#i dont trust the POLICE with my government id the fuck!

[spacedouterri]

Friendly reminder to: NOT SHARE YOU PERSONAL INFORMATION ON THE INTERNET

[thepowerisyouth]

Thanks for this reminder about something Id been mulling over. New definition time again:

"Conspiracy Theory" = a wide ranging class of ideals, which, when broken down are at their core-- unproven theorums. As in, we dont have enough evidence to support our conclusion with high enough confidence, but we do believe it is PROBABLY true, as in greater than 50% chance

When you really start to dig into which "Conspiracies" are regarded as such, and dig into WHY some "Conspiracies" are brought into the normal science discourse and called "real" and whitewashed of the previous "Conspiracy" label, it actually starts making sense that some of the ORIGINAL CONSPIRACIES were actually well supported public beliefs. For a while.

I'm looking at you, 1960s political assassinations

When we look at these incidents from a framework that we have today, which is to say that big-money controls public information, especially BEFORE THE INTERNET

I really want to hear from people that lived through that time. I didnt obviously.

But the development of public sentiment around things called "Conspiracy" makes sense, if I add one extra "Conspiracy" in here. Funny cause thats actually how science proofs are written but yeah, I'm totally just a Conspiracy theorist and nothing else

I believe, until proven otherwise, that big-money interest groups manipulated certain Conspiracy theorists with slowly devolving theories which made the public lose all trust that ANY conspiracy could be right.

Since I'm not a proponent of intelligent design, I would say my argument still makes sense as a self-reinforcing cycle which was nudged along with extra craziness by the corporations who were avoiding the actual truth. As in, IT WAS IN EVERY CORPORATIONS PROFIT INCENTIVES TO MAKE AMERICANS DISTRUST EACH OTHER

Wow. Lot said here. Lets just finish with a quick reminder that all of these beliefs are officially labeled as "Conspiracy theory"

-The simple belief that JFK took more than 1 bullet when he died. The official report afterwards claimed that a "Single Bullet Theory"-- which confirmed Lee Harvey Oswald as definitely just a nutter acting alone-- as the officially correct theory. As in, all the government and businesses just acted like this was definitely true and just moved on. Calling everyone else "nutters". Fucking gaslighting

-The belief that MLK & Malcom X were killed by right-wing extremists in the American military branches (police state branches)

-The belief that Trump did not do anything ever in the interest of Russian businesses without being honest with America

That last one should be read again. Yep. Because the impeachment failed to convict Trump, the official stance of the government was that Trump committed zero crimes in regards to Foreign Interest transparency. If this happened 60 years ago, it would be considered a nutter theory too in todays discourse.

So let me say this for all my fellow altruistic mfers that have avoided scary conspiracies. They arent all scary. Just the ones tainted by right wing extremists in a self-reinforcing cycle to make all conspiracies less appealing to the general public.

Again, I don't believe in intelligent design, so I believe a lot of these theories can be better understood as a probably self-reinforcing cycle with some very bad actors making very bad moves to help it not stop.

Kinda like my argument about this all being a financial bubble? No one person causes it. Hive mind does

Trump should be forced to identify these men. They are Russian spies. Sergei Lavrov and Sergei Kislyak.

Trump should be forced to explain why they were in the Oval Office and why US media was forbidden and Russian media was allowed.

Trump is loyal to Russia. It's obvious.

Pictured: three Russian spies

[ellebeebee]

2.537

Part Seven

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six

Phrixus Jaril, 13, moves to the Citadel at a delicate age: namely, the peak of his teenage angst. He doesn’t expect much from these rich Citadel kids. But then he meets the Ryder twins, and all their friends, and realizes that he may have been a wee bit wrong about things. His relationship with Mira Ryder evolves over the years, and he never expected things to end up the way they did.

2970 words, Female Ryder|Sara Ryder/Original Male Turian Character, teen rating

AO3

-

He hadn’t really gotten to know Jyra Kraetoq, of the lower Citadel wards, during basic. And two months into advanced training, he still knew jack-all about her. He and Ruq tended to include her at meal times and in down time, because they came from the same basic squad. And they were usually in the same fire team. But the most they’d gotten her to say about herself was that she could probably infiltrate any system of ductwork, felt strongly that anyone not carrying at least two sidepieces and knives was asking for it, and didn’t believe in eating meat. Even the vat-cloned “meat” that was so often a camp staple.

She was okay, though. Good with tech and a pistol.

He never saw Kraetoq after training; last he’d heard, she had a post out near geth space– some joint op with both Alliance and Flotilla forces cleaning up leftovers from the Battle of the Citadel. Ruq, unfortunately, stuck to him like varren shit. Some years after boot camp, they met again at the fringes of the Attican Traverse. Slaver hunting. But even without meeting up with Ruq again, he recalled these two in particular because they gave him some advice he should have listened to. Sure, Kraetoq went through partners like tp, and Ruq was so dense he’d have someone sticking their mandibles straight up into his before he realized they were interested– but still. You see the splinter in someone else’s eye better than the log in yours or whatever.

During one evening’s free time, most of their squad and the other squads in the company were in the rec room. Kraetoq had stood from the table she, Phrixus, and Ruq had been sitting at.

She whistled at him. “Jaril. Latrine.”

Feet propped on the table top, Phrixus looked up from his omnitool. “Take a female.”

They (meaning everyone under sergeant rank) had to walk around the camp in pairs, usualy male-male and female-female, but in cases of male-female you took three. One male, two females or one female, two males. It was kind of a pain in the middle of the night when someone had to pee really bad and had to wait on someone to wake up and stop cursing you for waking you up.

“I could make the obvious joke here,” Kraetoq drawled. “But let’s just save time and go already.”

He didn’t feel like arguing, so he dropped his feet and shoved at Ruq, napping on the table with his head in his arms. Ruq grumbled some but got up anyway. A short walk later, the two of them leaned against the wall outside the female latrine, Ruq half falling asleep again and Phrixus with his mandibles deep in his tool.

And his head was still mired elsewhere when Kraetoq came out, and the other two were halfway down the hallway.

“Jaril,” Ruq called.

He looked up, and pushed off the wall. And when he followed after them, and passed by them, Ruq got sneaky and shot out a hand to grab onto his wrist. Jerking, he whipped Phrixus’s hand around so that he could look at the omnitool, too.

“I’m not gonna forget you–” he read out loud. He whistled. “How darling. Romantic, even. How much did you pay the guy to write all this for your sour ass?”

Quicker than Ruq could react, Phrixus flicked him sharply on the forehead with his free hand.

“Shit–”

“Dumbass,” he told Ruq.

His hand returned to him, he turned off his omnitool. He’d been browsing through his old message logs. The people in them almost felt like… strangers. At what point had they stopped writing to each other like that, like… Their feelings were so easy to admit. To just spit out. It hadn’t even been a year since he’d written that line Ruq used, but it felt like a lifetime.

The three of them walked back to the rec area with Ruq shrilling about the mark Phrixus probably left. Kraetoq glanced at him. At the face he was making.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked.

He glanced at her. Shrugged. “My girlfriend. Lately she’s… acting like a damn princess. I’m here, busting my ass, and…” He shrugged again. “It’s just hard to talk to her lately.”

They dropped into their old seats. Propped their feet up again. And Kraetoq didn’t say anything, so he thought the subject was dropped. But then she cleared her throat.

“Maybe she’s acting like a princess because she is one? Maybe every girl is a bit of a princess. Just some don’t get the chance to act like it.”

He looked at her. And shrugged and rolled his eyes because he was a damn idiot and thought she was complaining about having to nag them about walking her to the latrine, and not that she was saying something he should have really heard.

He should have been worried when Mira started going out again. Since the move to the dorms, Forta had decided to cut the drinking and work on lifting and his overall fitness. Of course, the timing and the amount of enthusiasm he threw into this should have worried Phrixus for an altogether different reason. Mira, though, went back to sneaking out with Aela and all the old suspects back home. He’d thought at first it was her just going back to things like normal. But then at some point she and Aela got bored of all the same old house parties.

[mira] soooo

[phrixus] yeah

[mira] me n aela have been up to no good

[mira] ;D

[phrixus] do i really want to hear this

[mira] yesss

[mira] you do

[mira] so u kno how ur csn is tied to ur face recs and thats how you get id’ed for bars and stuff

If at any time you are a citizen of Citadel space, you receive a constantly updating three-dimensional face scan that will be associated with a Citadel Space Number and your various specs. This information is stored with various police and government databases, which vendors of regulated goods and services are required to access before selling to you.

[phrixus] yeah…

[mira] well, we met this asari who knows someone that will program a jump in scanner software when your face is scanned so it looks like you’re legal

[mira] its expensive

[mira] but i think its worth it

[phrixus] mira

[phrixus] are you for real right now

[mira] what

[phrixus] you’re planning on going to bars and clubs

[phrixus] you’re a kid

[phrixus] you know that’s fucking dangerous

[phrixus] there are creeps out there

[mira] yeah i know

[mira] we’re not going to be stupid about it

[mira] whats with you

[mira] you used to be into this stuff

[phrixus] well maybe i just have my priorities straight

[mira] and i dont?

[phrixus] you’re failing half your classes, you skip too much, all you really seem to care about anymore is partying

[phrixus] you’re not even going to the gun ranges or the arena

[phrixus] and aela just keeps making it worse

[mira] you dont know anything

[mira] aela has been there for me

[mira] she actually listens to me

[mira] not like you anymore

[mira] you used to give a shit about my life

[mira] now im lucky if you even send a message once a day

[mira] you used to tell me things

[mira] now i dont know anything about what youre doing

[mira] or how you are

[mira] youve changed and i dont even know you anymore

[phrixus] you think i wanted it like this

[phrixus] im here because its my responsibility

[phrixus] im doing my duty and i dont have all the fucking time in the world to answer every message

[phrixus] especially all this crap about how hungover you are or whining about how expensive your fake id will be

[phrixus] im here doing real work in the real world

[phrixus] not like you and aela out in la la land over there

[phrixus] im getting my life together not fucking wasting it

[mira] no youre not youre just being an asshole

[mira] maybe everyone was right about you

[mira] youre not shy or misunderstood or whatever

[mira] youre just a selfish jerk

[mira] you have no idea how to care about anyone other than yourself

[mira] and i bet none of this is new

[mira] youve always looked down on me

[mira] youre just a fucking emotional leech

[mira] but dont worry i wont bother you again with my screwed up life

-

They didn’t talk for two weeks.

He had never been angry at anyone, had never been angry at her in this way before. He’d never been hurt in this way.

He aced an impromptu fire and movement drill, earned praise from the company’s captain. He memorized all of the regs concerning the movement of refugees from an unsecured location to a secured location. He learned how to properly fire heavy artillery, and how to decimate an air raid with a dazzling firework display.

All the while pretending to not think about it. All the while stewing.

He felt like shit.

He ignored calls from home, from his moms and his old friends. All the messages. He told no one about the fight. Maybe he thought if he kept quiet, it would cease to exist. Just be erased from the history of the universe if no one could remember it.

But him ignoring it wasn’t going to erase the logs in his omnitool, or make her forget.

He just felt like shit.

When did things get so bad? How could it have been, just a year ago, that he felt there was no one who knew him better, that he trusted more, and then that same person turned into a stranger? Someone he couldn’t understand, someone who he couldn’t confide in or vice-versa? How the fuck was it possible that someone you’d shared a bed with– the only person you’d touched or touched you could turn into… an enemy?

And what was it in him that just… could do nothing to help her. Her mother was dying. And he couldn’t do anything. He hadn’t been able to comfort her, say anything of significance for her. He was useless.

If he were honest, and not trying to forget the whole thing, he’d have to admit he didn’t have much right to criticize her.

Where did the trust get broken? Where did the understanding go? Where did that warm afternoon air go, sliding down their bare backs? Where did the quiet rustling as they shifted closer go? And her smile– when was the last time he’d made her smile?

That hit some deep spot in him, some horribly tender place that wasn’t protected by plates or armor. A place he’d been trying to ignore, all this time at camp.

He pretended to forget for two weeks before he ended up wide awake after lights out, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. He was running on several nights of staring up at the ceiling instead of sleeping, and yet, here he was. Awake. Pretending.

Phrixus pushed up an elbow and glanced down from his top bunk. Everyone was out. In the hall outside, he couldn’t hear the boots of the patrolling fire watch. They were supposed to report anyone out of bed, but even if they caught him only brown-nosing assholes ever snitched on fellow trainees.

Silently, he slipped down the ladder. He dug his omnitool out, climbed back up, and pulled up the covers to block some of the light.

He sent a message to Mira. And waited. And waited. The air filters in the barracks room clicked at rapid rhythm every few hours. It wasn’t too loud, just sort of softly angry and stuttery. Could wake you up though, and you wouldn’t realize it was the filters. You’d get spooked and feel like something was sitting on your chest. He sent another message.

And he waited and waited.

[phrixus] We need to talk.

[mira] oooo cap

[mira] s

[mira] pucntion

[mira] ooooooo

[mira] u dontwnt to tallk tome

[phrixus] Have you been drinking?

A very long pause. He turned his omnitool’s light off when he heard the passing of the fire watch.

[phrixus] Where are you?

[mira] purgatory

[phrixus] Mira.

[mira] stop

[mira] dont

[phrixus] Who’s with you?

[mira] y do u caer

[phrixus] I’m messaging Aela.

[mira] no

[mira] y not alk me

[mira] im drunk im nt stupid

[mira] im the one u shld tallk to

[mira] but u dont

[mira] u nnever

[phrixus] im sorry

[mira] yeah

[mira] metoo

[phrixus] you wanna vid talk?

[phrixus] mira?

[phrixus] mira

He waited a while. And waited. Tried her again. Then he tried Aela.

[phrixus] hey are you with mira

[aela] yeah

[aela] we’re leaving purgatory now

[aela] try her tomorrow or something

[phrixus] ok

[phrixus] how is she

[aela] look, i’m the last person you want to ask about this

[aela] i’m not gonna pull punches

[aela] and i don’t want to make it worse

[aela] just talk to her tomorrow

-

So he skipped lunch the next day and messaged her. Wedged into the corner between two auxiliary buildings, having snuck his omnitool into his waistband in the morning. The electromagnetic barrier of the fort’s biodome buzzing distantly overhead. As answer, she vid called him back.

He was in fatigues, unbuttoned to the waist. The dome protected from a great deal of heat, but it was still much hotter out of doors.

She stared at him, out of the QE data transmission, tinged in hologram blue. In her dorm, sitting on a bed not so different from the one he used now. The plain, nondescript walls not so different from the ones in the barracks, yet hers papered with photo screens and posters. The cushions at her back the same from her old room. Her face was a mess, like clan markings done with cheap paint in a downpour, and she wore a wrinkled and disheveled dress he’d never seen before. Her hair was pulled back carelessly.

“Hey,” she said, small and quiet.

“Hey,” he said.

He could hear the distant rhythm of a jogging company. Even farther out, the sharp cracks of the range.

“You okay?” he asked.

Her eyes shot down, her jaw working. She shook her head.

“I don’t– I need to say something,” she said. “I said some stuff I shouldn’t have the last time we messaged.”

“I did, too–”

“Wait. Just, wait. I’m sorry. You’re not that type of person I said you were. But I also said some things I should’ve a while ago. Things haven’t… they haven’t been the same… Phrixus.”

He waited, holding his mandibles rigid. He watched the slide of her eyes to some spot away from him, and the working of her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he managed. “Mira, I’m sorry. I’ve been terrible. You’re nothing like… and I haven’t been there for you, I know. But I’ve been– worried about you.”

She hesitated, nervous hands going to push away a stray curl that wasn’t there. “I’m glad. I mean. I know I haven’t been making great choices. But I mean… I just wanted… some fun and– and you know, I’ve been worried about you, too. I don’t have any idea how you’re feeling anymore.”

“Yeah,” he said, subvocals dipping. “I know.”

“And I’m sort of tired of just… waiting for some bit of your time. I feel like I’m just a distraction for you.”

“You’re not– you’re not. But… I’m sorry. I just need, well, space. I really just can’t spare the same amount of time…”

“I know.”

Then she looked up properly, at the rigidity in his face. Her eyes shone. She inhaled, the sound trembling, in her throat.

“Phrixus, I think– I think this just isn’t working anymore. Things aren’t the same.  And we both– I think we both need to focus on other things.”

The voice of some sergeant out in the yard spread out over the compound, echoing like a sergeant’s voice does, but wordless and unemotional and hard. An unintelligible dressing down of some group of teenagers.

“I…” he needed to reply, but his voice was skittering away from him. “I think… you’re probably right. I guess we should just– break up…”

She stared up at him. Her voice was so small and tight. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

-

He felt… relief for a while. Relief that the pressure and responsibility of the relationship was over. That he didn’t have to come back to his bunk with a backlog of messages to catch up on.

But then the guilt set in. Had they just given up? Should he have tried harder, done more. How could he have said the things he did. This wasn’t just anyone.  This was her. And she had needed him, and he hadn’t been there.

And then the pain set in. Like the story Lieutenant Gratarian had told them on simulation; there are times when soldiers get cleaved in two, and they’re dead, they just don’t realize it yet. But they keep talking, still trying to get help. But they’re dead, and they’ll feel it soon.

All the things he remembered, all the things they’d shared– it got into that deep and tender spot. Turned into this black blemish that never seemed to go away. He could forget about it. But sometimes something (some scent that reminded him, some shift in another’s form) would touch it, and light that tender spot on fire.

But what they’d said still remained.

Maybe it was for the best.

He could focus on training, and she could work things out, figure out the thing in her that was hurting.

Time passed. He didn’t try to make up or restart things, and neither did she.

And they moved on.