for the Economy explained that there are 4 provinces whose vaccinations are still below 70%, but there is an increase in achievements, namely in North Maluku Province which has increased to 68%, Maluku Province at 66%, West Papua Province reaching 46%, and Papua Province around 26 %.

Coordinating Minister Airlangga also explained that the development of Covid-19 cases outside Java-Bali, as of January 23, there were 82 new cases, 75 local transmission cases, 7 foreign transmission cases, and 3 deaths. Meanwhile, today’s active cases are 2,145 or 11.4% of the total active cases in Indonesia.

Regarding the Rt number or reproduction rate of active cases (reproduction rate), Coordinating Minister Airlangga explained that in recent weeks the national Rt had increased slightly, only in Java and Sumatra which remained constant, while on other islands there was an increase, especially in Bali and Nusa Tenggara which rose to 1.01.

“From the situation at the PPKM level, there are several regencies/cities that have gone up, but some have gone down, especially related to testing and tracing that must be done. We will continue to evaluate this week and as of January 31, we will determine the change in the PPKM level,” said Coordinating Minister Airlangga.

Reported by : Lombokupdate.com Team

[mangobilorian]

Crash Landing | (mature) i

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Words: 5352

Summary:  This was supposed to be a diplomatic mission between two peaceful neighbors to ensure that the Separatists wouldn’t invade your planets. And as the princess of your nation, you were expected to uphold proper decorum and exercise exact protocol at all times. So why were you laying on the jungle floor, stripped down to your under layers, curled next to a clone captain keeping watch of your tiny cave, miles away from the capital where negotiations were to be held?

White. White and blue. Those are the only colors at the forefront of your vision, aside from the black of the guns. In a stiff formation behind a robed man, are these… troops. Clones, you believe. All centered around the famed Anakin Skywalker. It has been quite a while since a Jedi or any outside military force graced your planet, much less your nation. But the creeping threat of Separatist forces would soon crash on your shores. And your nation, though prosperous, would not survive a Separatist attack without help.

“Greetings, princess. We’re here to escort you on a diplomatic mission to Theatis 06. I am Anakin Skywalker and this,” he points at a man who steps up beside the Jedi, “is Captain Rex.” The clone--Captain Rex-- salutes.

“We’ll protect you from any threat, princess. You can count on us.” You smile at the helmented man, bowing your head in return.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Accompanying me are my handmaidens and private guards.” Next to you, three girls in modest garb bend at the waist, and two armed men also bow. “Shall we start our journey?” The Jedi nods and directs his men to board the ship. The Captain, however, positions himself to flank you. He walks with practiced precision, his gait calculated like a routine.

Before boarding the ship, you turn to wave at the people who came to see you off. Your parents weren’t there, but that was to be expected. While your mother had gone to Coruscant and you were sent to Theatis 06, your father had to stay and rule the country. The only people that came were the senator and select members of the upper and lower chambers of Congress. They wave back. These people were vultures, their smiles hiding something evil. It would be a relief to leave their grip, so you could finally breathe without faking amity or hiding disdain. One slip up on your part, and these politicians would feast on the royal family. But politics was never your strong suit, and being the princess was tiring enough. A gentle hand on your elbow interrupts your thoughts when you realize with a jolt that you hadn’t moved.

“Sorry, your highness. We have a tight schedule,” the captain says. Your face warms at the contact while your handmaidens’ eyes widen with something akin to fear and curiosity. The guards even assume a protective stance briefly before understanding that you were not threatened. They loosen their arms after you dismiss them with a nod. However, the captain doesn’t seem to notice the intricacy of the situation.

“I… it’s alright, Captain.” You forge ahead, not minding the shocked girls, their faces quickly smoothing over to appear as disinterested as before. Thankfully, the makeup that caked your face hid the creeping blush on your cheeks.

The ship was gray and overall uninteresting. It was your first time on a Republic ship, and the whole ordeal seemed a little too excessive. Why would anyone attack a peaceful meeting between neighboring planets? A simple military convoy was enough, but sending a Jedi seemed a tad too much.

“Princess! Oh, it’s so nice to meet you.” Bounding to your side is an over-eager Togruta. Unable to contain her excitement, she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m Ahsoka Tano. I’m Master Skywalker’s padawan. I’ve never met a princess before!” The girl beams up at you. Amazing. Not just one but two Jedi. What was the Council thinking?

“Nice to meet you too, Ahsoka Tano. Yes, I’m a princess, but it’s really nothing special. I’m just a human.” You let out a small, graceful smile. Softened eyes, relaxed posture, eyebrows curved upwards. The facade of a princess. A face to exude warmth and comfort to subjects and allies.

“You’re so cool! What’s it like? Do you have to marry a prince?” Ahsoka sits down on a chair next to you, and you settle yourself into the stiff metal chair as well. In the corner of your eye, the captain stands, watching.

“Sometimes. You see, there aren’t many princes to choose from, so my parents pick someone worthy of ruling. In my country, the royal family is more than just a symbol. We have to be trained in politics, government, and military strategy,” you explain. “So marrying for lineage alone doesn’t cut it. One doesn’t have to be born a prince or princess to marry into the royal family. But royalty is quite tiring. Sometimes, I wish I had a break,” you chuckle. Startled, the handmaidens stare at you. Showing anything but happiness at your duty and family was definitely out of protocol. But who was here to enforce it? Certainly not the scheming congressmen. Besides, the young Jedi seems innocently curious.

“Wow… that sounds complicated. So... military strategy huh? Ever led a battle or maybe fought in one? I know quite a lot about fighting in battles, you know. I could take out battle droids with my eyes closed. And, as commander of the 501st, I’ve led a few missions myself,” she smirks, proud of her achievements. As she should be, you muse. The girl is young and already so confident in war. A sad reality.

“Alright, snips. Quit bragging,” Skywalker says, entering your section of the ship. “We’ll be there in an hour, princess.” He turns to leave for the cockpit, but the girl simply rolls her eyes and sticks out a tongue at her master’s back to which he replies in a similar fashion. The interaction causes a laugh to bubble past your lips. At this point, you feel that you’re handmaidens might be on the verge of fainting from all your breaks in protocol.

“That is very impressive, Miss Tano. War is a very hard thing. I personally have not led any military initiatives. My nation is a peaceful one, and I plan to maintain that peace. An official alliance with the prime minister of Theatis 06 would determine whether or not we can survive an impending Separatist invasion.” The girl nods in thought. She looks around, at your handmaidens, guards, and you. Probably analyzing the foreign clothes, the jewelry, the manner you and your people hold yourself. In a galaxy so vast, many cultures had nuances to everything. As her eyes wander, you eye the captain instead.

He’s standing tall and stiff. All the men had their helmets on, which unnerved you. Their eyes could be anywhere, looking at anyone. They were uniform in their blue and white, but the differences were also striking. While the captain had a pauldron, the others did not. The variances in paint differentiated one man from another. You knew that, as clones, they were supposed to look identical. But you had never seen a clone’s face before.

“Princess, is there something wrong?” You shake your head, not realizing that you had been staring at the captain. Maker, this was so embarrassing. You clear your throat before responding.

“No, captain. I was just… admiring your armor.” The man clearly wasn’t expecting your answer because he almost loses his balance. He coughs, almost shyly.

“Oh. Well, princess, there’s not much to admire. It’s just paint on plastoid.” He rubs the back of his neck with a hand, stance already loosened. The other clones glance at their captain before relaxing themselves.

“Nonsense. If you don’t mind, I’d be grateful to know what your paint signifies.” The handmaiden closest to you gasps. She tries to muffle it, but you catch it in time. Next to you, Ahsoka grins at the captain, unspoken words between them.

“Yeah, Rex. Tell us about your armor,” she teases. He sighs but obeys.

“These,” he points to the top of his helmet, “are jaig eyes. They’re a symbol of honor among Mandalorians. The pauldron is just a sign of rank. And the blue shows that I’m part of the 501st.” Hmm… Mandalorian symbol of honor, huh.

“So you’re a Mandalorian?” He shakes his head.

“Not really, your highness. Our template, Jango Fett, was a Mandalorian, and we know some basic Mando’a. But… we’re not born on Mandalore. Kamino is the closest thing to home.” His voice tapers off, probably due to some deeper feeling with Kamino, but you’re not certain. You’ve heard of the watery planet but never put much substantial thought to it, much like your knowledge about the clone army.

“I see. Thank you, captain, for sharing with me and my entourage. If you don’t mind, I’ll review the terms I’ll discuss with the congress of Theatis 06.” You pull out a datapad, glancing over at the information. By your side, Ahsoka seems to debate staying or leaving. Eventually, she stands up and heads for the cockpit, no doubt wanting to bother her master. The datapad is light in your hands, but the content is heavy. Piles and piles of documents condensed in one small piece of technology. Documents which, if used correctly, would earn you a formal military alliance with Theatis 06. If you lost the datapad, you’re sure that your parents and Congress would personally wring your neck.

The handmaidens relax beside you, finally relieved. This is what good princesses do, you mutter in your head. They focus on their task and don’t break silly rules. Rules set to protect your throne and reputation but silly nonetheless.

The silence and cold of space is not foreign to you, but it’s not common either. You rarely leave your planet, much less your system. Maybe once or twice a cycle, you go off-world for diplomacy or recreation. When you do leave, it’s always the same place. If it’s not Coruscant, it’s Naboo. If not either of those planets, it’s Yidone, Theatis 04, or Theatis 06. On its own, none of those planets were boring. But it gets tiring quickly, especially as a princess. However, that’s probably the spoiled, privileged part of you complaining. Your life of comfort is unimaginable to that of the impoverished people in your nation, the ones being sold into the disgusting sex trade, or those who suffer under an infinite number of tragedies. All of their lives, already horrible, would be even more wrecked under Separatist forces. So you push on with your boredom and complaining. For the sake of your people.

Just as you put your datapad down, a loud crash hammers the right side of the ship. Gasping, you grip the handles of the chair to stabilize, but your handmaidens aren’t so lucky. All three of them are flung from their seats and onto the floor, struggling to stand up. Your guards try to reach you, but they too are knocked off their feet.

“What is going on, captain?” You ask, almost frantically, at the approaching clone. On unsteady feet, he eventually stands in front of you, bracing himself. In this position, you won’t be forced out your chair with the clone acting as a barrier.

“Not sure, your highness. Doesn’t sound too good, though.” Another crash, this time from the top of the ship, further unbalances you. Your body surges forward, but the captain latches onto your forearms, pulling them into his chest. His chest plate digs into your arms, but at least you’re not sprawled on the floor like your companions.

A voice crackles from the captain’s comm. “Rex? Get the princess into an escape pod. A Separatist ship is firing at us. Hurry,” urges Skywalker.

“But, sir, what about you and Ahsoka? Wouldn’t a Jedi protect her better?” A second passes before a response.

“We don’t have time for this, Rex. Look, we’ll meet you down there after we settle this seppie ship. Get your ass to an escape pod, and bring the princess with you,” orders the Jedi.

“Yes, General.” The captain hauls you out your seat, an arm snaking around to grip your waist. In any other situation, you’d be blushing furiously, but only fear resides in your chest. Why was a Separatist ship already here?

The captain leads you down multiple hallways, weaving in out of the ship’s interior. All around you, other clones flit about, readying their positions for battle. In a relatively quiet area, the captain pushes a button open to reveal an escape pod. He quickly positions you inside before taking his own place. He settles in, and the both of you are launched into space without a second to spare.

As you calm your breathing, you begin to feel the tension in your muscles. The pod was obviously made for one person, as indicated by how small you had to curl yourself to allow for the captain to squeeze in. Knees pulled tight to your chest, there is still barely any space. The heavy jewelry adorning your neck only makes you tense up further. Stars, it’s getting hard to breathe. Next to the captain is a black bag, and you wonder how he had the time to grab it. You certainly didn’t remember him bringing it.

But if you two were stuck in the pod with a sole bag… that meant your clothes and, most importantly, your datapad was left behind. You didn’t even have a comm to contact your handmaidens and guards. The pain at the forefront of your head continues to build at the thought. No food, no contact, and no documents.

“Are you alright, princess?” You shake your head, trying to clear up your daze. His helmet is turned towards you, those blue jaig eyes staring.

“I think so. Why… how did the Separatists attack us?” The captain sighs, the breathy noise filtered out of his helmet.

“To be honest, it might be because they got intel about Republic ships coming to escort you. They probably realized that your planet would ally against them, and that didn’t sit well,” he considers. His hands are at the controls, expertly maneuvering them further away from the larger ship. Outside, you can see continuous beams of light aimed at the side of the craft, further jostling it. You hope everyone is okay. Especially your entourage and the excitable Togruta padawan. However, knowing the reputation of Jedi, Ahsoka and Skywalker will definitely survive the attack. You left your people in good hands.

“Captain,” you start, “this was supposed to be a diplomatic voyage. And yet, the Republic sends two Jedi and a legion of highly-skilled clone troopers. Did the Council know that something was going to happen to me? Granted, I am thankful for the extra security, but it seems excessive, does it not? And speak candidly. It’s only us two.” You shift slightly to angle your body to face him, tucking your knees under yourself. He doesn’t respond immediately, opting instead to stare out at the approaching planet of Theatis 06.

“I’m not authorized to say too much, and frankly, I don’t why we were sent either. So many other planets could use our help to directly fight off the seppies. Yet… here we are,” he sighs. “But I promise to keep you safe no matter what. As for your people on the ship, they will be taken good care of. Don't worry, princess.”  The crackle of the comm drives your attention to the console.

“Rex? Are you and the princess alright?” Ahsoka’s voice carries over, clear concern lacing her tone. Somewhere behind her, Skywalker’s commands ring out, ordering the men to keep order.

“We’re okay, commander. How is the situation over there?” The sounds of grunts and chaos pass through the comm before she speaks again.

“We’re--ugh-- fine, Rex. Just. Trying. To--kriff--stabilize this ship. See you on-”

Before the captain could respond, a loud crash sends your small pod hurtling in circles.

The momentum dizzies you, and you blindly reach out for something to grab on. Your hands tightly grip the closest thing, the captain’s arm, while the pod continues to spin. In this moment, his plastoid-covered arm and the floor below were the only solid things that existed. In front of you, the captain curses, trying to stabilize the craft to no avail.

The black color of space mixes with the blue and green of Theatis 06, circles and swirls of light and flashes. A heavy feeling of bile threatens to climb out your throat, but you push it down.

“Brace for impact,” orders the captain, and he moves away from the pod’s controls. Quickly, he encases you in his arms, one hand tucked behind your head, pulling you close to his chest. In a moment of clarity, you wrap your arms around his torso just as his free hand grabs the nearby bag and holds it behind you. He successfully entangles the two of you, making you as compact as possible. You shiver at the excessive contact. It’s been so long since you had prolonged touches with someone, much less a hug for survival. Overhead, a beeping noise indicates an oncoming collision.

You feel it before you realize. As your pod enters the atmosphere, it spirals further out of control at even faster speed. In space, it was merely uncontrollable loops. But as you crash into Theatis 06, the air pressure forces your small spacecraft to act as a bullet. There was no way you were going to survive the crash.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. Already, you’re praying to the Maker and to the Force or whatever higher power exists that you and the captain will survive. You just wish you could see your parents and country one last time. You hope that-

The sound of rustled tree tops interrupts your thoughts, jostling the two of you. As you peer up at the captain's helmet, the pod hits the ground, the impact shaking you to your very core. And everything goes black.

*****

It’s beautiful. The ocean waves pull up against the shore before receding back, its foamy crest creating shapes of all sizes. On the horizon, the three moons of your planet begin rising, the deep hues of red and purple illuminating the water. Next to you is someone in a full suit of armor. Mostly white with blue paint marking it. Behind him is a robed person. They take off the hood, revealing themselves. But they don’t have one face. Like a slideshow, the faces of politicians, your handmaidens, yourself , melt together. The person raises their hand, and the barrel of a blaster is pointed right at you and--

You sit up, gasping. The air in your throat is dry: suffocating and scratchy. You try to pry off your necklaces to alleviate the pain to no avail.

It was just a dream. A wonderful dream at the start but… it devolved to something much sinister. You crack your neck, stretching your arms out only to hit something hard. And that something groans . Immediately, you open your eyes to see a passed out Captain Rex laying next to you.

Slowly, pieces of your voyage and subsequent crash come together in your mind, and you realize that you probably landed on one of Theatis 06’s numerous jungles. Grunting, you stand up, joints cracking in protest. The top part of the pod was completely gone, as is a side piece. You hobble over to control panels, trying to see if the comm worked. Sadly, the whole thing seemed destroyed. This was worse than you thought.

You had one crashed escape pod, no way to contact your escort group, and one sleeping clone trooper.

“Princess?”

Well… that makes zero sleeping clone troopers. You turn to the captain to see him rise to his feet. He stretches briefly before joining you next to the control panel.

“Does anything work?” His voice is scratchy, with a hint of warmth despite being filtered. You give a defeated sigh. After button smashing the console in frustration, there is still no sign it was operable.

“Unfortunately, nothing does. I guess we’re stuck here momentarily, captain.” He doesn’t say anything, opting to grab the discarded bag on the ground. He lugs it over himself, wearing it like a backpack and motions for you to follow him.

“We’ll travel to the closest city and find a way to send our coordinates to General Skywalker. For now, we should get some shelter and stay out of danger.” You nod, satisfied. The captain looks around then, seeing a viable path, jerks his head in that direction and walks off. You follow behind him, making sure to not snag your clothes on the flora.

As you journey onward, sweat begins to drip down… everywhere. Your face, neck, back. It gathers underneath your jewelry, seeping into your heavy robes. The cloying heat of the jungle was suffocating, the humidity clinging to every part of you. You can only imagine how much heat the captain had to endure under his armor.

The jungle wasn’t a quiet place. Sounds of birds chirping, distant animal growls, and your own footsteps echoed off the forest floor. In another time, this trip would be considered pleasant. You were, after all, surrounded by beautiful, exotic nature. But the reality of the situation only deepened the further you walked.

Next to you, the captain stayed silent. He dutifully carries the bag, twin blasters at his sides, and head aimed forward the entire time. Occasionally, he steadies you with a free hand when you slip on a rock or trip over a root. Even then, he doesn’t say a word. With each step, your muscles continue to ache. Your leg muscles are especially sore, and the back of your head is tender at the touch, probably due to the crash.

After what feels like hours, the captain finally stops moving. You, however, don’t notice, and collide right into his back, almost sending the two of you flying forward. You apologize under your breath then look to see why the captain had stopped.  

A cave. A small cave with vines covering the entrance. You would have missed it if the captain hadn’t seen it. He steps towards the mouth of the cave, brushing aside the vines. You enter after him, and sit down on the ground. You sigh in the relief at the reprieve from walking. The captain sets the bag down in front of you and opens it.

Peering into the bag, you see a medkit, a canteen, extra ammo, a comm, and… rations. Maker, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you saw those rations. Only now, the ache and noise of your stomach was noticeable.

The captain also settles down on the ground, legs spread apart, knees bent. He looks so relaxed--too relaxed-- for someone who was stuck with a princess in a foreign forest. He sorts through the supplies methodically, like he’s taking inventory.

You shrug off your heavy clothing, groaning at the air that hits your skin. Off goes your cloak, then head wrap, and lastly your skirt. All you’re left with is a black layer meant for temperature regulation and sight blaster protection. On top of that is a loose cotton slip dress, allowing the miniscule breeze of the jungle to provide you with some cooling. You try to remove your jewelry, but… you don’t know how to. You’ve never done it yourself.

“Captain? Would you mind removing my necklaces for me?” The helmet jerks up, interrupted from his organizing.

“Of course, princess.” He stands up and positions himself behind you. He shrugs off his gloves, bare, tanned hands reaching to the clasps. Grunts of concentration filter out of his helmet, probably in confusion at the locking mechanisms. It was, to his credit, a pretty complicated piece of jewelry. After a minute or two of struggle, the necklaces come loose. He sets it aside, on top of your discarded clothes.

“I’ll start a fire, stay here.” He starts to get up, but you grasp his wrist.

“This is a rainforest, captain. All the wood is wet and won’t burn. Try looking for the eyti leaves instead.” You describe the plant to him in detail, watching him nod in confirmation.

“I’ll be back, your highness. Here,” he reaches to his side and pulls out a blaster, “for emergencies.” He sets off, disappearing past the vines.

The air is thick around you, the urge to sleep becoming more tempting. You don’t even realize your eyes were closing, and jostle awake when you hear the snap of a twig. Snap .

Crack .

You rise slowly, clinging to the side of the cave. You brush aside a few vines, gripping the blaster until your knuckles turn white. You hold your breath and look out.

Green eyes. Massive green eyes stare right at you. Stars, that was a massive feline. You wrack your head for information regarding Theatis 06 jungle cats. You’re sure you learned about them somewhere in foriegn history class. But the growl leaving the cat’s bared mouth shakes you out of your thoughts. Stay calm. You’ll stay calm, move slowly, and breathe at a steady pa-

The cat lunges at you, and you raise your armed hand on instinct, frantically trying to pull the trigger. A shot rings around the area, and the cat slumps down, falling hard. The heavy thunk of its body ruffles the forest floor. You release the breath you were holding. Wait.

The blaster mark wasn’t on its front. It was on the cat’s back . From your periphery, Captain Rex steps out from between the trees. He marches over to you, setting down the eyti leaves before grasping your shoulders.

“Are you alright, princess?” You nod mutely. He leans down and picks up the blaster from the ground. You didn’t even know you’d dropped it. If he hadn’t been there… you don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened.

“I’ll start the fire.” The captain’s hands leave you, the absence of his warmth making you frown for a brief second. He piles the leaves into a mound in the middle of the cave floor. “I’ll get some rocks,” he starts, but you hold up a hand.

“I’ll do it. I’ll stay close, don’t worry.” Before he could protest, you’re already out of the cave. The search for rocks isn’t difficult, but halfway through it registers that you left the blaster. Well… you hope those jungle cats don’t travel in packs. Your small expedition was pleasant. The course you set wasn’t too far from your cave, and you get to admire the jungle without your restrictive clothes and jewelry.  

After a few minutes in the heavy heat, you gather enough rocks for a small pit to contain the eyti leaves. You use your shirt to hold the rocks, stretching the fabric to a concave and containing them. You return to find the captain at the mouth of the cave, stiff and wary, a hand ready on his blaster. He only seems to relax once he sees you.

Together, you set up the fire pit, but don’t light it yet. The captain leaves the cave with a knife, mentioning how he had to skin the dinner. You hobble over to the comm to see if you could connect to any signal. Nothing. You were too far to contact anyone. You slump in your position and stare at the cave wall. How did things get so bad?

After a while, the captain returns with the skinned meat of the jungle cat. Together, you start the fire and prepare some sticks to use for skewering the meat. Outside, the insects buzz and the frogs croak, the darkness sweeping over to indicate night. The transition between light and dark begins.

The two of you cook the meat in silence, leaving you to ponder. With each piece of meat that’s done, you plop it into your mouth with no hesitation. It tastes… like the green hens from back home. Pretty unseasoned and a little lean, but not horrible. The captain doesn’t eat his pieces immediately, setting them aside when he’s done.

Soon enough, you’ve eaten through your share, satisfied and full. A large dinner without using the precious rations is a success in your book. The captain, however, has yet to eat his food. Once all his pieces are cooked, he brings his hands to his helmet and tugs it off and… you’re speechless.

Light blond hair atop a well-structured face. Eyebrows that arch beautifully, a sharp nose, and a prominent jawline, the hard lines of stress and war prominent on his forehead. The thin line of his lips are downturned. And his eyes . The hooded, gold-brown eyes that reflect the flickering firelight. This man might have been the most handsome you’ve ever seen. And there’s a whole army of people who look just like him.

“Princess? Something wrong?” You jolt at his question. Kriff, this was the second time you had stared at him today. Heat warms your cheeks. You cough into a closed fist.

“Nothing’s wrong, captain. And you can call me by my name. I think we’re past formalities.” He lets out a small smile but shakes his head.

“Don’t think I can do that, your highness. Have to follow orders and call you formally.” You pout but don’t respond, instead taking the time to further admire him. His voice is even more captivating without the helmet. Maker, it was so smooth and melodic yet stable and- kriff when were you so attracted to a voice ? He starts eating, but those ochre eyes flit to yours, and you turn away.

To distract yourself, you pick up the canteen of water, and take a few sips. As you search through the contents of the bag, you find a compact mirror. You open and see… something horrible.

Your makeup has been smudged to all hell. The gold of your lipstick is smeared down to your chin, and the white paint on your face is half gone. The intricate golden markings that decorate you are no more than muddied lines, and there are visible sweat trails that erased the color on your forehead. You were such a mess. While you look like a melted dolly, the captain sits there looking all majestic. This was so unfair .

“Is everything ok, princess?” You close your gaping mouth and turn to the captain.

“You never told me that I looked like this ,” you frown, pointing at your face. “I look horrible!” The captain chuckles, the breathy sound sending shivers to your chest.

“With all due respect, I didn’t think it was my place to point it out. And you don’t look bad, either. We just crash landed in the jungle. Of course your makeup would be ruined.” His eyebrows arch, confused at your frustration. You huff.

“It’s just so unfair. You get to look like… that , and I’m here looking like a blurrg stepped in paint and walked over my face!” You bring a hand to your forehead in exasperation. Sure, you were being dramatic, but a princess should never have to be in such a sorry state. The captain has the nerve to look even more bewildered.

“I’m not sure I understand, princess. I look normal, like all my brothers.” A grumble about how he’ll never understand your predicament escapes your lips. The captain reaches for one of your discarded clothes and sets the lip of the canteen on top, dampening the fabric. “Here,” he gestures, “so you can wash up.”  You grasp at the cloth, gently swiping at your face. Paint stains the rich, expensive robe, but you don’t really care.

“Thank you,” you croak, face feeling fresher and cleaned. The captain nods at you, arranging your clothes to form a pile.

“Sleep. I’ll keep watch,” he advises.

“Shouldn’t we take turns? It’s no use if you’re tired tomorrow.” He considers your words then sighs.

“Alright. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn,” he decides. You lay your head atop your clothes, settling down on the hard ground. Pebbles dig at your back, and your neck aches at the lack of support, but it’s not as horrible as you would’ve imagined.

“Good night, Captain Rex,” you whisper, eyes already closing. The exhaustion from your long hike takes over your body. It seems that your adrenaline from the day is long gone.

“Good night, princess.”

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 12. The Caged Bird Sings

‘i am sorry this world could not keep you safe may your journey home be a soft and peaceful one' rest in peace, Rupi Kaur

For as long as I can remember, every time we went out as a family, Louis, Lourdes, and I would fight for the window seats of the car. It's simply what happens when there's three siblings, and only two window seats. When it was a private occasion, my father would drive, mom by his side, and we would fight in the backseat. When it was a formal royal occasion, our parents would take a separate car and the three of us would ride with a driver and a security officer by his side, and we would fight in the backseat. That was how we drove that day, with one exception.

Lourdes and I were not fighting for the window seat.

The procession of the coffin was televised live. It rode through the streets on top of a royal carriage, draped with the Savoy flag with the royal coat of arms, a large arrangement of white roses sat atop monstera leaves, Louis' favorite, according to Peter, which we decided to use to underline the roses all over the church.

Cadie had informed me major networks from around 62 countries had applied for broadcasting rights and permits to send journalists to cover it. Savoy had never been a very famous monarchy before, the British usually took up all the air time, but today was different. Tragedy sells, I suppose.

The actual funeral lasted roughly two hours, from the moment we left the house on a stuffy and warm car, to the moment we left the church. I felt sweat in the back of my head and my hands itched, but there was nothing I could do. The gates were still crowded when we left the palace, but Lourdes and I found it difficult to look at the people; it hurt too much. 

Though the streets were lined with people who’d gathered to watch us pass, watching the funeral on transmissions around parks, or listening to it on the radio, it was also unnervingly silent. The only noise was a general hum of sniffling, or sometimes loud crying, and the eventual shout from the crowd, with messages of support to our parents or ourselves, and promises to our brother that he wouldn’t be forgotten. 

It was exhausting, looking stoically ahead pretending to be unbothered by the fact that my brother shouldn’t have to be remembered, he should have been here. He should have had the chance to leave his mark in the world. He had such plans for his country and the rule he’d play in it. 

"Ma'am?" Joyce asked, from the front seat. "Do you need anything?"

Quietly, I shook my head no, and she repeated the question to my sister. Cadie would normally ride with us, but right before we left the palace, she had informed me it wasn't possible.

"Apparently," she had told me, "your new security protocol means you must have two protection officers with you at all times."

I pushed this new crum of information into a little box along with all the other questions I had about my new role within the royal family. My little box was heavy, full, cracking open against my will, but today was not the day to open it.

We walked behind out parents, Louis being carried ahead by the Royal Guards down the aisle to the sound of the Sainte Marie Madeleine Cathedral choir, a capella, singing I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say. The gothic Cathedral had been laid with white brick, which had become beige with time, but was still bright and lively, with purple and blue window glass and high domes.

"I heard the voice of Jesus say,

'Come unto Me, and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down

Thy head upon My breast'."

The Choir repeated the words until we were at the altar, where we stood, now a family of four, before my parents did the sign of the cross, and walked on to take their seats lining the sides of the altar, reserved for royals and family, and today occupied by us, our family on our mother's side, and foreign royals, who were always given family placement.

Unfortunately for me, Harry, his father and brother, had all been seated to the opposing side of the altar, which meant he was completely in my line of vision for the duration of the service.

Lourdes and I waited until our parents had walked on before we touched our foreheads, chest, and both shoulders in name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, before taking our seats next to our parents in the front row. It wasn't necessary to do the sign of the cross at the altar, though traditionally Catholics did it whenever we passed any church, but after a few tabloids criticized us for not doing it on church services in the past, simply because they didn't see us do it when we got out of the car, we had been instructed to do it as publicly as possible, so people could see.

Before out parents, place only former monarchs could occupy, sat our grandparents, so Lourdes and I lined up to curtsey and kiss their cheeks before taking out seats. Her mind was too far gone and she mostly didn’t speak anymore, but after I kissed her, my grandmother found my hand and held on tightly before I could move away. I looked at her, confused, and tried to give her a comforting smile; she reached over and cupped my cheek.

"Dieu vous bénisse." ‘God bless you’, she stuttered, voice rispid, low.

"Amen." I responded, on the same tone, squeezing her hand before standing up.

But she held me still, stronger than I thought she could be at her age. Instead, she pulled me down again, pulling my head beside hers to kiss my cheek.

Whispery, in my ear, she asked how I was. "Comment allez-vous?"

Avoiding the looks from my family around us due to the delay, I responded quickly that I was well. "Bien, grand-mère."

I pulled away again, but again she pulled me close. "Je ne te crois pas. Mais vous pouvez le faire."

'I don't believe you. But you can do this.'

Finally allowing me to go, she petted my hand and smiled. I lowered my head and took my seat.

The Archbishop began to speak as I braved to look at the first rows below, to make sure Peter was with friends, and in a close enough seat.

"We are gathered here today, to give thanks to our Lord, for the life of His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Louis-Adolphe of Savoy, seeking the comfort of the Holy Ghost for the hearts that will miss him most, after this untimely departure..."

I tried to tune out, but I couldn't. I heard every heartbreaking word. The Archbishop spoke of my brother's short life, of his joyful spirit that drew all around him closer, and asked that we may all remember him for his smile, and joy, and the joy he brought others.

There was a hymn, which I couldn't hear. When we stood up to sing, opening our programs, I remembered choosing the font, the songs, the paper. I remembered we chose On Eagles Wings, to be sang then by the student choir of the catholic boarding school Louis had attended, but the words did not register. Instead, I felt my heart beating in my head, almost lightheaded. Was it just me, or was it too warm? Had the Air coolers been turned on? I couldn't stop fidgeting with my gloves.

Finally, my mother reached out and held my right hand. The gesture took my by surprise, as she had barely looked at me for a week. She pressed out hands together tightly, but continued to sing following along to the words on her program.

She was wearing a black, wrap coat-dress with large, white lapels and cuffs, tight at the waist but round in the skirt that extended past her knees. Her large, round hat was black with white flowers on top, and I noticed that she wasn't wearing her usual statement necklace today. Instead, from her neck hang only a thin, gold scapular medal. I couldn't confirm without coming closer, but I suspected it was the Saint Sebastian scapular that had belonged to my brother.

We all got a scapular necklace on our confirmation day, as teenagers, and Louis had picked Saint Sebastian as his patron saint because he was the patron of athletes. The thought made me smile in that dreadful day. 

After the song, we sat down as the Archbishop announced one of Louis’ closest friends from the Edinburgh University Polo team, of which my brother was the captain. He read a bible passage, and then there was another song. This was followed by the Prime Minister, a central-left leaning middle aged man, who took the stand to make a brief statement on how proud my brother had made his country, with particular focus to his time on the military.

There was yet another hymn, when I noticed my sister’s hands were shaking. I tried to think of something to comfort her, maybe hold her hands in mine like my mother had done, but this was when I noticed I, too, was shaking. 

As the Cathedral fell silent after the song, Lourdes knew it was her turn to take to the altar and read the poem I had found her. But my sister didn’t move.

“Hey.” I whispered, leaning towards her. Her shaky hands fumbled with the program, which stated she was next, and me after her, but she still didn’t get up. “Lourdes?”

“Are you alright, dear?” Our mother asked, leaning over me. Lourdes gave her a quick, bitter look, and sighed.

“I can’t, Maggie.” She whispered, her voice nearly breaking.

I passed a hand up and down her back, comforting, and leaned over, so no one could see my response.

“It’s okay. I’ll go up with you. It’s just reading, you can do it.” I nodded, looking at her. She looked at me uncertain, so I nodded, encouragingly. “I’m next anyway. I’ll go with you. We can do it.”

She looked at the altar, down at the rest of the full Cathedral, and at the menacing cameras, “Nothing we can’t fix, right?” 

I smiled. “Nothing at all.”

We stood together, and step by step took to the large, wooden pulpit, covered with black silk, avoiding looking at the coffin, or, in my case, at anyone else. I kept my hand to my sister’s back, hoping it was comforting, and she found the copy of the poem already at the altar, waiting for her.

“When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety.”

She did really well. She read poetry the way we were taught as children, enunciating the words clearly, reading each line slowly, taking pauses to look up and connect with the audience. She almost didn’t stutter at all, if it weren’t for the ending.

“Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, promised walks never taken. Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon their nurture, now shrink, wizened.”

I had chosen a poem slightly vague in the hope it would be easier for Lourdes, but even in her tender age of thirteen she could understand the final verses, the ones where it stopped being about trees, and started being about souls. That’s when she choked, paused, cleared her throat, and continued with a shaky, whispery voice the microphone barely captured.

“...And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us.” She paused again, and I saw tears stain the paper, “They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better.” She looked up, bravely. “For they existed.”

She took some time to fold the page, looking down, and then looked at me with trembling lips. 

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, drying her eyes.

“You did great.” I whispered, petting her back.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” 

The question, the sweet, selfless concern for me even through her anguish, brought a knot to my throat that I had to swallow in order to speak. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

She stepped down from the altar and walked back to our seats, where mom reached out her hand before she sat down and pulled her over to my seat. 

In the pulpit in front of me, right under Lourdes’ poem, sat the two pages with my eulogy, a letter I wrote to my brother, thanking him for being a wonderful, faultless, military man. Louis himself would have hated it -- we both knew our time in the armed forces was a brief rite of passage at best, a PR stunt at worst. 

But it was when I looked down, and moved the folded page of Lourdes’ poem behind my letter, that I decided I couldn’t read it. The words were still visible, ‘we can be, be and be better, for they existed’.

Taking in a deep breath, I looked up, down the many, filled rows in the wide Cathedral, and did the one thing I had been taught from infancy never to do: I improvised.

“Dear--”, I cleared my throat, a little taken by the sudden volume of my voice in the microphone, “Dear--”

The thing is, we’re not meant to be personal -- royals, I mean. We’re meant to be an institution one should admire, but not necessarily relate to. If people relate to us it begs the question, why are we needed? Why are we special? But… as I bit my lower lip in anxiety so hard it actually hurt, watching all the faces in front of me, I knew there was simply no other option. I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t erase who he was over who the family needed him remembered as.

So instead of starting by addressing the congregation, I skipped to the part I knew was more important.

“This past week my family and I have experienced kindness like never before. Not only from our dear family and friends, but from people all over the country we have never had the joy to meet. We were born and raised here, and as such, each of us already knew that at the hearts of every Savoyen, by birth or choice, lays incomparable kindness and compassion to our neighbours.”

The next part was a thank you to every branch of government and official who had expressed their sentiments that past week, but it wasn’t important. So I skipped it. “My brother was Savoyen, and as such, he had that in common with all of you.”

I should have read the part about his time in the military and how it shaped who he became, but I knew it wasn’t true. It had changed him, sure, like everything in his life, but it wasn’t important either. So I thought of Louis, of his last pieces of advice, about standing up for myself and deserving nice things… and improvised.

“Louis-Adolphe always strived to highlight the best possible outcome to any circumstance. He seeked to always see people not for who they were, but for who they could be. He had some kind of innate goodness that always made me feel slightly guilty for not being better, which he would have been upset to find out, because he never allowed anyone around him to speak ill of themselves.”

I looked to the section of the Cathedral where his friends were sitting, his university friends, traveled from Scotland, and his old boarding school friends, who’d come from all over the country, and some from all over the world, to be here, to remember him.

“He went out of his way to make people feel welcomed, accepted, equal. I have heard from more than one old classmate that they never thought Louis really knew their name before he reached out and asked them, by name, if they wanted to sit with him and his friends for lunch, or be part of their group for a project. You may have heard similar stories over the past week, and I hope you’ll continue to as the time goes by. But if I’m honest, and I think my brother would have told me to be… as much as those stories are heartwarming and comforting at this terrible time… they’re only one part of who my brother was. They’re true, yes, but… my brother was more than that.”

I stared at the paper, more to distract myself from the confused looks from my older family members than anything else. My brother wasn’t just the achievements worthy of the family tree. He was more.

“The problem with remembering someone as a perfect, faultless public figure is that in memorializing them we also risk romanticizing them, and what is that if not erasing part of who they were in favor of creating a beautiful, shiny memory that is, if not real, just easier to remember?”

All eyes on me now looked… intrigued. Worried. I had a pulsating stomach ache and my heart was beating too fast, so I looked, at last, to my left, and found the pair of blue eyes that I knew would not be judgemental. I was right. Harry was looking at me with the same soft yearning that had made me so uncomfortable in London, only a week ago. It gave me strength to continue. 

“I want my brother to be remembered, but I want him to be remembered for who he was.” I told them, “Louis… Louis was real. Real as in that quote from The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams, that our mother read to us as children, ‘Real isn’t how you are made. It’s a thing that happens to you.’ It’s what happens when you are loved for a long, long time. ‘Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand’. My brother should have been loved much longer, but he was real.”

I felt the pain in my throat before hearing my magnified voice break. I paused, drawing in a long, deep breath.

“He had a… sarcastic, teasing sense of humor. He had a lot of opinions on things most of us don’t think too much about. If you weren’t drinking a Manhattan or a Sidecar, he likely had thoughts about your choice of drink. He thought cargo shorts should be abolished. He thought modern art was boring. He called dibs on the window seat in every car ride. He hated driving, but also hated having to walk anywhere farther than six blocks, and he hated peas.”

I heard a low chuckle, and looking to my right, I was faced with the sight of my own father silently laughing to himself, eyes closed, my mother’s hand in his. It gave me strength to continue.

“You heard from Jackson earlier how passionate he was on the Edinburgh University Polo team, and though I agree with him, I think he would agree with me that despite the passion, Louis wasn’t great at polo... He was okay.” I shrugged, casually, drawing a general chuckle from the piews. The smiles gave me strength to continue. 

“He wasn’t some undiscovered genius, but he was really smart. Louis started studying classics in University, he loved literature and philosophy… but he later changed to social anthropology and social policy, because he… he wanted to better understand the world. He wanted to learn how to be better for, well… for you. For his country.”

“My brother should have been loved much longer, but he was loved.” In the front rows, after our extended family, I could see Peter. He had a friend holding his hand, but his eyes were on me, a smile in his lips. “Not just by us. Not just by you. By the people outside this Cathedral. By the wonderful people outside of our home right now, who have congregated at our gates every day this week to be together, to honor him, to bring flowers to a boy they should have had the time to meet. I’m so sorry you haven’t. You should have. He would have loved to meet you… He loved attention.”

I laughed, just as I felt two tears escape my eyes, and tried to catch them in my gloved hands as fast as I could, but my voice was now strained, shaky.

I stared at the paper, at the wishes of better days that would surely come, every word made more bitter than the last. So I didn’t read them. Instead, I thought of what my brother would have wanted.

“If I was a better person… Better yet, if I was Louis-Adolphe, I would finish this with an optimistic reminder to all the good that is yet to come despite the pain we are in today. My brother would want us to know that we can come together through hard times and come out stronger than before.”

But that was the biggest tragedy: my brother had wanted a lot of things. He wanted a graduation, parties, trips. He wanted to come out to our parents and to be his truest self while helping our country grow and thrive. But he would never have that chance. 

“But I am not him. And I will continue to try to be the better version of me he thought I could be, but today, I am not.” Another tear fell down my cheeks, as I struggled to speak through an aching throat. “Today I am just his sister, who won’t get to see him graduate from University in six months, who won’t get to stand with him on his wedding day, or tease him when he inevitably became an annoyingly protective father. Today my parents lost their only son, my sister, who is too young to be wearing black, knows what grief feels like, and far too many people with a lot of love for my brother in their hearts, don’t know where to put it.”

In my seat, Lourdes was crying again. Our mother reached an arm around her shoulders and, this time, Lourdes didn’t flinch. 

“Today I understand W. H. Auden when he said, ‘The stars are not wanted now; put out every one… For nothing now can ever come to any good.’ I understand Frost’s ‘Nothing gold can stay.’ Today I just… miss him. So, yes, as Louis would remind us, there will be good. We will come together. But today?” I sighed, as I caught another tear in my cheek. “Today he existed, he was real. And maybe just for today, that’s enough.”

There was a moment, a few seconds long, of silence, where I realized I didn’t know how to end it. So I merely looked down, and back up before saying, “Thank you.” And moved to leave.

As I turned, seeing the look on the Archbishop’s eyes, I remembered I was supposed to introduce the next song, so I turned around, back to the pulpit, just as we heard a loud, distant rumble from outside. Confused, I looked around, checking if there was some kind of emergency, but the doubt was quickly extinguished. It was the crowd outside. They were… cheering.

I looked at my father, uncertain, but he was smiling up at me with a sad look in his eyes.

“In honor of my brother, our dear family friend, Constance Parrish-von-Bernstein, will now perform one of his favorite songs to destroy at karaokes.”

It was Drops of Jupiter, and she did an amazing, if very Constance, job. My friend was wearing a midi length black dress and her short, freshly blonde hair, had been styled with fifties curls that matched the simple, round, black fascinator with a see-through fishnet partly covering her eyes. She was accompanied by the Cathedral’s orchestra, and started as poised as the occasion, and her look, demanded. 

But after the first chorus, there was a drum beat, violins, and a soul vacation, chasing her way through a constellation, and I don’t think Constance could have sand the words ‘plain ol' Jane, told a story about a man, who was too afraid to fly so he never did land’ with any less energy than she did, which is precisely why she was the right person for this, because that was the only way my brother ever sang that song, if in a much worse voice. By the time she sang the bridge, Constance’s voice was louder, her hands were in the air, her eyes closed, and her performance so beautifully her own we couldn’t help but smile. 

My cousins then took turns leading the standing congregation on the Lord’s Prayer, before a minister delivered a short message of togetherness on the face of tragedy. Then there was another song and by the end, my father stood and walked to the pulpit, ready to deliver his own eulogy.

He walked calmly, stood before the pulpit with unshaken hands, looked up with sadness in his eyes, and started speaking about Louis. He spoke strongly, clearly, but not without some nostalgia to his words. Every ‘was’ instead of ‘is’ in reference to my brother was, after all, a dagger to the heart. My whole life, my father had been a steady, stoic presence; it was in his nature, it’s how he was raised. He was born to be king and kings had a duty to be an unwavering sign of comfort and strength. At times such as today, it was hard to remember this facade may be just that: a mask; something he did for the country, not for us, not for Louis, nor himself. 

“And thus, my son,” he went on, lively, if sadly, “was a powerful light through the darkness, not only in our lives, but I’m sure, in yours as well. In the lives of all those lucky enough to have met him. From an early age we knew he had in his heart a natural love for his home that so many of us can relate to, a need to see Savoy and its people standing strong, well represented, well cared for. It’s what he did, it’s who he was. A carer. I wish--”

He gulped, and one of his hands came up to cover his mouth in an anxious move. His hand was shaking.

“Today, I am sure Louis-Adolphe would have rested easy, knowing our future rests in good hands...” He paused, dramatically, staring down at his printed speech, “...that of my brave, intelligent, capable daughter, Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy, who, as his older sister, helped us teach my son to love his home and, I have no doubts, will excel in this new role as she has in everything else in her life.”

Feeling my heart beating in my throat - and the eyes of the entire Cathedral on me -, I didn’t stop looking at my father. His eyes found me now.

“Her brother would have been as proud and supportive of her as we are.”

I looked down, motionless. He continued to speak for another while, before thanking the country for their support and stepping down. When he reached us again, he stopped before me, grabbed my hands in his and pulled me to my feet, enveloping me in a quick, strong hug, before stepping away again, back to his seat, his eyes avoiding mine.

I was so utterly confused it took me a long time to realize we had to stand up again. The Archbishop led us in a final prayer, blessed my brother’s coffin, and soon the choir was singing again. 

I tried to focus, to center myself around the only thing that mattered today -- Louis. But just as I risked a look up, my eyes found Harry again. His lips moved calmly to the song, his eyes on the lyrics on his program. 

‘...my brave, intelligent, capable daughter, Crown Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy’, the words ringed in my ears just as Harry looked up, his eyes darting straight to me, with purpose. When they met mine, I could see it: his hands on mine, his lips on mine, his life with mine, as one. 

I felt a chill down my spine just as I remembered my father’s voice again, claiming his conviction that I would ‘excel in this new role as she has in everything else in her life.’ Painfully, I took my eyes from his, feeling my palms sweating again.

My sister asked if I was okay and I didn’t know how to respond. For a whole week, feeling lost and helpless, he had avoided me. Delegated his own son’s funeral to me, demanded no one call me Crown Princess, allowed my mother to self-exile in her room, avoided any request to meet with me, refusing to answer any pertinent question because it was ‘not the time’. One week when all I had was a moody teenager and a lot of plans that needed to be made, and I had nothing from him. Even in private, in his office, in our home, I was left alone.

One week when not only us, but the entire country mourned and waited with baited breath, probably wandering, as I was, if I was capable of my new role. All I wanted, all I had needed, was for him to tell me I was. To explain what I needed to do, what was coming, and all I had was nothing. 

Lourdes pulled me to my feet as the royal guards prepared to carry the coffin out again; the funeral was over. The choir still echoed the words of Blest Are They as we filed behind my parents to make our exit, and I felt sick to my stomach. Walking out of our seat area, down the steps to the aisle, I stole one last look to the life I could have had; Harry was already looking at me, my sadness in his eyes. His brother was looking at him, intrigued. I gulped, and stared ahead.

I wanted to remove my gloves, but Lourdes was holding my hand and refusing to let go. I started biting my lower lip, trying to keep it from trembling as I felt a knot in my throat. We started filing out, the coffin leading the way, my parents behind, and each of us in the order of the line of succession, but I stopped.

I couldn’t move. My feet felt too heavy on the floor, the memory of my brother’s body inside his new wooden home, too heavy in my head. How was I meant to believe I could take on any of it? My own father couldn’t say it to me, even if he did seem to be able to say to the entire world. Did he even mean it? Or was that line about just one more thing he did for the benefit of the country?

On my left, Lourdes was holding on to my hand and asking if I was okay, reminding me we had to move. I felt myself breathless, heart beating painfully in my chest, when another hand reached for my right one. I looked over, finding Christopher.

“Hey, bunny.” He whispered, a small smile on his lips. “Are you okay?”

He’d been sitting in one of the first rows, close to Peter and Faye, right after the initial rows with our extended family members. It was almost right next to this spot I seemed to have frozen.

“It’s okay, love,” he added, grasping tighter to my hand with both of his, “I’m here, I’m right here with you, we can do this.”

He passed an arm around my shoulders and led us out of the Cathedral. 

I didn’t stop to remember it was a bad idea. I didn’t think that Chris wasn’t family, and so had to wait until we were all out before he could leave with the other guests, I didn’t think of the optics. He was there, warm hand in mine, reminding me my life had been calm and happy once, when he was in it, and if so I could get there again.

So I just held on to the past and tried to ignore the awful, heartless present.

--- ---- ---

The burial was private and fast. The Priest who baptized Louis made a final prayer. My mother cried harder than I had ever seen before. Lourdes fell apart, but allowed me to hold her. I watched, struggling to breathe, wondering if we would ever feel anything other than that pain.

We didn’t have time to compose ourselves, we were just expected to, and then had to be presentable for the post-funeral reception where we stood, side by side, as a family, while our guests came by to give us their condolences and say nice things about the service.

In between people, I tried to talk to my parents, but never could. My father always had an advisor or politician in his ear about work; my mother was still glassy eyed and distant, and seemed to notice none of my words, just how my hat looked. Even if they did seem to listen, I found myself having to choose between them and Lourdes, who was neither eating or drinking, and eventually started to look like she was about to faint, so I found Natalie and had her and her sister Sarah take her to her room and make sure she rested.

Eventually, when we were done talking to people, I cornered my father before another official approached.

“Papa,” I started, as softly as possible, trying to remind myself to be delicate in these trying times, “I want to talk about your eulogy today.”

“Was it bad?” He asked, fixing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You did wonderfully, honey.”

“I need to talk about… this. About my new position, my new title–”

He sighed. “Not now, Maggie.”

“Why?” I asked. “You were willing to talk about it to everyone from the pulpit today--”

“The advisors told me there had been unrest about… all of this. Some assurance of our support was needed.”

“Is that it?” I asked, almost laughing, humorlessly, “Is the support even real or-?”

“I told you, not now, Maggie.”

“When? It’s been a week, I have questions, I have… a job–”

“Margueritte.” He admonished, harsh, but whispery. “Your brother’s body hasn’t been in the ground for one hour, I think you’ll find this can wait.”

Schooling his features to be as stoic as the public knew them to be, he turned away from me and the conversation was over.

I felt guilty almost immediately. I told myself he was right. It was too soon. There would be plenty of time. We didn’t need to rush this just because I was impatient… but my hands shook. A knot so big took over my throat I could no longer breathe. I turned around, ready to find the next person I had to talk to, but couldn’t. So I left the room in hurried steps and, alone in the hallway, ran towards the South staircase, taking off my shoes as soon as I could so I could run faster.

I knew this was stupid, I knew I was needed. It was my job, my duty, to stay and make conversation, build a sense of togetherness with our family and supporters. Still, my throat hurt from the knot I was trying to suppress, and my head hurt too much, and I was so tired of pretending to be fine when I wanted nothing more than to explode into a million pieces. 

In the upper floor, closer to the South wing, there was a set of simple double doors to the servants’ passages, a set of corridors that in old times were used to get through the palace without being seen, and staff today used as shortcuts. It was emptier, more private, so I walked in and climbed up the stone stairs towards the west tower, no clue where I was going, but glad to be alone. 

My shoes became too heavy in my hands and my head hurt too much, so I dropped my shoes to the floor, telling myself I could come find them later, and started trying to pull out the bobby pins in my hair to remove my fascinator, but there were too many of them, and my hands were shaking, and it was all too much, and I was afraid to trip on the steps, and finally I could only pull my hair and scream, throwing the few pins in my hands to the floor, closing my eyes tightly and hoping I could just pass out and wake up months into the future when things were… better.

I painted, breathless, and finally allowed the tears I’d been suppressing to fall freely down my cheeks. 

“Marie--?”

Jumping slightly, I turned back to see Harry. He had my shoes in his hand like we were in Cinderella, if Cinderella had been in the middle of a mental breakdown when the prince found her. 

Overcome by shame and regret, I cried harder, letting out a cold, sarcastic scoff.

“Mon Dieu, of course you’re here!” I patted my cheeks with my cheeks with both hands, trying to dry them as I continued up the stairs.

“Marie, I just want to help--”

“I’m fine!” I told him, not turning back, but he raced up, past me, blocking my way.

“You’re not,” he whispered, “and that’s okay.”

“I’m telling you, it’s fine, I’ll be fine!”

He held onto my arms when I tried to move past him, and I felt the knot in my throat get worse, and more tears escape my eyes, and my knees buckle as, back to the wall, I slid down to sit on the stone steps, now crying openly, against my will.

“I’m fine!” I said, rather uselessly, amidst a hiccup, “I’ll be fine, just go away.”

He sat down in front of me, still holding onto my arms, unbearably close. 

“Okay.” He said. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. I just wanted to say… that you don’t have to be fine right now…”

I shut my eyes as the pain moved away from my throat through my whole body; I gave up trying to contain my tears, it wasn’t like he couldn’t see them, anyway. So, before he got up, I just reached over and grabbed two fistfulls of his suit and kept him in place. I didn’t so much lean forward to cry on him, as I just… fell. As if I didn’t have the strength to sit up anymore. As if his chest was magnetic; as if my head belonged in the crease of his neck. 

His arms wrapped around me and, miraculously, I wasn’t ashamed anymore. I wanted to be, I felt I should be, but I wasn’t. I felt… hurt. Broken. Lonely. But not ashamed. I felt his warm palms smooth over my back in a calming motion, and my crying only got louder. 

“I can’t do this.” I cried. “I can’t do this…”

“Hey, hey…” He whispered, “Of course you can.”

I shook my head, “My brother is gone, Harry.”

His arms tightened around me. “I know.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can.” He repeated. “Even he knew it. You were one of the smartest people he knew.”

“Even my father doesn’t think I can.”

“Your father is only human.” He looked down, cupping my cheek with his hand so I’d look at him. “He is flawed.”

I was unprepared for the blue hue of his eyes up close, after so long. I could almost count his faint freckles. The sight was so astonishing it almost calmed me. I sat back up, leaning back from his only slightly. 

“And if he can’t see how amazing you’ll be at this, then it only proves it. I can see it… Your brother could see it… Those people outside of the Cathedral today could see it. Didn’t you hear them cheering for you?” His lips curled into a smile at the memory, “They can already picture you in a crown.”

I shut my eyes forcefully again. “It’s not, not that simple… I have a job, I have--”

“Marie.” He stopped me, holding on to both my hands with his, “I know. I know this is a lot… but there’s no part of this that I don’t think you can do.”

We let the silence sit still for a moment. When I looked at him, his profile illuminated by the window behind him, I was reminded of how handsome he looked in a suit. Feeling ashamed of this very thought, I raised my hand to feel my hair, realizing it was as messy as I had left it when he surprised me. I started trying to pull out the bobby pins when he looked at me.

“Heavy hat?” He asked, a soft attempted smile in his lips.

I scoffed, sarcastic, “Heavy is the head that wears the… hat.”

He sat up, coming closer to me, and tentatively, started to feel around my hair slowly with his hands for the pins. Finally realizing just how dramatic the moment had been, I finally felt the full embarrassment I had earned in the moment. But the silence was... comforting; it felt warm, and the touch of his fingers made me want to lay my head in his chest and fall asleep. 

“I know it’s a lot.” He said, whispery. “But for whatever is worth, I liked your eulogy.”

“...I improvised.”

He smiled. “I thought you may have. It was good, sincere, and appropriate...ish.”

I took my eyes from his chest, finding his eyes focused on my hair, “I’m glad you’re here.”

He looked at me. “Here in… the stairs?”

“In the country. For the funeral.”

He nodded. “Me too. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure it was, appropriate.”

“...Ish.” I teased, making him smile.

“Had to fight for them to let me come. They only said yes because you guys were over only a couple of days before.”

He pulled a couple of pins, and put them in his pocket to free his hands.

“...Did you ever wonder?” I asked; his eyes found mine, but he focused on my hair again quickly after. “What you would do if, God forbid, if this happened to you?” I explained.

His hands stopped moving; he brought them down, putting another couple of pins in his pocket. He seemed thoughtful for a few seconds, but still not any closer to an answer.

“No, of course not.” I answered for him. “Changes to lines of succession are such a thing of the past. With all our security and the eyes of the world on us, who could ever think something like this was possible?”

He sighed, and I thought his eyes might look watery, but it could have been my own.

Eventually he pulled the last pin and ran his hands around my hair one more time, slowly.

“I think that’s it. How do I--?” He pulled out my fascinator,  and I smoothed my hands over my hair, feeling the presence of one more pin that I didn’t have the energy to pull out.

He held out his hands to give me the pins, but I was too busy looking into his eyes, so instead he put them all in his jacket pocket, and the hat next to my shoes.

“I want to say something, but all I can think of is asking if you’re alright.”

When I scoffed, sarcastically, he shook his head, blushing. “I know, stupid question. I just…” He looked at me, “I want to say something, but I don’t know what.”

“Me too.” We sat in silence, when I tried to lighten the moment. “Though I’m surprised you can’t think of anything. No inopportune questions? No sage wisdom about how to survive grief in the public sphere from the expert?”

He grinned. “Right, the expert… Prince Harry and his perfectly functional childhood, who never went to Vegas or wore a terrible costume to a party…”

And then I laughed; a sincere, heartfelt, short laugh. Can you imagine? 

“I don’t know… you turned out okay.”

“I’m obviously not a great person to ask… but,” he sighed, “I guess, distraction. Distraction would be my best advice.”

“Use distractions to suppress the pain, got it.”

He laughed, something that still felt rare and exciting, even amidst all of this. 

“Not what I said! Just… you know… time will do most of the work, you know? In… well, I hate to sound like a therapist, but in healing. You’ll need time. It’ll feel like too much time. It’ll feel like time is slowing down, but… time is the only thing that helps. And until time passes, there will be... a lot. The press, the rumors, as soon as they can’t milk the funeral for headlines anymore, they’ll start to make things up. So, from the pain and from the outside mess, I suggest…”

“Distraction.” I completed his sentence, and he looked at me.

“Yes.” He nodded.  “And… try to be honest. About your feelings, with the people you love and who love you.”

I had to look away; it felt to me there was a question that needed to be asked here - are you one of those people? - but I couldn't ask it. So I looked away, leaning back to rest my back against the wall. 

“Yesterday was supposed to be our first date.”

He gulped, and looked at me intensely for two brief yet long seconds, before looking away. 

“Maybe in an alternate reality we would be going on our second one right about now.” He added. 

From his tone, it was clear he hadn’t meant for this kind of distraction. But I couldn’t help it, I was desperate to talk about it; that alternate reality we almost had.

“I would have chosen the passion fruit sauce salmon.” 

He smiled. “I would… I would have thoroughly researched the wine list to chose something fancy and make you think I’m sophisticated.” 

I laughed again, softly, feeling my cheeks blush. 

“And then would have ruined it by ordering something dumb like… like the French onion soup that would make you not want to kiss me later.”

His words hang in the air like perfume as our smiles faded. My eyes were on his, but he refused to look at me.

“I would have kissed you.” I whispered, and now he looked at me.

I knew I had nothing he wanted anymore. Or, better yet, I knew I had a lot he didn’t want now. I knew it should be enough to stop this conversation and make us both focus on our now very different realities, but it wasn’t. Because our reality at that moment was one: we were there, sitting in the stone, narrow steps of a staircase, facing each other, thinking of what we could have had which, only a week before, was all we had ever wanted. That was the only reality that existed in that very fleeting moment, and it was such a comforting one, such a peaceful one, that I wanted to stay in it. To drown in it. To forget any other existed. So I let that novel hope take over my heart, and leaned forward to press my lips to his.

“Marie--” his hand cupped my cheeks as he leaned back.

“I’m so tired of feeling pain.” I confessed, whispery, kissing his neck when he looked away. “I just… I just need to feel something else.”

I kissed his neck softly, running my hand up his leg as I did, moving up to his ear; his grasp became tighter, now in my hair. His breath came out heavy; his familiar smell taking over my every sense, “Help me.” Looking into his eyes, I brushed my nose against his. “Help me feel something good.”

But just before I could kiss him, his hands were in my arms again, this time pushing me ever so slightly away.

“Marie…” He said, looking away, his breath tantalizing as it his my lips. His hand resting above mine, pulled it away from his leg. “I just… I don’t…”

I looked away, now more ashamed than before, and gulped. “Of course. I understand.”

I grabbed my shoes and hat, and got to my feet.

“Marie, please, let me--”

“I get it!” I shouted, flinching at my own volume. “Sorry. I get it, it’s okay.” I said, calmer. “Of course it’s okay. Really.”

I climbed the final steps up, trying to will the floor into opening up and swallowing me whole. 

I opened the first door out of the stairs space and walked out into a semi-chamber with cement walls and a set of wooden doors. I marched towards the one in the general direction of my room.

“Marie!” Harry called, following me in hurried steps. He held onto my elbow, pulling me back. “Please, Marie, just--”

“Stop calling me that!” I pulled my arm from him, feeling the familiar threatening knot on my throat as my eyes watered.

“...Marie?” He asked, confused. “It’s your name.”

“Yes!” I nodded, looking to the floor as I felt my cheeks wet again. “...but you never used it before.” I confessed, softly.

I cleaned my tears to avoid his eyes. 

“Ma--” he stopped himself, so I never found out which version of my name he was going to use.

“I get it.” I told him, calm. Then, drying another tear, I tried to smile. “I know it doesn’t look like it, because of the crying, but I do, I promise.” I nodded, emphatically. 

He looked at me, eyelids fluttering, eyes sad, hands fidgety. 

I shrugged, still trying to smile. “I get it. Last week you flirted with a girl who was free to flirt back. I’m not free anymore.”

Turning around, I opened the door and walked out as fast as I could.

By the time I walked into the shared sitting room in our apartment, I had already cried again and dried my cheeks as well as I could. The dogs were walking around, playing together. In one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone, was Christopher, as if I had traveled in time back to when I came home to him everyday after work. 

He looked up at me, and smiled. “Hey, baby.”

I walked over to him, dropping my shoes and fascinator to the floor. He put his phone away, brows creasing as he inspected my features. 

When I got to him, his hands cupped my cheeks softly, as they’d done so many times in the past. “You’ve been crying?” He asked, concerned, before delicately kissing my forehead. “It’s okay, bunny. It’s gonna be okay.”

Reaching up, I pulled his hands from my face, and laced our fingers together. I made my way to my room, pulling him after me.

Then I closed the door, hoping to leave the pain outside.

--- ---- ---

Outfits

[A/N: Sorry about the delay! I’m home and so grateful to you for reading!!!! Let me know your thoughts????? THANKS]

[carnivore-ivy]

Why didn’t Humpy tell Arnold the Scotland contrast？

This is some analysis about S3E3.

Why didn’t Humphrey turn to Arnold for help? Or let’s ask this question in another way: did Arnold know it? I would like to give an answer: Yes ...... and no.

Firstly, we need to know what situation Humphrey was in as one of Scottish Office in 1956. He was demoted compared with 1947 as Edith’s PPS, obviously, not only because of the position, but also because he was edged out —— Humpy said he knew nothing about law, so he was responsible for law —— it’s weird. Civil servants only let ministers response for what they don’t know, but they themselves were all experts for their business, so that they could keep themselves always knew more than ministers. The only reason that Humphrey did that job and made that mistake was someone much more powerful than him (and Arnold) wanted to see he making mistakes. Considering Arnold’s protocol Robert Armstrong, who faced the same situation and was sidelined because he was on the lose side, maybe Arnold lost the conflict between civil servants and was wiped from the War Department to the Scottish Department which was in Foreign Office (see Arnold’s GCMG and he wanted “Order of the Thistle” S2E2), and Humphrey followed him. This time, Arnold couldn’t offer enough protection to his subordinates, even though himself, so this happened.

Arnold might did something to cover Humphrey’s fault that time. He couldn’t afford losing a follower. For his interest, his enemy would attack him by this, and demoted him again until he became somebody like chairman of the War Graves Commission and couldn’t go back to the Whitehall. Another reason is that he might not be the complete moral vacuum, and he wanted to save Humphrey.

However, after 30 years, Arnold was already thinking who was the next Cabinet Secretary after him, of course he could easily compress all of this contract, for example, Jim only represented DAA, but Arnold could say some documents were involved in FCO or Department of Defense to stop the medias. But if Humphrey couldn’t solve this by himself, he would never be the candidate for the Cabinet Secretary anymore. So Humphrey himself didn’t let Arnold know he faced such a problem.

For Jim, maybe Humphrey talked to Arnold this event after everthing was OK, so they thought Jim was well housetrained. That’s why Arnold arranged Jim to be the next PM (Notice a detail: in Party Games, when Arnold and Humpy was eating, they said both Eric and Duncan shouldn’t be the next PM, but then Arnold gave Humpy their documents directly, seemed prepared.)

[journal-of-yoga]

Iris Publishers - World Journal of Yoga, Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation (WJYPR)

Global Health: Global Infectious Disease Control Systems

Authored by Shinu Kuriakose

Introduction

The fundamental issue concerning global healthcare policy is the recognition of the role various institutions, including nongovernmental agencies and countries, play to mitigate the spread of diseases and other pathological factors to prevent global morbidity and mortality. It is inherent that the role of not only screening, reporting, diagnosing and treating illness, with a potential to be a pandemic, be have clear command and control protocols but also timeliness and efficiency of this process is crucial. Poverty, maternal and child illnesses, disease prevention, vaccinations, and the paucity of food and water do play a crucial role for entities while framing foreign policy and regulations. The concept of rapid response to diseases, such as Ebola recently, can help reduce the number of casualties in a given population and furthermore help halt the spread of illness. It is the responsibility of the both the public and private sector to implement procedures in a manner with the understanding that a failure on their part could lead to disastrous consequences; a fact which lends itself to the recognition that the world is increasingly inter-connected and an ill person can just as easily spread a disease in New York, due to the immediacy and availability of air transport as h/she can spread it in their neighboring village in Asia.

The Oslo Declaration in 2010, signed by the foreign ministers of seven countries, has in its core the concept of how any proposed policy will affect healthcare in the region and important consideration must also be given to economic consequence of healthcare reform, collaboration between parties and the implementation of healthcare protection to provide sound medical protection on a global scale. Furthermore, The Disease Control Priorities Project (DCP2), in 2006, has attempted to formulate questions and responses a country must ask itself to assess its preparedness for an health outbreak; a process which takes into consideration the universal definition of a disease, the effectiveness and response to this malady, the priorities which need to be considered in rank order, the interventions which need to be implemented to achieve said objectives, the importance of cost-effective processes taking into consideration equitable health care with a focus on reducing disparities, preventative strategies focusing on food and water safety, vaccination and immunization protocols and effective sanitation and educational programs [1].

Discussion

World health organization

The World Health Organization is a part of the United Nations, founded in 1948, with a specific focus and emphasis on public health internationally. This organization is currently focused on the eradicating of communicable diseases such as Ebola, HIV and TB and has been successful in the elimination of smallpox [2]. WHO characterizes diseases into categories such as communicable (viral or bacterial), non-communicable (obesity and mental health and injuries (accidental or natural disasters) [3]. WHO’s priorities include supporting its member states in preparing their singular capacities to deal with epidemics and ensuring that enough warning systems are in place to screen for pathologies including laboratory facilities, implementing training programs for epidemic readiness, coordination among its members to deal with any pandemics and seasonal influenza, ensuring uniform protocols are in place to standardize both screening and treatment techniques and minting a ready stance to deal with any major outbreaks and providing support in the healthcare realm to its constituents [4].

In the recent Ebola outbreak, WHO played a pivotal role in the initial screening and understanding of this disease by sending its epidemiologists and health promotion officers, in early June 2014, to countries in West Africa where reports were emerging of a viral disease with lethal consequences. Its medical team had to track this illness to its source and look at the cumulative data from laboratories, patients, providers and hospitals to gain a better understanding of their healthcare adversary. Furthermore, WHO took the lead in preventing transmission of this disease by identifying folks with this illness, treating patients with Ebola, conducting safe burials and being the lead in prevention of spread of Ebola. Additionally, it attempted to halt the spread of Ebola in unaffected countries, deployed rapid response teams for new outbreaks, helped prepare unaffected countries in case of an outbreak, helped with infrastructure to isolate patients with this illness, helped develop rapid screening and treatment modalities and put resources in for research purposes in the realms of vaccinations for this disease [5].

Centers for disease control and prevention

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), founded in 1946, is the leading federal agency of the United States government, under the auspices of the Department of Health and Human Services, which deals with public health concerns. The CDC’s primary agenda is more nationalistic in nature and focused on the prevention of disease and disability of United States citizens in areas of public health such as infectious disease, occupational safety issues, environmental health, and food borne pathogens and in chronic illnesses such as diabetes and hypertension [6]. The CDC wears multiple hats when dealing with an outbreak like Ebola which has primarily been affecting West Africa by advising healthcare workers who treat Ebola patients in these countries, by assisting hospital not only in the United States but also abroad including West Africa on standardized approaches to treat Ebola victims, on advising travelers and students who may travel to these countries for medical missions or tourism purposes, on assisting providers and lay folks on the signs and symptoms of Ebola, including time frames where these symptoms may occur, so that timely screening, diagnosing and treating can begin. In addition, the CDC has been in the forefront of helping US hospital in preparing for Ebola by having specialized units built in case of an outbreak and training clinicians on best practices to handle Ebola patients including the usage of personal protective gear. Furthermore, the CDC has been advising hospital on how to sterilize equipment and rooms formerly used for Ebola patients and advising foreign governments on ways the transmission of Ebola can be halted including basic things such as hand washing techniques and appropriate breast-feeding to prevent further dissemination to babies by infected mothers [7].

Governmental Response

The countries most affected by Ebola in West Africa, including Guinea, Liberia and Sierra Leone, have with the assistance of WHO, CDC and non-governmental organizations, have focused on the social underpinnings in their lands which has led this virus to flourish including lack of a robust health system, poor governmental organization and oversight, poverty and political conflict [8]. There is increased emphasis on enhanced screening of this disease, allowing international medical experts and agencies to come into their countries and evaluate the healthcare realities on the ground, assist agencies by providing the minimal resources they do have to help combat this epidemic. Furthermore, there is increased emphasis that better health system with more diligent screening and elimination of social stigma could encourage folks to treat care and enhance recovery efforts when dealing with this virus. Education also is key, as these nations have all suffered with the portrayal of HIV/AIDS destroying the lives of their citizens and the negative affect this can have on trade and tourism. The United States, with the assistance of the United Nations and other developed countries, has spent resources both medical, financial and social to help alleviate some of the difficulties this part of the world is facing with varying success; an attempt worth doing to help lay the ground for a more resourceful healthcare model for the next potential epidemic.

Summary

The challenges in front of the CDC, WHO, governmental organizations can seem at times insurmountable but through vigilance and dealing in a timely manner with issues such as Ebola can help mitigate this situation in the long term. In a bid to prevent a pandemic from occurring, these organizations have taken upon themselves, with assistance from other non-governmental sources to tackle this problem in an effective manner. Although, thousands of lives were lost in this epidemic, timely intervention did prevent it from evolving into a worldwide pandemic. It is imperative that coordination, as seen in West Africa ravaged by Ebola, can play a crucial part in not only educating citizens to seek care if stricken by disease but also to encourage change on a fundamental level to the social structure of these countries to remove the stigma associated with disease.

Recommendations

It is my firm belief that as the world gets increasingly interconnected, there will be an enhanced likelihood that diseases will spread faster across the globe in not tackled at the onset. It might be prudent to develop a rapid response disease team which can go anywhere in the world in 48 hours to deal with any potential calamity. Yes, this will require substantial resources but our options remain limited in this endeavor. Another option could be having a team like this based on every continent so the response time can be quicker, however this might lead to developed countries having teams with more resources and could lead to health disparities. Overall, it is in the best interests of all to ensure that timely universal healthcare be available to all the citizens of this world lest we falter to a pandemic with no regard to social standing

To read more about this article: https://irispublishers.com/wjypr/fulltext/global-health-global-infectious-disease-control-systems.ID.000517.php

Indexing List of Iris Publishers: https://medium.com/@irispublishers/what-is-the-indexing-list-of-iris-publishers-4ace353e4eee

Iris publishers google scholar citations: https://scholar.google.co.in/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C5&q=irispublishers&btnG=

[newstfionline]

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Grim view of global future offered in intelligence report (AP) U.S. intelligence officials are painting a dark picture of the world’s future, writing in a report released Thursday that the coronavirus pandemic has deepened economic inequality, strained government resources and fanned nationalist sentiments. Those assessments are included in a Global Trends report by the government’s National Intelligence Council, a document produced every four years. This year’s report is designed to help policymakers and citizens anticipate the economic, environmental, technological and demographic forces likely to shape the world through the next 20 years. The document focuses heavily on the impact of the pandemic, calling it the “most significant, singular global disruption since World War II, with health, economic, political, and security implications that will ripple for years to come.” “COVID-19 has shaken long-held assumptions about resilience and adaptation and created new uncertainties about the economy, governance, geopolitics, and technology,” the report says. The report also warns of eroding trust in government and institutions and of a “trust gap” between the general public and the better informed and educated parts of the population.

Volcano on St. Vincent erupts, spewing column of ash amid evacuations (Washington Post) The 4,049-foot La Soufrière volcano erupted on St. Vincent early Friday, sending a more than two-mile high cloud of ash bellowing above the tropical Caribbean island just hours after surrounding communities were ordered to evacuate. Low visibility caused by volcanic debris was hampering the effort to transport residents to safety, officials said. Satellite images and photos shared on social media images captured a thick column rising from the active volcano that began erupting at 8:41 a.m. Plumes of brown ash and smoke drifted higher as they moved northeast, reaching at least 38,500 feet into the atmosphere, nearing the altitude at which many commercial aircraft fly. No deaths or injuries have yet been reported. On Thursday, authorities announced that La Soufrière was an “imminent” threat to erupt. Residents near La Soufrière began evacuating the island’s “red zone” on Thursday by traveling to nearby islands, boarding cruise ships or moving into emergency shelters on other parts of St. Vincent. About 5,000 to 6,000 people live in the affected areas.

Rioters ignore pleas for calm as violence flares in Belfast (AP) Gangs of youths threw stones and fireworks at police in Belfast who hit back with water cannons as violence flared again on the streets of Northern Ireland. Unrest has erupted over the past week amid tensions over post-Brexit trade rules and worsening relations between the parties in the Protestant-Catholic power-sharing Belfast government. The latest violence Thursday night came despite appeals by U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson, Irish Premier Micheal Martin and U.S. President Joe Biden for a calming of tensions. Britain’s split from the EU has highlighted the contested status of Northern Ireland, where some people identify as British and want to stay part of the U.K. while others see themselves as Irish and seek unity with the neighboring Republic of Ireland, an EU member.

Britain’s Prince Philip dies, spent seven decades at Queen Elizabeth’s side (Reuters) Prince Philip, Queen Elizabeth’s husband and a pivotal figure in the British royal family for almost seven decades, has died aged 99, Buckingham Palace said on Friday. The Duke of Edinburgh, as he was officially known, had been by his wife’s side throughout her 69-year reign, the longest in British history. During that time he earned a reputation for a tough, no-nonsense attitude and a propensity for occasional gaffes. A Greek prince, Philip married Elizabeth in 1947. He went on to play a key role in modernising the monarchy in the post-World War Two period, and behind the walls of Buckingham Palace was the one key figure the queen could turn to and trust. Philip spent four weeks in hospital earlier this year for treatment for an infection and to have a heart procedure, but returned to Windsor in early March. He died just two months before he was to celebrate his 100th birthday.

EU-Turkey tensions (Foreign Policy) Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi labeled Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan a dictator while discussing the Turkish government’s very public snub of EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen during a meeting in Istanbul earlier this week. In a meeting with European Council President Charles Michel and the Turkish President, von der Leyen was relegated to a sofa along with the Turkish foreign minister while Erdogan and Michel sat together in prepared chairs—a break from previous protocol. “With these, let’s call them what they are—dictators—with whom one nonetheless has to coordinate, one has to be frank when expressing different visions and opinions,” Draghi said. Turkey has pushed back against accusations of a sexist snub, saying that the seating was arranged according to the EU’s demands.

Myanmar junta limits internet, seizes satellite TV dishes (AP) An information blackout under Myanmar’s military junta worsened Thursday as fiber broadband service, the last legal way for ordinary people to access the internet, became intermittently inaccessible on several networks. Authorities in some areas have also started confiscating satellite dishes used to access international news broadcasts. Protests against the Feb. 1 coup that ousted the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi continued Thursday despite the killing of 11 people by security forces a day earlier.

Kim Jong Un warns North Korea of hardship, referencing deadly 1990s famine (NK News) In a rare admission, Kim Jong-un has used a party speech to warn of upcoming hardships caused by the pandemic, U.S. sanctions and natural disasters. The North Korean leader ominously compared the situation to the historic famine that killed at least 225,000 people in the country in the 1990s.

Loud debates, fun banter: Mideast finds outlet in Clubhouse (AP) They are boisterous, argumentative and at times downright hilarious. Hundreds of thousands of people in the Arab world are turning to Clubhouse, the fast-growing audio chat app, to mock and vent against longtime rulers, debate sensitive issues from abortion to sexual harassment, or argue where to find the best and cheapest shawarma sandwich during an economic crisis. More than 970,000 people from the Middle East have downloaded the new platform since it launched outside the U.S. in January. It has offered space for in-person conversations in an age where direct contact is at the mercy of the pandemic and it’s brought together those at home and the many in exile or abroad. But mostly, it has offered a release for bottled-up frustration in a region where violent conflicts and autocrats have taken hold and where few, if any, avenues for change—or even for speaking out—seem tenable. “It is an open coffeehouse that pierces through what is forbidden by the political regimes in the region,” said Diana Moukalled, a Lebanese journalist who closely follows social platforms. “Clubhouse has made people go back to debating one another.”

Where Boars Hog the Streets (NYT) The wild pigs of Haifa might not fly, but they seem to do almost everything else. The boars snooze in people’s paddling pools. They snuffle across the lawns. They kick residents’ soccer balls and play with their dogs. They saunter down the sidewalks and sleep in the streets. Some eat from the hands of humans, and they all eat from the trash. The wild boars of Haifa, in short, are no longer particularly wild. Once largely confined to the many ravines that slice through this hilly port city on the Mediterranean, the boars have become increasingly carefree in recent years and now regularly venture into built-up areas, undeterred by their human neighbors. “It became like an everyday thing,” said Eugene Notkov, 35, a chef who lets his dog play with the boars that putter around the local parks. “They’re a part of our city,” he added. Bumping into one is “like seeing a squirrel.” For some, the boars are a menace, and the Council is to blame for their continued presence. For others, they are a charming addition to an already unusual place.

A 3,000-Year-Old ‘Lost City’ May Be New Boon for Egypt Tourism (Bloomberg) Archaeologists in Egypt have discovered a 3,000-year-old “lost city” buried under the sands in Luxor, home to the Nile Valley’s famed Valley of the Kings, the latest pharaonic-era wonder to be unearthed as the country seeks to revive its tourism industry. The city, known as the “The Rise of Aten,” dates to the reign of Amenhotep III which began around 1,390 BC, and was later used by successors including Tutankhamun, according to a statement on Thursday from the Egyptian mission that made the find. “The discovery of this lost city is the second most important archaeological discovery since the tomb of Tutankhamun,” Betsy Bryan, professor of Egyptian art and archeology at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, said in the statement. It offers “a rare glimpse into the life of the Ancient Egyptians at the time where the empire was at its wealthiest,” she said.

Seed monopolies (Deutsche Welle) For thousands of years of human agriculture, the intrinsic nature of a seed—the capacity to reproduce itself—prevented it from being easily commodified. Grown and resown by farmers, seeds were freely exchanged and shared. All that changed in the 1990s when laws were introduced to protect new bio-engineered crops. Today, four corporations—Bayer, Corteva, ChemChina and Limagrain—control more than 50% of the world’s seeds. These staggering monopolies dominate the global food supply.  “Seeds are ultimately what feed us and the animals we eat,” Jack Kloppenburg, a rural sociologist and professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, said. “Control over seeds is, in many ways, control over the food supply. The question of who produces new plant varieties is absolutely critical for the future of all of us.”

The Healing Power of Music (NYT) “Focus on the sound of the instrument,” Andrew Rossetti, a licensed music therapist and researcher said as he strummed hypnotic chords on a Spanish-style classical guitar. “Close your eyes. Think of a place where you feel safe and comfortable.” Music therapy was the last thing that Julia Justo, a graphic artist who immigrated to New York from Argentina, expected when she went to Mount Sinai Beth Israel Union Square Clinic for treatment for cancer in 2016. But it quickly calmed her fears about the radiation therapy she needed to go through, which was causing her severe anxiety. “I felt the difference right away, I was much more relaxed,” she said. The healing power of music—lauded by philosophers from Aristotle and Pythagoras to Pete Seeger—is now being validated by medical research. It is used in targeted treatments for asthma, autism, depression and more, including brain disorders such as Parkinson’s disease, Alzheimer’s disease, epilepsy and stroke. Live music has made its way into some surprising venues, including oncology waiting rooms to calm patients as they wait for radiation and chemotherapy. It also greets newborns in some neonatal intensive care units and comforts the dying in hospice. While musical therapies are rarely stand-alone treatments, they are increasingly used as adjuncts to other forms of medical treatment. They help people cope with their stress and mobilize their body’s own capacity to heal.

Adventures in a crate (Foreign Policy) A British man is searching for two long lost friends who shipped him across the world in a wooden crate in 1965. Then-19-year-old Brian Robson came to Australia on a work program in 1964 before quickly becoming homesick. Unable to afford a flight home, he and the two friends came up with a scheme to ship Robson to London in a crate. He was packed in with nothing more than with a flashlight, a bottle of water, a small suitcase, a pillow, an empty bottle (“for obvious reasons”) and a hammer to break out. The operation quickly went awry (in more ways that can fit in this summary). Robson endured five days being shuttled from airport to airport, eventually ending up thousands of miles from his destination, in Los Angeles. After security personnel decided he was not a threat, he was then flown home first class, for free, by Pan American Airlines. Robson, who has written a book about his adventure, is now seeking to reconnect with the friends that sent him on his way. He can only recall their first names and their Irish nationality; the rest is lost to time. “I’d love to find them again,” he told CBC radio.