#here it comes: Principia Mathematica!

[rugessnome]

nightblogging concept: Sidious and Tyranus do "Defying Gravity" but accidentally end up with the lyrics to "Defining Gravity" instead

therefore somebody gets passive aggressively wished "I hope you never wind up manic and deny quantum mechanics!"

[sharans-math-science-dump]

Back to my notes reading about Principia Mathematica by Bertrand Russell and A. N. Whitehead, no relation to Newton’s Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica. Here the authors move on from the natural numbers. The concept of “hereditary property“ becomes generalized as R-heredity, based on a variable successor. I’m a little confused. What is the variable successor of say, 1/2, pi or the square root of two? It only makes sense if you think of the variable successor just as a greater-than predicate. Does this mean that we can now define mathematical induction over the rationals or over the reals? The questions keep on coming.

Now on to something much odder - Here W&R define a real number x as as an infinite sequence of rationals that converge to a particular number i.e the set of all rationals such that their square is smaller than 2 has the square root of 2 as its infimum. Most analysis textbooks would identify that “gap” in the rationals as real numbers, while W&R here take the entire sequence of rationals as the “real number”. Here I quote the statement of the completeness axiom as given in Tom M. Apostol, Mathematical Analysis, Second Edition.

“Every nonempty set S of real numbers which is bounded above has a supremum; that is, there is a real number b such that b = sup S.“

Suppose S = {x: x * x < 2}. W&R would say that S has no supremum (as all the objects here are rationals), but since we still can say that S converges to a particular value, we can define a mathematical object b, and say that it is the real number that S converges to - in this case, the square root of 2. The modern mathematical approach is to declare that the set of real numbers satisfies this and that axiom, so that there exists a b such that sup S = b.

W&R are more “concrete” here - they construct a real number out of more simpler parts, real numbers being made up of rational numbers which are made up of integers which are made up of successors of 0. The modern approach is to define the rules that any objects that we would like to work with would work by, and to show that all these rules are inconsistent ie that they do not produce a mathematical contradiction. It’s very interesting to take into account the difference in how mathematicians think of mathematical objects, and is much more interesting than the “do you think mathematics is real?” debate that people on Reddit discuss every fifteen minutes or so. I’d like to see what actual mathematicians and philosophers of mathematics think.

[illimitablespaces]

1,8,9,10,25,63,70,135 c:

1. a book that is close to your heart

There have been many books that have found room for residence within my heart but two came to mind, both from my younger years. The first is Stellaluna, by Jannell Cannon. I still remember the day--in kindergarten, as I recall--when I picked up the book at one of those "book days" which seemed to come around every month or so in grade school. I was ecstatic. It remains a much-loved book from those ever-important foundational reading years. The second, A Dragon in a Wagon, by Lynley Dodd, was read to me by my grandmother many times when I visited her home. Somewhere, there is a photograph of her and myself reading it together. So, these two books are close to my heart for quite sentimental reasons.

8. a book you finished in one sitting

I remember when my copy of Ted Hughes' Crow first arrived by mail and I sat in a high-back chair in the sitting room of my parents, devouring every word. It is a small book of verse but I was transfixed by the mouthfeel of the words and the way Hughes got my heart to jump and race that afterward I felt quite spent. It was a most enjoyable and delectable read. Now I wish to do it all over again!

By the way, there is a recording I made of my recitation of one of the poems from that book...

9. your favourite book of 2020

Now, does this mean a book published in the year 2020, or a book which simply happened to my favorite of that year? In any case, I must cite a series of books here, as there is too much goodness to narrow it down to one book alone. There is a series (which actually comprise one work, Iḥyā′ 'Ulūm al-Dīn, or, The Revival of the Religious Sciences) by Al-Ghazali which has caused me to examine my life more critically than any other writing I have encountered. The translations from this series (which I provided in the link) seem to me most timely and apropos. My suggestion is to follow the link and seek out one of the books, whichever inspires your curiosity, and read it for yourself.

10. a book that got you through something

As much as it can be said to be a book, I am compelled to put here the Qur'an, especially the interpretation by Muhammad Asad. In brief, I did not exactly have a religious upbringing: I was baptized a Catholic before I could speak but never have been confirmed. I considered myself agnostic, then atheist, then I came back to the Gospel on my own in my teens. I rarely went to church in my youth but I had a post as organist in a Catholic church for some eight years after I graduated high school. Those days playing organ and singing in choir were often affirming and beautiful and sometimes sublime (especially the midnight masses on Christmas and Easter with the chant and Latin and wow!). And now, in my thirtieth year, I have been a decided follower of Islam for about two years. I have been reading the Qur'an for some six years and I have been learning of the religion along the way. I say with certainty that some (i.e. all) days the only thing that gets me through to seeing another morning is the remembrance of God and the contemplation of His attributes.

25. a book by your favourite author

It is always difficult for me to choose favorites as I seem to have such an array of diverse authors and works from which to choose. For the sake of providing an answer, I will select Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton. As a child I remember first reading that book when I was about ten years old and I read it again multiple times in my teen years. I read quite a few books by Crichton when I was younger but I think now that I'm older they won't have quite the same effect. Still, I have fond memories of hours spent reading his novels and becoming very much engrossed in those worlds of words.

63. a book that actually made you laugh out loud

Now that I have set myself to answering these, I return again and again to those books from my youth which I recall with much pleasure and amusement.

I remember reading many of Roald Dahl's books and finding them utterly hilarious. A few years ago I read aloud from Esio Trot with my partner and the funniness was almost too much for us--I like to perform an interpretive reading when I read aloud, complete with all sorts of inflections and character voices. Which reminds me, I should have another go at something like that.

70. your favourite poetry collection

Oh dear, this is a tough one... I have a copy of the complete poems of Federico García Lorca with many bookmarks (little scraps of paper; impromptu), dog-ears, and bits of underlining that has been the source of much joy and inspiration. In part, I think the sheer voluminous number of poems from García Lorca's pen is staggeringly rich that it dazzles me to imagine it coming from one man's life--my impression is that many ages and lives are bound in his work and I admire it greatly.

On the other--another?--hand, the complete poems of T. S Eliot are also a source of joy and inspiration to me as well. Since reading his work seriously with my partner, I look upon Eliot as a kindred spirit of sorts... there is a certain course of energy which I sense in his poetry, something humbling yet quietly exalting. Each time I read a poem of Eliot's, I am reminded of something Stravinsky said about Eliot being quite a wise man, and I agree.

135. recommend any book you like!

I will give two titles, since that is a theme I have kept up here.

The first is Isaac Newton's Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica. I have not read it in full but what I have read (in translation) is beautiful. I am delighted in discovering that the things taught to me in school and at my time in university have proven to be quite useless, often. The short of it is that Newton and his work were always presented to me in an elementary and somewhat condescending manner. Getting to know a work for one's self is truly gratifying and it has made me more eager than ever to acquire, read, and learn whatever it is about which I may be curious.

The other which I will recommend to you is the Book of Optics, by Ibn al-Haytham. I don't think I have ever been more fascinated and amazed by a scientific text than when I read from this one (again, in translation). My only comment is to follow the link and read at your own discretion and pleasure.

Thank you, @ant-soul, for sending these my way. It was truly enjoyable for me to ponder and provide answers to you and all other Dear Readers.

[hedgehog-o-brien]

OK, but there must be hundreds of thousands, if not millions of angels (of all shapes, ranks and sizes) in Heaven

So 

Where’s the fic in which a couple (or maybe just the one, a young and impressionable little fledgling angel whose wings have barely started molting for the first time) listens to Gabriel briefing everybody on the Official Reason The Apocalypse Is Cancelled and thinks to themselves this is a load of bullcrap

(Bc you know. You just know Gabriel would say all the wrong things. Like, what do you mean ‘unforeseen circumstances’? We’re Heaven, our job is to foresee. Circumstances. And how could it be that an angel as wicked and evil as Aziraphale is still, you know. An angel? And hasn’t fallen? Something does not add up here).

And so the young fledgling starts to wonder

And they’re not alone

Soon, there are clusters of angels everywhere, heads bent together and talking furiously in low voices.

... gave away his sword ...

... what? why? ...

... thought they might need it ...

... I don’t understand ...

... love for humans ...

... and demons from what I hear ...

... but why ...

... saving the world ...

... more important ...

... ineffability ...

... good guys? ...

... are we? ...

... is he? ...

... Fucking Gabriel that’s for sure ...

And as the whispers spread (especially that last one), the young fledgling decides to delve into the Earth Observation Files to go see for themselves what Aziraphale has been up to in the past six millennia.

And there’s no time in Heaven, but if there was, it would take them a lot of it before they came out again, looking very thoughtful.

They spends some more not-time in a quiet corner (somewhere the harp music isn’t too obnoxious), a deep frown on their angelic face and eyes red-rimmed and shining. There’s a sniffle, occasionally.

And then, finally, they seek out the nearest Whispering Angel Cluster and tells them what they’ve seen. And the conclusion they’ve come to.

(One or two angels in the cluster gasp, unbelieving. They decide to take the matter to Gabriel, despite the fledgling’s protests and ask is it true? About Aziraphale and his demon, is it true that they saved humanity? Is it true that they saved humans? Not just from the Apocalypse, but many many many times before? Is it true?

And again, Gabriel scoffs and laughs and says exactly the wrong thing (’Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that naughty angel, sweet child. He and that wily serpent of his won’t bother us any longer.’) and that’s all the proof the young angels need that Something Is Not Right.

They return to Fledgling #1, wings drooping and head bowed. There are more whispers (... can we? ... Gabriel would murder ... Hellfire, they said... Should we?) and eventually, after eons of deliberation, a decision is made.

And so it happens that on a bright, sunny Saturday morning in SoHo, the door to a bookshop tingles open and half a dozen remarkably bland looking humans walk in. And after Aziraphale has called Crowley back to heel and has wrested the nice, leather bound and heavy first edition of the Principia Mathematica out of his demon’s hands, and after the angels have been persuaded to come down from the top of the bookshelves...

He asks them why they’re here. The answer leaves him confused and makes Crowley laugh so hard he almost cracks a rib:

Teach us

Teach us compassion

Teach us to be kind

Teach us about humans

Teach us about what we’re meant to protect

Teach us how to protect

Teach us how to be the Good Guys, like, for real

And Aziraphale is confused and touched (mostly confused), but he agrees. Under one condition: they will have to listen to the demon too, because Aziraphale knows he would be nowhere near the angel he is today if it hadn’t been for Crowley.

(Crowley goes oddly quiet at that for a moment, before he realises Aziraphale is basically giving him shared command of a mini Host. Then he starts howling with laughter again).

Then the rest of the fic is basically just Aziraphale, Crowley and their mini Host of fledglings getting into various kinds of (food and non food related) shenagigans. 

(‘Angel, when they said teach us, I’m pretty sure they did not mean teach us about the best place to get Vietnamese Pho!’ ‘Shut up, Crowley. Also, don’t think I didn’t hear how you told Amriel about how you were aboard the RMS Carpathia in 1912. And let me just say, I knew it.’ ‘Shut up, angel.’)

At a certain moment, Gabriel and the others get wind of aforementioned shenanigans. But by then, it’s too late as the Mini Host has communicated all their efforts and findings back to the various other MIni Hosts that are still in Heaven and now everybody is thoroughly convinced Gabriel’s a fucking prick who Should Not Be In Charge. It’s not a second Rebellion, per se. It certainly involves a lot less sulphur and brimstone and screaming. But when all’s said and all’s done, Gabriel finds himself permanently retired, along with Michael, Sandolphon and Uriel, as a New Policy is put in place:

To Be The Good Guys, We Have To Be The Good Guys

‘Eloquently put,’ Crowley sniggers. Aziraphale tries not to laugh before he tsks and shakes his head. ‘They’re learning, dear. Give them time.’

[inklesspen]

Harry Potter’s Wizarding World: a reconstruction in six parts

First: Let’s suppose house elves aren't born, and they don't die of old age either. They're made. They're synthetic brownies, or something like that. They're one of the ways that magical families pass power (i.e. magic) down to the next generations, the same way muggle families pass power (i.e. wealth) down. Malfoy's rage ("You've lost me my servant, boy!") is because Dobby represents a good-sized amount of the Malfoys' investment in power, gone out the loophole. (Because there's always a loophole. Always an escape hatch. The art is in making the loopholes too troublesome to be used.)

Second: This raises some questions about the House of Black and their row of house elf heads. Those heads represent a substantial investment of magic, and one wonders what the house has done to be able to afford such a thing. (The phrase "conspicuous consumption" comes to mind.)

Third: I wrote an essay once, arguing that the existence of wixen is incompatible with known history, if the demographics we see in Harry's Hogwarts class are to be taken as representative. But what if they aren't? What if the reason the UK has its own school, while western Europe has to share Beauxbatons, and all of North America has to share Ilvermorny in all its colonial glory, and there aren't any wizarding schools in China or India, is because that's where the wizards are?

Fourth: We're getting real deep into "history is a lie" territory here, but bear with me. I don't think there were any wizards before the Statute of Secrecy. The ICW enacted it in 1689 CE, right around the start of the Age of Enlightenment. (Newton's Principia Mathematica, which demonstrated the laws of motion and gravitation, as well as one of the first forms of calculus, was published in 1687 CE, by the way.) Before the statute, magic arose naturally, and any human could make use of it, up to a point. There would be those who were stronger, and those who were weaker, but the distinction was not so great. The Statute of Secrecy was a working that created true magical inequality for the first time, and wrote that into the laws of the world. They seized power, and held onto it, and passed it down to the heirs of their bodies. But this working, like the creation of house elves, also had a loophole.

Fifth: Those people who have stolen and hoarded power always lie about it. Slaveowners claimed that their slaves were made by God to live in servitude. Our history books erase the genocide of Native Americans. Reagan pushed the lie of the lazy Black stealing from white folks, when in fact the history has been quite the reverse. And the hereditary wizards taught muggleborns that they had separated themselves for protection, and that muggleborns were lucky to be allowed access to this wonderous world. This too was a lie. Muggleborns are the loophole, and wizards forced them into magical society to keep control over them, to keep their greatest crime from coming undone. That's why Hogwarts gets to have a wacky name, but Mahoutokoro means "magic place". That's why Ilvermorny has British-style houses named after indigenous beliefs. The wizarding world exists for the benefit of wealthy white people of British descent, and it always has.

Sixth: Yeah, no fuckin' shit "all was well", Harry. You fought to preserve the established order, using power handed down to you over generations. You won. And then you just went on with your boring life, the way the Establishment always does. But sooner or later the debt will come due. Just you wait.

[teachingmycattoread]

Things We’ve Yelled About This Episode #14

His Majesty’s Dragon (Temeraire), Naomi Novik

This meme

Throne of Jade, Naomi Novik (Book 2 of the Temeraire series)

Spinning Silver, Naomi Novik

A Monstrous Regiment, AMarguerite (ao3)

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

“[The dragon] blinked at him; he noticed its eyes were a deep blue and slit-pupilled, and then it said, ‘Why are you frowning?’[...] Laurence stared at the dragon, at the pale, frightened boy, and then took a deep breath and said to the creature, ‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to. My name is Will Laurence; and yours?’” Part I Chapter One

Hogwarts, Harry Potter, JK Rowling (unlike JK Rowling, this podcast supports trans rights - here are a few ways you can, too: Mermaids, Gendered Intelligence, TransgenderNI)

Black Sails (TV)

Daemons, His Dark Materials, Phillip Pullman (wiki)

soulmate/soulbond trope (tvtropes)

“The flight back was a little slower than the one out, and Rankin spoke coldly to Levitas when they landed. Past the point of caring if it seemed rude, Laurence interrupted with praised and patted Levitas”, Part II Chapter Six

intricate rituals (meme)

Newton's Principia Mathematica (wiki)

Batman: I am not a father figure - reference to this post

"Spare the rod, beat the child" - M is conflating the saying “Spare the rod, spoil the child” which comes from Proverbs 23:13, and “Use the rod, beat the child”, which is a quote from Ms Trunchbull in the movie Matilda

“ ‘I would rather see a dragon dead than in his hands,’ Laurence said, setting down his glass hard. ‘Sir, if you want a man who will be a credit to the service, send Mr Hollin; I would vouch with my life for him.’ ‘What, your ground crew master?’ Lenton frowned at him, but thoughtfully. ‘That is a thought, if you think him suited for the task; he could not feel he was hurting his career by such a step. Not a gentleman, I suppose.’ ‘No, sir, unless by gentleman you mean a man of honour rather than breeding,’ Laurence said.” Part III Chapter 12

“Bedford came to stand and look with him, in what Laurence took as companionable silence; after a moment Bedford said, ‘I suppose he is a valuable animal and we must be glad to have him, but it is appalling you should be chained to such a life, and in such company.’ Laurence could not immediately command the power of speech in response to this remark so full of sincere pity; half a dozen answers all crowded to his lips. He drew a breath that shook in his throat and said in a low, savage voice, ‘Sir, you will not speak to me in such terms, either of Temeraire or of my colleagues; I wonder that you could imagine such an address acceptable.’” Part III Chapter 10

“By the aviators’ request, the musicians had been set at the very edge of the pavilion, where the dragons could gather around outside to listen. The musicians had been at first somewhat distressed by the notion and inclined to edge their chairs away, but as the evening wore on and the dragons proved a more appreciative audience than the noisy crowd of society, their fear was gradually overcome by their vanity. Laurence came out to find the first violinist having abandoned the orchestra entirely and playing snatches of various airs in a rather didactic manner for the dragons, demonstrating the work of different composers.” Part III Chapter Twelve

How To Train Your Dragon, 2010 (trailer)

What Else Are We Reading?

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying, Marie Kondo

End Times, Bryan Walsh

Clouds of Witness, Dorothy L Sayers

As My Wimsey Takes Me (podcast)

The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows, Olivia Waite

A Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics, Olivia Waite

Rhythm of War, Brandon Sanderson

Next Time on Teaching My Cat To Read:

The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien

Correction: next time will be Temeraire 2: The Temerairening, in which we talk about all the things we loved about His Majesty's Dragon that we didn't get to this time.

[vaguely-concerned]

TEMERAIRE LET’S READ: BLOOD OF TYRANTS, THE WILLIAM LAURENCE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT NG+ SPEEDRUN

- oh NO LAURENCE D:D:D:

I do love that one of his first realizations is that he’s definitely not dutch tho lol this dumbass remembered that he was english before he remembered his own name

- caught between OH NO TEMERAIRE (and it’s only page 9 it’s going to be one of those books huh) and laughing my ass off at the thought of him swooping into notoriously isolationist japan and yelling ‘HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN MY DAD???’

- “Yes,” [Laurence] said, unyielding, as he could not be otherwise. ahahahahaha way to summarize the entirety of old school!laurence with one fucking sentence

(I am very much enjoying this uh. ‘setback’ of his character actually? novik really did just roll him back to factory settings and went ‘now... from the top again, let’s see if you’ve been paying attention these last seven books’ haha. no one told me there’d be a test!!!!!!!!!!)

- Kaneko really has the patience and graciousness of a saint, @ laurence please... please try to be marginally less sketchy hm? (I guess his sheer obliviousness to how direly he comes across here must be why kaneko hasn’t dismissed him out of hand)

- y’know... at least laurence is in no position to have to worry about all this shit temeraire and the others are pulling. when people start talking about black-scaled celestials shaking the country to its very foundations he’ll be blissfully, innocently unaware. that’s something, I suppose... well who am I kidding we’ll 100% get a couple of paragraphs of him convincing himself this is all his fault somehow anyway

- . . . and His Majesty’s Government does not behave in such an underhanded a manner as to attack another nation with no warning or quarrel. aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha oh what a strange beautiful fantasy land you’ve been residing in for most of your life william laurence, hang on tight for the opium wars

- hahaha oh my god this is like a platonic version of that text post

temeraire: have you guys seen my dad??!?!

them: what does he look like?

temeraire, crying: beautiful and human and has gold buttons

- I take it all back old school laurence is such a tremendous idiot. just PRETEND you’re willing to cooperate at least you huge fuckign dummy, all you’d have to do was say something vague about how the ship can’t get too close to shore; it won’t actually help them and they’ll know it but you won’t make yourself look so unspeakably willfully suspicious

-  :( making me read things where temeraire is just hurting should be ILLEGAL actually

- NO LAURENCE STOP TRYING TO KICK LITERALLY EVERY POLITICAL HORNET’S NEST WITHIN REACH BAD BOY he is... a disaster but I love him and fear for him as a son so here I am anyway

- hahahahaha yeah wow laurence it sure would suck if you ever had to commit treason huh death probably would be preferable indeed

b o i

- i like that it took him like a week to even give a single thought to edith lol at least he remains aggressively himself

- I think temeraire basically just invented dragon baby photos and I can’t even think for how darling it is

also every dragon physician is delightful; they fear neither god, man nor huge ass patients who could swallow them in a bite

aw man I love gong su

- ahahahahahahah kiyo is the actual best I can’t breathe

KANPAI INDEED, MY LADY, MY LIEGE, I DON’T CARE WHAT ELSE HAPPENS I WOULD FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH

Laurence was forced to at least moisten his lips in a show of accompaniment, and hope that he had indeed buried Caesar and not praised him, or for that matter raised him from the dead one act too soon; he was not perfectly sure. He did not think he had been this appallingly drunk since he had been a boy of twelve, trying to make good on every toast at his captain’s table. I. am. dying

thank you thank you thank you for the mental image of laurence drunkenly trying to stumble through the ‘friends, romans, countrymen’ speech as well as the entire rest of the play in a one-man performance

- oh no... I would die for junichiro, baby boy who loves his teacher SO MUCH ;____________; aaaaand there are laurence’s adoption instincts, I see, right on time <3 I like how they have had one actual conversation now and laurence is like ‘ah well nothing for it then guess you’ll have to stay on my ship and I’ll have to be your dad now, brash 16 year old child’

junichiro is being Full Teenager about laurence not knowing ~*obvious*~ things and it’s a delight

- y’know this period of japanese history is always portrayed in the west as paranoia and it could probably only be done because the country was a strict military dictatorship at the time... but having read oh, any history book ever, deciding that nope nah don’t think so no europeans ever is the greatest ‘fair enough’ in human history.  (...I guess this series is sort of AU fix it fic of the period in the first place haha)

- seeing temeraire this level of straight out angry is very interesting and also very unsettling

- ooooof whenever laurence almost-remembers temeraire... stab me in the heart why don’t you

- man churki really is the mom friend of these dragons she’s the only one who has a lick of sense

- *laurence, upon clobbering several men with an oar* “Ma’am, I beg your pardon,” Laurence said to the old woman, who was still sitting ramrod-straight in the ferry over the side from him and regarding him with a flat expression of utter disapproval and not the least evidence of fear; he put out a boot over the side and shoved the ferry off with a heave

god this book is just a continual parade of glorious mental images, just this old woman glaring at him like ‘RUDE’ and “Ma’am, I beg your pardon” fdslfhsdlkjh

- I have a lot of sympathy for hammond. imagine having to navigate the extremely delicate diplomatic situation between europe and japan, with the real prospect of a war breaking out over it, while temeraire is looking over your shoulder... real dragon in the glassware shop vibe going on here, i’m sorry about your life hammond

- AUGH laurence just sort-of-remembered emily he just half-remembered he basically has a daughter someone hold me (...junichiro is so so sweet ;___;)

- bwahahaha yeah I’m sure the only reason this impressionable young kid who’s slowly becoming very impressed by you has for sneaking glances at your bare chest is manly appreciation of your battle scars laurence, well done (I mean a supremely understandable innocent teen crush to develop but stay safely out of that, kid; I trust tharkay to survive the sheer field of mayhem around this man only because he’s got like 20 years, extreme competency and a world of cynicism on you)

- aw junichiro :(:(:(

- ...laurence you need to stop making your dragon boi think you’re dead because this is hurting me. my heart lies in sad little pieces on the ground right now. you are stepping on them with tapdancing shoes.

- “I am under an obligation to Junichiro,” [Laurence] said, quietly, “who you must know has aided me for love of you. If I surrender myself and am made prisoner in this way, will your honor be satisfied?”

fdsfhsdkfsdja  *ELMO SURROUNDED BY FLAMES GIF* this is all awful they’re all such good people why must this happen why this  

(what a way to remind me why I love this stupid wonderful man so much tho uuuuuugh)

- “He is a prince of China, and my captain.” “The devil I am,” said Laurence. This might be the funniest heartbreak I have ever experienced

- good job making me cry whenever I read the words ‘principia mathematica’ naomi novik that was real nice of you

- maximus is such a solid bro. not the brightest, but by god a good 80% of that boy’s gigantic body mass is pure heart

- I love the sheer trollishness of just dropping all these hints about whatever’s going on in the US and then moving on like nothing has happened lol at least it’s deeply implied that hamilton squandered his chances at the presidency by pulling his dumb hoe act in this universe too... constants and variables friends constants and variables

- bOY for a moment there I really did wonder if junichiro was going to die, thank god for a quick google to stop my heart from leaping up my throat and out into thin air to shatter yet again on the flagstones beneath

- in unrelated news I recently found out a bit more about the whole historical Situation in Australia at the beginning of Tongues of Serpents (incidentally, by reading Mark Forsyth’s ‘A Short History of Drunkenness’, which is very funny and quite interesting although I can personally testify that the chapter about vikings at least is completely riddled with misunderstandings or straight out factual errors about the mythology, the role of women in society and uh the entirety of how poetry worked so maybe take him with a pinch of salt lol), and now, in retrospect, I have to say Novik does a poor job conveying the sheer hilarity and madness going on at that time. Like. I was quite bored in those first few chapters, whenever Tharkay didn’t have page time. how could you make this incredible spectacular shitshow boring. it should have been easy comedy gold and not just like. misery. oh well great times, let’s return to the book at hand

- I remain utterly devoted to Lady Kiyo. livin’ life, drinking sake, giving no fucks, absentmindedly scoping out the western style ships and starting an entire modern navy for her country, getting some Theater up in here.... truly I would follow her into the jaws of hell itself, safely in the knowledge that she’d find some way to have a good time down there

- kaneko tearing up at laurence promising he’ll take care of junichiro 😭 this is so cruel to me, personally, specifically against my person, I am undone

- I like how the incan dragons are told like ‘don’t pick just one special person; you can love all your humans equally’ while the poor japanese ones are told ‘actually don’t love any of your humans very much at least not more than Honour’ lol they must have so many neurotic dragons running about b/c that when that attachment happens it seems extremely central to their psychology (and considering lady arikawa it’s not like they’re exempt from it, they’re just supposed to repress it to conform)

- laurence desperately trying to work out whether emily’s his daughter without actually asking anyone... delicious

the descriptions of roland’s letters: even more delicious

- temeraire sees the sad remnants of laurence’s robes and ‘hello darkness my old frieeeeend’ starts playing in his head... too bad laurence isn’t really in a position to experience the relief

- He is very much a one-note character, but O’Dea’s resolute dedicated fatalism is extremely funny

- hahaha poor temeraire... when you try to introduce bae to the family and they insist on being TOTALLY EMBARRASSING god

- The guilt of having caused pain to one deserving only consideration at his hand mingled with unanswered disquiet. I’m bawling laurence’s dad instincts are so pure and good even tho everything’s a bit messed up right now. like this whole paragraph is so powerful b/c you can see laurence’s natural loving impulse at war with his dad’s cold authoritarian parenting style and because his lived experience is removed he doesn’t know what is right.............. oh b o y

- oh okay I see my earlier comment about the opium wars proves unexpectedly prophetic

- it cannot be overstated how much I love junichiro or how happy I am that laurence is being so soft and patient with him. this kid has Been Through some shit

- emily roland shoulder to shoulder with laurence killing fools and he never doubts her for a moment... *chef kiss emoji*  

- the problem with these books is that there are just so many good characters and so many of them don’t get any real page time in any given one -- I’m sitting here plaintively like ‘I realize this is not the most pressing issue right now but how is demane and sipho doing. are they okay. does sipho have enough books’

- ouch memory loss isn’t stopping laurence from flashing back to victory of eagles :(

there’s something so disconcerting about knowing why laurence reacts to things the way he does when he doesn’t; novik is using that very efficiently, this is a very satisfying use of amnesia just from a writer’s POV haha

- I like how none of these suckers really have the tools (or in some cases even inclination) to understand how messed up junichiro’s political situation is in all this

they just expect him to come home to britain with them and meanwhile he’s just found out that The greatest threat to his nation (from his POV I mean china/japan relations irl seem uh complicated) has more dragons in one field than he’s ever seen in his life. it’s a rough and lonely deal being this kid in this book

- oh ouch yes hey there laurence there might have been... a little bit of treason. true. extremely justified treason tho. I mean. oh dear

we don’t have tharkay and his unique mix of deep cynicism, incisive sarcasm and surprising depth of concise moral clarity here to assist with the aftermath so this could get  u g l y

- listen what did I SAY about making me read about temeraire being miserable     :(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

- SIPHO!! hey baby boy pls have some thought for your brother’s cardiac health tho

- aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw the fact that laurence is getting out of this crisis so much quicker this time because of his bone-deep instinctual knowledge of how much he loves temeraire, which doesn’t need specific memories to be true and felt. god. jesus. stars above

- laurence: approaches little

little: gay panic

- [Laurence] groped after the truth of himself like a prisoner in Plato’s cave, watching shadows. *clenches fist with great emotion* fuck naomi novik why must you be such an excellent goddamn writer im in pain

- oh hay arkady

poor poor temeraire feeling like a failure in every way is so awful but also kind of funny. ‘oh shit arkady’s egg oh fuck oh crap’

- I LOVE that hammond is so clearly and repeatedly shown to be a very astute political thinker and working shit out before everyone else! he may be a dumbass and a bit of a weasel but by god he’s great at what he does!

- laurence wouldn’t have changed anything if he could u guise. I . that. hm. oh

- thARKAY

.........arkady I am only a human and a small one at that but I will find some way to climb up there and wring your neck

(how cute is it that apparently jane roland realized she needed someone to find laurence and was like ‘well I need someone who can take care of themselves and knows the area and speaks dragon and Understands the chaotic ways of william laurence and also has looked uncharacteristically like a kicked puppy at the very mention of his name ever since being forced to leave him behind in australia.... hey tharkay you want a job’ fhkjshdfkalhsd)

- I’m very glad I googled ahead and spoiled myself a bit on this, because if I just read this part fresh I would have expired on the spot

- MISSION GET MY BOY BACK SAFE FOR GOD’S SAKE is a go

- general chu is pretty cool for an old dude you feel me

- . . . and Laurence knew him; knew him and knew himself.

ahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahaha

hahahahahahahhahahahaha

hahahahhha

haha

what... what pure undiluted soulmate nonsense is this. what. how. WHY would you do this

- I think I said something offhandedly in my victory of eagles reactions about how tharkay makes laurence remember who he is. I. thought I was exaggerating slightly for dramatic effect at the time. um wow

- I am having the sort of feelings about I need to write fiction about because my ability to express it any other way is failing me. That’s just about the highest praise I could give, really, Novik sure knows how to plant interesting seeds in her stories lol

- for the record this is not how I wanted him to end up in laurence’s bed

(im not thinking too much about how he got hurt b/c if I do I’ll start crying and that’ll just be embarrassing for everyone)

- “I hope you will forgive my mentioning it, Will,” Tharkay said, eventually, rousing Laurence from his reverie. “ -- I recognize there is a certain pot-calling quality to my doing so under the circumstances, but have you noticed that the top of your head appears likely to come off?”

a) my love for him is just. so pure. so complete. so deep b) consistent first name basis; the one sure way to make me swoon c) the implication that he’s just been quietly watching laurence while he was lost in thought... im so soft

- oh god laurence very gently helping out demane and roland because he remembers now....... i cry and my tears are blood welcome back buddy

- “I am of the opinion,” Tharkay said, “that you ought not assign to free will something more likely the consequence of a sharp blow to the skull.”

he truly is the gift that keeps giving. an endless cornucopia of sarcasm and delight. we do not deserve him.  

- [The man he was eight years ago] would not have valued his own feelings, on such a matter, higher than the law and the discipline of the service. *AIRHORN AIRHORN AIRHORN* there we have it folks that’s literally his character arc spelled out, he would have done SO MUCH BAD SHIT because he thought his own feelings didn’t matter and yet he chose another direction, stupendous, brilliant, revolutionary

also him trying to get his support across to both of them in as roundabout and discreet way as possible... laurence you beautiful disaster

- im just so happ. so happy. so happy temeraire has his dumb dad back

- oh so the russians think the BRITISH, of all people, are too soft on their dragons... ruh-roh

- sdfskadlfj yes good tharkay the ROBES (also the implied depth of fond schadenfreude-tinged amusement contained in that ‘those particularly magnificent robes’.... *prayer hands emoji*)

laurence is like ET TU BABE?????

I think this is very delicate gong su speak for ‘please do not be a dumb bitch your majesty’

hahaha chu knows what’s up -- I am growing desperately fond of him, please don’t have him suffer any cop-one-day-from-retirement style accident

- “If I may cut your Gordian knot,” Tharkay said, with a glint in his eye. fdsklfhsdkflhdsakjfhdskjh remember back in black powder war when he was all closed off and phlegmatic and purposefully distant... and here he is... with a glint in his eye and a crazy ass plan that requires other people and that he actually shares before pulling it off and calling laurence by first name in public......... we’ve come so far

- Also this means he’s close enough to Laurence’s height and build that he can wear his clothes without it looking weird, which is nice to know because Laurence is sometimes more preoccupied with describing what men are wearing than, y’know, what they look like lol. (probably not quite as broad in the shoulders, tho, since it’s pointed out every time laurence is described that he has shoulders like a linebacker)

- temeraire: eXCUSE me god didn’t do this the emperor of china did???!?! rude???

- pffffffffff tharkay and chu being jaded world-weary bros for a second there... this is what I read these books for folks

- NOOOOOOOOOOO chu this is the one thing I asked you NOT to do D: temeraire being sad and scared about it is slowly murdering me, thank god laurence is back online for him

- dunno this napoleon dude sounds pretty great and all but this also sounds suspiciously... like trying to invade russia in the winter time. immovable force and unstoppable object or something. I mean I don’t read history so I don’t know. might be a great idea. who’s to say.

- I see that tharkay and laurence have reached the ‘communicating complex information solely through eyebrow movements’ stage of their relationship. *drinks this excellent excellent OTP juice with both hands*

- god I love how cool temeraire!napoleon is, in a strangely believable way. he’s just so weirdly charismatic and novik is SO GOOD at setting up a situation so you understand just how brilliant a move he’s made whenever he seems to be backed into a corner and turns it all around. I kind of want him to win at this point (though tbf all of europe fucking sucked at this time so like he doesn’t have to doll it up TOO much to look better by comparison haha)

- boooyyyy Laurence is P I S S E D (also him being like ??? :D that the general basically agreed with him lol)

ALSO also the fact that laurence does not realize that he’s like the fucking horror story all the major authorities around the globe tell each other at night... fjksdfhsdkjlhf

ah russia. truly consistently one of the most shit places to be a peasant or apparently a dragon through so much of history.

- junichiro Y__________Y no wonder laurence is so protective of him, he’s finally met someone as stubbornly stupidly ~*honorable*~ as himself. godspeed bb boy I wish you only the best even though I know your story line is never properly brought up again

- I ship... roland and demane... so much. like with my heart. she’s so young and earnest and curious and misses him so much and casually scandalizes alice about it fsjdakfjhds

- well I mean. dragons eating people is clearly not  g r e a t  but also... karma. y’know?

- this is a lot of words to use to convey the sentiment ‘oh they are all so fuuuuuuuuuuuuucked’ naomi novik

(feels a little like she wrote herself into a corner here tho -- she’s set up such an impossible situation, in RUSSIA in the WINTERTIME, that I’d need a hell of a lot of convincing to believe they get out of it)

- aaaah okay I really enjoyed this one too, especially the first half! I feel like this series is often at its most inspired when it sticks to a tighter character focus (for example I still vividly recall the part in the first book where Laurence stays in his father’s house and it’s Bad. relatedly........ F U C K lord allendale), and this brought that in spades. I love this series so much, it’s shamefully underappreciated in the speculative fiction world.

also it brought *me* to my knees with a simple “Tenzing,” [Laurence] said, which... holy shit. fuck. damn. that’s my personal recommendation of this book, tbh, even beyond my wish for this series to be more appreciated within the genre: Tharkay was there and it was very gay and non-obnoxious soulmate vibes???? I never even thought it could be done but here we are

This is probably going to be my last reaction thingy for the foreseeable future, since my local library doesn’t have book 9 and honestly... having read a few summaries of what happens in it I’m not that keen on reading it? That’s not the ending to this story I want, so I’ll just live over here in denialville, I-realize-the-author-made-the-choice-to-not-make-further-use-of-Lien-AKA-THE-coolest-antagonist-in-this-series-and-indeed-did-not-wrap-up-numerous-character-arcs-or-plot-lines-but-I-don’t-like-this-choice-so-I’ll-ignore-it

(actually I do sort of appreciate the idea of not having one grand final duel or something, because that’s not how it usually works in real life, but that she’d just shrug and not mercilessly hunt for the revenge she’s so clearly motivated by when everything she loves is falling apart around her again... that’s too much of a letdown to bear, really)

let me just... live in willful ignorance and pretend anything could happen from this point onward haha.

- let me give a final shout out to my boy gong su, who’s been hanging around since book 2 (!) and yet we do not know One Single personal detail about him for certain except that he sure knows how to handle knives. that’s some good spy shit right there, he knows what he’s about

[rainconfettis]

Obligatory Coffee Shop AU (Sanders Sides)

As promised, maybe a little later than planned, my obligatory coffee shop au that will probably be shortened to OCSAU

Part 2

Anyways tag list: @virgilswritings and @creative-robot you sweet sweet beans

Roman was tired of monotonous days. He was tired of living the same day-to-day life that he always did. He wanted action! He wanted excitement! He wanted passion. No one could deny him these basic rights. He was going to find his next thrill, and he knew his heart would lead him right to it.

He huffed out a breath, and when the bell rang, pushed his elbows off the counter. He straightened (heh) his uniform and called out, “Welcome to Royal’s Coffee and Treats.”, then turned to shoot a dazzling smile at the customer. This customer wasn't even looking at him. Which was for the best, because Roman almost choked.

In a pristine black button-up, a man strode toward the counter, glaring at his phone through his thick-rimmed glasses. Even though he looked irritated, Roman thought he was cute. And his distraction gave the barista the opportunity to admire.

By the time the mystery male was at the counter, Roman had successfully deduced that he was definitely around the same age, and intelligent, if Newton’s Principia Mathematica poking out of his bag was any indication. He finally looked up, locking eyes with Roman for the time it took him to utter the sentence, “Give me 30 seconds.” and succinctly moving them to the menu above Roman’s head. Roman tried to hold in a smile when he noticed the other’s warm brown eyes were a few shades darker than his own and stunning.

“Of course, fire when ready.” Roman winked, even though the other couldn’t see it.

“Please, I don’t have the authority to fire you. Only your boss does.” He responded simply, not even bothering to take his eyes off the menu. Roman wasn’t sure if that was a witty remark or completely serious. Nevertheless, he was willing to try.

“You sure could boss me around, though.” he shot back without missing a beat.

Finally, the stranger’s eyes landed back on the barista’s face, “Again, I’m not sure I’m qualified to.” He spoke with such a flat tone, but Roman’s heart flipped when he detected the slightest of smiles pull at his lips. So he was playing.

Roman gave him a dazzling smile, “Are you ready to order, or are you gonna scan me like that menu?”

This time when he winked, the stranger blushed, and couldn’t help but smile as he said, “Medium caramel latte, iced please.”

“One caramel latte for you. $6.50,” he said, pulling a cup off the stack beside him and waiting for the stranger to get out his exact change, of course, “and I will need your name.”

He looked up from getting the money out of his wallet, clearly confused, “Isn’t that a Starbucks thing?”

Roman whipped his head around quickly, then bent over the counter slightly and in the most fake whisper ever, said “Shhhhhhhh, you must never name that devil company in our authentic coffee house.” he then straightened (heh) up, and laughed, “Nah, we don’t do that, but I’d just like to stop referring to you as the ‘handsome stranger’.”

Again, a small smile, still not wide enough to show teeth, and he held out his hand to give Roman the money, “Logan.”

“Logan, exotic.” They both snorted at that, and Roman took the money from Logan, resisting the urge to do a cliche hands lingering moment, “I’m Roman.”

“Like the empire?”

“Like the empire.”

Roman turned to start the drink, shooting a glance toward the other customers as he did so. A regular was typing on their laptop, not even bothering to throw away the empty cups that are slowly piling up beside them. The other man didn’t seem to be busy with anything, but scrolled through his phone with haste nonetheless.

“So Newton is your fancy? I'm more of a Whitman and Cervantes guy myself.” Roman didn't bother looking back at Logan as he talked. He didn't want to mess this drink up. For this man, he was gonna make the perfect latte.

“Newton is an excellent scientist, yes, but I'm actually more interested in psychology. Pavlov, Skinner, and more modern ones.”

“Not Freud?”

Logan snorted, “Yeah, no. Freud was a garbage person. But the scientists who use his work to improve it? They're the interesting ones with something useful to say.”

Roman nodded, sticking that in his brain to sound smart later, and finished making the coffee. He put the lid on, swirled it for effect, and stuck a straw through, “I would have written my number on it to be cheesy, but it’s iced so it’s hard to do after the coffee is in it, and I didn’t think ahead of time to do so.” He looked up to meet Logan’s eyes, glad to see the other smiling back, “So I guess I’ll just wait for you to ask.”

Logan looked down at his coffee, and took a sip. He swished it around, to make a show of it, and smiled, “I’ll consider it, if it means I get another coffee like this.”

The words made Roman’s heart flutter. Of course, he’d been in a playful flirting match before. Just not like this. Logan was obviously intelligent, and obviously willing to play along, but with the looks and the brains, he was out of Roman’s league. The barista watched the man take his seat at one of the countertops facing him. He pulled out his laptop and shot Roman one more glance before starting to type. Roman had no idea what he was doing, but he could guess schoolwork or personal passion.

After Logan pulled out his laptop, a few more customers entered. He took care of their orders, taking “subtle” glances at Logan along the way, and catching him staring a few times. Once the last in line was cared for, Roman checked the clock and then leaned on the counter, placing his elbows on the surface and his chin on his palms. He cleared his throat to get Logan’s attention, and as soon as the other looked up, he batted his eyelashes, and said, “What are you up to?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop a smile, “I’m writing a critical review of Principia. Ten pages in currently.”

“Ten pages?” Roman pushed off the counter, and rushed into the back and through the door connecting the back room to the customer area, slowing his pace to stride over to Logan, “Ten pages?”

Logan laughed, “You do know that the Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica is over 900 pages long, right?” Roman’s mouth opened, and then closed, so Logan went on, “Ten pages doesn’t even cover the major theories he had. Of course, I don’t need to go into depth about the hypotheses that are incorrect, but it doesn’t hurt to cover them. I’m guessing I can shorten down what I’ve already written after I’m finished writing, then revise and maybe shorten it some more. After that it could be anywhere from twenty to thirty pages long.”

As he was babbling, Roman was distracted. Logan’s eyes lit up when he talked, and his hands started to gesture, compact and calculated even though it was unconscious. Roman thought it was adorable. He really did try to listen, but he was so impressed and overwhelmed by the idea that someone could write a thirty page book report that he realized how thoroughly smitten and screwed he was. This man was too good for him. This man was good.

So they talked until another customer came in, and talked when the customer left. Roman learned he was a double major in mathematics and astronomy-an odd combination-at the college about 15 minutes away. Roman told him that he was a theatre arts major at an online college, and also worked/volunteered (he only sometimes got paid, they’re a small theatre group) at the theatre downtown. Roman also learned that this nerd was a fan of many of Roman’s favorite shows, even though they disagreed on some of the theories and plot points, and that the more he learned about Logan, the more time he wanted to spend with him.

At the end of Roman’s shift, he was convinced to ask Logan out. He had to. So he greeted the person coming in for next shift and packed up his stuff, going as fast as possible to get to Logan. He pushed his way through the door and walked up to him, admiring the way his eyebrows came closer together when he was focused, and his lips pursed ever so slightly. He shook his head, and said, “Hey Logan, my shift is ending, so-”

“Would you like to go out sometime?” Logan looked up from his laptop after saying it, catching Roman’s eye just in time to see the barista’s face turn bright red.

“I-uh-you, yeah!” Roman burst out, and covered his mouth, taking a deep breath and not looking Logan in the eye until he could feel the heat in his cheeks diminish, “Yes, I was actually coming to ask you that.”

Logan grinned, and pulled out a pen, writing on a sticky note. He turned to Roman and handed him the sticky note. In near perfect (of course), blocky numbers, was Logan’s number, and his name. Once again, Roman’s heart fluttered, and he squeaked out a good-bye before promising to text.

He left the shop, grinning, and didn’t stop until he was safely inside his apartment. His roommate, Patton, wanted to know what happened, but Roman couldn’t comprehend the words to explain how incredibly lucky he got, so he just looked down at the number now saved in his phone, and choked out, “Cute boy. Date. Number.” and stumbled to his room as gracefully as he uttered the sentence. That night, he probably wouldn’t sleep, and if he did, he would be dreaming of certain boys and their big dumb books. His heart had lead him to someone thrilling, all right.

So apparently there might be a part two, because i felt there wasnt enough here to really be considered a finished storyline. I suppose I’ll do it if I get some positive feedback

[cupidsbower]

It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation

Supernatural 13x11 “Breakdown,” and 13x12 “Various and Sundry Villains.”

I can tell I’m up to eps that are after the mid-season finale now, because the Destiel game is picking up.

Breakdown

This is another ep setting up the Wayward Sisters ‘verse, focusing on Donna, Doug, and the widening circle of crimes that mix the human and supernatural.

The Butterfly Killer seems at first to be a human serial killer in a human crime case, until we get the big reveal of the human Butterfly Killer actually servicing supernatural clients, using the all too human medium of the internet. This is the beginning of an overt theme that questions where supernatural hunts end and human cases begin, which goes on to be explored in later eps. The show has been fairly careful to tread the line on this until now, but like so many aspects this season it, this case explores dualities and messes up all the lines between them. We see this same theme with Jack being both human and angel, Mordor and ParadiseEarth, the two Kaias and so on.

The Butterfly Killer’s music also plays with this as there are three love songs linked to torture and suspense. We get Look In My Eyes by The Chantels with the first torture scene, Too Good to Be True by Lon Rogers & The Soul Benders when Wendy cries for help, and Big Flame (Is Gonna Break Me Heart In Two) by Doris Wilson as the false lead of the radio in an empty room.

Are these upbeat happy moments, as the killer and clients think, or are they horrifying, as the victim and real audience think? Perspective, baby, it’s all about perspective, and also that pesky morality.

We get another installment of false/corrupt fathers this ep too -- Agent Clegg is not Dean’s father, despite calling him “son.” He’s not even that much older than Dean, so this is clearly a power play, with Clegg using it to claim a more senior role in the patriarchy.

AGENT CLEGG: Excuse me! Hey! What are you doing? DEAN: Oh, I um… AGENT CLEGG: I asked you a question, son. DEAN: First off, I’m not your son. Second- DOUG: Whoa, whoa, easy. Agent Clegg, this is Agent Savage, FBI. (x)

As always, John is still present in the text, when Dean follows his advice rather than Clegg’s. The use of John’s old-school VB radio works, where Clegg’s misdirection does not. This is interesting, as Dean has mostly been criticised via these kinds of parallels in recent seasons, but this time, John comes off well. He taught Dean and Sam some valuable skills, right alongside the toxic masculinity and other issues he brought to their family.

But just in case we’re being lulled into thinking toxic masculinty maybe isn’t that bad after all, we get the sexist truckers chiming that they’ll make Alice “family”. Ugh.

More interestingly, Sam and Donna are both depressed about the missing family members at the start of the ep, a niece in one case, and because of the obvious paralell, this ep pretty much confirms for me that Sam’s role towards Jack is more uncle (or perhaps older brother) than father.

SAM: You see? Told you. This is stupid. DEAN: It’ll work. Dad used it all the time. SAM: This isn’t even our kind of case. And you know, with the real Feds here, we should back down. DEAN: You’re joking, right? SAM: We’re still fugitives. DEAN: They think we’re dead. SAM: Do you really wanna get on the FBI’s radar again? DEAN: Okay, so what do you wanna do? Hmm? You wanna call up Donna and say “Hey, sorry about your niece. These kinds of things happen. Later.” And head back to the bunker so you can mope some more? SAM: I’m not moping. DEAN: You got up at 10:00 am this morning. 10:00 am. You, Mr. Rise and Freakin’ Shine. And then you turned down pancakes. SAM: I wasn’t hungry. DEAN: They’re pancakes. Look, I know you’re in a dark place right now, okay? I mean, we lost Jack. Mom is… I think about ‘em too. All the time. But you can’t let it eat you up. Now look, when I was-when I was broken up, you were there for me. Well, I’m here for you now. And I’m telling you, the only way out of this is through. Now when everything goes to hell, what do we do? We put our heads down and we do the work. We’ll find Jack. We’ll save Mom, we will. But right now, Donna needs our help. Okay?

DEAN: I mean, we save people, Sam. SAM: Yeah, we also get people killed, Dean. Kaia, for instance. She helped us and she died for it. DEAN: Hey, look, I know you’re in some sort of a- SAM: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, don’t - don’t… You keep saying I’m in a dark place, but I’m not, Dean. Everything I’m saying is the truth. It’s our lives. And I tried to pretend it didn’t have to be. I tried to pretend we could have Mom back and Cas and - and help Jack. But we can’t. This ends one way for us, Dean. It ends bloody. It ends bad.

Isn’t it interesting the way that Dean and Sam are emotionally flip-flopping? Dean was depressed when Castiel was gone. Sam is depressed without Mary or Jack. That toxic co-dependency is shattered all the way through now, with only inertia keeping it in place. They go through the motions of this speech, which is becoming more threadbare with each iteration. When are they allowed to just stop, feel their feelings, and grieve? When are they allowed to be Hunters and people? When do they get to let the negative aspects of John’s legacy go, and just keep the good bits?

The text actually talks about this via metaphor. Sam’s heart goes for $500,000, turning it into a commodity. No room for feelings there, right? It’s just a lump of meat, not the seat of emotions. But the text makes it pretty clear that this is a horific way to value people -- for the value of their physical labour alone, with no place for the qualities that make them human.

CLEGG/THE BUTTERFLY: Add a zero. Actually, add two. See, those freaks that you and your brother chase, those are just the ones that can’t pass. Either because they’re too mean or they’re too stupid, or both. But most monsters… hell, they could be your next-door neighbor. They work a regular job, mow the lawns on a Saturday. And they need to eat, which is where I come in. SAM: So you sell them people. CLEGG/THE BUTTERFLY: I sell them people other people won’t miss. And because I do that, I save lives. If my customers didn’t have me… then all those hungry, hungry hippos would be out there huntin’ and killin’. And you couldn’t stop ‘em. No one could. You should be thanking me. SAM: Huh. Yeah. Alright. Go to Hell. CLEGG/THE BUTTERFLY: I’ll see you there. Now I know you’ve been stalling because you think Dean’s gonna show up, but… Sorry, kid. It’s showtime. Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you something truly special. A new auction. Introducing… Mr. Sam Winchester!

We also get the latest iteration of “people have heard of the Winchesters” here, but yet again they aren’t taken seriously enough. I wonder where that’s going? I’m starting to think the season will end with the invasion from Mordor, because the show is doing a lot of set up to expand the awareness of monsters and Hunting. Obviously this is at least in part due to Wayward Sisters, but it seems to be foreshadowing the Apocalypse redux as well. Is the supernatural going to go public? Will the FBI get involved? The show has been reminding us of the fact Dean and Sam faked their deaths to get away from the FBI. I hope we do get more on this. I think it would be interesting to see the FBI actually figuring out what the Winchesters are, after all this lead up of everyone else getting it so wrong.

Finally, Donna shines in this ep. Her great interrogation is fantastically done, and she kicks ass in the field. I really can’t wait to see what she brings to Wayward Sisters.

Doug is such a sweetheart, and now he knows about the supernatural, in the most horrific way possible. I really, really hope we get a bunch more of him working through his issues in WS.

DONNA: Doug. I’m sorry I lied to you… but I can’t give this up. DOUG: I know. Donna, you kill monsters. You’re a damn hero. But that’s… it’s not me. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. DONNA: Doug, wait! SAM: Let him go. Donna, when you choose this life, anyone who gets too close, eventually they get hurt. Or worse. So let him go. He’ll be safer that way.

That endless refrain from Sam, but you know, that is no way to live.

Various and Sundry Villains

Wowser, what a Destiel-heavy episode! Yockey really knows how to work it.

I want to start by talking about the books that Sam and Dean are consulting. Because I’m a giant nerd. I always find the book titles in Supernatural interesting, and these are particuarly so, because as far as I can tell they are mostly made up.

“Principia Phantasmagoria” doesn’t seem to be a real book, but rather a mash-up of several other very well known books.

The most likely progenitor is the Principia Discordia - or - How I Found Goddess And What I Did To Her When I Found Her. The introduction to this tome claims, “If organized religion is the opium of the masses, then disorganized religion is the marijuana of the lunatic fringe. Most disorganized of all religions, Discordianism alone understands that organization is the work of the Devil. Holy Chaos is the Natural Condition of Reality, contrary to popular belief” (x).

I really hope this is the text Yockey is slyly referring to, but he could just be putting together words that create a strong impression of what the book would be about.

Principia is Latin for a fundamental principle, and two foundational texts use it in their titles. Descarte wrote a Principia, which was one of the inspirations for Newton’s 1687, Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, which explains, “the principles of time, force, and motion that have guided the development of modern physical science” (x).

Phantasmagoria is a display of dream-like images or seances, “a form of horror theatre” (x).

Put them together, and the Principia Phatasmagoria would be the seminal text on dream-walking. I wonder who wrote it in the Supernatural ‘verse?

"Archive of Unnatural Occurrences" also doesn’t exist, but in Googling that title, I found a) a Supernatural fanfiction about two sisters; and b) a this absolutely fascinating treatise on Archives: “Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression” by Derrida and Prenowitz (which pretty much tells you all you need to know, right there). They argue that creating an archive is like the Word of God, because it’s both a Commencement and a Commandment -- it doesn’t just begin to categorise a collection of material or ideas, it also changes the way a society thinks about those materials or ideas because of the way they are categorised (x).

The Book of Day and Night is real - huzzah! It’s an Egyptian text designed to help the dead king find their way in the afterlife, and is usually part of the decoration tombs. Here’s a description: “Other funerary compositions include the “Book of Day” and the “Book of Night,” which depict Nut, the sky-goddess, spread out across the heavens, as well as the “Book of the Heavenly Cow,” in which Nut is transformed into a cow on whom Re ascends to the firmament. Astronomical figures decorate the ceilings of several burial chambers” (x).

So what I take from this is that a) there are going to be a lot of “Nut” jokes coming up, b) that a lot more people are going to come back from the dead this season, and c) if Sam and Dean create a map of the paths between worlds, an Archive of them if you will, they will have the power of Gods.

Heady stuff!

Of course we don’t start off on such a high note.

SAM: I’m just saying, Dean, Jack was our way over there, obviously, so with him gone… DEAN: Okay, well, Jack’s been gone before. We found him once. We can find him again. SAM: No, no, he didn’t run away. He is literally in an alternate reality. DEAN: Okay, so we’ll just come up with a plan B, okay? You said it yourself. We just keep our heads down and we’ll do the work. SAM: You said that. DEAN: And I was right. Yeah. So you read, do your Sam thing, I’m gonna go for a beer run. SAM: Yeah. DEAN: We should probably loop Cas in at some point. SAM: We’ll fill him in when he calls. He checks in every day. DEAN: Yeah, with a bunch of questions and no leads. [We see Castiel sitting in a dark prison cell in hell, illuminated by a single unseen overhead light] SAM: I’m sure he is doing the best he can. Just go get beer or… [waves Dean away] (x)

Dean wants to go on a beer run, and thinks immediately of Cas. A nice callback to his muffed love declaration at the end of the Amara arc. We also get another go around of the “we just do what we do” mantra that Dean keeps spouting this season. Sam seems to think it’s wearing a bit thin.

And then we cut to Lucifer and Cas, and get a dick joke about the size of Lucifer’s “power”. Hahaha. Yeah, I can see where this is going already.

Next up is the latest incarnation of the theme of “people have heard of the Winchesters” and in this case, have heard of the car too. We find out later it’s via Rowena who told Jamie and Jennie about them, and I would love to know what she actually said. Jamie and Jennie are awful cocky given the givens, so methinks Rowena downplayed how dangerous the Winchesters can be.

So Jamie and Jennie blithely hexbag Dean into love, so that he’ll steal the Grimoire for them. Luckily we’ve already had that impotence joke, so the foreshadowing says this will come to naught.

And then we get this...

SAM: Hey, uh… I think you might be right. I think maybe it’s time we go ahead and call Cas, because, I mean, if…if… [Dean continues to whistle while doing a little spin as he enters the library. He drops the 6-pack and his keys on the table] SAM: You all right? DEAN: Am I all right? I’m in love. SAM: You...Oh, are you? DEAN: I mean, I am, like, full-on twitterpated here. Seriously, I can’t wait for you to meet her, either. She - I mean, she’s… She’s sweet and she’s beautiful and she’s just kinda sorta perfect. Anyway, I’m thinking of asking her to move in with me here…if that’s cool ‘cause this is big time. [Dean opens a drawer and removes the Black Grimoire and unwraps it] DEAN: Ahh. SAM: Uh, Dean, w-what are you doing with the Black Grimoire? DEAN: It’s a gift. For Jamie. SAM: For…Jamie? DEAN: My soul mate. [winking]

All the mentions of Castiel that lead up to Dean’s announcement are wrapped around this scene like a... condom? Sorry, I can’t think of a better wrapping metaphor. There was the reminder of Dean’s muffed love confession on the last beer run, and then this mention of Cas by Sam which Dean ignores, and instead Dean announces he’s in love, and calls her his soul mate -- he might as well have added they have a profound bond. Like, if Dean and Cas were a het will-they-won’t-they pairing, it could not be any clearer that the only person Dean could legitimately be declaring as his Love here is Castiel. It’s not even subtext, it’s main text at this point, given the way Castiel has been used to frame this moment... but it’s main text that refuses to state it overtly so that homophobes can continue to live in comfortable in denial.

Okay, I have to rant a bit here and let off steam about this. I’m here for the Destiel. I love this love story. But come on. COME ON. It’s cowardly storytelling to write this kind of queering of the text -- to actually dangle plot threads off it, it’s that central -- and refuse to admit it. I know a lot of the Supernatural creatives now pretty much do say that’s what happening -- the whole “eye fucking” stuff in the scripts, for instance -- but it’s mostly framed as “jokes” that aren’t actually jokes, and I’m tired of this. Get it together, show. This is old.

ANYWAY, Dean is in lurrrrve, but OH NOES, it’s some random girl who has obviously hexed him. It’s not even a question in Sam’s mind or our minds. The wrong name came out of his mouth, and he’s too damn happy about it, so we all know Something Is Very Wrong With Dean.

Sam comes to the rescue of course, and we get the slapstick moment of Dean and Sam fighting each other as the witches get away, with Sam’s limbs all over the shop, and Dean making goofy faces. I love irony like this -- it’s not a happy moment in the plot, but it’s a funny moment thanks to the performances. As I mentioned in my last meta, this is why the Winchesters aren’t taken seriously when monsters gossip about them. Moments just like this.

Rowena!!!!!!

I love her so much. She can resurrect as many times as she likes and I’ll be happy.

Intriguing that they have her and Sam bonding over their fear of Lucifer. They’ve really done a fabulous job of making Rowena a complex and interesting villain. I think she’s pretty much my all-time fave out of the rogues gallery.

DEAN: Yeah, the Devil’s gone. ROWENA: Oh, don’t be stupid. He’s never gone! SAM: Okay, listen, I know what Lucifer is cap– ROWENA: Oh, can we not? It’s like reminiscing about an abusive relationship. Why do that? DEAN: Let’s get back to the book. What kind of hurt can these chicks do with it? ROWENA: Oh, I’m sure they have big plans. SAM: Sounds like you know ‘em. ROWENA: Just remember being a young, overly ambitious, wee witch. And I have to give them some credit. Outfoxed you, didn’t they? [chuckling to Dean] Tell me, did they get to fifth base? DEAN: There’s no such thing as fifth base. ROWENA: Oh, you poor, sheltered boy.

Fifth base, in case you were wondering is anal sex (x). There’s a few different ways to read Dean’s response to Rowena’s question. He could be dissembling because he’s deep deep deep in the closet, but to me he comes off as genuinely puzzled. Given that, my reading is that Dean has never had anal sex with another dude. Sure it’s possible he’s done so without having heard this phrase before, and even if he’s never done that particular act, it still leaves a lot of room for sexy things he could have done with dudes. However, the case I make is that Dean picks up slang like other people learn languages, and if he hasn’t heard this expression before, his exposure to gay culture has to be pretty limited. He might have tried a few things, but not so much that he’s learned the lingo. In short: he’s inexperienced at best, and quite possibly still hymenated in this respect.

That noise you hear? Is a thousand fan theories crumbling to dust. Fare ye well, amigos, it’s been a blast.

But! (Butt. hahaha)

On the plus side, we can now revisit the whole issue of Dean’s first time with a dude, and I have to thank canon for giving us that golden opportunity.

We get another dick joke when Sam tells us, “Dean has a tape of Led Zeppelin’s “Moby Dick” with an 8-minute drum solo.” You’ve probably noticed that I tend to look at the lyrics of songs used or mentioned on the show, but in this case it’s instrumental so my meta instincts are thwarted.

Except for the title of the track. Moby. Dick. The great white Dick that got away. Hahaha. Ironic, as it’s the ep that Castiel finally gets free. And now I will forever assume that Jimmy Novak was well endowed. ;)

There are only two more things I want to mention in this ep. The first is the fatherhood theme. It’s mainly present in the conversation between Castiel and Lucifer.

LUCIFER: There’s no “if” here in this equation, okay? Let me - let me just - let me just tell you something about my dick brother, about every version of my dick brother, okay? When he decides to do something, he does it. Doesn’t matter what the cost or who has to die. It’s gonna happen, ‘cause that’s just the way he rolls. CASTIEL: If you’re right, how much time do we have? LUCIFER: How much time? Oh. I guess that depends on how much time he spends torturing Mary Winchester. He liked her, right? Oh, Cas, you should have seen it. I mean, the things he did to her. In all my time in hell, I’ve never seen anything that horrible. Just…Oh! CASTIEL: Stop. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies. LUCIFER: Oh, this from the angel who almost has me beat in that department, and that’s saying a lot, pal. CASTIEL: Well, you always say a lot. LUCIFER: Okay, let’s face it, Cassandra, the truths I say hurts ‘cause the’re hard to swallow, so people call them lies. Go figure. CASTIEL: You want truth? How ‘bout I tell you a few truths about your son? LUCIFER: Did you just have an angel stroke? CASTIEL: Did you know that he loves movies? Fantasy movies, movies with heroes who crush villains. LUCIFER: [scoffs] Well, that’s - that’s - that’s nurture. That’s not nature. CASTIEL: And he’s thoughtful. He’s emotional. Remarkably intuitive. You - you know, he, uh, he resurrected me just out of instinct. Isn’t that a beautiful gesture? LUCIFER: [pacing angrily in his cell] Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s beautiful. CASTIEL: Jack would rather kill you than hug you. Seems relevant. Did you know he doesn’t - he doesn’t even really look like you? And he reminds me so much of his mother. LUCIFER: [whispers] Wow.

This particular mention of dicks doesn’t please me, given the subtext here that all the dicks are pointed at Dean. I don’t want Dean to become an angel condom for Michael. But I may be getting it at some point anyway. :(

That aside, I adore how effectively Cas needles Lucifer here. Cas really has learned from the best, and he’s such an asshole. It’s interesting, though, that Lucifer brings up nature vs nurture. I wonder which he considers the cause of his Fall?

Finally, the episode ends with Dean chiding Sam for being in a dark place -- role reversal from the start of the season when Sam was chiding Dean the same way.

DEAN: Look, what happened to Rowena was messed up, okay? But you just let the deadliest witch in the world walk away with a page from this book. SAM: Yeah, and if Rowena breaks bad, I will hunt her down myself and put a bullet in her. I will Dean. But if she’s right, and if she does see Lucifer again, then… I hope she makes him suffer. DEAN: You gotta get out of this dark place. You know, whatever’s going on in your head… SAM: Dean. DEAN: What? SAM: [inhales deeply] You know what? Honestly? DEAN: Yeah, how ‘bout honestly. SAM: I know what Rowena is dealing with. And she’s not the only one who… [inhales deeply] feels helpless. DEAN: What do you mean? SAM: I mean, I had a plan, you know. I, uh… Help Jack, bring Mom back. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It - it kept me from spinning off the rails. And now… Jack is gone, Mom is still in hell, basically, and I-I-I- just… DEAN: We’ll figure it out. SAM: [defeated and angry] Dean, we don’t have a plan. We don’t know what to do. So - so how? DEAN: [confidently] I don’t know. But we will, you and me. [takes a drink of beer] SAM: Yeah. Night. [exits kitchen]

Sam articulates exactly why he’s going off the rails -- because Jack and Mom are missing. And that’s freaking huge. Because if Dean was off balance because Cas was missing, and Sam is off balance because Jack and Mom are missing, that means they are not each other’s sole emotional supports any more.

In other words, the toxic codependency really is on it’s very last legs, the old scripts aren’t working any more, and it’s time to start writing some new ones.

I’ve already seen the next two eps, and if Various and Sundry Villains was a strong Destiel episode, it has nothing on Good Intentions. That is a game changer.

Previously:

I never opened myself this way (13x01 and 13x02)

You say you’ve only got one life to live (13x03, 13x04, 13x05)  

Let me tell you people that I found a new way (13x06, 13x07, 13x08)

Alive and burning brighter (13x09, 13x10)              

[rugessnome]

if things had gone a bit differently I might have turned up earworm™:

this song's gonna get stuck inside your head/this song's gonna get stuck inside your—

or:

for too long I've been afraid of/sharing my increase square law/well here it comes: Principia Mathematica!

[sharans-math-science-dump]

When I was fresh out of school, very shortly after I finished my IB exams - it was a sign that I could release my pent-up demand for reading, something that I had kept plugged in the months leading up to my IBs. I borrowed a lot of books from the library in the first few weeks after my exams, most of them being science-fiction, Marvel/DC comics, and the very occasional math/physics book that wasn’t just your average pop-science dreck. But I’d been bitten by the philosophy bug, and one of my first serious pieces of reading was an introduction to Bertrand Russell’s thought. I took copious notes between 19 and 23 November, 2020. I was initially planning on covering all the chapters, from logic to metaphysics and epistemology, but I lost steam after covering Russell’s and Whitehead’s Principia Mathematica, and their developments in logic. 

Here’s my first page of notes on Russell and Whitehead’s “no-classes” theory of classes, which I think also serves as a good introduction to first-order logic. It’s definitely insightful, as the set theory taught in school, I’m afraid to say, seems to mostly consist of Venn diagrams and word problems, which in the end has little truly mathematical content, and therefore goes into the theory of sets in a very naive way (e.g without going into Russell’s paradox, etc.). I’ll be posting more on the Principia Mathematica in the coming days, together with notes entwined with my own readings in later philosophy of mathematics and logic.

[axcerws454]

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[theoriginalkidwithapen]

Principia – De Motu Corporum X

CW:  foul language, colonialism, references to the Troubles and the Vietnam War

“Every body, that by a radius drawn to the centre of another body, how soever moved, describes areas about that centre proportional to the times, is urged by a force compounded out of the centripetal force tending to that other body, and of all the accelerative force by which that other body is impelled.”

– Sir Isaac Newton, “Philosophae Naturalis Principia Mathematica”

Jon and Misty finished recounting the details of the incident at Fasal.  Although they did their best to hide their emotions behind stoic facades, the human officers of the board could not conceal them from Jon’s non-verbal signals analysis suite – only the android’s were secreted behind that bronze mask of hers.  About half of them, including the Kerepunu colonel, were satisfied with his report and his command decisions, the others, including the Lithuanian, questioned his handling of the situation. A nearly even split.  Jon was nothing if not consistent. “Commander,” the Lithuanian asked sternly, “how would you characterize this Earther woman, Reynolds?” “Strong, tough, determined, disaffected,” Jon replied, “she’d probably be astute with the right upgrades and remedial education.  Chief Olayinka thinks she has a lot of emotional baggage that needs to be unpacked, but her low self-esteem and confidence most likely result from a lifetime living in a society that places no value on her life.  She should make a valuable addition to this commander’s team.” “But you couldn’t have known of her existence beforehand,” the Lithuanian pressed, “It sounds to me like you’re just trying to justify a poor command decision after the fact. “Besides,” he continued, “if you’re not careful with your recruitment choices, your unit could acquire a reputation as a haven for salvage jobs.” Jon and Misty bristled at his inflammatory remark, but said nothing.

“I assume that you acquired something of value to make up for this egregious error of yours?” the Lithuanian concluded with stoic mockery. Jon slapped an MSD labeled “Insurance” onto the table and slid it over to the android.  “Would this do?” he asked with feigned cluelessness. The android inspected the MSD.  “What is this?” she asked. “Intelligence acquired through sources and methods indicating that someone is secretly experimenting with advanced technology,” Jon replied, “Someone who has somehow escaped O7’s notice.” “Is that new threat attempting to copy our technology?” the android inquired. “Not unless O5 has constructed a working hyperspace propulsion drive,” Jon clarified, “I thought they were still a few decades away from perfecting the theory behind hyperspace translation.” The rest of the board stared at him in disbelief.  “That’s impossible,” another member of the board, an Ojibwe-descended major exclaimed, “O5 canceled that project last year.  Their Estimate Of The Situation concluded that higher dimensions could only exist as mathematical curiosities, and that the science had no real-world applications.” “Indeed,” the android continued, “it would take nothing less than successfully formulating a complete grand unified theory to realize it.  What you’re saying is that an agent unknown has developed superior science to our own and is experimenting with applications of that science for purposes unknown.” “That is correct, General,” Jon said, “And if this evidence is substantiated, it would represent an existential threat to Mars.” “You’ll forgive me if I don’t find your explanation compelling,” the Lithuanian countered, “Hyperspace travel?  Grand unified theory?  This is science fiction, not intelligence!” “Agreed,” a captain of Cubeo ancestry concurred, “It’s far more likely that this is part of a new disinformation campaign of Earth’s to tie up and expose Martian Intelligence assets.  I recommend that this ‘evidence’ be disregarded as irrelevant.” “The evidence will go to O7 for analysis,” the android declared, “For now, Commander Orvar, your team is on standby until further notice.  Do nothing to draw attention to yourselves and remain here on Luna. “Of course,” she appended, “you should maintain situational monitoring, in case something interesting happens your way.  Dismissed.” Jon and Misty stood up, saluted the board, and marched out of the room. “For being such an uncomplicated man,” Misty said to Jon after they were out of earshot, “you never fail to surprise me, anata.” “Maybe I’m a little more complicated than you give me credit for,” Jon joked. “I doubt it,” Misty said with a smile.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Finchley and Nguyen returned to the Governor’s Residence to continue their investigation into the Governor’s murder.  The entire area was, if anything, even more heavily secured than it was when they left.  Twice the number of MCVs, double the garrison, sharpshooter teams on the rooftops and upper floor, and security scanners at every checkpoint – they were taking every precaution against another assassin striking at the Interim Governor-General of the Lunar Colonies. Not that any of these measures would have prevented the last murder, of course, but this security theater was deemed necessary as a show of force, to convince the Selenites that the colonial government wasn’t weakened by the attack. Poor bloody Loonies, Finchley thought to himself as a Selenite butler was pulled aside by security for questioning. Nguyen could see the pity on Finchley’s face.  “What is it, Ewan?” she asked him. “I worry about what the response will be,” Finchley mulled, “I know how the Ministry of Public Safety operate – whether through the force of their Department of Harmony, or the persuasion of their Department of Veracity, they will respond.  Either way, it will end poorly for the Selenites.” “If they’d stop complaining like spoiled children, we wouldn’t have to put them back in their place so often,” Nguyen opined, “They should be fucking grateful for everything Earth does for them.  Between the docks, the Peacekeeper bases, the factories, and the tourism, they’ve got jobs, they’ve got an economy, and they’ve got protection from the Outers and Martians.  We provide them with the supplies and equipment they need to keep their domes running.  They should be parading in the streets for all we do for them, instead they’re bitching about problems of their own making like the whiny little shits they are.” “Strange that you’d come to Amsha’s defence so passionately when you hold her people in such little regard,” Finchley noted. “Just because I didn’t like how that asshole was beating the shit out of that Loonie,” Nguyen retorted, “it doesn’t mean I think she’s innocent.  Killing the Governor with anatoxin was a political statement, make no mistake.” “The history of my people is full of events similar to what’s happened here on the Moon,” Finchley began as they finally approached the shed which contained the Residence’s life support machinery.  The shed stylized as a horse stable on the outside – its 19th century design belying its 23rd century contents. “The English colonised my home country of Ireland some 600 years ago,” Finchley continued as he led Nguyen to the clean water connection to the station’s plumbing, “and what followed was nearly 400 years of bloodshed and misery at the hands of English conquerors.  Here we are – Clean Water Intake Junction Monitoring Panel.  Computer, run diagnostic programme and report levels of cyanobacteria for the last 36 hours.”  The computer began forming its diagnostic report. “What’s your point, Ewan?” Nguyen asked impatiently. “That they probably have legitimate grievances against the colonial government,” Finchley answered, “You’ve seen how they live here – whole sectors of the city are full of jobless Selenites while most of the work goes to resettled Earthers due to the policies of the Ministries of Labour and Extraterrestrial Affairs.  It’s no wonder that some of them have turned to crime or political violence.” “Diagnostic report complete,” the vaguely feminine synthetic voice of the computer announced, “No cyanobacterial contamination found.  No trace amount of anatoxin-a or anatoxin-s found.  Clean Water Intake Junction operating at nominal efficacy.” “No malfunctions here,” Nguyen reported, “Economic issues are no excuse to cause trouble.” “Say someone whose nation responded to famine caused by decades of French, Japanese, and American colonisation with armed communist revolution,” Finchley observed facetiously, “We’ll check the water reclamation unit next.” “Computer,” Nguyen ordered at the next station, “run diagnostic program and report level of cyanobacteria for the last 36 hours.  I don’t see the connection.  My ancestors fought the resistance war against American imperialism to bring about the reunification of the Vietnamese people, not to complain about our living conditions.” “But your ancestors still chose violence to end the rule by colonist fiat,” Finchley remarked, “so isn’t there a hint of hypocrisy in your position, now that you’re on the other side?” “Diagnostic report complete,” the computer reported, “No cyanobacteria contamination found.  Trace amounts of anatoxin-a detected in Main Filtration Manifold B on 22930112 from 08:17:47 to 14:39:11.  Peak concentration:  481 parts per million.  Be advised that the contaminant sensors in this unit have been reporting false positives since 22930112, 08:17:47.  Additional maintenance servicing required.” “I think I’ve got something,” Nguyen called out, “No cyanobacteria, but for 6 hours and 12 minutes, the unit recorded lethal levels of anatoxin in one of the filtration manifolds.” “Which manifold?” Finchley asked. “Main Manifold B,” Nguyen replied, “Computer, display schematic of Main Filtration Manifold B and all connected systems.” The systems monitor displayed the appropriate diagram.  Nguyen traced her finger back up the flow path to the algaculture panels of the air recycling system.  “Computer,” she dictated, “run diagnostic program on Air Recycling System Algaculture Panels.  Report cyanobacteria level for the last 36 hours.” Nguyen turned to face Finchley.  “I don’t think there’s any hypocrisy,” she continued, “the Lunar colonies are only a couple centuries old – they haven’t been around long enough to have a national identity.  Vietnamese civilization has endured for more than 5,000 years.  Even the ICP predated the first Lunar landings by nearly 30 years.  Most Loonies are only a generation or two removed from malcontents who felt that life on Earth wasn’t good enough for them.” “Diagnostic report complete,” the computer stated, “No cyanobacterial contamination found.  No trace of anatoxin-a or anatoxin-s found.  Air Recycling System Algaculture Panels operating at nominal efficacy.” “That can’t be right,” Finchley exclaimed, “Computer, confirm diagnostic report.” “Diagnostic report confirmed,” the computer replied, “No contamination or malfunctions found in the past 36 hours.” “I don’t understand how this is possible,” Nguyen puzzled, “Why would the computer show anatoxin in the filtration manifold, but not in the algaculture panels it drains from?” “Maybe it is a sensor malfunction,” Finchley said, “The computer did mention that as a possibility.” “I’d think that you’d want to do something you can to prove your pet Loonie innocent,” Nguyen remarked snidely, “Wouldn’t a sensor malfunction suggest that she was the one who poisoned the Governor?” “Good point,” Finchley agreed, “I guess there’s nothing for it but to open that panel up and take a look ourselves.” “I want to try something first,” Nguyen said, “Computer, open maintenance log.  When was the last time the access panel to Main Filtration Manifold B opened?” “22921010, 07:51:18,” the computer replied. “Three months ago,” Finchley deduced, “What about the algae panels themselves?  Computer, when was the last time the access panel to the Air Recycling System Algaculture Panels opened?” “22930112, 08:12:02,” the computer reported. “Five minutes before the manifold recorded its first anatoxin levels,” Finchley commented, “How’s that for timing?” “Sounds pretty suspicious to me,” Nguyen concurred, “Let’s get that panel off.” Together, the two pressed the buttons in the top two corners and lifted the now-unfastened panel away from its housing.  Inside the compartment was a rack of 12 panels, each composed of winding and branching transparent piping filled with a sickly green froth.  Each rack had two of these raceways, with a matrix of artificial light diodes sandwiched between them.  The churning jade effervescence was what kept the air from growing toxic – an aerated algae concoction which used photosynthesis to turn the carbon dioxide humans exhaled into the oxygen they needed to avoid suffocation.  It was not a pretty sight, but few of those things which make life possible are. Nguyen pulled out one of the panels, revealing the santorum within the pipes to be a turquoise color, rather than the lichen green of the other panels.  The corner of her mouth twitched in irritation. “This had better not be what I think it is,” Nguyen grumbled, “Computer, identify cause of crop discoloration in panel 4.” “No discoloration detected,” the computer reported, “Algaculture Panel 4 is functioning within established parameters.” “How is that possible!?” Nguyen exclaimed as she banged her palm on the rack’s housing in frustration, “I’m telling you, the crop is the wrong color!” “Please restate as a question,” the computer requested. “Oh, fuck this piece of scrap!” Nguyen roared as she gave the housing a good, hard kick before storming out of the room. Finchley pulled out his handset and placed a call.  “Yes, it’s Finchley,” he said, “I need a forensics team at the Governor’s Residence, life support building.  We’ve discovered a possible malfunction in the life support system that may be connected to the murder of Governor Najjar.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Despite being the first day on a new job, especially one that involved a lot of heavy lifting and on-the-job training, Sara felt it was a good day.  She had worked just hard enough to feel the satisfaction of a day’s manual labor, and she was surprised to discover that she liked it. Admittedly, she found it a little difficult to fit in with the others – all of them were Selenites, and most of them were Aboriginals like Tahlia.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to assimilate, but rather that they had such a different way of doing things – their own social cues, nicknames, their penchant for laughing and making jokes, their own way of speaking that she could barely follow – it was a lot for her to adjust to all at once. “Gee, I’m dry,” a Cockney woman about Sara’s age who she learned was called Rosie Leah sighed as she removed her helmet, “Who wants to go get charged up after shift?” “Gorn den, auntie girl,” an Aboriginal man called Charles goaded playfully, “You get deadly cheeky every time you have a sip.  Shame job ay, blackfullas?” “Ay, tidda,” another Aboriginal man about Sara’s age called out, “I’m tonguing for a drink myself.  Gotta lend, captain?” “Nah, on me off week,” Rosie answered as she peeled her pressure suit off, revealing functional underwear beneath, “‘Sides, you’re such a cadja, Dennis!” Charles stripped his suit off, and wearing nothing but his long briefs placed it in the laundry hamper.  “You’re always on your off week, Rosie,” he chastised her jocularly, “It’s like you sign a form every fortnight and you’re just gammon here.  Rosie, you make me weak!” “Ay, don’t try to be a blackman now,” Rosie said as she pulled on her coverall, “You wanna get slapped up, buddah boy?” “Come at me, sista!” Charles challenged, and Rosie pounced on him.  Sara watched them playfully grapple distantly, their physical separation from her dwarfed by the social gap between them.  She wished that she could join in in their fun and camaraderie, but she didn’t know how, or if she’d even be welcome among them. Tahlia clapped her hand on Sara’s back and sat down next to her on the bench.  “Minding some sorry business, darlen?” she asked, “You’re a deadly serious one, ay?” “No…  auntie?” Sara replied, subdued and trying out some of the Aboriginal slang she heard used on the docks all day, “I…  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to fit in here.  I mean, today’s been great… deadly? great, and this place is better than anywhere I’ve ever worked at, but you…  fullas…  do things so differently around here, and I don’t know how, or if, I can be a part of that.” “Ayy, darlen,” Tahlia said sympathetically, “you’re no fringe dweller, no need to get low.  Tell you what – my mob here’s gonna knock about at a hospitality district in the southeast corridor.  You wanna party up with us, auntie girl?” “I don’t have any cash,” Sara said. “You can fix me up later,” Tahlia dismissed, “Let’s get you outta that suit and cleaned up, then we’ll hump it to my unc’s – he’s got a steakhouse down that way.  The meat may be fake, but he makes a deadly chicken fried steak dinner.” Tahlia stood up, then climbed atop the bench so that she stood above the rest.  “Listen up now, fullas!” she called out, “Me and this one are gonna party up at my uncle’s.  You lot comin’ or what?” “Ay, look out, big shot now,” Dennis retorted loudly, “Tahlia’s flashin’ black for the Earthfulla girl, true?” “You got jelly beans there, baby cousin,” Tahlia taunted, “at the end of the day, we’re all just blackfullas, true?” “True that!” the rest of the room shouted.  Tahlia brushed her hands together in a specific way, and the others began to file out of the locker room as they finished dressing. Sara stopped for a moment after putting her suit into the hamper.  “Tahlia,” she said, “‘deadly’ means ‘good,’ right?” Tahlia smiled.  “We’ll make a goodfulla outta you yet, sistagirl,” she asserted.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Finchley had lost count of the number of cups of coffee he’d poured while waiting for the forensics team to finish going over the Residence’s life support system with a fine-toothed comb.  However many he had had, it was enough to make the cheap shit LSS normally stocked in their offices almost palatable.

Of course, the stuff would probably give him cancer in 10 years, but Finchley never had any illusions that he would live a long, full life.  In fact, he always imagined that he’d wind up face down in some dark tunnel somewhere, far from home.

The forensics officer exited the life support building, their LSS windbreaker more of an affectation than a practical uniform in an environment without weather of any kind.  Even now, centuries after widespread acceptance of genders other than male and female, Finchley still reflexively thought of them as “she,” but caught himself before that line of thought continued.

The officer could be described as mostly gynetypical – they had a feminine pointed jaw and narrow shoulders, and their flat bust and square hips lent them a boyish figure; they almost looked too young to be in that uniform.

“LSS forensics specialist Tomomi Maeda, they/them/theirs,” the officer reported, “Here’s the report you asked for.”

Finchley took the tablet they offered as Officer Maeda continued.  “In summary,” they said, “Panel 4 of the air recycling system has a severe case of cyanobacteria contamination, species Planktothrix Agardhii, caused by an uncontrolled algal bloom.  Judging by the unusual spread of the contamination as well as its concentration, it would appear that it was placed there deliberately through the secondary pressure release valve.”

“Why didn’t the sensors pick it up?” Finchley asked.

“Someone had altered the sensor config file to report false readings,” Maeda answered, “We discovered this when the diagnostic report indicated anomalously high levels of dihydroanatoxin-a and epoxyanatoxin-a, which are non-toxic products of the photodegradation of anatoxin-a.”

“How was this accomplished?” Finchley asked.

“As you can imagine,” Maeda explained, “It’s not as simple a matter of sending a false system patch from a remote location.  In order to update the config file, it has to be installed on a secure MSD dongle.”

“Who has the ability to do something like this?” Finchley inquired.

“Well,” Maeda professed, “the MSDs used for systems like this are write-once encrypted units manufactured to be incompatible with standard MSD formats – your average logic jockey couldn’t have done this.  Apart from the manufacturer and the life support utility company, it’s nearly impossible to acquire one, let alone the 15 needed to hide an algal bloom like this one.”

“Fifteen?” Finchley exclaimed, “So the file wasn’t simply copied to all the other systems?”

“No,” Maeda answered, “Each module has its own dedicated diagnostic and reporting computer, with its own bank of config dongles.  The only people who would have both the skills and the access privileges would be CELSS engineers and LSU technicians.”

“There was an LSU technician who serviced the system just hours before the Governor was killed,” Finchley mused, “This is a lead that could be worth pursuing.  Is there any reason why Main Manifold B wasn’t affected?”

“It wasn’t on the inspection ticket,” Maeda replied, “Besides, the manifold itself is laborious to service – in order to get to the MSD bank, the entire manifold would have to be removed, which requires the closure of 18 separate green water valves and the disconnection of 23 pipes and conduit.  That would be an unexplained gap 20 minutes long, which would arouse suspicion.”

“Thanks,” Finchley said as he handed back the tablet.  He choked down the last of his coffee, set his cup down, and went over to the front gate where Nguyen was fuming.

“When you feel like working,” Finchley admonished, “it looks like LSU might have something to do with this.”

“LSU is a union contractor,” Nguyen began, “affiliated with the Lunar Labor League.  The LLT has discreet ties with the Selenite Liberation Front–”

“...And by extension,” Finchley finished, “the Organisation.”

[afishtrap]

(another repost, saving for posterity)

I think it's not just that fanfiction rests (in part) upon a ground of potential plausibility; I think it also works within a framework that's similar enough to original fiction that this gives the impression that one should be able to make the leap quite easily: genre assumptions. That is, fanfiction has canon assumptions which are closely analogous to genre assumptions, so you'd just be trading one for the other. When the author is familiar with the concept of shortcuts, after that it's simply a matter of learning what they are for any given genre.

And since I wouldn't mention it unless I find that a problem, it's that both are cop-outs. They're a way to treat the underpinnings of fiction as superfluous and extract them one by one, until the work feels almost hollow. (Not unlike the non-load-bearing wall in my dining room with studs at 36" on center. It's not to code, though it won't make the house fall down, but it sure makes putting up shelves damn difficult.)

In a story example, this isn't unlike the complaint I had about a historical fiction work wherein there wasn't a single mention of fashion, politics, or technology to give me even a generalized idea of when the story took place. It consisted almost entirely of an emotional conflict resting on a pile of short-cuts. It's even worse than 36" on center studs; it's a house where the walls are made of paper hung from wires stretched between poles: it may be pretty, but there's nothing there, really, to ground it to this place and this time. A decent breeze -- or a decent plothole -- and it'll all come crashing down.

Slight tangent: the notion of structural underpinnings got me thinking, in turn, about instances where I've been able to compare an author's work when the author writes in several genres. (For the most part, the author's approach, technique, sensibilities, stay generally even, which makes deconstructive analysis much easier than comparing cross-author in the same genre.) In a not-this-world fantasy story, there's a lot of world-building required if the not-this-world isn't a direct or semi-direct analogue to our own (similar tech, land masses, cultures, fashion, etc). This world-building acts as one of the integral structural components of the fiction, and the more deft an engineer be the writer, the more heft the story seems to have. (And thus we realize that 'doorstop tome' is a label both physical and metaphorical.)

The result, then, is that the story's close leaves me with the impression -- as one of those readers who can't freaking turn off my brain -- that the story somehow has more to it. It's akin to standing in the great hall of a castle and asking yourself: how did they build that ceiling? Really, how did they do that? If what structure the reader can see is impressive, double that when it implies there's even more under the surface: that's the implications of fiction's underpinnings... even if I am a wierdo for thinking of it in engineering terms.

To take an architectural tangent, because I don't want anyone getting the wrong impression in the comparison, the reason we may see century-old cathedrals as phenomenal works of engineering is because (a) they're unfamiliar to us as an everyday event, (b) we've probably never been around one as it was constructed to see its inner prior to being wrapped in an outer, and underneath it all, (c) those cathedrals, castles, and the like were built without advanced mathematics. I mean, honestly, calculus and the all-powerful derivative aren't even a century older than my own freaking country! (Yes, William & Mary College in Virginia was founded only four years after Isaac Newton published his Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica. Imagine that.)

But if you've ever seen a Mies Van der Rohe skyscraper, you'd realize that our modern architecture -- analogue to this-world genres of cyberpunk, urban fantasy, steampunk -- is pretty damn impressive in its own right. The engineering and mathematics that go into creating a steel and concrete structure that rises thirty stories into the sky and yet is wrapped in little more than a bit of steel and football-fields of glass... well, that's nothing to sniff at. Hell, just the usual suburban home has some pretty amazing engineering within its walls, but we dismiss it because we see it everyday and have grown used to the idea that platform-framing is pretty ordinary -- to the point that now, to build a post-and-beam house, is considered radical, and something to remark on.

Essentially, you could say that in trad-fantasy the author-engineer is building without calculus, doing the math long-hand to make sure the structure doesn't fall down: creating culture, language, laws, ethics, technology, even genders and species. In this-world genres, the author-engineer is using already-available structural supports. It's not a matter of coming up with a new steel or a new type of glass, so much as using the familiar in an unusual or daring way.

And to drive this analogy completely into the ground, authors may alternate between them, building something long-hand that's ready-made, like artisans building post-and-beam houses instead of using studs and drywall. It doesn't always work, though, and it's the why that I think some authors don't address, too busy thinking it's radical somehow to mix the old with the new (or in trad-fantasy, the new with the old). Structural elements include the story's concept of, say, colonialism. Where once it was accepted that colonialism had a positive benefit (of civilizing the natives) that outweighed its exploitative aspects, now you're more likely to find stories that posit colonialist bad, noble savage good.

The review that started me reading the ferretbrain critiqued that story as flipping good-bad structure on its head and ending up with "colonial good, native ignorant and in need of civilizing colonial influence". Not really an improvement, and more to my analogy's point: somewhat like thinking you'll build this part of your house long-hand as a way to make it unique -- but not realizing that there's a really good reason we stopped using horsehair and plaster to insulate our houses. Sure, this bit of structure may be different from the suburban homes flooding the market, but different does not automatically mean better.

But wait! I just realized I can drive (deconstruct?) this analogy even farther into its foundations. As a friend commented about historical romance, "God help me if you try to convince me a "saucy" woman would ever be conceived of as attractive to a Lord of the Manor" -- except that I know for certain that my great-grandmother was described as saucy, and she was married three times. (Widowed all three times, too.) It's just that what we modern-minds think of as "saucy" or "sassy" isn't quite the same thing -- or more like, it's exactly the same but only on the surface.

Think again to the horsehair-and-plaster versus drywall. Both, done by an expert, can end up beautifully and perfectly smooth and white, and both can then be painted with lime-wash, or oil-based paint, or even latex (though latex, not so good for the plaster, if you're wondering, but that's neither here nor there). On the surface, you have a smooth interior wall, just as on the surface you have a head-strong woman who speaks her mind. It's what's underneath, what makes her possible -- the source of her behavior/character -- that is almost totally opposite between historical and modern.

That, I think, is where a lazy historical writer undermines their story: if you don't realize the fundamental underlying differences even when the external appearance is identical, then you're going to miss all the tiny tells that let a savvy person know that all you've really done is take a modern structure and slap some gingerbread on it and call it Victorian, or slap some mud on it and call it adobe, or slap a corset and a fichu on it and call it Regency. You're not fooling anyone, y'know.

Anyway.

Setting aside the issue of then-structures with now-structures, if the genre rests in our own world -- like urban fantasy, or super-spy-thrillers, or mysteries, or contemporary romances -- the author doesn't even necessarily need genre-shortcuts, given then real-world shortcuts already at his/her disposal. There's no need to tell me what a car is, or why someone might freak out at a call from the IRS. One might say these underpinnings already exist, a kind of socio-cultural framework the author can preempt to use in his/her own work, but it's not like these are considered integral to the story-structure.

To me, these underpinnings are best considered external to the story. They're holding the story up from the outside, rather than from within. It's like looking at the Georges Pompidou Centre in Paris, where nearly the entire engineering structure of the building exists outside the building. It's not hidden within the walls; there's no mystery about it. Okay, if we're talking modern architecture, that statement is debatable, but if we're saying this on the grounds that "when you can see how things are put together, it's not mysterious," then no, there's no mystery to a structure where the architectural and engineering underpinnings are actually designed as overpinnings.

Or more precisely, it's not that the structure is like the Pompidou, so much as the story hangs from the existing elements rather than is built on an interior framework of elements. That's a somewhat post-modernist view, as well, but I'm having trouble finding any better way to put why I frequently find a lot of urban fantasy to be hollow, in a kind of no-real-substance sense. The things that make the story hold together are things I already know, so the ramifications of a story's outcome don't really require this specific story to highlight them; any story, really, could hang from that combination and thus outline the space between. 

But not always, and if the trad-fantasy where the author must build all the engineering from the ground up is a story that seems to have massive heft and substance, the value of a modern-based story (or an extrapolated futuristic story) is to do precisely the opposite: to create a story within the existing limitations of our world (including culture, race, gender, and so on) and to reveal the gaps between these structural elements. It's a kind of parallax, really: what from outside the Pompidou Centre looks kinda awkward and near-brutal is pretty freaking amazing from the inside.

(Hell, I was there because my hosts wanted to see an exhibit, but I spent the entire time at the Pompidou staring at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, and then ended up at the windows, looking out to see everything that should've been within -- in some ways, moving everything to the visible outside doesn't make the interior more dramatic by opening up the space, but makes the overall design even more obtrusive for the lack of expected internal solidity -- sort of like me reading that historical fiction and so busy actively looking for any historical place-in-time references that I stopped really paying attention to the story itself.)

When we talk about issues of racism or sexism or classism, there's often a parallel discussion about intersectionality -- like where one's ethnicity may allow privilege but one's disabilities or gender in turn reduces privilege. That concept of intersectionality is what can make this-world stories, of a variety of genres, so incredibly powerful, when they place us within this previous empty or unidentified space (the intersection between certain aspects of our reality) and show us a view we'd previously overlooked.

That's one reason I retain a fondness for the original Star Trek despite its shortcomings and/or dated-ness, such as the way Star Trek used the "alien culture" formula to reflect back upon political and social questions of the day. ST:TNG toyed with this formula at times (not enough for my tastes, though), like in its two-parter that tackled whether Data was a machine and thus a possession, or whether he had sentience, and if so, what is sentience and what does it mean to be human? These are questions hard to ask in the everyday world, where we have no near-sentient machine. That's where SFF can do some amazing mind-expanding stuff.

But this also applies on a much smaller scale. Ironically (or not), it's another ferretbrain review that got me on this one, this time Dan Hemmon's comparison of BtVS and Harry Potter, in When Harry Met Buffy:

Buffy takes issues that its audience will be highly familiar with (academic pressure, romantic disaster, teenage insecurity) and uses the language of the supernatural to explore them in an emotionally believable way. Harry Potter, on the other hand uses real-world issues (racism, slavery, death) as a cheap way to add colour to an otherwise unconvincing fantasy world.

[playeroneplayertwo]

Little Green Apples (Newton)

Never have I believed that a non-metaphorical apple actually fell onto Sir Isaac Newton’s head, stirring those legendary first musings regarding gravity. Although, I’m delighted to learn that–according to Google, at least–he was inspired by a falling apple way back in 1667. 

Apparently, Sir Isaac returned to his family’s home after an unfortunate spat of bubonic plague closed his University (it happens), and he saw a very literal apple fall in an orchard, the apple that forced him to ponder thusly: “Oye señor, why’d that thing fall straight down and not do some sorta loop-de-loop or whatsname?”

Newton (2018) Designed by Simone Luciani & Nestore Mangone Art by Klemens Franz Published by CMON Limited

This is quintessential euro territory: lots of tracks to move on, lots of small cardboard pieces, lots of brown. Yeah, lots of brown, but we’ll come back to that.

Newton is a game about the scientific revolution. The game may have taken its name from the man responsible for penning Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica back yonder in 1687, but Newton (the game) also includes a handful of other scientific contributors like Kepler, Copernicus, Fahrenheit, Halley, and Pascal. And while there are a number of scientific masters in the game, the real heart of this mechanical puzzle comes from action selection, minor deck building, and optimizing your turn to score the most points.

Lowdown (How to Play–in a Nutshell)

Like so many euros, the point of the game is to score points. Newton is played over six rounds and in each round players will alternate playing action cards from their hand and taking the action. Simple enough. The actions are 1. Work to earn money; 2. Improve technology; 3. Travel on the big map; 4. Take Lessons, aka buy a card to add to your hand; 5. Study, aka meeting conditions to work towards end-round bonuses. The first three actions are essentially done by moving pieces or workers on different tracks and gaining bonuses based on where you stop. Working earns you coins based on how many spaces you moved, technology gives you bonuses like board improvements or coins depending on where you stop, and traveling allows you to move on the map and helps you meet studying conditions.

Studying is hard to explain, and I was very confused by it when I first read the rules. Essentially, in addition to the main game boards (of which there are two), each player has their own small player mat. On that mat is a bookshelf made up of individual spaces that can be filled in with books. In order to fill a space, you must meet the requirements listed in that space. When it’s completed, you can cover the space in question with a small tile. Requirements can be that you’ve visited specific cities or have a specific number of books on cards that you’ve played. When you completely fill a row or column on the shelf, you’ll gain bonuses each round, whether that be points or money or other niceties. Studying is really one of the less enticing actions, probably because it’s the most abstract, but it’s really the scoring engine of the game.

At the end of each round, you will have five action cards on your player mat, the five cards you played that round. During cleanup, you must take one of these cards and tuck it under your board, so only the icon for that specific action shows. And here’s a really great part of the game: the more icons that are visible on your board for a specific action, the stronger the value of the action you can perform. Let me explain.

Let’s say that at the end of round one, you tucked an icon for Lessons (the action that lets you buy new cards). When you play a lessons action card in round two, you’ll have two visible icons, one on the card you tucked in round one and one on the card you played in round two, meaning you can buy better cards than if you only had one visible icon. This works with all of the action icons. More work icons mean you can move farther, thus earning more money; more technology actions mean you can advance farther on the tech track, thus moving to potentially better bonuses; more travel icons mean you can move farther on the map, hopefully getting your travel meeple to those cities you needed to reach; and more study icons allows you to reach different shelves on your player mat.

As the game continues, you’ll cover more shelves, visit more cities, advance on the tech track to scoring objectives, and finally meet those scientific masters, all allowing you to score those sweet, sweet euro points.

Tea for Two (Scaling for Two Players)

Like I said, this is quintessential euro territory. I don’t want to lie; this game is multiplayer solitaire. I think the only difference in a solo game from a four player game is game length. Seriously. The rulebook contains no scaling beyond laying more tiles for higher player counts.

I Like Dirt (The Bad Stuff)

The graphic design/artwork are the main lightning rod for criticisms here. When you set the game up, it’s a lot of brown. The graphic design is very functional, if a little drab. It’s also funny that the art is by go-to euro artist extraordinaire Klemens Franz, known for his nice cartoony style seen in most Uwe Rosenberg games. That being said, there seems to be so little of his art present in the actual game, it feels like a bit of a waste.

Not to sound like a big square, and I know this is the ‘bad stuff’ section, but I really like the theming here. The idea of working in a university or inventing technology or simply learning (!!) is unique in a world of games about farming or civ building or trading in the Mediterranean. Honestly, while I don’t really understand what I’m thematically doing when I play Newton (Come on, you say, you’re doing science!), I like that it’s a game about science. But this is probably going to be a bad thing for most people. No really, what are you doing in this game??

Beyond aesthetics, one thing I’m not sure about is how viable each action is. Player mats are unique, which I like, but I wonder if the player who starts with the Study icon on their starting mat has a big advantage (especially compared to the player who starts with something like Working on their mat). I fear all actions are not created equal in Newton, and this is really the main problem. And while it’s definitely a problem, it’s not enough to hamper the experience–yet. When I feel that certain actions are underpowered, I often wonder if I simply haven’t learned how to maximize that actions benefits. While studying seems to be the best road to victory, I wonder if alternate paths will present themselves over further plays (e.g. I do think that travel’s strengths are more understated).

[It] Blinded Me with Science (The Good Stuff)

As with Great Western Trail (2016), Newton proves that–for me, at least–deckbuilding is a great mechanic, but perhaps best utilized in a secondary capacity. Meat and Potatoes deckbuilders like Star Realms (2014) or Dominion (2008) tend to feel a bit rote after repeated plays, but when you implement deckbuilding as one mechanic among many, I feel it helps freshen a mechanic that gets a bit worn out. If deckbuilding is all about building combos, making that deckbuilding one cog among many in a machine really opens the door to so many other interesting interactions, and that’s definitely true about Newton. Cards you’ll purchase by playing the lesson action have not only the action icon, but also different bonuses on the top half of the card, giving you colored books to complete requirements while studying, or bonuses you’ll gain each time you play the card. Keeping in mind what cards you’ve previously tucked from your set starting hand, you’ll definitely need to buy specific cards as the game continues or else you won’t be able to take certain actions. At the end of each round, however, all unpurchased cards are removed and a new set is laid out to buy for the next round, meaning that if you see a card you want, you have to buy it immediately. Again, the deckbuilding in this shouldn’t be overstated, it never feels like a huge part of the game, but if is impossible to ignore.

Set-up in Newton is also interesting. Everything on each board is variable. When you first pull out the two game boards and open them, you’ll see nothing but empty spaces. All bonuses, city icons, tech developments, and objective bonuses are laid out during set-up, so they’ll change in every game, making games feel similar, but not play similarly, which is something I really appreciate.

Speaking of variability, the scientific masters in the game, of which there are 20 total, each offer powerful bonuses. At the start of the game, each player has a hand of four, and you’ll pick-and-pass draft them (a la 7 Wonders (2010)) until you have a starting hand of four. You’ll need to find ways to activate these masters throughout the game, and if you want to get your money’s worth from them, you’ll really need to work to activate them. Activating masters is accomplished through excelling at different avenues in the game. For example, once you’ve traveled to a certain number of unique cities, you’ll get to activate a master. Only ever using eight of the possible 20 master cards in a game means you’ll see limited repeats.

Scoring objectives are one more facet I’ve glossed over, and while I won’t go into too much detail on how they work, these are also places on the board that are laid out variably during each game’s set-up. Being as they never change during a game, you are able to optimize play throughout a game so that when you reach a scoring objective, you’ll be able to max your points.

Perhaps the sweetest surprise from Newton is how fast a game it is with two players, coming in at an hour or so. That variable set-up will slow you down, unfortunately, making said variability a bit of a double-edged sword, but I think it’s more than worth the time based on what it offers.

The End (Final Thoughts)

Newton has a nigh legendary pedigree within the hobby, as one of its designers is known for co-designing perennial euro favorites Tzolk’in (2012), The Voyages of Marco Polo (2015), Grand Austria Hotel (2015), and Lorenzo il Magnifico (2016), all hovering around 100 or better on the Board Game Geek top 100 rankings. In all honesty, Newton is our introduction to this designer, making me infinitely more curious to play the other games. From many plays of Newton, and plenty of reading online about the others, I think Newton will be seen as the dark horse here, because while it is very solid, it seems to be described as the least remarkable among these five games. It’s interesting to see how groundbreaking Tzolk’in (2012) was seven years ago, versus how steady and solid Newton is today. Like Kraftwagen (2015), Newton isn’t reinventing any wheels, but rather combining many strong mechanics into one solid package, and in doing so turns out to be a workhorse of a game. In twenty years, it may not be looked on as a revolutionary game like Tzolk’in (2012), but it will give you a tight, rewarding, and reliably good experience.

Player One Eric

[vaguely-concerned]

Let’s Read Victory of Eagles; the Prepare to Cry About William Laurence Edition

earlier temeraire let’s reads (yes I’m sticking with it)

- oh man starting with temeraire’s pov is such a good call, I don’t know if I could take getting plunged straight into laurence’s misery without some (very slight) levity first 

- lol and also crey @ laurence gently reminding these young guys how to keep him prisoner 

- temeraire on his way to revolutionize dragon politics after one damn month... I’m so proud ;___; on the other hand him thinking laurence is dead is... nope not processing this laurence is fine let’s not worry about it

- SURPRISE THARKAY! BEST KIND OF SURPRISE 

looool he just keeps coming to get laurence and finding him embroiled in some fresh catastrophe... I’m sorry ur bro is in another castle/war camp/ship wreck/prison tharkay you’re a champ for tracking him down again and again

- He has a new birb!!! good stuff. this part of them walking through the quiet ruined town is really striking too

- laurence feels like he can be just himself for the first time in months huh... cool cool cool

- “You and Temeraire would be welcome in other parts of the world. You may recall there is some semblance of civilization,” he added dryly, “in a few places, beyond the borders of England.”

fsdakhfdasdfsaflj a) I love him so much b) I  g u e s s  Tharkay kind of just asked Laurence to run away with him in his low-key sardonic way... super triple extra cool cool cool extremely admirable even if he and everyone else in the world knows it to be doomed 

resting his hand on his shoulder because he knows Laurence is gonna be Laurence about this... yeah okay just punch me in the heart

- tfw the guy you sort of have a thing for is determined to get himself killed for a government you feel exactly zero personal loyalty to and now you have to watch his back 🙄

- lol laurence is like ‘I’m not gonna start a fistfight’ 

five minutes later: granby pulls laurence out of a fistfight he started because someone talked shit about his dragon

- aw demane and sipho! good boys bein’ good boys 

- temeraire reciting principia mathematica to himself and changing his voice so he can pretend it’s laurence reading to him... that is under the belt naomi novik that is just mean

(all the funnier/more heartbreaking for knowing laurence has no fucking idea what he’s reading out loud when it comes to that book and would never have touched it if temeraire didn’t love it so much)

- “Oh,” Temeraire said, and sat back on his haunches. He was not quite sure what to say. “I am very sorry?” he offered, uncertainly. He supposed it must be very unpleasant to be a coward.

fjfjghfgj how is he so darling

- tbh perscitia is very much me when it comes to fighting; I too am small and slow and cripplingly overly aware of all the ways things can go wrong which everyone seems happy to overlook

- as a professional tharkay spotter: he is in fact present in the proceedings right now, he arrived at the same time as granby and had one (1) line of dialogue! I am not sure why everyone’s talking about this napoleon fella instead of specifying to me what precise dragon he hitched a ride with or what kind of babysitter arrangement he has put in place for his birb but y’know I’ll take what I can get

(there is a peculiar sort of satisfaction in getting reeeeaaal attached to a side character; this reminds me a lot of being nine and scrupulously scanning every page of a harry potter book for mentions of sirius, no matter how peripheral or inconsequential) 

- all of temeraire’s dragons are pure gold tbh, I especially like majestatis and his laconic competency (I may have a type)

- temeraire not getting why laurence isn’t responding to him quite as he should and laurence basically getting his affairs in order... William Laurence if you break both our hearts I will never fucking forgive you this is my stern voice

- adding a second (and tonally very different) pov is such a genius move at this point in the story; it really breathes new life into everything. 

- lady allendale is the real mvp, you can really see a lot of laurence’s good sides in a straight line from her to him

- oooooooooooooooooooooh roland dropping some truth bombs on laurence for being so very very honorable and so very very dumb

thank you jane I guess at least he’s pretty

- having to read laurence trying to convince all the people who love him to basically let him kill himself is extremely upsetting and I Do Not Care for it

- temeraire absent-mindedly putting ‘coming up with some way to let laurence live as long as me’ on his ‘to do’ list is Everything

but also he doesn’t even realize how wrong things are with his captain and I want to curl up in a ball. no bb no one is going to take him but he’s halfway through taking himself out :(

(I will say that there’s something about laurence’s incredible inflexibility and self loathing that is very relatable, which is probably why I’m so mad at him and also so scared for him. incidentally one of hanzo’s traits I really identify with. anyway onwards)

- ah of course granby was kidnapped I was wondering when something bad would happen to him in this book

- “You are not obliged -- ” Laurence began.

“No,” Tharkay agreed civilly, with one raised brow, and Laurence bowed and left it there. 

fdsfdklsalkjhfkjasdhfjkadshdsfhksdfjakh how... how can anyone be so impossibly lovely and so sarcastic in one word... my heart feels so full

but also ow b/c I think tharkay does see the state laurence is in and it must be extremely stressful to look out for all the swords your bro is determined to throw himself on 

- oF ALL THE DOORSTEPS IN ALL OF LONDON THEY HAD TO END UP AT LAURENCE’S EX’S how many mirrors has this poor man broken to end up here 

- oh uh wow I think I just murdered woolvey’s shitty racist ass with my mind I never even knew I had the power

- Tharkay seeming to suss out the whole Situation here at a glance... *prayer hands emoji*

-  Tharkay shook his head, and when Laurence looked at him said quietly: “It must be difficult to follow an officer of public repute, in the affections of a woman who loves courage.”

...

“My reputation is hardly one any sensible man would covet.”

“It does not name you a coward,” Tharkay said. “Whatever has Bertram Woolvey done?”

as observed completely impartially except for that one awful enormous crush he is developing lol

- oh no... woolvey died... this is... terrible.... *insert ‘shocked’ captain kirk reaction image here*

okay it does put edith in a genuinely awful situation, which super sucks. everything around her is like the one part of laurence’s self loathing that is sort of justified: he’s been making her life so much harder for so long. first she had to worry about her not-even-husband-yet getting lost at sea and he seems pretty emotionally distant, for all that he can be sweet, then he adopts a dragon and she is SUCH AN AFTERTHOUGHT to him in that process (because, as I have discussed earlier, william laurence should just not ask people to marry him b/c he never. actually. means. it. he just thinks he should I think)

and then, after finally disentangling herself emotionally from that she manages to marry a dude who’s a twit, but a twit who by all appearances treats her well and she’s happy -- and then Laurence shows up for three fucking hours and her HUSBAND IS SHOT DEAD 

most of laurence’s guilt is the useless self-flagellation of depression, but in this one case I’m a bit more ‘yeah okay valid bro’

- Laurence’s tendency to describe, in minute detail, what some dude is wearing even under the most dire of circumstances is so endearing. (also he barely ever does it with women; usually it’s like ‘and she was wearing idk a dress?’ lol)

- laurence’s superpower is inspiring people’s affection and loyalty and then wondering why they’re all not cool with him throwing himself off a cliff

- is tharkay like basically a scottish lord on his dad’s side and has been fucked over by either the system or the rest of his family. are you fucking kidding me jfksadflsadfj

- oh. oh okay that’s the king that’s super extra salt in the wound for our golden boy :I

- NOOOOOOOOOOO TEMERAIRE THINKS LAURENCE MIGHT BE ANGRY WITH HIM!!!!!! LAURENCE YOU BEAUTIFUL USELESS DUMBASS PLEASE SNAP OUT OF YOUR DEPRESSION LONG ENOUGH TO TELL YOUR DRAGON SON YOU’RE NOT ANGRY WITH HIM OR SO HELP ME I’LL... CRY AT YOU I GUESS

- okay so this is all very bleak and... borderline war crime-y and laurence is clearly In A Bad Way but also demane has just put every scrap of clothing he could find on his little brother, who now can barely walk for all the layers but is presumably nice and warm, and my heart is doing strange things in my chest

- “Laurence, what are you doing?” 

*ELMO SURROUNDED IN FLAMES GIF* MY BOY THARKAY BEING THE REAL MVP ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

this whole scene is so brief but so good fkdslahfaklsdhfaskld laurence literally slipping back out of dissociation and noticing the smells and sounds around him again... this is So Much, tharkay you fucking miracle of a man  

- there is something incredibly interesting about how laurence is just viscerally terrified by the things tharkay seems to represent to him -- that’s at least twice now that he’s thought straight out, in pretty much the same words, that tharkay’s way of living seems achingly lonely and untethered and frightening to him. (the first time is in black powder war, just as he’s about to give the offer of friendship that tharkay seems equal parts confused and touched by lol) laurence has this intense need to be part of something bigger than himself and doesn’t trust himself to know what’s right (...even tho he’ll historically still occasionally go off and do The Right Thing despite orders anyway because he’s a beautiful idiot), while tharkay obviously puts freedom and autonomy faaaar above any of that (understandably, from his background lol) 

and still it’s exactly this dude who woke laurence up to himself again and reminded him who he really is. this is the man he knew he’d be ‘sorrier to lose than yet I know’ and gooooddamn if he wasn’t right about that. I’m not ready to be coherent about it yet but uh wow this is A Lot

- the way novik writes laurence dissociating is. a bit too close to home, I’m not thrilled about this haha 

- LAURENCE IS TALKING TO HIS DRAGON SON AGAIN AND I CAN FINALLY BREATHE THANK YOU THARKAY

- also let me specify that tharkay coming in and ending laurence’s breakdown by just showing him that he, y’know. doesn’t have to commit borderline war crimes if he doesn’t want to is... yeah. when he’s like ‘yeah no bro I like you and all but this is fucked up I’m out’ and Laurence slowly puts the pieces together and goes ‘...that... is an option? F U C K’  is the Good Stuff (I’m being flippant about it but also I really mean it lol)  

- temeraire is giving the french uniforms the side eye for being boring and admiring the kilts... god bless him, focusing on the real things on the eve of battle

- gOD lien is so fucking COOL, celestial who actually knows wtf she’s doing OP pls nerf

ETA: also I’ve looked up some spoilers for the rest of this series (b/c there’s a couple of characters now who I’m so attached to that if they die I don’t even fucking care anymore lol), and apparently they never get to fight lien/meet her for too long again and can I just say... What The Fuck, why would you come up with such a compelling antagonist and not use her???  

- Tharkay, straight(hah)-faced: yeah I’m coming with you to australia on this prison ship nbd just curious about it that’s all 

Laurence, blinking back tears, barely getting the words out: cool bro 

(I think laurence has been like. crying or on the verge of crying in every single scene he and tharkay have been alone in this entire book. tharkay saw laurence through an ugly ugly divorce (with the government of england if not the land) and is still going with him to fucking australia. that’s how you know it’s love tbh, he’s done for)

also for the meme: AND THEY WERE SHIPMATES! OH MY GOD THEY WERE SHIPMATES!

ALSO also: tharkay getting granby a drink fdsafjsalkdjfh best boy, best friend 

- not connected to anything but I do appreciate that laurence is a rare extremely extroverted protagonist. he just really needs people around him and sort of wilts when he’s isolated, whether by circumstance or his own Stuff.  

- Oh man I really liked this one! the pacing worked better than the last one, the dual pov really shook things up, the new dragon characters were cool and Laurence had a lot of character development that has been in the cards since book 1, even if it was really upsetting while it happened. and Tharkay was there a lot, which is the surest way to my heart at this point, to be fair.