#general tesler

[measlyscrapofseafood]

do you see the vision

[radicalellska]

training hard🪦🪦🪦

[encominternational]

THEY TIED. ROUND 1 REMATCH. TESLER VS DYSON.

[generalteslerr]

Hello, programs

Paige told me to download this “tum-buh-ler” thing. I don’t know why tho… anyways if you are the renegade you can fuck off

[systemadministratorclu]

That is definitely my Tes and he's doing this to troll Pavel. (He's paid Paige to do this.)

@evecolourshock Tes just got some more video for Movie Night featuring Occupation Idiots.

HM!!!!! more trons

[systemadministratorclu]

[from the character development meme, for Tes]

Does Tes still enjoy painting/make art?

What else does he like to do in his free time?

What is yours fluffiest headcanon for Tes?

Does Tes still enjoy painting/make art?

(For those who don't know, this is referring to the fact that my Tesler was a mischievous beta before he became a General, and he first met Tron and Clu when they caught him doing graffiti on the Admin Tower. This happened before the Occupation was a thing) Yes. And graffiti is still his specialty. In fact, some of the graffiti around Argon that's been credited to groups like the Jolly Tricksters (especially several images/messages making fun of/insulting Pavel) are actually the work of an undercover General Tesler, who then purposefully submits anonymous tips about them so he can take Pavel to see them. He has built up incredible self restraint by not bursting out laughing (despite very badly wanting to) whenever Pavel reacts to these images.

What else does he like to do in his free time?

Being a double agent, Tes doesn't get much free time. When he does get it, he likes to mess with Occupation people (see above response for an example) or he'll use the free time to find somewhere private where he can message Clu to check on him and make sure he's okay. Or he'll ferry some 'derezzed' rebels out of Argon and direct them to Resistance members he has connections with (though most of these connections don't know he's General Tesler, as he conceals his identity.

What is yours fluffiest headcanon for Tes?

Haven't done much fluff outside of RPs with @evecolourshock but outside of that, I think he sometimes lets his youngest recruits sleep with him after some traumatizing fight, because they're just kids and he hates that the Occupation recruits them super young. So he does what little he can (without raising suspicion) to give them some much needed care and comfort. And also, he remembers being a lonely kid and wishing he had someone to care for him. So basically, he tries to give the young ones what he himself never had but needed. Those who've been in his unit longest will often come sleep in a protective circle around him when they see he has a young one (or multiple young ones) with him.

[reginalucernis]

Well, since I am now a bachelor myself, I have brought you a different kind of Bachelor (and his beautiful companion)

To be honest, this time I don't know what to write about - it would be possible to joke for the hundredth time that while the entire town is waiting for a Bachelor route from Ice-Pick Lodge, I managed to graduate from middle school and high school and finished my own bachelor route, but these are really boring jokes. It's especially funny that when the Kickstarter fundraising was announced, I was still thinking "oh yes, the developers will collect all the sum and they will surely release three main scenarios, and they could add extra Inquisitor and Commander routs, oh that would be great", heh, what a holy naivety))

I'm not in the mood to write a detailed review of the Pathologic either, so I'll be brief: the first part (rus. Mor. Utopia) is one of my favorite games, so atmospheric, multifaced (well, like PoLyHeDrAl, like a pun, omg lol it's so funny... is it?) and memorable that, having plunged into its world once, you come back to her over and over again for years and forgive all the flaws, whether it's graphics that is weak even for the year of release (by the way, 2005, the game is almost 20 years old) or questionable gameplay. There is no surprise that this particular game is considered the magnum opus of Ice-Pick Lodge. It's just a pity that I'm one of those people who loves complex scientific and philosophical works, but does not understand them at all and therefore has to constantly look for explanations from other people (and here I can say hello to TESler Channel)))...

Unfortunately, I can't say the same about the (non-) remake. It seems that the graphics have been tightened up, and the gameplay has been diversified, and the characters have tried to make them more lively, but it's still like something is missing, I don't know what. Maybe I'm just too critical, it's hard to judge here.

As far as I know, the favorite character of most fans is Haruspex, and I can understand why. Actually I like all the playable characters as well as all the NPCs, and there is no one among them who would only cause disgust - that's it, the skill of writing characters in the original game as it is. And yet, as I think, the closest to me and the most interesting, in general, the most elaborated character seems to be Bachelor, and with him his companions, especially Eva. Although she does not have any special story, there is still something charming about this lady of the demimonde) Maybe it's just Baby-Duck-Syndrome that affects me, or maybe it's just the (near) scientific and rational approach of this scenario, idk

P.S. Btw despite the undeniable advantages of Pathologic, as an artist, even a self-proclaimed one, another game of Ice-Pick Lodge, Turgor (Tension), is much closer to me - who knows, maybe someday I'll draw something based on it (it would be great actually)

[shes-an-iso]

somewhere general tesler is punching a wall

[murderbees]

More World Building for Tron, because I get stuck on random details

This time, featuring Energy in general, on the Grid

First, energy is multifunctional within the Grid. It power vehicles and machines, and serves as food and drink for Programs. It's naturally occuring, in the outlands with pools.

Energy is a natural resource, distributed throughout the grid as rain. Unforunately, Raw energy is slightly corrosive. You can drink it and be okay, but long term exposure isn't good for anyone. Think of it like salt water or lemon juice. Sure you'll be fine, but you will get uncomfortable. Since it's also energy, everyone absorbs some through their skin. If you absorb too much, you'll overload your systems and that's also really bad. That's why storms are dangerous, in addition to the electricity and lightning.

Energy has three forms, Raw, Primary, and Secondary. This refers to how processed the energy has been. Raw energy has not been processed. Primary energy has been processed, and is the most common form. Secondary is less common and is used in culinary pursuits or in the military.

Primary energy has either been processed through the city's power plant or through the Grid. In the ground is an aquifer of energy, which is why Tesler tried to drill for energy. Unfortunately, this caused blackouts since the city's energy is pulled from that same aquifer. The power plants regulate energy and moniter its use to ensure everyone has what they need, and that the aquifer remains healthy. If you take too much, there won't be enough left to support the city. The plants also plan excursions to the outlands to find energy pools to harvest. It's all about balance.

Each building has it's own energy well, but they're used as secondary energy sources. It more efficient for everyone if the power plant manages energy. The energy is distributed throughout the area by aqueducts connected to all buildings.

Primary energy can be drunken but it's really strong. Most programs prefer it diluted. Primary energy is used mainly for infrastructure and vehicles.

Secondary energy ranges from liquids to solids. It can be thinner, thicker, jelly-like, or even crystalline. It's used in both culinary arts and industrial and military functions.

Culinary energy tends to focus on drinks, with some jellies and solids. They make syrups and bases, sodas, many different kinds of energy drink for programs to consume. If you drink it every day, why not make it interesting? Some programs even have the capability to process the energy into jelly-like or crystal-like structures. These aren't very common, since they're more like gimmicks or candy. Not necessary, but novel and fun. Once turned into jelly or crystal, the energy cannot be turned back.

Industrial energy tends to be thicker, using a concentrated energy to run heavy machinery. There are many engineers experimenting to make more efficient energy forms. Crystal energy is sometimes used, but it's very rare.

Except if you're in the military. The military takes crystal energy and makes it into bombs. Yup, bombs. Crystal energy pellets are essentially bullets, and larger crystals get turned into grenades and bombs. Anything that uses crystal energy has a change to just explode.

[riinzler]

//penny for your thoughts (Dyson Obvi)

rinzler and dyson have a very Complicated relationship, primary because rinzler’s first ever interaction with dyson as rinzler was when dyson worked alongside clu to refine/reinforce rinzler’s repurposing and to implement a modified version of dyson’s old virus, hence the scars. It was an extremely extremely traumatic experience for rinzler and while the memories of it have been blocked from him by clu it still effects him and his interactions, mainly with dyson.

overall i don’t imagine the two of them end up interacting super often just by the nature of their respective assignments with (in my hc at least) dyson primarily stationed in argon, taking over general tesler’s position and rinzler going wherever clu goes but typically staying in tron city. rinzler hates him. ‘makes elaborate plans on how he’d kill him every time he sees him’ level of hatred. clu is definitely aware of how the two of them feel abt each other and keeps them separate To A Degree, but sometimes it’s just fun to watch the two of them argue. i do think clu has a rule/restriction in place that rinzler isn’t allowed to kill dyson, something he rlly rlly resents. luckily for them both unless dyson is actively nearby rinzler does tend to forget he exists

rinzler doesn’t see dyson as a true genuine threat to his position as clu’s right/left hand, but he isn’t used to having a program around who clu pays any attention too and doesn’t know how to handle any sort emotional response to his presence, especially with dealing with feelings of jealous/self esteem issues (in any way really) that isn’t through violence. he’s basically a catdog thing that isn’t used to his owner having another pet, especially one he hates.

HOWEVER ☝️i do think there are moments similar to this post where the two of them are able to be near each other without being at each others throats for awhile. moments like those give rinzler a serious sense of daja vu, thought he doesn’t know why.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

https://x.com/reihan/status/1796279232366100721

What the 'modern racism' thesis obscures

By: Reihan Salam

Published: May 30, 2024

Just about everyone agrees that racism is bad. But what counts as racism?

For over fifty years, social scientists have relied on “modern racism” scales to study intergroup attitudes. This is a rich, complex subject that I won’t be able to do justice to in a (long!) tweet. The short version is that as overt racism declined in the decades following the civil rights movement, scholars sought to understand how racial attitudes in particular were changing. The idea was that overt racism was being supplanted by symbolic racism, or racial resentment.

Think of a person—let’s call her “Karen”—who says that she is not at all prejudiced against Blacks, but who believes that the persistence of Black disadvantage is more a reflection of the choices made by particular Black individuals or Black families than of structural barriers. According to the modern racism framework, Karen would count as racially resentful. There is a rich literature that uses these modern racism scales to make sense of partisan political divides in the U.S., and at the risk of oversimplification, the upshot is that to be a racial liberal is to be lacking in racial resentment and to be a racial conservative is to be racially resentful. If this sounds to you a bit like saying that to be on the political right is to suffer from an egregious character flaw, well, I see where you’re coming from.

But what if racially resentful Karen said the exact same thing about Lithuanians, Bangladeshis, working-class white natives, Appalachians, or the left-handed as she did about Blacks when presented with the same vignette?

In that case, it’s not obvious that the language of racism—modern or otherwise—is especially helpful.

The Karen scenario I’ve laid out is roughly how so-called modern racism manifests itself in practice. As the political scientists Ryan Enos and Riley Carney have observed, “modern racism questions appear to measure attitudes toward any group, rather than African Americans alone.” Enos and Carney suggest that these scales are capturing two different phenomena: first, racial sympathy toward Blacks—understood as a belief that Black Americans have been uniquely damaged by the history of slavery and segregation, and that it is therefore wrong to evaluate them as we would members of other groups—and second, “just world belief,” or the belief that hard work generally pays off and people are largely responsible for their life outcomes, regardless of race.

One awkward fact for the partisans of the modern racism thesis is that it’s not just whites who appear to be racially resentful���for as long as modern racism scales have been around, many Black, Latin, and Asian respondents have expressed the belief that Blacks are more or less similar to other people, and that U.S. society (while imperfect) does generally allow people of any race or color to succeed by virtue of their own merits. That is, these scales have found that these Black, Latin, and Asian respondents are symbolic racists.

To draw on a recent piece by John Sides and Michael Tesler, the Obama-era electorate was less polarized about race—because nonwhite racial conservatives backed Democrats—and more polarized by race—for the same reason. And in a sense, this represented a kind of stolen valor for progressive anti-racists — they could operate under the illusion that they enjoyed the monolithic support of people of color, when in fact many of them supported Democrats despite their commitment to progressive anti-racism.

A decade ago, progressive intellectuals were thus confident that the demographic transformation of the American electorate would soon yield a progressive majority that would unite college-educated white liberals, Black Americans, and working-class immigrants and their descendants—a rainbow coalition that would vanquish a reactionary coalition composed of aging rural whites. Without giving it much thought, they assumed that this disconnect between partisanship and ideology among nonwhites would persist.

But of course that isn’t quite how things have panned out. In particular, the working-class Latin voters whom progressive intellectuals saw delivering lasting left-of-center majorities are in fact trending right.

This realization is already shaping the calculations of political professionals on the left. In April, the Washington Post reported that progressive activists were starting to have doubts about voter registration drives, long a mainstay of progressive political organizing. The reason? As an influential progressive data scientist put it in a confidential memo, “if we were to blindly register nonvoters and get them on the rolls, we would be distinctly aiding [Donald] Trump’s quest for a personal dictatorship.” He also warned that because so many younger nonvoters and non-Black people of color were trending right, the only safe bet was for progressive nonprofits to focus exclusively on registering Black voters.

And so the future of American politics won’t pit a multiethnic rainbow coalition on one side of the political-ideological divide against a monoracial white coalition on the other—ideological conflict, class conflict, and racial conflict won’t line up along neat lines of fracture.

This might strike you as a good and healthy development — that’s certainly how I see it —but for some on the left, this rainbow vs. reactionary vision of racial conflict had a powerful moral resonance. Progressive anti-racists envisioned a conflict between right and left as a struggle between oppressors and oppressed, between perpetrators of racial injustice and victims of racial injustice, bolstered, crucially, by righteous white allies.

As we approach the midpoint of this decade, what’s emerging instead is something entirely different—a clash between two multiethnic coalitions. The multiethnic coalition on the left, united by a particular vision for racial progress, is arrayed against a multiethnic coalition on the right, united by its opposition to that vision.

The conflict between anti-racists and anti-racialists is an ideological conflict about race, not a conflict in which white supremacists are subjugating marginalized racial others. While this conflict certainly has high stakes, it bears no moral resemblance to Bull Connor ordering the use of fire hoses and police dogs on civil rights protesters.

For all her professed racial progressivism, Katherine Maher, the chief executive of National Public Radio, is not the moral equivalent of Martin Luther King Jr. Chinese American parents fighting for race-blind admissions in the public schools of Fairfax County, Virginia, are not arch-segregationists. You can pretend otherwise—it may well be profitable to pretend otherwise, or comforting—but to do so is to blind yourself to the changing contours of American politics.

[finite-breakpoints]

trust issues (Angstpril 2024, #9)

[ Previously: emotionally distant // no way out // never see you again ]

"What is this place?"

Paige hates the unsteadiness in her voice, echoing even at a whisper -- this isn't the time or place for fear, let alone displaying it. Standing here in a long-abandoned building on the edge of a city no longer familiar, where no one will hear if she calls for help, shivering in the cold.

But if not now… when?

"Temporary accommodations. Used to be an off-cycle stopover for the light-rail, before the track got re-routed." For a program who seemingly spends most of their time committing sedition and thinking of new ways to instigate civil unrest, Signal's voice is surprisingly soft. "Might be some network programs around, if we're lucky. Last I knew, there were a few of 'em crashing here, in and out."

They look more like a data processor than a hardened revolutionary. Maybe that's the point. But Paige can see it too clearly for it to be entirely a facade -- cautious in their movements; a fastidiousness about their appearance; sandy hair pinned back with studied precision. Not very tall, kind of spindly. Not exactly built for fighting.

But then again… neither is she.

"If we're lucky, huh?"

"Sure. They're friendly, mostly harmless. Good kids." Signal hands her the heated canister they've just finished preparing. "Here. This should help. Might be a bit strong, though."

"Thanks." She waits a moment first; and they notice, making a point of pouring the rest into their own glass with a playful grin. She wonders what's hiding underneath it -- watching as they skim through the documents on the data cube. Faster than should be possible, but she has no doubt they're taking in every word.

Sips at the concentrated energy idly, feels the warmth of it even out in her circuits. It is strong stuff, the kind you only need in unpowered places like this… or when your energy processing's been altered by constant direct input. Straight into your circuits, for cycles on end, until your body and mind start to give out.

Yeah. Data processor for sure. Or at least they used to be. She'd bet on the presence of those telltale silver scars at the base of their neck and across their shoulders. Not many of them left, not now. She worked with so many of them at the medical center -- sealing re-opened ports, tapering down their energy levels as safely as she could. It's entirely possible that Signal was one of them.

"…Who knows you're here, Paige?"

Oh, there it is. Her hands are shaking, and not from the cold. Keep it together -- but what does she have to hold together, anymore?

"Lie," hisses the sharp voice in the back of her mind. But what's the point? Tesler will be hunting for her soon, once he realizes what she's done. She has no home to welcome her. No sense of purpose, not now. No friends to lean on for support. Nowhere to go, and no one she can trust.

Only one program's offered her a way out of this.

"No one," she says. "I'm a program of my word."

"So I hear." And that smile turns to something a little less reassuring. "But Tesler seems to know -- and that means General Advan does, too. I don't know if she'll cooperate, if he decides he wants to look for you. But I'd rather not take that chance."

"…What do you mean?"

"I mean that you need to hide, and quickly. They'll be tracking your data signature. We need to fix that… and your metadata, too. Let me see your disc."

"No." She steps back, purely out of instinct, as an acute sense of danger grips her. But she can take them in a fight, if it comes to that. "Not happening."

"Won't hurt a bit, promise. I've done it myself enough times." They pull up a tool -- something that takes her a moment to recognize. It's a wrench, and not an entirely unfamiliar one. But this looks heavier than the ones Mara keeps in her garage, or even the one the Renegade would carry with him. Older, maybe.

But Signal holds it differently. Not with the casual nonchalance of the Renegade, or even the curiosity of Argon's mechanics, but with the same careful attention that Paige remembers having for her own tools. The sort of respect -- reverence, even -- that you have when your tools are capable of both wonderful and terrible things.

"You're not touching my disc," she says quietly.

"Alright, fair enough. But if you aren't careful, they will find you. I know you don't trust me -- and maybe you're right not to. But I can help keep you hidden, if you'll let me."

"I'll take my chances." Fights back the creeping panic, feeling that sharp and slithering pain, as if those code worms have returned, burrowing into her database. "I'm not doing that again."

By the time she realizes that it's slipped out, it's too late.

"…Oh." Signal rezzes down the not-a-wrench. For a tick or two, they seem unusually at a loss for words… and not quite sure what to do about it. "I wondered about that. Barbaric of them. I'm sorry."

"…What are you talking about?"

"There's a scar, under your eye. I'd guess your render usually compensates for it, but you're starting to run low on energy. For all I know, you might not even have known it was there." They regard her with something just short of pity, sharp grey eyes clouding over with emotion… or a memory. "You stayed there even after they did that to you -- and then you came all the way out here, you gave everything up. There was a reason, wasn't there?"

It's not really a question. She doesn't answer.

"I think you left because Tesler lied to you." Their tone implies no moral judgement -- although she suspects, given what she's read over the cycles, that Signal might be holding back a little. "I never will."

And for just a clock-cycle, she very nearly believes them.

[radicalellska]

be mah bad boy......

[encominternational]

Round 1: GENERAL TESLER vs DYSON

[radiantlyrey]

TRON Week Prompt Day 7: Glow

On the End of Line Club Discord a few weeks ago, we brainstormed some ideas to celebrate TRON’s 41st anniversary (which is TODAY, July 9). Someone came up with a list of prompts for the week preceding, so here is my response to the seventh and final prompt.

I could not come up with a good idea for a drabble for this one, so.... I wrote a whole little fic instead. This is an Uprising fic, set sometime after the end of the show (which I am STILL not over). Paige finds out that Tesler's been lying to her, and comes to the only program she can trust--Beck.

~~~

Beck lowers his disc when he opens his apartment door and sees Paige standing there, but only a little. He wipes the initial shock off his face and says coolly, “Commander Paige. To what do I owe the house call?”

She only glances at him, her gaze much more focused on the hallway behind her, back towards the lifts. Her disc is in one hand, her cloak still rippling around her shoulders. “I—I didn’t know where else to go,” she says, looking at him for just a moment. “I understand if—can I come in?”

His grip on his disc relaxes minutely, but he does not lower it. “That depends,” he says, and he sees, suddenly, the fear in her eyes. But what could she be so afraid of? “Were you followed?” he asks.

Paige finally meets his eyes. “I know how to lose a tail,” she says, her eyes flashing. “Are you letting me in or not?”

This could be a mistake, he thinks. A trap set by Tesler or Clu. But she’d said she didn’t know where else to go. And she is afraid like he’s never seen her. Before he overthinks it, he steps aside and waves her in. Half the tension in her shoulders relaxes, and she hurries inside, her cloak brushing his shoulder as she passes. Beck hits the panel beside the door to close it, and hits a code sequence to lock it as well. Then he turns to Paige.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, placing his disc back on its mount.

She’s pacing now, still holding her disc, her cloak fluttering behind her. “I was lied to,” she says, as if this explains everything. “For—for cycles. By someone I thought I could trust.” She stops pacing and meets his eyes. “Can I trust you? You’re the only program I could think of who hasn’t lied to me, or tried to kill me, or—” She breaks off, reaching up to cover her face with her free hand.

And then Beck sees it—the tracery of fine red lines along her wrist, emanating from a blue-gray patch of injury at the crook of her elbow. “You’re hurt,” he says, stepping forward, concern in his voice even though he knows he should be cautious.

Paige glances at her arm as though she’s just noticed it. “It’s fine,” she says quietly. “Nothing I can’t fix.”

Beck’s gaze goes from her wrist to her eyes. “But… who did that to you? The Renegade, or…?”

He only brought up the Renegade to throw her off, and because he knows how much she hates him without knowing it’s him. But Paige laughs. It’s a hollow laugh, mirthless, but it is a laugh.

“No,” she says. “That, I could almost understand from him. It was… General Tesler. He did it, and… Clu watched.” Her expression hardens for a nano, and then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I thought I knew what I was fighting for. I thought—” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Doesn’t it? Beck thinks. Out loud, he says, “What do you need from me?”

“Somewhere to lay low, so I can heal my arm,” she replies. “I’ll be out of your way before next millicycle starts, I promise. And if Tesler’s guards come—”

“I didn’t see anything,” Beck finished. “Got it.”

For the first time since her arrival, Paige smiles. “Thank you,” she says, and she sounds like she means it. Then she opens her disc in her hands and begins the work of repairing her own code.

Beck watches her warily, unsure if he should ask her any more questions. He wants to know why Tesler injured her, why Clu, whom she was so proud to serve, watched on. He wants to know how she escaped them both and made it here. And he needs to know if she has any hopes of returning to Clu’s army, or if that bridge has been burned so thoroughly that she cannot return.

Paige drops her disc suddenly, and only a quick move by Beck keeps it from clattering to the floor. He straightens, holding the disc flat between them. “You all right?” he asks.

“I’m losing strength in this hand,” she says, clumsily flexing her injured wrist. “Can you hold my disc? I need to make a few more adjustments, they just require a fine hand.”

Beck nods. “Anything you need.”

Their gazes lock for a moment, and then Paige returns her attention to her code. Her good hand is deft as she fixes the injuries in her arm. Beck doesn’t have the slightest clue what exactly she’s doing, but eventually she seems satisfied and closes out the disc. He hands it over, and she replaces it on her back, closing her eyes as the adjustments sync.

“Better?” he asks.

“I will be once the repairs complete,” she answers. She steps past him, retracting her cloak as she glances around the apartment. “Do you have anywhere I can sit down? I haven’t stopped since—”

“Right through here,” he says, leading her into the apartment’s other room, where a pair of low couches face each other beside a window overlooking the harbor. “If you need to lay down, I can recline one,” he adds, glancing back her.

“No, thank you,” she replies. “Can you opaque that window?”

“Sure.” He crosses the room and does so, and Paige walks in and sits the moment the glass darkens. “Can’t be too safe, huh?”

“Something like that,” she says. She tilts her head back and sighs as she closes her eyes. Beck watches her from the window, his gaze lingering on her injured arm, which is pulsing blue and slowly repairing itself. Again, he wonders: how did she get away? He can guess what caused the injury—Tesler’s in-built hand weapons. But he’s been in that vise-like grip before, and he knows how it feels, and how lucky he was that Able got him out of that tight spot. So how is Paige sitting here now, instead of crumbled to cubes at Tesler and Clu’s feet?

Before he can overthink it, he says, “Can I ask you something?”

Paige opens her eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking.”

“I just… want to understand something.” He leans against the wall, folding his arms. “Why are you on the run from Tesler and Clu? The last time we really talked, you seemed… happy, working for them. So…” “So what changed?” She meets his eyes; he nods. “What changed is that Tesler lied to me. About something important. And if I hadn’t been so—” Paige breaks off, looking away from Beck. “It doesn’t matter.”

He wants to go to her, to comfort her, but he stays where he is against the wall, letting the silence stretch between them. After a micro or more passes, he says quietly, “From where I’m standing, it seems like it matters to you a lot.”

Paige doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at him. But as the silence grows, she leans forward, he head bowed, her shoulders slumped.

Beck straightens up and takes the seat opposite her, on the other couch. He doesn’t want to pry too much, but he can tell there’s something she won’t say. Something more than Tesler simply lying to her, something that might explain why a medical program became an army commander, and why an army commander might defect and call on a mere mechanic because she can’t trust anyone else. And it may be the same reason a mere mechanic decided to stand up against an occupying army, and become a persistent thorn in its side.

Still quiet, still gentle, he says, “Will you tell me about them?”

Her head shoots up, and she glares at him through narrowed eyes. “About who?”

He meets her glare calmly and spreads his hands. “Whoever it was that you lost,” he says.

Paige holds his gaze in silence for nearly a micro before she bows her head again, covering her face with her good hand. She takes two shaky breaths, then says, her voice soft, “Their names were Rox and Sy. They were my best friends. We started a medical center together. We… we teased each other. Laughed together. And I believed Tesler when he said the Isos killed them. I believed him,” she continued, her voice growing in volume. “And I worked for him. For cycles! For cycles I worked for the program who ordered them derezzed and I—” She brings her fist down on her knee with a thump. “I can’t believe I was so naïve. I can’t…” With another uneven breath, she shakes her head, her shoulders slumping further as she leans back in her seat.

Beck stares at her, not sure at first what to say. He leans toward her, his wrists on his knees as he thinks. He knows the grief he felt (still feels) after Bodhi was derezzed; he imagines Paige is feeling some of the same grief anew for her friends. So he reaches out toward her, offering his hand in the space between them. “I know this won’t really make you feel better,” he says, “but I’m sorry about your friends.”

Paige turns her attention back to him. She stares at his hand, and then at him. “You’re the first person to say that to me,” she says slowly. “Tesler didn’t even… Thank you, Beck.” And she reaches out and takes his hand in hers.

As she grips his hand, her circuits flicker one by one, the red light going out and being gradually replaced by a pale white glow. Paige smiles at him, and after a moment, Beck smiles back. “Thank you,” she says again.

“Of—of course,” he replies. “You’re not going back, then?”

Paige’s smile turns sly. “No,” she says. “But you can be sure I’ll make Tesler sorry he ever lied to me.”

Beck chuckles. “I believe you,” he says.

[antidepressantsandlightcycles]

Taking a break from here for a while, that means this, and the general tesler blog will be inactive