#i would jettison you into deeper space

[hazbmymhotel]

100% Della Duck is in Hell

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

It’s been pouring overnight and into this morning. We have a flood watch in effect until 10AM. I bet it extends.

I finally got the opportunity to do a little async/await Swift this week. Using a combination of generics, Decodable, and async/await makes for an extremely powerful network client. It’s pretty shocking how simple it was to combine those three items to form a set of methods that return fully decoded models with so few lines of code and zero blocks/closures/whatever you call them in your favorite language.

I’m sure some folks will laugh and say “We’ve had that for X years in language Y!” I get it. It’s fairly new to Swift and I’m finally getting to work with it properly.

I’ve also been dabbling with SwiftUI and find some of the concepts weird, but as with all moves to new frameworks or languages, I’ll pick it up and it’ll feel natural at some point.

It’s past time to get my first cup of coffee. I hope you enjoy the links.

Kyle Barr • Gizmodo

Everything Announced at Google I/O: Gemini Takes Over

The week was Google’s Developer Conference. I’m not too much into Google or Android for that matter and while I know LLM’s are here to stay I’m not deep minded enough to find them exciting. Super smart developers find it exciting because they’re challenging in a way they grok and Management find them exciting because they’re a way to do more with fewer people and charge you a ton of money for it. 🤣

Hey, I just want to back away on my little iOS and Mac Apps and build something I love that I hope others will too. I’m sure someday I’ll have to integrate an LLM into an app. 🤖

Raymond Chen • The Old New Thing

In other words, take the existing component and run it before making any changes to it at all. Does it work?

I’ve said it before so I’ll say it again: Raymond Chen is a gift to computing and Microsoft is fortunate to have him.

He’s done so much for Microsoft and the tools we use everyday so when he shares his pearls of wisdom, I listen.

Baldur Bjarnason

React, Electron, and LLMs have a common purpose: the labour arbitrage theory of dev tool popularity

This was a very interesting read and I found myself nodding in agreement a lot but I also disagreed with things.

Something that does bother me about the move to more abstract tooling is the loss of expertise about the platform and knowing the platform provided tools will be the best for solving problems and creating the best possible apps I’m capable of.

Of course you can still make a crummy app with native tools and a brilliant app with tools like React Native.

When I was a Windows developer I could always tell when an application was written in Classic Visual Basic because of how the windows drew. It was a dead giveaway. That always bothered me. Nothing against Classic Visual Basic, it was a native development tool, and you could be extremely productive with it. Just like modern web tooling being used everywhere.

Chris Kirkham • Reuters

The meeting could not have gone worse. Musk, the employees said, was not pleased with Tinucci’s presentation and wanted more layoffs. When she balked, saying deeper cuts would undermine charging-business fundamentals, he responded by firing her and her entire 500-member team.

Musk isn’t a genius. He’s a bully who wins by being an asshole to folks until he gets his way. During the entire charging team over a plan he didn’t agree with is a prime example of how big a baby man he really is.

Why Tesla keeps him around is beyond me. Jettison the man so he can go work on X so you can continue to lead in the EV space. Who needs a network of cars being used for their compute so some dude and do AI stuff with it? What?

How about getting Tesla to do more good for the world by building trucks for hauling large loads across country or building all electric high speed rail systems and busses. You know, mass transport.

Musk talks about a desire to save mankind but he’s only paying lip service to it as far as I can tell. He is obviously obsessed with making crap tons of money and getting his way at the expense of others.

Joseph Savona, Ricky Hanlon, Andrew Clark, Matt Carroll, and Dan Abramov • react.dev

React Compiler is no longer a research project: the compiler now powers instagram.com in production, and we are working to ship the compiler across additional surfaces at Meta and to prepare the first open source release.

I need to go read more about this React Compiler or at the very least get the lowdown from a friend. I wonder if this will come to the React Native world and if it does what would that look like? Would we get everything compiled down to Web Assembly we push through a mobile device JavaScript runtime?

Web stuff is such a hodge-podge of stuff. It’s like the duct tape and baling wire of development.

I consider myself a duct tape a baling wire developer, so that’s not an insult to me. 😃

Robert Reich

America’s second civil war? It’s already begun

I try to stay away from links to Substack articles but I thought this River Reich article was important enough to break my rule.

If the Orange Menace gets back in office I’d fully expect us to see skirmishes break out all over the country at times due to his draconian policies.

Full on war would only break out if things get bad enough the people finally stand up and say enough is enough.

I hope beyond hope we can keep Joe Biden in the White House for four more years and TFG goes away, either to jail, Russia, or succumbs to a natural end.

Having said that we’re going to be fighting against authoritarian MAGA’s for years and years to come. Here’s hoping the GOP comes to its senses and stops this horseshit.

Federico Viticci • MacStories

Still, as I was thinking about my usage of the iPad and why I enjoy using the device so much despite its limitations, I realized that I have never actually written about all of those “limitations” in a single, comprehensive article.

Nice piece that goes into the things Federico finds lacking on iPad. My knee jerk reaction is to think “just move back to a Mac” but folks should do what they want and complaining about the state of things is the only real power they have to hopefully influence Apple to make changes.

I’m still a big fan of Federico’s FrankenMac or MonsterPad, whatever you’d like to call it, it’s extremely cool so of course Apple will never do it. It would poach sales from Mac and iPad and they certainly want you to purchase both, separately. 🧌

David Zipper • Fast Company

Last week, General Motors announced that it would end production of the Chevrolet Malibu, which the company first introduced in 1964. Although not exactly a head turner (the Malibu was “so uncool, it was cool,” declared the New York Times), the sedan has become an American fixture, even an icon, appearing in classic films like Say Anything and Pulp Fiction. Over the past 60 years, GM produced some 10 million of them.

This is really weird to see from American car companies. Why abandon the sedan? Well it’s because American’s are ridiculous. We want the biggest darned cars we could possibly fit on the road.

For me personally I’d really love to have a $10k or less, limited range, EV. It could be small, that’s fine. It would be for running errands and commuting into town, not that I have a commute any longer but if I did I’d like a super economical EV.

Something like this. Would I prefer to buy a ‘Murican version of one, heck yeah! Will a ‘Murican company build one, heck no! 😄

JanerationX

The recent news that the NFL is in negotiations with Netflix (!!!) for the two Christmas Day games this year really made my blood boil. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. The league has been slowly chipping away at fans’ goodwill for years. But the fact that Netflix (!!!) is involved makes it extra offensive.

Professional sporting is just as greedy as any other business. They’re there to make money, not just break even, they want to make crap tons of money. This is how they do it. They make deals with the highest bidder. If that means selling the rights to some special games at jacked up rates, it’s what they’re gonna do.

Fans be damned.

The Eclectic Light Company

The only clue given by Apple comes in a single word buried in the sentence “Share code between apps on multiple platforms with views and controls that adapt to their context and presentation.” The key word there is adapt. SwiftUI is a forceful move in delivering an adaptive human interface, one that adapts to the user, the task, the data, and the platform.

Really nice piece on using SwiftUI and how it’s built to adapt to each device, at least that’s the idea.

I also like that it points out there’s nothing wrong with UIKit and AppKit.

Heck, one of the most beautiful, high quality, iOS apps made today is Ivory from Tapbots and last I heard it’s still written in Objective-C on UIKit and AppKit. No need to throw out perfectly good code in favor of an expensive rewrite for the sake of the new hotness.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: A Voyage to Arcturus

Author: Arthur C. Clarke

Rating: 4/5 stars

Some quotes to get you started:

Even in such a remote age it was possible to conceive some men being so lost to reason that they could not distinguish a dream from reality, and would not believe it worth attention to save from a fall of a planet into the sun, when the fall of a planet into the sun was already the most important item in their newspapers every day.

'The trouble about getting out of a spaceship, of course,' he said, 'is that it's in space.'

And of course, no end of silly things happening to people in space:

Then the door closed and the lights went out. For a moment everybody thought that that was it. But there were other lights, for in any modern starship, especially one built in the old days, there is always one room where the radio and radar equipment is stored in a box which, in a sudden emergency, can be jettisoned overboard and the instruments kept going till the spaceship is found and rescued. The radio, fortunately, was still working.

It's really funny how "what if people in space got into big fights about what the word 'bisexual' means" turns out to actually be a major plot point in an otherwise very forgettable book.

The thing is that one of the things you have to remember is that a space voyage is a very long time. It doesn't matter how good or fast your spaceship is, if you sit still in it all this time. Not even if it's a very long time because of how great your spaceship is.

And just as it's clear that Clarke has no patience for any kind of "deep" explanation of the plot in his novels, so it's also clear that he has no patience for any kind of "deeper" explanations about "why space is scary" or what "space travel is like" or anything of the sort. "Space" and "the idea of space" appear in his works only as background props, not really there to be contemplated, much less analyzed.

A Voyage To Arcturus is in some ways an archetypal Clarke novel (if you could have any one novel, this would be it), but perhaps the most typical thing it does is the way it just... has no clear sense of why the characters are doing all this, in the first person -- we know, in a vague, intuitive way, that they are all doing this because it is the right thing to do, they hope to do, and we just have to wait and see whether it works out. There are no "motives" (let alone a "motivational system"), just the same old familiar feelings about the "right" actions that we get from classic poetry.

The character who does have a (flimsy) internal motivation at one point, for instance, does so only to explain his flimsy motives to someone else, in a sort of in-character "interlude" after a long monologue.

This is all, of course, pretty boring. In most fictional contexts, that would be a problem (the boringness of a novel about the moon landing, say). But that's because we are used to stories where the characters have motivations and stuff. In fiction (and, I think, life), the world is usually already made up and interesting without any conscious planning on anyone's part. We like to be surprised, to find things out. The Clarke novel doesn't do that -- all the characters are "out" all the time (as in, in view of the narrative at the time being taken up by them), and their motivations are always just the ones we "knew" about all along. You get the sense that the book takes itself way too seriously.

[diskwrite-ffxiv]

ffxivwrite 2021 - #23 Soul

Gridania, 1549 6AE

The shadow of a fish approached the surface of the lake, rising with intent as its glassy eyes fixed upon the silhouette of a tiny struggling form- a fly that darted too low, snatched from the air by an improbable swell of water. It lifted its curved mouth, poised to lunge with sudden sucking force to cast the fly to its oblivion, but just as it shot up a rock struck at an improbable angle, shattering the surface with a sharp smack as it tossed a ribbon of spray into the air. In a teal flash of scales the fish fled into the depths, and in the gradual fade from light blue to deeper browns the rock sank to its new home, leaving nothing but the disturbance of ripples in its wake. The fly, jettisoned a few ilms from where it started, struggled quixotically against its fate.

High above, Shandrelle flung out a hand. “There! There, did you see? It definitely bounced.”

Ojene scoffed, her elbows dangled over her knees, both legs drawn up close to her chest, feet wedged in the gutter of the roof. “With that kind of throw? Please.” Her toothy grin glittered in the afternoon light. “I only saw one.”

“Say what you like,” Shandrelle said primly, crossing her arms across her chest, “I know the truth!”

“Hm.” Ojene plucked another rock from the small pile heaped between them, stolen from the lake’s edge and hauled all the way up the building in Shandrelle’s pockets.

The thought of the tiny shards of stone and the dust she’d have to crumble from the clothes was the furthest thing from Shandrelle’s mind as she grinned impishly back, giddy with mischief as the wind ripped a strand of hair from her bun and flung it into her eyes. Ignoring this scrutiny, Ojene eyed the stone, turning it over in her hand as her thumb tested the flat surface on one side, then the other. Then, seemingly satisfied, she reeled back her arm and in a sharp crack of motion she lobbed the rock out into the expanse.

It had no chance. The stone angled too far, too fast, striking the lake in a heavy drop that flung a tongue of water high.

“Well!” Shandrelle proclaimed. “That wasn’t nearly as good as mine.”

“Oh? Then why don’t you give it another try, if you’re so good?” Ojene flourished a hand to the heap.

Shandrelle’s grin snaked wider as she grabbed another rock. As she squinted at the lake she circled her arm experimentally one way, then the other. The angle was hopeless, she knew. The chance of them skipping a rock from up here, huddled three stories up on the roof of a bakery, was slim to none. But maybe if she got it just right-

“Hyah!” Shandrelle yelled as she flung her arm forward- but the stone slipped traitorously from her fingers at the wrong point and crashed, not out into the lake, but hard into the bakery’s wall.

Ojene doubled forward as she cascaded into pealing laughter. “What was that?”

“I don’t know!” Shandrelle dissolved into giggles. “But I hit it!”

“You- oh no, they might have heard us.” Swallowing a great guffaw, Ojene spun around, squinting over the slanted roof.

“What would they say?” Shandrelle gasped, clutching at her pinching sides. “‘What are you doing on my roof?’ ‘Get down you ridiculous mummers.’ ‘I thought you’d be children’?”

“Children- probably! Hm. It’s fine.” Snatching up another rock, Ojene eyed the lake.

“Matron,” Shandrelle uttered, and she snaked a finger behind her spectacles to strike a spot of moisture from the corner of her eye. “Skipping or not, you do have a much better arm than me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ojene said, half-grin returning, and she coiled up her arm before snapping it forward like a snake, and the rock soared free as an arrow in a long, lazy arc. “You could have put out a window with that last one.”

“Occupational hazards,” Shandrelle declared. “But in all seriousness- damn!” she shot a finger forward, gesturing haplessly at the space the rock sailed through. “Do it again!”

With a laugh Ojene obliged her, and Shandrelle watched in rapt fascination as the second rock scored just as far as the first. “That’s what I mean! How do you do that?”

“It’s archery,” Ojene said, then shot Shandrelle a quick glance. “Well, not really- but it’s the same idea in a way. You’re launching an object and trying to make it go as far as you can, so there’s a sort of- best angle to do it in. Depending on the wind, and so on and so forth.”

“Really? Show me again!”

Ojene did- over and over as Shandrelle egged her on until the small pile of rocks was depleted, leaving only dust. With an effusive sigh, Shandrelle leaned back against the roof, casting her arms behind her head.

“I’m glad you convinced me to come up here,” she said. “I never knew roofs were so fun.”

“They can be.” Ojene flashed her a sidelong smile. “It’s also nice sometimes, just to get away from the crowds. I used to do this, but with trees. It’s not so different really.”

“Ah yes,” Shandrelle said with a laugh. “The bustling fourteenth bell crowds outside a closed bakery with nary a customer in sight.”

Ojene shot her a measured look. “Don’t laugh. It’s different for me. I didn’t grow up with this. It gets claustrophobic sometimes.”

“Right, right. Sorry- I forget sometimes. About our backgrounds, I mean.”

“I don’t know how you could.” From the recesses of a trouser pocket Ojene pulled out a small object, clutched in her closed hand. “No one else does.” With a sharp flick of her wrist, one last stone shot through the air, catching the sunlight in a blip of light before it cascaded down to the lake, crashing into the ripples before it sank out of sight.

[monstersdownthepath]

5e Otherworldly Patron- The River King

Into a sunken town, the handsome gambler ran For he owed gold and blood, and yet had none to spare Desperate and forlorn, he was about to change his path and walk away when he heard a song that called to him to chance his luck again ----------------- Now the singer was a creature With the biggest mouth the gambler had ever seen! “Excuse my song,” the monstrous siren said, “the tune’s purpose was your attention,” “For I KNOW you have troubles,” “And I can offer... absolution.”

The River King is an ancient, malevolent demon whose bottomless belly can swallow anything but whose hunger can only be sated with misery, despair, and terror. He reaps his terrible meals by wringing the emotions from those who take his deals, allowing them to amass tremendous fortune and fame before arriving to devour everything they’ve gained and leave his victim with nothing, sometimes not even their lives. There’s nowhere in the Great Wheel that he hasn’t been, and nowhere he can’t go again... Which means there’s nowhere you can run when he comes to collect.

Perhaps this pact was presented to you by the King himself as an option to better your life, the power steering you towards greater heights... or perhaps you struck this deal yourself in an attempt to forestall your doom, pledging your service to the River King in the hopes that you’ll be spared so long as you remain useful. Whatever the case may be, a shard of the demon’s power is now embedded in you, filling you with the power of the foul waters that Tahm Kench inhabits...

EXPANDED SPELL LIST

The following spells are added to the Warlock spell list for you.

1st: Command, Disguise Self

2nd: Locate Object, Calm Emotions

3rd: Bestow Curse, Clairvoyance

4th: Compulsion, Locate Creature

5th: Creation, Scrying

-Demon’s Tongue

At 1st level, the River King grants you a boon to make it easier for you to lure people into his waiting gullet. Your tongue is replaced with one that’s wide, flat, and pale gray. Despite its unsightly appearance (and the fact it just doesn’t feel right), it grants you proficiency in Deception, or expertise if you are already proficient, and allows you to cast Charm Person without using a Warlock spell slot or any components. Once you cast this special spell, you cannot do so again until you complete a short rest.

In addition, the River King gifts one additional boon to make you more comfortable in his sodden home, should you be dragged screaming back feel like returning: You gain a Swim speed equal to your base land speed, and can breath and speak underwater.

-Every Heart has its Hunger

The River King knows instinctually what everyone hungers for even if they’ve never met before; such a gift is too good for you, so he has given you a smaller and more restricted version.

At 6th level, you can use Detect Thoughts without expending a Warlock spell slot. If you use this spell’s secondary function to probe deeper into someone’s mind, instead of whatever looms largely in its mind, you hone in specifically on the creature’s deepest desires or goals (there can be overlap between what looms in their mind and what they desire most, obviously). The spell ends once you obtain this information, but the probing cannot be detected, unlike the typical use of Detect Thoughts.

You can use this ability once, and regain the ability to do so after a short rest.

-So Melodic and Sincere

A devil will trick you into singing away your very soul with clever legalese and deadly loopholes that lock around the neck like a noose. The River King is under no such compulsion. Very often, the people who take his bargains aren’t entirely aware of their actions, guided by his hypnotic voice. Sometimes they ARE aware, and that’s where this power comes in.

At 10th level, you may cast Geas or Dominate Person once using a Warlock spell slot. You must complete a long rest before you can do so again.

-Ain’t No Place I Ain’t Been

It’s said that the River King has been everywhere in existence, including to places that don’t, can’t, or don’t yet exist. You? You’re not as well-traveled (yet), but you can get just about anywhere you want.

At level 14, you can cast Teleport using a Warlock spell slot. This version sees you and your targets sinking into the ground before erupting from the ground at your destination in a spray of stagnant swamp water. With this version, you always arrive On Target if you’re choosing a Very Familiar location. Alternately, you may cast this spell without using a Warlock spell slot, throwing yourself at the mercy of the River King to escape when it would otherwise be impossible... But if you do, treat all “On Target” rolls as “Off Target” instead. If possible, you and your targets will be jettisoned from a body of water, even if the water could not possibly hold you all.

In any case, once you use this ability, you cannot do so again until you complete a long rest.

——

INVOCATIONS

The Ripping Tide Prereq: the River King patron, Pact of the Blade

You can conjure a lengthy, sodden whip as your pact weapon. When you successfully strike an enemy with this whip, it animates and automatically attempts a grapple using Athletics (Charisma) against the victim. As a bonus action while grappling someone with your pact whip, you can teleport yourself and your target up to 20ft in any direction into a space you can see. You can teleport a number of times each day equal to your Charisma modifier, and can do so again upon completing a long rest.

Abyssal Recall Prereq: the River King patron, Pact of the Chain

As an action, you may recall your familiar and anything it is physically carrying to your side from across any distance, barring interplanar travel. Your familiar sinks into the ground and appears next to you in a spray of murky water, all items it was carrying dampened unless precautions were taken to preserve them. A typical familiar can carry about 30 pounds of weight, though the improved Chain familiars can heft significantly more. You cannot transport living creatures with this ability. You may recall your familiar in this way a number of times each day equal to your Charisma modifier, and can do so again upon completing a long rest.

Names of the Drowned Prereq: the River King patron, Pact of the Tome

The names of all creatures currently charmed by you or under some form of magical control you have over them--such as Dominate Person or Geas--appear within your Book of Shadows. You always know their general status--if they’re scared, or injured, or dying, or happy, etc--and, as an action, may run a finger over one of the names in the book to communicate with them, sending a simple ten-or-less word message to them from across any distance. They may respond back in kind, if they wish. A creature may also write their own name into your book to receive this “benefit.” A creature that is no longer charmed by your or under your control has their name fade from the book after 1 minute, but creatures who write their own names in the book never have the writing fade.

You can send a number of messages in this way equal to your proficiency bonus plus your Charisma modifier, and regain all uses after a long rest.

Thick Skinned Prereq: Lvl 6, the River King patron

Your skin becomes thick, slick, and blubbery. Your AC becomes 10 + your Con modifier + your Cha modifier.

Smooth Talker Prereq: Lvl 10, the River King patron

Creatures who are charmed by you will always fail to realize that you’re casting spells upon them, unless those spells deal hit point damage. Creatures on whom you’ve cast Suggestion and Charm Person/Charm Monster do not realize that they’ve been controlled during the spells duration or when it ends, rationalizing their decisions as moments of madness, lapses of thought, or some other quirk of their own consciousness.

Stubborn Spells Prereq: Lvl 10, the River King patron

When a spell you’ve cast would end before its duration concludes--for example, if your concentration gets broken, if the victim succeeds on a saving throw versus Dominate Person, or if Geas or Bestow Curse are removed with the use of magic--you become aware of this potential lapse, no matter how far the spell or its target is from you. You may use your reaction to repair the magic, snapping it back into place as though it had never been interrupted, though the interrupting force may try again if they have the means. You may use this ability once, and regain the ability to do so after a short rest.

Abyssal Voyage Prereq: Lvl 14, the River King patron, Pact of the Chain, Abyssal Recall

Whenever you call your familiar back with Abyssal Recall, you can have them teleport a single Large or smaller creature they’re in physical contact with to your side as well. An unwilling target must be grappled first. The creature appears adjacent to you, a little soggy but otherwise unhurt by the sudden travel.

Abyssal Imprisonment Prereq: Lvl 14, the River King patron, Pact of the Blade, the Ripping Tide

As an action while you have a victim grappled with your pact whip, you may send the victim into an endlessly deep, lightless pit of water. The victim must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw against your Warlock spell save DC to avoid falling into the pit that forms below them. If they fail, the hole above them seals them in the abyss. They are no longer grappled, but creatures that cannot breath underwater will likely begin to drown.

They remain trapped in the abyss for an hour, but creatures trapped can attempt to escape once per round by using their action to make an Intelligence check, as if navigating a Maze spell, to find the minute hole in the abyss that was left behind by them being thrown in. If they succeed, they reappear in the space they left in a spray of water.

You must complete a long rest before you’re able to use this ability again.

Names of the Damned Prereq: Lvl 14, the River King patron, Pact of the Tome, Names of the Drowned

Whenever you would use your Names of the Drowned feature to send a message, you may instead cast a spell on the target. A spell cast in this way affects only the target, even if the heightened level of the spell would allow for multiple targets. This still consumes a use of Names of the Drowned.

Ain’t No Place I Can’t Go Again Prereq: Lvl 20, the River King patron.

You may cast Gate without using a Warlock spell slot and without needing its material component. You cannot use this spell to call upon a creature, and you cannot use this invocation again for 3 days after using it once.

[keyofjetwolf]

FANFIC DAYS

Hello my little steamed pork buns!

One of the things voted in this year is Jet Reads Sailor Moon Fanfic Days, which I love! Always looking to show appreciation and interest in writers.

However, to do that, I need fanfics, and so I NEED YOU. If you are a fanfic author, please nominate some of your works via submission!

There will be two things I do for reading fanfic, and I ask that you nominate your fic(s) for one or the other, or both, and specifically outlay that in your nomination.

NOMINATION FORM:

Name: (on tumblr, Ao3, or both)

Name of Fic(s) and links to fics: (You can also nominate all of your Sailor Moon works, but please provide me a link to your collected works)

Which categories you are nominating which fics for: Dramatic Reading, Analysis,or both.

NOW IN SURVEY FORM FOR EASY COLLECTING AND ALSO SAFETY NET FOR TUMBLR’S SUCK

Dramatic Fanfic Reading

This is where I, noted actress of stage and screen, Jettison Q. Wolf, will dramatically bring to life the fanfic put before me. i'm sure we're all great students of my masterful voice work, and are looking forward to this.

If you nominate your fic for this, look for:

Hilarious accents assigned to random characters!

Reading for maximum drama!

Having a great fun time.

There's a potential that any awkward dialogue or description could be read in a really humorous way, so if that would make you feel bad, please don't nominate your own fic! This is probably better suited for humorous fics or fluffy fics.

Fanfic Analysis.

This is where I pick the fic apart in the way I do most liveblogs! This is not to say that I'll take four hours on one fic,but it'll definitely be a close reading.

If you nominate for this, look for:

Pulling out of specific lines to talk about

Discussion of character motivation/characterization

Overall discussion of themes and writing

If you nominate for this, please know there's a chance I might disagree with a character take or moment, or wish we went deeper into something. I won't be cruel--I would never--but if anything but unfettered praise is going to hurt your feelings (and I understand) this nomination space may not be for you.

What if I want to nominate a fic I didn't write?

Please contact the author and ask them to nominate it! I only want authors in this who really want to play, and are fine with everything I laid out above. If nothing else, I bet they would love to hear that you loved a fic so much you want someone to dig into it (I know I would)

Fics must be nominated by Tuesday, February 19th. Our first dramatic reading day is Monday, though, so get them in as fast as you can!

Thank you my beautiful orange blossoms! Any questions about how this is going to be please contact @docholligay as my brain is currently a hot clam latte of fears and emotions.

[dramaplustautology]

Tied to a Name

So I hit a kind of depressive (???) episode in the middle of the night and I can’t get back to sleep, so I expended all that energy on some writing. This is another mq(sort of)!Ty thing where I was trying to think of what her personal mech would be like, came up with messy stuff, so I wrote up a short story and better ideas emerged. 

I’ll make a list of the mech’s features and other notes sometime later, but for now I gotta get up in oof less than three hours, lmao.

Summary: Ty has a strange feeling about the conference she’s going to crash, and decides to bring AI Aegis to her long untouched primary Mech.

“Remember, you can eject any time you want.”

As the mech’s optics came online, the AI’s targeting system focused on the lone lifeform standing on the floor of a vast and empty hanger.

Ty’s heartrate was high despite her calm voice, hands dug into her pockets to keep them from shaking.

Aegis could tell as though he were standing right in front of her, alive and overdosing on adrenaline.

“Why is it automatically locking on to you?” Aegis asked, becoming more distressed as a multitude of interlocking systems became active over the presence of a single human.

The hanger’s lights, still bright despite years left to collect dust, made the mech’s pure white armor blinding. With its plating and silver detail, the towering monster could hide itself in the ranks of the King’s Guard. The one unnerving feature was that it identified Ty and let its weapons cool.

“Did this used to be a police mech? It has riot control gear,” Aegis’ words sparked with static. “Long Range Audio Device, like any other, but has levels that cause severe pain, damage nervous systems…causes hallucinations?”

He made the mistake of directing the optics up, and the radar picked up the lifeforms in the city above them through hundreds of meters of dirt and concrete. The targeting system was asking him to the confirm the elimination of all enemies within range.

“Other mechs can detect humans and other life, but I’ve never seen one that immediately sees them as enemies.” The longer the AI remained tied to the mech, the more distressed he became. “Ty, I need a straight answer.”

“One day,” She headed to the ladder leading up to the landing by the mech’s helmet. “For now, I’m going to guess that either you’ve never heard of the Slugwraths, or they weren’t always so awful. My dad’s stuff was kind of like that, then DeeDee wanted me to have his ugly dad’s stuff too. Tyrant tech; different paint, same pain.”

“I’m not some pauper, and I want you to know that. Besides, what am I supposed to do if you won’t settle for only relying on me?”

“I have access to burrowing explosives,” The AI’s tone hardened. “These were made to seek and destroy civilian bunkers.”

“And that was when my mom was in a hurry,” Ty said, trying to reach over two rusted rungs. “If you dig deeper, you’ll find acid, fire, medieval toys. Artillery will do a better job faster, but when you want to send a message, it has to be ugly.”

Not that the artillery wasn’t good at devastating steel and flesh alike. Ty remembered playing in the grass while her mother had the mech kneeling under the canopy of a forest with trees made for giants. She was looking for bugs when the mechs arms were converted into a rifle.

Her mother aimed at the sky and shot lightning into the clouds. Farther away, where the giants lived, the clouds rained light until the forest was made for no one.

“How primitive,” The last person to repair the mech had noted. He focused on that instead of how the mech had three jaws. “But with that fool vacating the throne, and leaving his armory free, we could do so much better.”

“Ty?” Aegis gently called to her, noticing she was dangling from the edge of the landing by her prosthetic arm, staring into space.

She stayed there, tilting her head at her mech’s.

“This is my primary,” She swung her legs back and forth as a form of fidgeting. “I know it better than my own body.”

“Did you—” Aegis cut himself off, remembering that he had asked Ty for straight answers.

“I call it the War Criminal for a reason,” Ty said, resting her hand on her hip. “Sure doesn’t look like it now, with that fresh pearly paint.”

This time, disregarding the fear of taking such a repulsive weapon into his control, Aegis gained the nerve to turn the head of the mech to gaze at his friend.

“When being paramilitary was still a thing, my mom rode it until bullets and heat ate it down to its metal bones. Then, they built it back up, bigger and scarier. Rinse and repeat, until I began sitting in the pilot seat when I turned thirteen. It’s easier to use than a tricycle.”

Aegis didn’t know about that. Even if a seasoned pilot familiarized themselves with the complicated controls, the sensory overload from processing enough information to successfully empty a planet could melt eyeballs.

“But I did stop coming back, and not for a good reason, I’m sorry.” Ty lost grip on the teetering structure, and the mech’s hand out, deftly catching in its black palm. “Thanks for the catch!”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” He replied, wondering if he should tell Ty that the mech acted on its own.

“And would you look at that. It hasn’t seen sun in months and can still move like it took an oil bath,” Ty got on her knees and felt the joints of the mech’s thumb. “Doc used it to test his gear but he didn’t treat it badly. Too bad he didn’t get rid of the flaws.”

“Flaws?” Aegis noticed the self-scan, running over its organic features.

“I didn’t notice it myself until it was too late,” Ty said, drumming her steel limb’s fingers on her reflection in the metal. “Not that I could tell until it was too late.”

She waited for Aegis to yell at her.

“What? You thought I’d stuff it in a corner just cause I’d be riding a stained mech to class?”

“I trust you,” Aegis walked the mech forward, noting how light it was despite its grand height. Long range combat came secondary to close fights under the shadows of towers, and weaving through crowded streets. “The tech works better on Shadowscythe hoards and protecting cities under fire.”

It didn’t register immediately, but Aegis’ kindness made Ty giggle, and the mech’s readings told him that she had stopped shivering.

“The last technician would hate you,” She sat down, crossing her legs. “Not its intended purpose,” Ty used a mocking deep tone, draping her arms over her knees. “I try, as if that makes it any better.”

He didn’t have to think deeply to reply.

“No one belongs on the lonely side of the river, watching the stars pass them by,” Aegis said, recalling a story from Ty’s home planet. “The condemned might get stuck there, or were unlucky enough to be forced there, but there’s always a way back.”

“Huh, you remembered,” Ty kept grinning but it wasn’t in her eyes. “Well, it’s a cute fairy tale.”

“I-I suppose.” Aegis nodded the mech’s head, and the sight made Ty laugh.

“With you inside, it actually looks like a hero. With me, ughhh,” She groaned, remembering a particularly embarrassing loss. “There’s this stupid kick. The moment damage to the mech reaches a certain level, it jumps to the next galaxy over.”

Amazed, Aegis located an energy store reserved solely for jettisoning the mech as far as possible from the current conflict. Any attempt to bypass the automatic command to do so needed authorization from a bio-imprint.  

“I’m thinking it was to save assets. My mom’s boss had it installed when she started using it,” Ty’s mouth twisted, hearing the Meatbag jeer at her for being a coward. “Doc could have taken it out when he was making his upgrades but he actually made it harder to get rid of. Guess he did always hate me. I wonder if DeeDee hated me too.”

Having a hunch at where to begin with Ty’s tangent, Aegis found a place with the mech’s identification.

“The records are telling me the mech was initially referred to with a number, but it’s clashing with its current designation.”

“Yeah, DeeDee changed it when he made me change the paint,” Ty shrugged. “I thought it was just a funny name until Doc told me that it fit me. It’s probably an insult.”

“You never looked it up?”

“No,” She admitted, pushing the curiosity aside. “I’m fine with knowing nothing about Vega.”

[toontowncrazy]

WFRR Fanfic: Genie AU

Summary: Every few centuries or so, Jessica grants the wishes of whoever finds her lamp before being imprisoned in it once again. Then a dung collector rabbit found her lamp, who strangely can't think of anything to wish for.

Long One-Shot

When one had an eternity, years weren't so much different to minutes.

No clocks. No hourglasses. No sun to dictate the passage of time.

Jessica allowed herself to get lost in painstakingly carved stars. The precised asters expanded geometrically across the circular room in a never-ending web of golden filigree.

"Room" was what one might call it at first glance. A room she could never leave. It mattered not for her. For she goes, grants and returns back to her lamp.

Her whole world jostled and Jessica jumped in surprise. She had no idea where her lamp was right now. Her last master was by the river when she had granted his last wish. Then as her lamp was designed, she was pulled back into the lamp and it had jettisoned away.

She gripped the silk cushions for support when the whole room felt lifted. Her heart thudded, wondering what master would she served next -her only company outside the lamp. There were sounds of hands rubbing against copper and the whole room quavered at the friction.

Jessica closed her eyes as mist surrounded her, once more summoned to grant three wishes.

Heat caressed her body as soon as her room gave way. An expanse greeted her, obscured by her own magical mist.

"Greetings, Master. I am Jessica, your genie of the lamp," she duly recited. "Here to grant you three wishes. However-"

She paused. There was a prolonged croaking that she was certain wasn't a sound of any bird or beast.

Jessica looked around, finally able to see her surroundings with the fading of the mist.

She was in something that looked like a barren land. The sun beat harshly against the cracked earth. Whatever plant life that survived the heat was parched and struggling.

The still croaking sound was coming out of the slack jaw of an anthropomorph rabbit. His brown fur was caked with dust and dried mud, leaving him the color of earthy rust.

Her nose tried not to wrinkle at the sack he had over his shoulder. It emitted the strong stench of cow dung. Even his clothes looked crusty from the accumulation of his labor.

Jessica's brows only rose in reaction. He definitely needed some wishing. And washing.

"However," she monotonously continued, reciting from etched experience of eternity. "There are rules placed upon my powers. You cannot wished for someone's death. You cannot wished for someone to fall in love with anyone. You cannot wish for more wishes."

She folded her arms with a raise of a perfectly shaped brow.

"You cannot especially wish the genie to a marriage or any sexual or romantic situation." She glared at him pointedly. "Suggested or otherwise."

The rabbit continued to make that prolonged croaking noise at the base of his throat.

It was probably because her lower half is smoke trailing to the spout of her lamp. Or maybe because...

Jessica tried not to roll her eyes. She liked looking voluptuous in her bedlah -a fitted bra and a fitted belt richly decorated with her own taste of crystals and beaded fringe. However, couldn't a man take a little bit more responsibility for his own actions?

She bent down to his 3-foot height and tapped his mouth close.

That seemed to have snapped him out of shock. "I can have 3 wishes?" he gasped.

"Yes," she patiently said.

He ran his hand his dusty tuft of hair and rabbit ears. "Jeepers!" he exclaimed. "What should I even wish for?"

Jessica's eyes swept over his scraggly, dustball self and his equally dirt-trodden mule. "Anything?" A bath, maybe? she thought.

He scratched his head, shifting the sack of feces over his shoulder.

"Well, I got rhythm. I got beat. What more could I ask for?"

Jessica could only stare.

He then started talking to his mule who seemed to be braying out in frustration. "Jeepers, Benny! Calm down. What's gotten into ya?"

Jessica started to mentally list the things he could wish for -just to get it over with- like maybe another job that doesn't involve manure.

"What about you? What would you wish for?"

Her eyes focused on the rabbit again, jolted. "What would I wish for?" she echoed.

953 years and she never thought about asking herself what she had always asked of others.

Her body burned with fervor. She wished to see the world. She wished to never be trapped inside a tiny space again. She wished-

She shook her head, a stretched smile hiding a bitter pill. "I wish to be free. But that won't apply to you-"

"Okay. I wish you to be free!"

"Wait-" But too late. Her shackle bangles on her wrists shone fiery gold in a blast of light. She could feel the misty wisp of her lower half shaped and form into limbs as the shackles burst, disappearing in a flash of light.

She blinked, stunned. Below her fitted belt, her new legs could be seen through loose, harem pants. Her feet peeked out, firmly pressed against the cracked earth.

"See ya!" the rabbit chirped, leading his exasperated mule away.

Jessica still stood there, wondering if she was in deep, dreaming slumber.

But the earth began to scorch her soles and she immediately zapped sandals on her feet.

Her eyes looked down on her legs, still not believing what had happened. Using her magic, she transformed her pants into a translucent, full skirt draped with equally rich array of beads and crystals. She twirled around, her leg momentarily exposed by its thigh-high slit.

Satisfied, Jessica focused on the magic floating around her hands. Her body thrummed with all the possibilities could offer.

She disappeared in a golden blaze.

XOXOXOXOX

Who knew I would get my freedom from a fool?

Jessica stood at the mountains of Himalayas, breathing in the cold, unforgiving winds.

He could've wished for anything! He could've wished for riches! Or at least a bath!

Jessica internally rolled her eyes, running her hand on the tiger's back in Bengal.

The fool wasted the one time he could be happy.

Jessica sighed at the background litany in her mind. She surfaced from the ocean again after exploring the Great Barrier Reef.

He could've had two wishes granted first if he really wanted me to be free. But no, he's so thoughtless-

Jessica finally set down the scroll about aliens that she's been trying to read in the restricted Vatican library.

-he forgot himself.

Fine, she told her mind. I'll help him back.

XOXOXOXOX

Inside a shack, the sun's first rays crept through the entrance. Roger snored. His whiskers twitched. Dried drool left a trail from the corner of his mouth. His left arm and right leg was draped haphazardly over the hammock.

The sun's beam finally reached his closed lids. He sighed at the warmth, burrowing deeper in his blanket. But the brightness of the daylight seeped through his eyelids, no longer to be ignored.

"Ah, Mr. Sun," he slurred with sleep. "Five more minutes?"

"I doubt Mr. Sun would stop doing what it always does for the last 4.6 billion years."

His eyes snapped open. He abruptly sat up and looked around so fast, he tumbled out of his hammock.

"What-Where-Who-?" he yelped on the earthen floor.

"The sun. In your house. It's Jessica."

His eyes landed on a woman watching him by his hammock. He clutched his twisted blanket to himself.

"What're you doing in my home?!"

"Your door's unlocked," she gestured at the cabin's entrance.

He tried to scoot back. "I don't have anything precious." His eyes landed on a lamp in one corner of his shack. "You're-"

She smirked. "So you do remember me."

The rabbit stood up, rubbing his eyes. From sleep or surprise, she couldn't say. "How can I help you?" he asked.

Her smirk became wider. She bent down and tipped his chin up with a delicate finger. "How can I help you?"

"Huh?"

She turned away, looking around his hut. "You've set me free, Mr. Rabbit. Surely, there must be a way for me to pay you back."

"It's fine, really."

Jessica raised a brow at the dirty-brown rabbit. His fur was as mud-dried as the last time she saw him. He gave her a sheepish grin. "Would you like something to eat?"

Before she could answer, the rabbit went out. A donkey brayed.

"Coming, Benny!" He grabbed a basket. "I'll just gather some grub."

She watch him scurry about with his morning chores. Sometimes tripping. Sometimes spilling. But always bouncing back. In a short while, he got a stew boiling in the fireplace. She watched him scoop contents into a bowl. The soup looked reasonably thick but its vegetables were meager. Beside him was another empty bowl.

"Genies have no need to eat," she spoke.

His ears bobbed as he nodded in understanding. She wondered if he saw through her intention.

She settled down comfortably on the mat. "So why live so far away, Mr. Rabbit?"

He took a sip from his bowl. "P-p-please call me Roger. I'm going to plant a forest!"

Jessica blinked. She looked around just to make sure they're on the same page. They were in a middle of a semi-arid land. Of baked red earth where the heat made the very air simmered.

She turned back to Roger again. "You're going to turn this desert... into a forest?" she clarified.

"Yup!" he brightly nodded. "That's why I collect dung! What're you doing?" he asked when Jessica stood up.

There was a smirk in her lips. Power glowed and coursed through her hands. Jessica walked towards the cracked plains. She now knew how to help Roger. Jessica pointed a hand to the wasteland. All she needs to do was grow him a forest.

"JESSICA, NO!"

She almost doubled over at the sudden weight that attached itself on her outstretched arm. Jessica smoothly straightened up again to see Roger wrapped around her elbow.

"P-p-p-please, Jessica! Don't do it! Magic ain't gonna to be the answer for this!"

Her mouth hanged open. Collecting herself, she shook her arm free from Roger.

"Then how can I help you?" she asked. "Everyone has a wish."

He gave her a rag to dust her arm off, looking apologetic. "I'm good! You don't need to grant my wish. You're free!" he reassured.

She looked at him and those earnest eyes that spoke a frustrating naivety to her. "That's just it. You freed me." She placed a hand on her chest. "I feel a debt that I have to pay."

He opened his mouth to protest. But she stopped him. "I must," she said with finality.

"I..." Roger paused. Then he spoke, sheepish. "If I wish for a cup of water, would you feel better?"

Jessica snapped her fingers and a glass of water appeared in his hands. Roger drank from it and looked for her approval. But she only shook her head.

He looked away, his ears lowering. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I don't have anything that grand to wish for."

"Not even a forest?" she asked, the very thing that she could see he desired the most. Her finger swirled with magic. Just say the word...

"No." His tone was akin to a door firmly closed.

Her brows slightly knit together -a sole sign of her rising exasperation. Roger stepped back when she sighed.

"Alright." She calmly swept her hair off her shoulders. "Then I'm staying here." Jessica leveled him with a look that sealed their fate. "Until you wish for something."

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "What... What?!... I... You..." He glanced back at his mud hut before his shoulders drooped with a sigh. "My home's not much but guests are welcome."

Jessica approached his home, her hands glowing with magic. "Leave that to me."

"No!" He chased after her. "No magicking my hut!"

XOXOXOXOX

The town by the desert bustled with dust and activity. People clamored in the market as children played. Beasts of burden lazily stood by with flicking tails. The sun was less harsh with the buildings giving shade with their shadows. But the smell of warm winds and fried street food intermingled with the bright splashes of rugs and pottery.

"Oh. My. Goddess!" Clarabelle Cow breathed. She clutched the hem of her top, trying not to stare with the others.

The dung collector rabbit led his donkey. He moved stiffly. His mouth was a thin, discomfited line. People stopped what they were doing as soon as his cart approached. For in its passenger's seat, was a woman that they have never seen before. Her robes were loose and mute. But her face radiated a pristine kind of beauty found in royal courts.

The rabbit stopped by the line of oxen carts like he would usually do. He took his spade and burlap sack. The mystery woman, however, left his cart and proceeded for the stalls.

Clarabelle straightened up when she approached her tapestry booth. "Hello! Can I help you?" she asked.

The woman smiled. "Sorry. Just looking." She glanced at the rabbit who was now collecting feces. "I'm just here to accompany my friend."

Clarabelle bit her lip, her mind feverish with questions. More. More. Tell me more.

"It's been a while since I last saw him," she sighed, fingering an intricate rug. "How is he around town?"

Clarabelle beamed. She leaned on her booth, already in the zone at the spotlight. "Oh girl, you have no idea. That dung collector just comes and goes. Says he's going to plant trees at that wasteland. Mad, isn't he? Farmers have given up on those lands for years and he thinks that he can plant something there!"

She talked on and on. For if there's one thing Clarabelle loved more than listening to news (gossip), it was telling them.

XOXOXOXOX

The ride back to Roger's home was as long as he had informed her. But at least she was getting an idea about his daily motions.

"So where do you take the excrement, Roger?" she asked.

He hopped down from the cart. "Follow me!" he said, grabbing a sack of cow flops and a shovel-axe.

"This wasn't a desert before," Roger remarked. His ears curled over his head, creating a shade. Jessica absentmindedly tugged the scarf on her head closer.

"There would be droughts every now and then. But plants and trees always manages to grow back."

Magic kept her body cool, her genie form had no need for sweat. But even she could tell just by looking how parched the air was. Steam practically came out of the cracks in the ground.

"But that was more than 10 years ago. This is the longest drought this place ever has!" Roger exclaimed. "It didn't help that the farmers never let the land rest. Their crops sucked the earth dry!" He gestured with his shovel axe. "And don't get me started with those ranchers. They just let their cattle eat everything in sight without letting the grass grow back!"

There were struggling saplings scattered across the area. Roger headed for an empty spot and plunged the axe end of his shovel.

"Planting is hard enough to do with all the slopes around. Now all the soil falls down and gets hard without any roots to intervene!" Roger stabbed the ground repeatedly. "Which makes it just worse because the water supply wells become more shallow and no one's doing anything but go away and use things up and the rest are now paying it for it!"

His axe accidentally hit stone. That jolted the rabbit out of his rant. He blinked, mouth pressed shut, finally realizing that he had been mouthing off.

"Sorry," he mumbled. His eyes trained on the ground as he flipped his tool and used the shovel part to widen the pit. "I'm just frustrated that people think there's nothing to be done."

"Don't be." She stooped down, peering at the hole he was digging. "So what have you been doing?" she asked, deciding that Roger would be better at focusing on things he wanted done.

He knelt down and dug the loose earth with his hands. "Dig a hole, mix the soil with the dung. Then plant." Roger opened the sack beside him. Jessica tried not to wrinkle her nose. "The manure isn't just fat for the sapling, it keeps the earth moist."

"This is going to take a while, is it?"

"Yup!" There was something confident in his voice. "But it'll be worth it."

Jessica remembered how townspeople couldn't decide if he was crazy or a fool. Why toil that long when he could just have a better life somewhere else?

She straightened up, her hands glittering with magic. "How can I help?"

Roger responded by giving her the shovel-axe. "No magic." he pointedly replied. "Just good ol', honest labor."

Jessica looked down on the tool in her hands, momentarily at loss.

"I'm used to digging with my hands." His rabbit ears waved in emphasis. "It's okay if you don't wanna. You don't really need ta help me."

She looked up to him, feeling her pride prickle. Maybe Roger didn't intend the effect. But she did ask and Jessica always granted wishes.

XOXOXOXOX

Jessica had always been graceful... until now.

Too used to willing things into reality with just a zap of magic, she discovered she lacked the trained coordination on hitting the earth.

Red-faced but determined to master such a mortal thing, Jessica focused on solidly axing the earth as hard as Roger had done before. For someone who cracked jokes in the cart ride, she was glad that he wasn't making fun of her.

"Want some?" he asked, offering her his flask. Jessica shook her head.

"A genie doesn't thirst."

She got the feeling she was slowing his routine. But Roger was patient. "You're doing better than my first time!" he cheered while swiftly mixing the loose soil with manure.

The sun was setting when Roger decided to stop. They returned back to the hut. Only to see a covered wagon and a coyote's figure.

"Wiley!"

Wiley waved. Roger rushed to his side.

"Jessica, this is Wiley, my neighbor!" he gestured Wiley to her. "Wiley, Jessica!"

Jessica shook his hand. "A pleasure."

"Do you need stool samples again, Wiley?" Roger asked.

"I'll leave you two boys to your talk," she murmured, walking towards the hut.

Wiley waited for Jessica to disappear before turning to Roger. "So who is she really?"

"Uhh..." Roger's eyes flickered to the side. "A friend who's just visiting?" he offered.

His yellow eyes looked wry. "You live in the middle of nowhere, Roger," he pointed out.

"Well, I do have another life before I came to live here," Roger replied.

Wiley studied him before looking away.

"Just making sure. Word in the street was, you met her in a faraway land, rescued her during a world war and got married. Then she cheated on you with a rich, old man whom you murdered. But eventually, you were framed for it. Yet you left. To give yourself space from everything that happened. Then she followed you here."

Roger looked like he was suddenly introduced to advanced calculus.

"Clarabelle," Wiley explained.

A light switched on in Roger's eyes. "Ah," he nodded in understanding.

Wiley cleared his throat. "And yes, I'm going to need stool samples of those oxen."

After biding Wiley goodbye with his stash of samples, Roger approached his cabin with a sigh. "Finally. Things have calmed down- what the?!"

He stopped by the entrance, looking at the smooth, wooden walls and floor of what used to be earthen ground and decrepit interior.

"Jessica! I thought I told you not to magic my house," he exclaimed at the genie's innocent smile.

"I... didn't exactly transform your hut into something else." She shrugged her bare shoulders, now free from the loose robe. "It simply went through a speeded, natural process."

Roger pressed his lips together, wondering if she was going to wheedle her way through every boundary he would set.

"Now that the cabin's all polished and clean," she thrust her hand to Roger's direction and water blasted out in full force.

He yelped as he was thrown backwards. Sputtering, he tried to stand up. Only to get blasted back by a barrage of bubbles and foam. Jessica hummed, blasting him with water again.

Roger spat out soap and water, fur dripping wet. He caught himself just in time when hot air roared in his ears.

By the time Jessica was done, Roger stood shakily in a daze.

"I didn't know you're white," she said in surprised.

Roger tapped the side of his head, trying to get water out of his ears. "I don't know what's the issue with humans and that kind of thing." He jumped on one foot, tapping his temple again. "Us rabbits may be found everywhere, but we're just one race."

"No, I mean your fur. It's actually white."

Roger looked down on himself. "I sure know I ain't purple. I could never stay clean in this desert though. With the dust and the dirt and the heat and the wind." He scratched his temple. "I can wear robes to protect myself but I really don't mind."

"I can still fix that," Jessica said, lifting her hands again.

"Nope!" He ducked as fast as he could. It was probably why grime didn't seem to stick on her. "No magic!"

This was going to be some getting used to for the both of them.

XOXOXOXOX

As noble as Roger's cause was, Jessica couldn't forget her own.

"Do you have a wish tonight?" she asked after the day was done. After Roger had lain down on his hammock. He had tried to build her a bed. But after a swollen thumb and a what could only be called a badly-nailed-together planks, Jessica said she had never slept in a hammock before.

Laying in her own hammock, she glanced at Roger whose hammock was beside hers.

"None that I really wanted," Roger replied, looking up to the cabin's ceiling. He closed his eyes. "Sleep well, Jessica."

Jessica smiled. "Genies have no need for sleep. But-"

"Slumbering sure felt nice, doesn't it?" Roger asked in the dark.

She smiled. For some reason, she was certain Roger was also grinning.

XOXOXOXOX

If Roger was being truthful, he felt partly to blame for holding Jessica back. When she had said she wanted to be free, the longing in her voice was painful. She hadn't seem to be aware of it. But Roger certainly heard.

So after work, Roger decided to show her around town. It was a good thing Jessica gave him a surprise shower. The town barely recognized him. But at least he looked more presentable. He showed her the winding markets. The streets where the well-to-do live. Even the community well. Roger tried not to think of its lowering water level.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked as they walked back to the town square.

Jessica glanced at the cramped shanties. "I think the people are all crammed into this town."

Roger nodded. "I know. They're actually homeless." He shrugged, grimacing. "But where else can they live?"

There were almost to the cart when a burly guy bumped into Roger.

"Shitstain," the guy muttered, looking down at him.

Roger didn't miss a beat, putting on a zany grin. "That's because you don't wipe."

Jessica's eyes widened. But Roger kept walking so she followed him.

The man stopped. Turned around. His eyes widened, finally catching on what Roger meant. He stalked after him.

"Hey-" He suddenly howled in disgust, stepping on cow manure that wasn't there before.

Jessica turned away from the one-legged dance he was now doing and climbed aboard the cart. She stared pointedly at Roger who continued to hum.

"What?" he asked at her "he-could've-pummeled-you-dead" look. "It's how I cope."

She raised a brow. "By having a big mouth?"

Roger laughed and urged Benny forward, "And maybe a poopoo pocket."

XOXOXOXOX

Jessica couldn't help but count the many chances Roger could've wished it.

When Roger was lugging a barrel of water for the plants, Roger could've just wished it.

When Roger could have had a better equipment for planting and transport, Roger could've just wished it.

When the town thought he was crazy for planting in the desert, Roger could've just wished it.

But no. He carried that tank all the way to the saplings. He bought another shovel-axe. He continued on his way.

"Why do you always choose the hard way?" she one day asked.

He didn't even look up to the sapling he was tending. "Because it has to be earned."

Jessica pressed her lips together. Who on earth passes the chance for instant gratification?

Yet there was something satisfying in having planted seed. To see them sprout with the deadly desert surrounding. A small but significant defiance.

"I didn't know rabbits could climb trees," she poked at him as she watched him clamber up a trunk.

"The trick," he yelled, his ears covering over his eyes, "is not to look down."

He climbed higher and higher; until he got into the tender, young branches. "The cuttings from here can make instant saplings," he explained to her down below. "If I'm lucky, I can find their fruits and plant them," he gestured at the nearly skeletal tree he was on, "But it's not always the case."

As if to prove his point, the branch gave.

"Roger!"

Before she could think, she ran as he fell down screaming.

Roger didn't know what happened. One minute, he was clutching his cuttings. The next, he was falling.

"Oof!" Something caught him and Roger looked up to see Jessica's brilliant green eyes.

His heart drummed from the excitement. Jessica looked surprised and relieved.

"You didn't use your magic," he noticed.

She looked down at him in her arms. "I... I didn't," she said with a new layer of shocked.

"No one was here to catch me before," he said. Roger shifted, suddenly conscious that he was making her robe dirty. "You can put me down now."

She did and Roger turned back to the tree.

"I'm sorry about that, I'll have to water you more often," he promised, patting their trunks. Roger held the cuttings with care. "Don't worry, I'll take care of them."

Jessica couldn't help but smile. She had traveled the world in search of new experiences that the lamp had kept from her. But being with Roger might be a whole new experience on its own.

XOXOXOXOX

When it became clear to Roger that Jessica was there to stay, he knew he had to make some changes.

First, he had to plant more vegetables. He would also have to buy more things in the cabin. Probably had to repair some things in the cabin itself.

But Jessica was already way ahead of him.

"Where did you get that?"he asked when they were back in town, a basket full of food in one hand.

"Bought it," she replied. "Although I might've cheated a little." She did the swirly finger movement that she would do when granting wishes.

Roger shrugged, feeling a bit disappointed at himself for not providing better. "Everyone needs help in getting started."

"You're not mad?"

"It's either this or I'll find you zapping a farm in my backyard."

Jessica put a hand over her mirth. "You think you know me?" she asked, a smirk hinting in her words. Maybe working with her hands had been opening up some things she hadn't known about herself.

Roger stood up on his cart. "I'd like to think so," he said with a playful grin. "You think you know me?"

"I'd like to think so," she said back, a challenge dangling in her words.

In the following days, Roger had to admit. She was good at borrowing and bartering. Primarily through her charm. Every day that they would go to town, he would see her mingling in the marketplace. Roger had the feeling she was following her own code that wasn't exactly for the genies. He heard that Clarabelle always wanted a certain kind of scarf, and wouldn't you know it, Jessica coincidentally have a bolt of its fabric that Clarabelle could make out of her own hands.

Their cabin (Roger wondered when did he start thinking it as theirs), slowly began to fill with food and wares. His barrel of water became two and now comes with a spigot. After a lot of back and forth, Roger finally agreed to let others repair their home and a better outhouse.

"This way, you can focus on planting trees," Jessica said as Roger watched the men hammer away. She stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "After all, everyone needs a little help."

He nodded, relieved that he was able to tuck away his belongings just in case. Roger looked up to see her smiling down at him.

His shoulders were suddenly hyper-aware of the gentle touch of her palms. He wasn't used to sudden changes and his friend was bringing it practically everyday.

It wasn't long before she caught the eye of the richest man in town.

XOXOXOXOX

Clarabelle had never been reminded of an exquisite vase and an earthen jar together than the two of them.

As the town gossip, her eyes never missed a thing. She'd seen the playful banter. She'd seen the dried mud rabbit imitate a zombie that had dug out of his grave as she gave the most tinkling laughter. Roger literally froze in hearing it, making him look like a mud statue. She'd seen Jessica towel him wet after work while he protested. There was an amused smirk in her lips but the smile in her eyes told Clarabelle a different story.

This friend of his that was simply visiting strangely had been staying for weeks. If he hadn't told anyone, they would've assumed he suddenly got a wife out of nowhere. But she was a friend, not a wife. Hence to why Lord Acme had taken interest.

Acme never missed a day Roger and Jessica would go to town. Roger became more subdued, putting down his head and working while Acme whisked her away to the rich part of town. By the time Roger was finished, Jessica would be back and laden with costly gifts.

Even at the distance from her stall, Clarabelle could see his forced smile as he helped her to the cart.

XOXOXOXOX

Jessica had always found silence to be peaceful. But Roger's silence was a bit unsettling. After all those times that he had chattered away for the both of them.

"Do you have a wish tonight?" she asked as they lay down in their respective hammocks. The question was becoming more of a habit than an inquiry.

"None that I could think of," he replied as he usually did.

This time, it was punctuated with a sigh.

"Jessica..." There was hesitation in his voice, something akin to preparing oneself. "You don't have to stay here."

She turned her head. Roger began to gesture with his hands, lost as he began to ramble.

"I mean, if I finally figured out what my real wish would be, I'll just go to ya. You're better off living with Acme. Genies are more used to luxury and in here, I can't give you much." He felt his face heat at what his words could be interpreted to. "As a friend. I can't give you much as a friend. I chose this life and there are times I wished I was doing something else for a living by the time I met you so that you'll be better off with me." He slapped a hand over his eyes. That doesn't sound so strange. "I mean you'll be better off with me. As friends."

Roger was certain Jessica could hear his heartbeat from her own hammock. The silence was too deafening as she just lay there.

He got confused when she sat up. Then terrified when she knelt down beside him, her face close to his.

"Roger," she said quietly in the darkness, "do you have a wish tonight?"

"None that I could think of," he managed to say over the lump in his throat. He swallowed, at the mercy of those watchful green eyes. "Do you have a wish tonight?"

Her slim fingers gripped the edge of his hammock. "Only if it's the same as yours."

His breath hitched when she lay her palm softly over his heart. The beats traveled through her fingerprints, over her arm. She sat on his hammock, cupping his cheek. Ever since she had been freed, she had been following her own choices. Her own whims. Her own wants getting more defined for the past weeks. This night, it was crystal clear this special kind of want burns.

"Your wish..." she thoughtfully murmured, looking at those vulnerable eyes, his emotions laid bare. Her hair draped like a waterfall as she leaned closer. "It's not a wish if it's true already."

Roger welcomed her as she closed the gap between them.

XOXOXOXOX

Twenty years had passed. Mighty acacias spread throughout the once dusty plains. With the vast forest giving shade, the climate changed. It rained more often with water vapor precipitating over the coolness the forest gives. The trees held back the soil from eroding, allowing the once-dead river to trickle with rainwater and slowly, it's course widened. Dry wells soon resounded with splashes of buckets and the town's water well rose several levels. Snakes and other hungry wild animals that had been considered pests, had left the town; preferring to have the the forest as their new home.

With their success in planting and farming, the other farmers began to listen.

"I'd never thought it was possible. But you made it, buddy," Wile E. Coyote said. He and Roger hanged back, letting the people mingle after Roger gave them lessons in his farming methods.

Roger rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess so." He brightened up. "I couldn't have done it without Jessica's help though."

"I must say, I know there had been a forest here before but I never thought it might be magical."

Roger froze at the word "magical". Jessica kept her word on never magicking trees and she did make sure she was being discreet. But still...

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Wile shrugged. "Perhaps I should live by the forest too. You don't seem to age."

Roger blinked. Wile smiled at him, his fur speckled with white. The laugh lines around his face etched deeper than he had noticed before. He looked around. The townspeople he had known for more than 20 years were suddenly cast in a new light. The skin sagged with fur dulling with white. Wrinkles that Roger was now becoming more painfully aware. And was Porky using a cane?

He looked down on himself. He still felt the same. Twenty years, and he still felt his same, old self; that didn't feel like twenty years had passed at all.

XOXOXOXOX

"Jessica!"

Jessica jolted, turning around to see Roger had returned home.

"Hello darling," she greeted. But Roger still looked worried.

"Have you done something to me?" he asked, spreading his arms.

Jessica tried not to smile. He would need to be clearer than that because she had certainly "done" him several ways. However, his troubled look made her humor paused.

"All my friends are getting old but I'm not! Jessica, what did you do!?" he asked, bewildered at the fact of his friends dying all around him; until he was the only one remaining.

"I... might've frozen your youth," she let out.

"Why didn't you ask first? Un-immortal me back!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes widened in hurt, her mouth tightening. "Why? You've been immortal before."

Roger stiffened. "What do you mean?" he carefully asked.

Jessica got up and opened one of the shelves. She carefully unrolled a lamp unlike her own. "You'd think I'd never found this while cleaning all these years?" She placed the lamp between them, it's top handle curved curiously like bunny ears. "When were you going to tell me you've been a genie before?"

Roger gaped at the familiar sight. Slowly, he cupped it; staring at its dull glow.

"I didn't want to look back," he finally said. "A genie must always grant wishes."

He looked up to her, realizing that she made him immortal for the same reason he wanted to be un-immortal-ed.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he sighed. "I hadn't imagined what it would be like for you if I'm gone."

She knelt down and kissed his cheek. "How? Why?" Even after all these years, there was a lot of things she didn't know of her husband.

"It's a long story."

"I got an eternity," was her dry reply.

Roger grinned at her banter. He sighed, twirling the lamp in his hands. "Two hundred years ago, something peculiar occurred when I was still inside this." He held up the lamp. "Everything was still. Then everything began to bounce." He shook the lamp. "I really didn't know what was happening but it was definitely rubbing my lamp."

He sat down as Jessica listened. "I was summoned. But when I appeared, there was no one there." Roger laughed. "I was actually excited. I liked giving a good show."

"So what did you do?" Jessica asked.

"Well, at first I was confused because the genie code didn't say anything about that kind situation. Then I actually heard it, the voice of my new master. It was the forest itself. Or what was left of it." His rabbit ears drooped. "I saw telltale signs that humans used to live here. But they left because of the drought and famine. I zapped the land with greenery and the lamp pulled me back to my room."

"Just like what I would've done," she said, wondering where she had been during those times.

Roger nodded. "I wondered what would happen next. Who ever heard of being contractually bonded to a forest? During my stay in the lamp, I began to hear sounds of civilization back." He played with the spout of the rabbit-eared lamp. "During the next fifty years, my lamp must've been hidden by the soil. But I heard people living, hunting, going on with their lives."

Jessica could only relate to his tone of envy.

"Then I began to hear chaos. Screams. Fire. Like there was a war. A very long war." His eyes were wide. "I couldn't help. I think I heard the word conquering. But there was just silence after."

He gave an empty laugh. "There was rain, I think, and the dirt grains running against my lamp must've have summoned me back." His tone became hollow. "When I appeared, there was nothing again."

Jessica rubbed his back and Roger just exhaled. "Whatever tribes were fighting, they burned down the forest to kill each other. Trees have a high pain tolerance but still, I can hear the pain of the surviving trees."

He pushed out his hands in a familiar genie granting gesture. "So I granted the forest's second wish: to live." Roger gave a rare, ironic laugh. "The next fifty years, the people came back to the forest. Wiser. Unfortunately, greedier."

Jessica watched his thumbs rub against the dull brass. "They cut down the trees for their plains and overpopulated the grasslands with their bulls." He ran his finger over his hair and rabbit ears. "I understand they're trying to have a good life. But they took and took and took without giving back in return."

"So the last wish was..." Jessica lingered but it was already dawning on her.

"It was windy when I had been summoned once again for the last wish," Roger said. "The rough, dead grass must've rubbed over the exposed part of my lamp." He clutched both of his rabbit ears, remembering what happened. "The land was so much worse than before. I barely recognized it."

His fingers worried the lamp's handle. "The cries from what used to be the forest, was so faint. The land wasn't just dry. It was barren. But I knew the wish was the same."

Jessica sat back, surprised. "So you've been granting the forest's last wish for this past twenty years."

"I knew that if I just zapped the forest back, it'll just be gone again." He looked down on the ground, his ears lowering. "I had to make its last wish count."

"So you've made yourself mortal." Even when she said it outloud, she still couldn't grasp why.

"The mortals are the forest's hope. They need to learn that the forest needs them as much as they need it." Roger looked down. "It was a choice of giving the forest a wish that wouldn't last or a wish that would stay granted forever."

"But sacrificing your immortality? The Genie Code would've let you have the first option."

He shook his head. "That's not what the forest really wanted and I knew it. I thought for a long time before throwing away my immortality." Roger waved his arms around, remembering the surge of energy that would wrap around his hands. "To communicate to the mortals well, I have to be one. How can I understand why they keep doing such dangerous things if I have infinite cosmic powers?"

"What about death?" she pointed out.

Roger gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Perhaps I'm really the town crazy. But life inside a lamp is no life at all for me." He rubbed his arms. "It was hard in the first few years, alone and powerless. Then I met Wile. He helped me back on my feet."

A grin tugged his lips. "He always thought it was odd of me to live like a hermit in the middle of nowhere. But then again, the town considers him an eccentric for his scientific studies."

"So that's why..." Jessica said quietly. All along, there were hints here and there that Roger was a genie. She suddenly have a flash of insight.

"Roger," she said, holding his arm. "You did it. You granted the forest's last wish. The mortals are now learning how to take care of the forest." She smiled at him. "You're free."

He only give her a troubled smile. "Am I really? Mortals can be so unpredictable."

"They learned their lessons. They're learning your ways. Just say the word. I'll grant your wish and we can be free. Together."

He stilled. Jessica pushed forward.

"I can wish you back into a free genie. Don't you think you need a little reprieve?"

Roger fell silent and looked out of the window. "Mortals are so simple and so complicated."

"Do you know we have a mirror?" Jessica dryly asked.

He laughed. The mortals may have to prove themselves first. But for now...

Roger took her hand and kissed it. "Just a little longer, Jessica."

THE END.

Author's Note: This story has been sitting in my backburner for far too long. Have a good Sunday, guys. Read more fanfics here.

[analisegrey]

Because I love it when he suffers, Shiro and "hostage video?"

For the ‘hostage video’ square on @badthingshappenbingo

Sorry it took so long to answer this but I apparently needed to recharge. And boy howdy, it sure looks like Season 6 did the trick. This got…long. Oops? (no spoilers for the new season this is still back in ‘random point in an earlier season’ type of time frame).

Hope it was worth the wait :)

Waking up tied to a chair was not one of Shiro’s preferred ways to wake up; the fact that it had happened often enough to be in the running just irritated him.

He was thankful he’d woken up slowly enough that he’d had the presence of mind to keep feigning sleep, and evaluate the situation. His arms were pulled behind his back, and he could feel the heavy cuffs on his wrists, the chair pressing uncomfortably into his back. If he could feel that, it meant at least some of his armor was missing, and that wasn’t great. It was manageable, though, and could have been worse- they could have taken all his clothes. He wasn’t sure what that said about his state of mind that he’d woken up cuffed to a chair and his first thought was ‘at least I’m not naked’.

He did a quick review of his physical state, and was pleased to discover that the only thing that was wrong was the lingering mental fuzz and dull, all-over headache he associated with being knocked out with chemicals. He listened carefully, and not hearing anyone nearby, took a chance and opened his eyes.

He was in a smallish room. The walls were smooth, and curved up on one side in a way that made him think of some of the rooms in the Castle. If he focused, he could feel the vibration of engines through the floor, and oh, that wasn’t good. If he was on a ship, that would make escape a lot more difficult.

He shifted on the chair, trying to get more comfortable, and was amazed to discover that while his wrists were cuffed, they weren’t actually cuffed to the chair.

“No…there’s no way it’s that easy.”

Shiro shifted his legs back and levered himself up, and yeah, apparently it was that easy.

Huh.

Shiro folded over and threaded his legs back through the circle of his arms so his wrists were in front. He looked at his right arm, and- no. Whoever had grabbed him couldn’t be this stupid. He hoped they weren’t, or he was going to feel even worse about being grabbed in the first place. He concentrated on the feel of his right arm, and with the speed of thought it lit up, melting through the cuff around it and freeing his wrist.

Fucking quiznack, seriously?

He carefully melted through the other cuff, and made for the door. He hit the button to open it, and came face-to-shoulder with a very surprised looking Galra soldier.

“Hey.” When the soldier just continued to stare, Shiro punched him in the jaw hard as he could, and ran.

His luck ran out just as he was about to reach the ship’s hangar and he was grabbed from behind, a huge clawed hand gripping the back of his neck, points wrapping around to prick at his throat.

“You will stop, or I’ll rip your throat out and leave your corpse floating in space for your comrades to find.”

The claws dug in deeper, and Shiro froze.

“Smart choice. Hands behind your back.”

Shiro gritted his teeth, but did as he was told. Another set of cuffs were locked around his wrists, and this time he could feel them fitting an inhibitor cuff around his right forearm, too. Once he’d been secured, the hand moved from his throat and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, turning him around. The Galra who had grabbed him towered a head and a half over him, and wore the armor of a commander, insignia glowing bright on the chest of his armor; a couple of sentries waited just to the side.

“You caused some trouble, but don’t worry. We won’t be making the same mistake twice.” The commander turned and started walking, and Shiro stumbled, hurrying to follow so he wouldn’t get dragged, the sentries following behind.

They ended up back at the room where Shiro had started, but the commander threw him to the floor instead of into the chair; Shiro landed hard on his side, swallowing a grunt of pain.

“The idiot who was supposed to secure you before has been dealt with, but I prefer to take a more proactive approach to prisoner containment.” The commander moved before Shiro could react, and stomped down hard on Shiro’s left shin.

There was a loud snap; for an instant there was no pain and Shiro thought maybe the commander had missed and hit the floor. Then the first wave of pain streaked up his leg and Shiro curled forward, choking on a cry.

While Shiro was trying to get a grip on himself, the commander caught his arm and yanked him up off the floor and onto the chair. The movement jarred his leg, and Shiro clenched his eyes shut, trying to will himself not to pass out. He couldn’t afford to be unconscious; not here, not now.

His arms were pulled up and over the back of the chair again, but this time he could feel the cuffs being locked into something, holding him in place, not that it was really necessary. It was going to be really hard to run with a broken leg.

He was still gasping for air and trying to find some sort of way to breath through the agony in his leg when the commander stood up and wrapped a hand around Shiro’s throat again just under his jaw, forcing his head up. Involuntary tears of pain spilled down his face, and Shiro tried to blink them out of his eyes as a view screen popped up in front of them. Oh, that probably wasn’t good either.

“Hail by audio frequency first, and prepare for video on my mark.”

The sentry at the control panel nodded, and with a hiss and a click, Allura’s voice came over the speakers, words clipped and angry.

“Why have you hailed us?”

“I am Commander Srik of the Imperial fleet, and I have something I think you want.”

Allura scoffed on the other end of the line, and Shiro drew breath to try to warn her, anything, when Srik’s hand squeezed on his throat, cutting him off.

“What could you possibly have that we would want?”

Srik nodded to the sentry and suddenly Allura’s face appeared on the screen, the look of determined anger on her face quickly cycling in seconds from surprise, to worry, and back to anger.

“As I said. I have something I believe you want, even if you didn’t realize he was missing yet. I will tell you what my demands are, and you will comply. You have five vargas to surrender the lions and the Castle to my control. I will even let you live.”

Shiro struggled, pulling at his arms and trying to get enough air to talk, to tell her not to even think about it, but Srik’s hold was like a vice.

Allura drew herself up, her face going stoney. “And if we do not comply?”

“At the end of five vargas he goes out an airlock without a suit.”

Allura’s eyes widened, but that was the only sign of what she was feeling.

“We will check in at the beginning of every varga; I wouldn’t want you to forget how dire this is for your pet paladin. For every varga you make me wait, know that he’ll be suffering. I eagerly await your surrender.” With that, the connection was shut down, and Srik released his hold on Shiro’s throat. Shiro coughed, lungs burning, each drag of air painful but also amazing. When he spoke, his voice was rough, and he knew he was going to have nasty bruising if he survived this.

“They won’t do it. Voltron’s too important, and worth more than the life of one person.”

Srik gave him a look. “That might be true, but I think you underestimate your friends, or perhaps overestimate their willingness to sacrifice you to the greater good.”

Shiro slumped back against the chair, but didn’t break eye contact. “They’ll make the right decision.”

“We’ll see about that. See you in a varga.”

With that, Srik left Shiro, the sentries following him out.

Shiro gave himself a minute to breathe, to process. His throat ached, his lungs still burned, and he was really trying to ignore his leg. He wasn’t going to be able to run even if he could get loose, and with his galra arm deactivated, he was no match for the heavy cuffs holding him to the chair.

He was stuck, for now.

He was also torn.

He fully believed what he’d told Srik; he trusted the others to do the right thing, to not do something stupid that would jeopardize Voltron and the alliance just to save him. They could replace him as Black Paladin- he already knew Keith could pilot the black lion- but they wouldn’t be able to easily get the lions back if they surrendered them. They had to know it wasn’t worth the risk.

That didn’t mean he wanted to get jettisoned into space, either, though.

Faster than he’d have liked, the first varga passed; the door hissed open and Srik strode in. Shiro glowered at him from under his hair, but kept his mouth shut.

“Ah, the strong and silent type, I see. Imagine how disturbing it will be for them to hear you scream.”

Shiro tried to prepare himself for whatever was coming. “Not gonna happen.”

Srik smiled, full of teeth, and Shiro barely managed not to flinch back. “Yes you will. It may not be now, but sooner or later everyone does. I’m patient. As long as they see you suffer it is enough for now. They can always hear you later.” Srik knelt down next to the chair, and Shiro was suddenly intensely aware of how close Srik was to his broken leg. His leg throbbed with every beat of his heart, and even the thought of anyone touching it made Shiro nauseous. This was going to suck. He clenched his fists behind him and locked his jaw shut tight. He could do this, he’d been through worse. He’d lost an arm. He could make it through a quick video chat without screaming, no matter what Srik was going to do.

He hoped.

The video screen blinked to life, and this time it wasn’t just Allura. Keith and Coran were there, too, looking grim and just as angry as Allura. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“Princess. Are you ready to cede the lions and Castle to my control?”

Shiro had seen that look on her face before and almost sighed in relief before shoring himself up again. She was going to say no. They’d butted heads often enough for him to recognize her stubborn face, the one she used when she refused to give in on something.

“We are not ceding anything to you, not now, not ever.”

Srik nodded, not looking at all surprised. “I would have been amazed- and suspicious- if you had given in so easily. That’s alright. As I told your friend here, I’m patient. But I did promise you something last time we spoke. I believe I told you for every varga you made me wait, I’d make him suffer.”

Shiro had a second to see Allura’s face tighten before Srik’s hand went around his shin over the break, and squeezed.

Shiro couldn’t help the pained whine that escaped, along with a few more tears that squeezed out. His hands hurt from clenching them so hard, but when Srik finally let go, Shiro drew a ragged breath. He’d done it. He hadn’t screamed. He felt almost giddy, and he realized that was probably endorphins kicking in, at least a little.

He managed to lift his head up, and if he’d thought his friends had looked angry before, it was nothing compared to how they looked now. They were livid, and if Keith could have jumped straight through the screen, Shiro thought he would have. He smiled at them, even if it felt strained at the edges.

“4 vargas left. We’ll see you soon.”

The screen shut off, and Shiro forced his shoulders down from where they’d crept up near his ears. It was ok. Whatever happened, it would be ok, even if not for him personally.

“That must have hurt quite a bit, I bet. ‘Strong and silent’ type, indeed.” Srik stood up and looked consideringly at Shiro. “I suppose when I return I’ll just need to try harder.” He reached out and roughly patted at Shiro’s cheek. Shiro tried to pull away, but couldn’t move far enough for it to matter. “I’ll be back in a bit, paladin. Sit tight.”

Shiro growled under his breath. ‘Sit tight’? Really? Now the bad guys were making puns? As if his leg didn’t hurt enough, now he had to suffer this indignity.

So unfair.

Shiro spent the next varga making a more serious effort to get the cuffs unhooked from the chair; even if he couldn’t get the cuffs off, just having them detached from the chair would be a good start. 

Unfortunately, when the door swished open again to reveal Srik, this time carrying a control stick loosely in one hand, he was no closer to getting them loose than he’d been a varga ago. Shiro eyed the control stick and felt his heart sink. Time for a change of plans; not screaming wasn’t an option anymore if that thing was coming into play. Shiro had encountered them more than he was really happy with, first in the hands of the Arena guards, and once or twice on missions since then, and if there was any sort of constant with them, it was that it didn’t matter what he tried to tell himself ahead of time, he always ended up screaming, usually sooner rather than later. Once he accepted he was going to scream, it was easier to control what came out of his mouth; there were some fun curses he hadn’t used in awhile, and it might almost be worth it to see the look on the other paladins’ faces when they heard him. He usually tried to keep his language on the clean side around them- he knew he wasn’t actually their CO, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel a certain responsibility to try to control his language around them.

Srik stepped closer, thumbing the switch on the side of the stick until the points on the end crackled with purple sparks of energy. Shiro dragged his eyes away and focused on the wall where the view screen would appear, and tried to remember that whatever Srik was about to do, if precedent was any indication, it would only last a few minutes at most, just the length of the video communication. He just had to make it that long. He could make it through pretty much anything for a couple of minutes.

Srik moved behind him this time, and while he knew this was going to hurt regardless, Shiro was also immensely grateful that he didn’t seem to be going for his leg. Srik dug his clawed fingers into Shiro’s hair and gripped tight, pulling back until Shiro’s neck was stretched in an uncomfortable backward arch over the chair back and his scalp prickled painfully. He felt the points of the control stick, sharp against the soft spot under his jaw, though Srik must have shut it back off for the moment.

The viewscreen popped back up again. Allura and Coran were still there, but now Keith was gone, Hunk in his place. Shiro’s heart ached; he’d never wish witnessing this sort of thing on any of them, but he knew Hunk was one of the more tender-hearted ones in their small group. This would hurt him, and for that, Shiro was sorry, even if it wasn’t his fault.

“We’re down to 3 vargas now, Princess. Your paladin’s time is quickly running out.”

From what he could see, Allura’s expression remained steely and unwavering. “We will not be giving in to your demands.”

Shiro felt the points move from his jaw, and braced as he heard the low whine of the control stick powering up.

“That is a shame.” The grip on his hair tightened a second before the points on the control stick made contact with his ribs through his flight suit. The scream that ripped out of him hurt his already abused throat, but that was nothing compared to the sparking agony in Shiro’s side. How did he always forget how much it hurt? Maybe it was his mind’s way of trying to protect him.

As soon as it started, it stopped, and it left Shiro shaking, gasping for breath.

“Perhaps you’d like to reconsider, Princess? Or would you like another demonstration?”

The points moved from his ribs up to the meat of his right shoulder, and Shiro couldn’t help the hitch in his breath. The control sticks were awful no matter where they were used, but he’d found since getting the arm the right side was worse; it seemed to conduct the energy somehow, making the pain spread even further.

There was only the smallest waver in Allura’s voice when she told Srik ‘no’ again.

“Well, you do have 3 more vargas. By all means, take your time.” Srik activated the stick again, and Shiro’s screams echoed in the room for a few moments after the screen shut off.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Shiro wanted to hurl the curses at Srik he hadn’t been able to get out during the video communication, but he was still shaking, muscles spasming, and didn’t feel up to provoking a response just yet. Srik smirked at him, and left without a word.

Shiro had no idea what would happen the next time Srik came to broadcast, but he knew things would only escalate. The closer to the deadline they got, the less careful Srik was likely to be, which only spoke to bad things for Shiro.

He had a feeling the others were up to something, and he didn’t begrudge them that. If their positions were reversed he’d be doing anything in his power to get them back. He knew that was hypocritical on his part, expecting them to just leave him behind when he’d move planets to get the others back, but well he was human, too, and had his own failings. If being a hypocrite was the worst of them, he thought he was doing ok.

He got as comfortable as he could and tried to rest. The next encounter was probably going to be terrible.

And he wasn’t wrong.

When Srik returned, there was thankfully no control stick, but there was a wicked-looking knife in his hand, the light glinting off the blade.

“Your time is quickly running out, paladin.”

Shiro swallowed, watching the knife warily as Srik grew closer.

“They’ll make the right choice.”

“I’m sure they will. Let’s continue, shall we?”

The video screen once again blinked to life, and it was Allura, Coran, and Hunk again. Hunk’s face was blotchy like he’d been crying, though now his expression matched the other two, angry, stoney, and Shiro wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen Hunk angry before; it was kind of intimidating, though Shiro didn’t think Srik could fully appreciate that.

“Princess, will you give me the Castle and the lions?”

Allura’s jaw ticked, but otherwise her expression didn’t change. “No.”

“You know,” Srik moved so he was behind Shiro again, and leaned forward, using one large hand to grip at Shiro’s right shoulder, squeezing and pulling him back hard against the chair. Shiro winced at the feel of claws digging in, but was more concerned that Srik had positioned the point of the knife in front of his left shoulder, the tip pressing in just hard enough to dimple the fabric of Shiro’s flight suit. “If you didn’t want him back at all, you could have just said so. It would have saved us a lot of time.” Srik began to apply more pressure, and the tip of the knife slid easily through the fabric and into Shiro’s shoulder. “Though maybe you like watching him suffer.” The pressure on the knife was slow but inexorable, pushing steadily deeper. It hurt, a lot, and there was nothing he could do about it, Srik’s grip on him keeping him from even trying to flinch away.

Shiro gritted his teeth, and tried to remember it wasn’t just him and Srik. He had to be strong, he had to be steady. He didn’t want them doing anything any stupider than whatever they were probably going to do anyway. The knife was in halfway to the handle when Srik paused, looking back up at the screen.

“I’m sure you know the routine by now, Princess.” The grip he had on the knife handle changed, and he started to twist it, just as slowly as he’d pushed it in, and Shiro almost bit through his tongue in an effort not to scream. “Two vargas left.”

The screen winked out, and Srik let go of Shiro’s right shoulder, but to Shiro’s dismay, gave the knife one last push into his shoulder, and left it there. Shiro could feel the sweat gathering at his hairline, but he felt chilled; yeah, that was probably the outer edges of shock. Not great.

“I think I’ll just leave that there. It’s in rather deep, and we wouldn’t want you to bleed out unnecessarily while we wait.”

When the commander had left, Shiro slumped back into the chair, trying not to look at the knife sticking out of his shoulder. He knew it was there, obviously, but looking at it made his stomach turn, and he had enough problems right now without making himself sick. He could feel blood soaking into suit around the wound, and ugh, if that had a chance to dry it was going to be hell to get it off later, though at this point he wasn’t sure it would be a problem. He’d come to terms awhile ago that he likely wasn’t making it back to earth. Five young pilots from Earth fighting in a ten thousand year war against an entire empire- expecting everyone to make it back alive was foolish, and he knew without a doubt that given a change he’d take a hit for any of the others, lethal or otherwise. He was as comfortable with the idea of his own mortality as he thought anyone could be, really; he didn’t want to die, but he understood it could happen at anytime, and there was no point in worrying about it.

Shiro blinked his eyes open when the door opened, and oh, maybe he was losing more blood than he’d thought, because he didn’t remember closing his eyes. Srik didn’t have anything in his hands this time, and Shiro wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Srik looked him over, and clucked his tongue. “You’re not looking so good.”

Shiro muttered something in low Galran, and Srik walked over, looking unphased, and if anything, slightly amused. “My, the language one learns hanging around the Arena.” He moved to stand behind Shiro again, and Shiro twitched as Srik’s hand wrapped around the front of his throat again, claw points digging in to the already tender and bruised skin. He squeezed just enough to constrict Shiro’s air, but not cut it off completely. It was hard to breathe, Shiro knew he wasn’t getting enough oxygen, but there was just enough that it was ok.

For now, anyway.

The screen popped up and now it was only Allura and Coran on the other end. Shiro idly wondered where the others had gone, but he noticed that while the two Alteans still looked angry, they didn’t look as grim. They certainly didn’t look happy, but some of the edge from their expressions was gone, and he wondered what was happening. Before he could wonder too much about it, he felt the grip on his throat start to constrict further, now completely cutting his air off.

“Hello again, Princess. As I’m sure you’re aware, your time is almost up. One varga left before he goes for a very permanent space walk. Will you be ceding the Castle and lions to my control?”

Shiro could barely hear Allura say ‘no’ over the rushing in his ears. Srik’s grip on his throat had tightened, and wasn’t loosening again, and Shiro couldn’t breathe. He was trying to stay calm, but there came a point where he couldn’t control his body’s response anymore, and he started to struggle, twisting, trying to dislodge Srik’s hand just enough that he could get even one tiny gasp of air, but the hand on his throat was like iron, immovable. He didn’t know what kind of expression he was making, but he saw Allura and Coran starting to look worried. Black spots were creeping in at the edges of his vision, and Shiro tried to kick, forgetting momentarily about his leg. The pain was agonizing and immediate, the rush of adrenaline temporarily pushing the fog from his vision, but if Srik didn’t let go soon, he was going to pass out.

Something happened off-screen and Allura’s whole expression changed, going from angry and worried to triumphant.

“Release him right now, Commander Srik, and we’ll let you live.”

Srik scoffed, his grip tightening, and Shiro was fading, vision going gray, when the whole ship rocked from an impact.

“What the-” The hold on Shiro’s throat suddenly released, and Shiro coughed, dragging in lungful after lungful of glorious, wonderful air.

The ship shuddered again, and alarms started blaring, the emergency lights flashing purple around them. Srik snarled. “I will not surrender. I am a Commander of the Galra Empire. My options are victory or death, though I don’t see why I should have to choose just one.” Srik reached forward and yanked the knife from Shiro’s shoulder, flipping it to hold the point to Shiro’s throat. “If you do not cease the attack on my ship right now I will kill him while you watch.”

“Allura, no-”

Three things happened almost simultaneously: there was another massive shudder through the ship, the sound of an explosion nearby near deafening; the door to the room opened, and Shiro had just long enough to catch a glimpse of blue and white in the doorway before a blaster shot flew over Shiro’s head. There was a gurgle noise behind him, and a thump, and when Shiro turned his head, Srik was on the floor, unmoving.

“Shiro! Guys, he’s here, I’ve got him.”

On the view screen, Allura visibly relaxed, slumping into Coran’s side. “Oh thank quiznack.”

Lance rushed into the room, quickly clearing it before taking a look at Shiro and sticking his head back out into the hallway. “Hunk! Get in here, you’re gonna have to carry him and I need help getting him loose.”

Shiro blinked. “Wait, what?”

Lance grinned as Hunk hurried into the room after him, going around the back of the chair to start working on unlocking the cuffs.

“Pidge figured out a way to track the signal of the broadcasts.” Lance frowned, gently touching a gloved hand to Shiro’s throat. “Sorry it took so long, we got here fast as we could. Pidge and Keith are outside keeping them distracted. But we’re here to get you out.”

There was a quiet noise of triumph from behind him, accompanied by a click, and Shiro’s wrists popped from from the cuffs. He hadn’t realized they were most of what was keeping him on the chair until he started to list sideways. Hunk barely caught him before he tipped out of the chair, and Shiro couldn’t help the moan of pain when it jarred his shoulder and his leg, both.

Hunk apologized, and picked him up as carefully as he could. Lance looked up at the screen and gave Allura and Coran a thumbs up. “We’re on our way. Get a pod ready.”

Shiro wanted to stay conscious, if only so the others wouldn’t worry, but the combination of encroaching shock and blood loss were pulling him under. He’d have to find out what exactly they’d done later so he could decide whether or not to gripe at them about doing something stupid, but for now he was safe; he trusted them to get him out, and he let himself get swept under.

[joegranatoiv]

Alien: Covenant, with spoilers

*Anachronistic post archived from the legacied FB Notes*

THE CINEMASOCHIST: 2017 Summer Blockbuster Review #2

THE EXPECTATION:

This happens to be my birthday weekend blockbuster. Having a mid-may birthday, there has been at least one major tentpole summer blockbuster movie every year as far back as I can remember. More times than not, it’s been a film I’ve been looking forward to.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Alien series at this point in my life. Aliens was actually the first R rated movie I remember seeing as a kid, and it has managed to hold up over the last 30 years as a great piece of action sci-fi cinema. As I grew up and began to learn about film and filmmaking, I fell in love with the original. What has always struck me as fascinating is that this series boasts the single example of genre-jumping that I think worked very well. The original was a horror movie set in space, not only because of it being centered around a stalking monster, but also in its intent. Dan O’bannon (Alien screenwriter) set out to find a thing that would make the audience uncomfortable and push that thing in the audience’s face as overtly as possible. There are dark, sexual undertones in all of the iconography of Alien that scream allusions to rape, the horror of which is the metaphorical center of that first film. It’s not only scary because *monster* or *jump scares*. It’s frightening because it affects us on a deeper psychological level. From the feeling of betrayal from someone we have implicitly come to trust to more literal reads of having a thing forced down our heroes’ throats to the overt phallic and vaginal imagery...it’s not subtle in its presentation of this very real thing to fear in the fantasy of a space movie.

The second film jettisons a lot of that for a much less cerebral and much more visceral experience. It substitutes explosions in the place of the metaphors, dipping its toes into themes of familial relationships (which have even more relevance and resonance if you watch the director’s cut, though I think those omissions in the theatrical release were warranted). It never goes too heavy handed into the psychological the way that its predecessor did. Instead, it masterfully creates tension which pays off in big action sequences. In a sense, it draws on the more pedestrian lore of Alien and extrapolates it into the basis for a very strong blockbuster movie.

The third film is very polarizing among fans and critics. For me, I always enjoyed it. I saw it as another attempt at genre-jumping. From (space) horror to (space) action to (space) melodrama/tragedy. Some of the strongest criticism comes from the fact that it, right from its first scene, essentially devalues the investment into the second film entirely. However, this is completely in line with the fatalist base that David Fincher aims to create.

But after that, the series takes a turn. Alien: Resurrection was Joss Whedon’s lackluster contribution. While the three films that came before it really took chances within their genres and all achieved a particular level of credit for vision if nothing else, Resurrection was more...paint by numbers, for one. It felt juvenile in comparison. It felt like a bit of fan-fiction. Some people prefer it as a *movie* experience to Alien 3, but there’s no doubt that its pandering condescension to its audience belongs more on the shelf with films like Fast and Furious than it does on the shelf with Alien. That’s not to say it’s not without some good ideas and some fun imagery. It just failed in execution, and in comparison to the other films in the series, it seemed almost like homage, knock off, or even parody rather than part of the series’ actual legacy.

Then there were two laughable attempts at Predator/Alien crossover films (which I barely count). The less said about them, the better. The first can be summed up as a cash grab with the sort of plot an eight year old might write. The second I think literally just spliced the scripts of Aliens and Predator together, edited the whole thing down until it was accessible for an eight year old, and then purposely focused on filming the worst parts of what was left.

And then there was Prometheus...the epic return of Ridley Scott to the series. Honestly, no film in the history of cinema has had such a dichotomy between my high expectation and my disappointment (except maybe Terminator: Salvation...). Damon Lindelof did for the Alien series what...Damon Lendelof did for Lost. He guided you down a path of intrigue only to reveal that even he had no idea what to do once he had your attention. So instead of developing an organic story that was anchored around some thematic center, he just stuffed in a bunch of inexplicable things happening and called it a movie. Space zombies and alien abortions and counterintuitive character motivations and a peek into a galactic mystery that ultimately meant nothing...none of it made much sense. It was very pretty to look at, for sure, but it forgot that it should have been about something. It was trying to be Alien in its disconcerting visual design, but in its absence of central intent ended up feeling more like a motion design demo reel with cameos from A-listers. It’s really hard to screw up a film with that strong of a cast, but screw it up, they did.

That’s the Alien universe to date. All that said, it’s weird that I hold the series as a whole in such high regard. We had two great films, one film that was generally polarizing, and then four movies that all were on the scale of bad-to-worse. More than half of the entire franchise’s existence was sub-par, and yet (just like with Terminator, I suppose) I still get excited by the thought of another film featuring a xenomorph.

So with all that in mind, now I need to create a rubric for this film. What does this film need to do in order to work?

One thing is that Alien: Covenant needs to be about something. I feel that this film should aim for Alien level of tension rather that visceral thrills of Aliens. Have a central theme that is the core of the movie. It doesn’t matter if it’s overt or subtle, but have an intended effect or idea...have a reason to tell the story beyond pulling in profits. If Alien wanted to horrify and make the audience feel raped, what does this film aim to do? If the answer sounds more like the untethered narrative from an 8-year-old describing what he does with his action figures, I will be disappointed.

A thing that could go horribly wrong, however, is too much time spent trying to forge cohesion between Prometheus and Alien. The film should not play like a dramatized set of ikea instructions of how to fit rod-A into slot-B. The greatest thing about Alien, Aliens, Alien 3, and even Resurrection to a certain extent is that they really could exist as self contained films. They didn’t cram significant running time with callbacks and cheap a-ha moments. They didn’t need to set up a suggested sequel. Prometheus was nothing short of a phoned-in first act stretched out to feature length. Covenant, despite desperation to cultivate a larger cinematic universe, needs to resist the temptation to create nubs and limbs intended to be explored in other films. Look, it’s a film in the Alien family...we know it connects to the others. We know it will share some iconography. And we can anticipate a nod here or there. But don’t mandate that we watch other media to enjoy this film.

These are my fleeting thoughts prior to seeing Alien: Covenant. After watching, I will review below.

THE REVIEW:

This valiant swing-and-miss demonstrates that the people at the helm don’t seem to understand what made Alien such an iconic film. There will be spoilers beyond this point.

First, let’s look through the filter of my rubric for this film above. Was this film about something, or was it just a catalog of things that happened? Well...it certainly tried to be about something, I think, but certainly not in the manner that Alien was metaphor. In following Prometheus, this film did tie itself around the idea of creation, but it was more an overt, almost Snidely Whiplash villain motivation than a taught thematic undercurrent. For certain, the real reason to tell this story was as a narrative plot bridge between Prometheus and the rest of the Alien universe.

So to the second part of my proposed rubric, it was exactly what I feared that it would be. This wasn’t a prequel to Alien so much as it was a misguided sequel to Prometheus. I guarantee that the studio wanted to distance itself from the luke-warm reception of Prometheus and embrace the public’s affinity for the Alien series, so they gave it an Alien name for marketing value and with some implicit promise that it would be more Alien this time. That just begs the question...why didn’t they do that? If they wanted to push in the direction of the Alien universe, this should have been a lot less Prometheus and a lot more Alien.

I’d say on the first point, the film could be graded as a slacking student; maybe a D or D+. But the context of that barely-passing grade was inextricably mired in the latter point’s failure.

So what went wrong?

You know, like a lot of summer blockbusters, I was actually all in for maybe the first third. Dare I say, I thought Danny McBride was one of the strong points (I better never catch myself saying those words again...). The entire first act, while flawed, was honestly what I was hoping for. It was a slow burn of this inevitability of disaster. It felt like the start to a halfway decent Alien retread, but with enough of its own creative energy that it could’ve worked just fine.

And then right around the time we see our first sorta-xenomorph, things go south. Fast. Let’s start with a little canonical rule breaking (or at least taking extreme liberties). Members of the team on the ground are infected by some sort of sentient, swarming spores that puff out of fungal pods. After a short gestation period, the infected crew members become sick and...out pop really crappy CG xenomorphs (seriously, we’ll circle back on this in a moment), taking on more or less the same features of the products of the face-huggers we’re familiar with. It feels like I have to go on to explain too many inconsistencies to explain my objection to this, but I’ll start simply with it did not feel like this was any sort of outgrowth of the creative universe. Instead, it was more a “What’s a visually cool way can we infect these guys that we haven’t done yet?” It forgoes all the horror of the skittering face huggers and opts for something that feels out of a cheap franchise knock off rather than something that is supposed to be canon. It felt very disconnected from the point of consistency and iconography. It would be like Freddy Krueger killing someone by shooting them. Now, I’m not adverse to these pods emitting spores that have tragic ill effects as part of this narrative. I’m not even adverse to it resulting in some sort of gestation into some sort of creature. But seeing the emergent xenomorph felt cheap and lazy.

Right around the same time, we get these strange, unexplained, counterintuitive character ticks. A medical officer goes into full psychosis freak out panic attack due to a patient’s medical ailment. The new captain takes a scene to talk about the importance of his faith, which never once actually becomes relevant or important to the plot. Slipping on blood gives us not one but two keystone cop type moments. There is no concern over potential contagion despite the distinct absence of all fauna. Despite having clear technological methods to traverse the terrain, they venture 8 kilometers over treacherous mountains on foot. There is a surprising lack of awe in seeing a vastly superior crashed alien vessel, and even more baffling is there is no amazement or discussion of implications (or if it’s there, it happens off screen) about finding “the lost Prometheus’s” Elizabeth Shaw’s dogtags on said alien vessel.

And you know what? Even though all of that was irksome, it was generally, reluctantly forgivable in that “well, you’re not in the volatile situation or understand their context fully, no do you know how you’d react to xyz, so give some artistic license for their manners and reactions” sort of way.

But then the film goes off the rails.

David, Prometheus’s sociopathic android, shows up in cape and hood, to save the survivors with a bright-light gun, and then leads them to this necropolis of former indigenous humanoids. And then, the movie turns from a just-passable Alien film to a weaker sequel to Prometheus.

As it turns out, the mysterious xenomorphs that we fear from this franchise are actually megalomaniac android’s science project, as he tries to perfect the monster-weapon-thing from Prometheus’s *engineer* planet (read: the Alien of of the Alien universe). So much of this as an unnecessary explanation feels like midichlorians-and-battle-droids to me. It’s not exactly a retcon...but it’s this useless, unintuitive, sloppy exposition filler that deflates the magic and mystery out of the compelling, established universe.

And what sucks is the fact that this is what this film is really about. On the one hand, it sucks the life out of the more interesting parts of the series. And on the other, as an explanation, even if you can sort of force it to justifiably work (the way you would with Anakin having built C3PO...), it is really forced as far as adhering to its own themes.

How can I explain what I perceive to be the disconnect in the most succinct way possible? David becomes obsessed with the idea of creation. The disconnected intro to this film, coupled with the events explored in Prometheus, suggest that David is questing for progeny, I guess...because, reasons? Because upon creation, he and his creator discuss the ultimate question is discovering where we came from? Because his calculated ambition for progeny at all costs is supposed to mimic human’s biological imperative? It is so vague that unfortunately, I think I’m reading way too much into it, and I think in all honesty the screenwriters cared very little for themes that made sense. They were just dropping plot points on a line and connecting them with little regard to sense of theme or tone.

Think about how convoluted it is. David wants to procreate in some way. So his best plan for this was...to traverse the galaxy, unleash a biological weapon created by his creators’ creators, genetically modify the result to spawn a perfect organism? It’s such a contrived thing that, again, it sort of just feels like mustache twirling.

In the original Alien, we get what seems like a malfunctioning android. It leads to the crew’s demise. But the whole point is that the android isn’t malfunctioning. The horror of the entire thing is that the android is behaving as programmed, which is at the behest of their very human bosses, to whom the crew is expendable. The horror is watching the android tweak out over the contradiction of Asimov’s first law of robotics versus his expressed, malignant program.

In Covenant, we get an android who is...imperfect and sociopathic, so...kill people to create aliens to fulfill desire for procreation? That just about defeats the purpose of making him an android at all. If he’s supposed to be a murky reflection of humanity here, the parallel should express something like...if David is the creation, and he is willing to destroy his creators in order to bring something more perfect into the world, then that should parallel humans as the creation, destroying their creators (the engineers, I guess) in an attempt to bring something more perfect in the world. But that’s not a thing at all in this universe, so this theme is just flimsy, and it thinks it’s way deeper than it actually is. It’s the intellectual equivalent of the guy at the bar who is 8 beers in and suddenly thinks he’s the best dancer in the world.

I spend so much time talking about this because the movie basically becomes this. In Prometheus, at least we get a suggestion that perhaps to study this xenomorph organism is part of his creator’s programming to help his creator stave off death, and to those ends, the crew is expendable. Here, David the android is just a sociopathic android whose motivations are murky...just something about his ability to create justifying his actions.

This is the core of what’s wrong with Alien Covenant, but it’s not the only thing. It’s so difficult to comprehend how seasoned filmmakers depend so much on CG these days in scenarios like this. Alien, the first film, is almost 40 years old. Its low budget practical effects hold up, and to this day are still terrifying and make the alien into a real threat. The multiple instances of needless CG in this film are deplorable. They completely distract from the scenes. One moment in particular was the birth of the first true xenomorph, bursting out of Billy Crudup’s chest. Literally, this poor CG alien began dancing in mimic to David. It was more reminiscent of baby Groot than it was anything else.

Another thing wrong was that everything that happened was the most predictable thing that could happen in any situation. It leveled all sense of tension that it tried to cultivate when you could predict every single outcome right down to the timing of any given situation.

An example to demonstrate how far the film shifted into nonsensical camp...there was this scene. The heroic, nail-biting rescue of the survivors from the planet has been mostly a success...but the crew must find a way to mourn the loss and handle dramatic new implications of what they discovered on the surface, while at the same time figuring out how to right their course towards their future colonial homeworld. Instead, though, we get a shower-sex scene between two of the crew members (for whom we have zero attachment to), which is interrupted by a rogue stow-away alien. This plays out more like a bad death in a Friday the 13th movie than the tension that the Alien series generally cultivates. It was scenes like this that denote the people at the helm are completely ignorant as to what made Alien and Aliens work so well.

And the worst part is that this weird David-centric prequel arc isn’t over. David brought aboard a pair of face-hugger embryos (is that how they work? I don’t think that’s how those organisms work...) and stowed them with the colonist embryos. His last ship log, as everyone else is in hypersleep, discloses that they are heading for the intended planet, which is distinctly not called LV-426. That means that there is further involvement of David’s sociopathic megalomania to contend with before the two series officially connect. And because of this, we will likely get a third Prometheus that follows sadistic android watering down the potency of the lore even further.

How would I have fixed it? I think the most surefire way to fix this film would’ve been to completely avoid (or dramatically change) the David arc entirely (which means a dramatic change to the whole movie). At the end of Prometheus, David is decapitated, and therefor non-ambulatory. Maybe he should’ve stayed that way, decaying for 10 years with the rest of the tech on the ship. An accident may have caused Shaw to get exposed to the *Prometheus goo*, or as it was in this film, the spores. Maybe a queen gestates. Maybe its result decimates the indigenous population of the planet (I actually would prefer to have the planet uninhabited or abandoned, maybe with eggs or spores or whatever laying in wait). And this film plays out much more like Alien, relaying messages through space about what the crew is experiencing, and giving *the company* its first glimpse of xenomorphs and gives them the idea to utilize disposable colonists to breed the species. Maybe the android-versus-android dynamic could’ve been much more interesting; really, about potential complexities of Asimov’s first law of robotics, laying the groundwork on how or why Ash is able to act outside of this protocol...perhaps even inverting it, where the android Walter adheres to Asimov’s law, defies his direct orders from the company, serves the greater good and destroys the potential threat while incidentally killing crew to save the 2000 colonists in stasis (does not by action of mission, allow humans to be harmed, but having to follow that protocol in an instance where either action or inaction leads to deaths). In the end, we have the colonists on a set course for the new homeworld with no knowledge of the film’s events, but with the company now having knowledge of and desire for the alien species. Cue the future voyage of the Nostromo.

Something like this plays into all the themes explored in a much more narratively taught way that aligns much better tonally with the series. Instead, we get sociopath, megalomaniac android twirling his proverbial mustache.

For the second film of the 2017 summer blockbuster season, I gotta say...swing and a miss. It saddens me that this represents another year of birthday disappointment over a film I was looking forward to.

[andaneum]

No Longer Alone: A Reylo Fanfic Chapter 5 FB

3 years earlier…

           A persistent flashing light woke Rey from her sleep, blinding in the darkness of the hut. Fortunately, the large, warm body she’d been resting on didn’t also respond to the bright light as she picked herself up and lifted her sleeve to see what was happening.

           The binary beacon that Leia had given her to find her way home was pulsing red, meaning that she’d sent out her own personal distress code and her friends were in danger. It was the code that was only used when things were so desperate, there seemed to be almost no hope.

           Rey’s first instinct was just to jump in a ship and fly back to the Supremacy, hoping that the Resistance hadn’t travelled so far that she’d no longer be able to sense them in the area. But she forced herself to stop and rethink.

          It had taken them so many hours to reach Ahch-To before. Even if she left immediately, it was unlikely she’d reach her friends in time to help. And besides, she had other commitments now. She turned her head to look down at Ben’s face.

          He was so peaceful in sleep, with all the anger and turmoil vanishing as though they’d never been there at all. If he woke here to find her gone, he’d see it as a betrayal of her promises. He wouldn’t accept her explanations, his world was too black and white to accept her own variations of grey.

           She left the hut, the cold wind of the planet hitting her hard and focusing her thoughts, and moved towards their ship. The lights lifted automatically as she entered, reacting to her presence. She removed the bracelet and attached it to the main console. With a few commands to the ship, it began transmitting Leia’s distress signal across the galaxy.

           Hopefully, with the ships modern technology and upgrades, it would be able to reach far enough for her. Hopefully, Chewie would hear their message.

-----------------------------------------------

           It only took a day from their arrival for Rey to begin feeling the flickering of Ben’s consciousness from the other side of the bond. It was faint, his thoughts hadn’t quite returned to him yet, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for him to be fully conscious again. Clearly, they had underestimated him and how long it would take to break out of Luke’s hold.

           As childish and undeserved as it was, she felt annoyed with him for cutting her time with her master so short. They may not have always seen eye to eye, and it was true that she still blamed him many things, but Luke had spent the last twenty-four hours slowly guiding her through the basics of blocking her mind from others.

          ‘Imagine a wall in your mind, let it surround your thoughts.’ He instructed her.

          ‘She gave him a disbelieving look, ‘Is that it? Just a wall?’

          Luke rolled his eyes at his young pupil in that annoying way he did whenever he thought she was being purposely obtuse.

          ‘No. It’s only the beginning, the first line of your defences. Within your walls you must create a maze, hiding your most precious secrets deep inside it. Those memories with less importance become obstacles, used to trick and divert anyone who would want to delve deeper.’

          It was still very early, but at least she now felt that she had the tools to build something with. In time, she was sure she would be able to keep Ben out completely, if she ever needed to.

           And so together, they began the task of getting him onto the ship, gently bundling him up in blankets then levitating him up the ramp, paying special care not to jostle his still healing injuries.

           ‘Rey.’ She heard Ben slowly groan out her name as they moved him, his voice sounding pained as he did so. It wouldn’t be long before he woke up.

           She settled him on the ship’s lone bunk, concerned that he still looked to be in pain despite not moving, before she headed back outside and turned to face her Jedi master, ‘We need to go. But, thank you.’

           ‘It’s the least I could do for you both.’ His eyes were fond as he looked over the ship that now held his nephew. ‘You were right about him. There’s still a light there that I’d given up on ever seeing again. Let’s hope that now you have him on this path, he can stay there.’

           Luke would never understand the depth of her desire to make that happen, not for her own sake, but for the countless lives that could be lost if Ben chose the dark side again. Kylo Ren was someone she would not allow to return to the galaxy.

           ‘And what about you?’ She asked.

           Luke shrugged his shoulders tightly, ‘Ah, you know me. I’ll always be here.’

           ‘You won’t go back to the Resistance? Leia could still do with your help rebuilding.’

           Rey still remembered how excited Leia had seemed at the idea of getting her brother back. It broke her heart a little to know that she hadn’t been able to persuade him of his importance to the Resistance. He was a legend, and his legacy had inflamed the hopes of so many across the galaxy.

          ‘I still have much to atone for, my place is here. You’re so young, but one day you’ll understand.’ Her instincts told her that he was hiding something, that he wasn’t only talking about his mistakes with Ben, but it wasn’t her place to pry further. She could only leave him with these words.

          ‘Then, may the force be with you, Master Skywalker.’

          ‘And with you.’ He responded with a smile. It had been too long since he’d last heard those words, and he let the meaning of them wash over him as he watched her walking away. There was light once more in the galaxy, and his only hope was that the balance wouldn’t shift once more if they learned of what he and his sister had done to ensure this.

          She boarded the ship and prepared it for take-off, harder to do without a co-pilot beside her. They lifted away, and she saw her master holding up his mechanical hand to her in farewell.

---------------------------------------

          ‘No!’ Ben jerked upright in his bunk, flinching from the pain of his cracked ribs before tossing his head around wildly, looking for some unseen threat. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. She looked over her shoulder at him, and once he saw her there he relaxed a little, scrubbing his hand roughly down his face.

          ‘I’m here. How are you feeling?’ She asked.

          His voice was still rough from sleep and disuse, ‘Like hell. What happened?’

          ‘That depends on what you last remember…’ She replied sheepishly. She could feel his mind try to enter her own, but the tightening of what little defences she had alerted him to what he was doing. He withdrew. Snoke had always instructed him to never place a rein on his powers and it was a behaviour he’d have to force himself to unlearn.

          ‘We were in the throne room, and there was… an explosion maybe? After that there’s nothing.’ He took a proper look at his surroundings, ‘I’ve missed something, this isn’t the Supremacy. How did we get here?’

          Good, he didn’t remember anything about their escape or sojourn on Ahch-To.

          ‘It’s Snoke’s escape pod, well, ship I suppose. He didn’t really do things by halves did he?’ Ben looked unimpressed by her comment as she became distracted by the modern electronics and tech surrounding them. He supposed it had been some time since she’d seen mechanics like these, if she ever had.

          She slowly came back to herself, remembering that she wasn’t alone, ‘Sorry. I got you into the ship and we got away. Luckily for us, the First Order were too busy with the Resistance and their fleet being destroyed to notice Snoke’s ship jettisoning away. I think they might have had one or two questions if they’d seen us. I patched you up as best I could, but you’ve been out for a couple of days now.’

          He looked confused for a second, ‘What do you mean, their ships were destroyed?’

          ‘That’s the thing, I don’t know. They looked as though they’d been torn apart, most of them were just completely split in two. And there was this strange white trail going right through the middle, that must have been what caused everything. But the Resistance don’t have that kind of weaponry, so how…?’ Her voice trailed off.

          He thought it over in his mind, ‘They must have jumped their main craft to lightspeed, right through the centre of the fleet. It’s the only explanation for the white trail and the destruction of that many ships at once. Their main ship was the only one they had that would have been big enough to do that kind of damage.’

          ‘It wasn’t Leia was it?’ He could practically taste her fear.

          For a moment, it seemed as though he wouldn’t tell her. He didn’t want to tell her. It was humiliating that even after all these years he still couldn’t shake the bond between himself and his mother. But he at least owed the girl this, especially as it seemed she’d saved his life in the throne room.

          ‘It wasn’t, I can still feel her. She’s alive, somewhere.’

          ‘Is she safe?’ She continued.

          ‘I neither know, nor wish to know.’ He was ending the conversation there, his mother still a touchy subject for him. His priority now was making sure she hadn’t done something foolish of while he’d been unconscious, ‘Where are we heading?’

          ‘I don’t know, I was hoping that you might have some ideas.’

          ‘So, we’ve spent the last few days just floating around in space? What were you planning on doing if I hadn’t woken up?’ His face was a mix of shock and frustration. She’d just been flying around, hoping that they wouldn’t be picked up by anyone?

          ‘Don’t give me that look.’ She said angrily, ‘I’ve spent most of my life on Jakku, what makes you think I know anything about the galaxy? I had no idea which planets would be safe for us, considering that we’re fugitives flying a stolen First Order ship.’

          Her words sounded sincere enough, but in truth, she hadn’t even looked at a map. In the few hours since leaving Ahch-To, her sole aim had been to get away from the planet, hoping that by the time Ben woke up he wouldn’t be able to recognise the sector they were in from Luke’s unfinished map.

          He got up gingerly from the bunk, releasing a hiss as a sharp pain gripped his side. He lifted his shirt to see a large purple bruise mottling his skin. His ribs had been injured, at least severely bruised judging from the pain he was in. Rey got up to support and help him over to the co-pilot’s seat, where he pressed a few buttons, and a galactic map appeared in front of them.

          Luckily, as Snoke’s apprentice, he’d always had a contingency plan formed in case he’d needed to run from the order. He’d seen it as an inevitably, rather than a precaution. He studied the map, working out the best route for them to take. ‘It looks like we’re here, in the Unknown Regions.’ He pointed to the far left of the map, ‘I suggest that we head to Coruscant.’

          ‘Coruscant?’ She said incredulously, ‘You really think we’ll be safe there?  There are billions of people there, if any of them recognise us, we’re dead!’

          ‘Actually, there’s over a trillion,’ He said absently, ‘Look, whatever the Resistance managed to destroy with their stunt doesn’t matter. The First Order has ships stationed all over the galaxy to track us with and if we’ve been sitting here for two days, then they’ve likely taken the chance to regroup. That means they’ll have already sent search parties out to find us. If Hux is in charge now then regardless of where he thinks my loyalties lie, he’ll be trying to kill me. With so many people there, Coruscant is the perfect place for two fugitives to blend in.’

          She couldn’t argue with his logic, though the idea of being surrounded by so many people still worried her.

          ‘Trust me. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way, I swear.’ He was looking at her straight in the eye, and whatever she was about to say died in her mouth.

          ‘Okay.’

          ‘First we need to get a new ship. If anyone from the First Order finds us in this, they’ll take us in straight away.’ He searched the map for somewhere they could safely trade a stolen ship but being so far away from the Mid and Inner Rims, their choices were limited.

          ‘There are two planets we could go to. One’s called Csilla, but it’s not ideal.’ He pointed to a planet above their current position. ‘It’s a bit out of the way, and the people there aren’t particularly trusting of outsiders, but that’s not my biggest worry.’ She waited for him to continue, ‘They’re smart and cunning. It’s not unlikely that if they see us in this ship, they’ll recognise it immediately and alert the First Order.’

          ‘Then that planet’s out.’ She said firmly, ‘I didn’t drag you out of a burning ship and spend two days patching you up just for us to be captured straight away. What’s the other option?’

          He was silent for a moment, ‘You’re not going to like it.’

          She raised an eyebrow at him.

          ‘It’s Jakku.’ All the breath left her in a rush. She’d never thought she’d go back there once she’d left, especially not so soon. She’d left so much of herself behind there, so much of her past.

          He turned back to the map, determination set upon his face. He’d sensed her distress through the bond, even though she had hidden it from her face. ‘I’m setting course for Csilla.’

          But she’d grown so much since she’d left, she knew she was strong enough for this. ‘No, no. We go wherever’s safest. That’s Jakku. The scavengers there won’t care where this ship came from, only how much they can get for the parts. And the First Order has no hold there.’

          ‘Yes, it’s perfect, except that you clearly can’t hold it together. Even the mention of that damn wasteland and you become useless. We’re going to Csilla.’

          She slapped his hands away from the controls. ‘I’m fine.’ She said through gritted teeth, ‘And we’re going to Jakku.’

          He once again reached to input the coordinates for Csilla, but his hand froze before he could touch the control panel. She was using her powers to stop him. His hand began shaking with the effort of trying to break her hold on him, but he couldn’t. Her raw strength was incredible.

          Eventually he gave up, jerking his hand back to his body. He wasn’t used to being at the mercy of the force, it had only ever been Snoke who’d held such power over him. He could see the smug grin she was trying to fight, and it infuriated him. He stood up slowly, still mindful of his injuries.

          ‘Fine. Do what the hell you want, but I won’t be helping you when something happens.’ He leaned in close to her face, his voice menacing and low when he spoke, but she wouldn’t be cowed by him. She knew he couldn’t hurt her. ‘And don’t you EVER do that to me again.’ He stormed away from the cockpit.

          But she couldn’t help herself, ‘Maybe if you stopped being such an arse, then I wouldn’t have to!’ She shouted over her shoulder to him, quickly regretting it as she realised how childish she was acting. She sighed, just another conversation between them that had devolved into threats and insults. How were they going to do this?

-----------------------------------------

          It took them several hours to reach Jakku, with Ben quickly returning to his bunk. But Rey was grateful for the silence, needing a break from his unpredictable moods. She could hear him tossing and turning from her seat, seemingly in the throes of yet another nightmare, but she was unwilling to go to him. She was sure he wouldn’t appreciate knowing that she’d seen him like this.

          She landed their ship on the outskirts of one of Niima Outpost’s multiple junk trader lots and began moving noisily around the cabin. But, it wasn’t until she lowered the noisy hydraulic ramp though that he woke up and began to prepare himself for the planet’s surface.

          With no change of clothes and only being able to remove their outermost layers due to burning, they were both woefully underprepared for the heat after the cold of space. It hit them like a wall and sweat immediately began beading on their foreheads as they left the ship.

          It was only a matter of seconds before they spotted a trader walking slowly towards them. He was human, and Rey recognised him immediately as one of Plutt’s associates, often using the parts she’d scavenged to patch up his ships.

          She’d been considering leaving Ben to get them a new ship to run an errand, not sure if he would be okay with the haggling that naturally came to trading on backwater planets such as these. But on seeing the trader, she’d made up her mind.

          ‘Can you take care of this?’ She asked.

          He looked confused, ‘Where are you going?’

          ‘We’re going to be here for a few hours and I have someone I want to see. I left her without saying goodbye.’ She could see his reluctance, ‘I won’t be far.’ She added.

          ‘Don’t take too long.’ Even though it was completely irrational, he didn’t want her wandering around alone, not now she had him with her. But she could protect herself well enough and he could hardly deny her this one thing before she left with him.

          She turned, and not far in the distance, she spotted an old woman attending to the few plants she’d been able to grow in front of her home. Syndal was the only healer in the small settlement and had always watched over Rey from afar.

          She was also known at the Outpost for being somewhat of a mystery. She had visions sometimes, premonitions. Before, Rey had just believed her to be crazy, but now that she had more knowledge of the force, she was certain that Syndal was a force sensitive too.

          She was also the closest thing to a mother that Rey could remember having.

          She approached her slowly, and the old woman looked up, eyes narrowed against the glaring sun, before returning to her plants when she saw who it was ‘You’ve been gone for a while. Everyone thought you’d been eaten by the birds.’

          Rey laughed, ‘Did you?’

          ‘No. I knew better.’ Syndal said solemnly, and the laughs died in Rey’s throat as she took in her words. At least someone on Jakku had believed in her enough to think she wasn’t dead.

          ‘So, where did you go?’ the old woman continued.

          Rey was unsure exactly how much of her story it was safe to share. Syndal may have been the only person she’d been close to on Jakku, but that didn’t mean she trusted her.

          ‘I just… left.’

          The woman once again looked up at the young girl before her, her eyes scrutinising and making Rey feel as though her secrets were being laid bare. The seconds felt like hours before Syndal sniffed and continued talking. ‘No one just leaves this place, girl. But if you’re keeping things close to your chest then that’s up to you. Anyway, if you finally managed to get away, I’m wondering more why you’ve come back?’

          ‘We need a new ship. Ours is… well, let’s just say there’s some people who might be wanting it back.’ Not exactly a lie, but not the full truth either. Better to let the old woman think they’d just stolen the ship from someone than tell her everything that had happened since she’d left Jakku.

          ‘We?’ Her tone didn’t even sound surprised, more curious than anything else.

          ‘Yeah, just me and a…’ How could she finish that sentence? She could barely wrap her own mind around the truth, let alone try to explain it to someone else. It had been a very confusing few weeks. ‘He’s a friend.’

          She hummed knowingly. Not much got past the old woman.

          Syndal squinted into the distance, using her gnarled hand to shield her eyes from the harsh midday sun, ‘Handsome friend you got there. In this situation, I’d normally ask the girl if she was leaving here willingly, but you can take of yourself. Besides, if you’ve got someone coming after you over that ship then it can’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands on board.’

          Rey smiled gratefully, happy that the old woman cared enough to think of asking yet respected her enough not to ask. But she hadn’t come here to discuss her current situation.

          ‘Syndal…’

          ‘I know, I know.’ The old woman waved her off, before she stood upright, stretching out her back with several loud cracks and moved inside. When she returned a few moments later, she was carrying a small brown sack.

          ‘I couldn’t get everything, but what was left behind after the scavengers went through it is in here.’

          Rey took the bag from her and peered into it. What was left of her home, fifteen years of her life on the planet all condensed into a sack. There was barely anything in it, and what was there were only the things with no monetary value.

          ‘Thank you, truly.’ She said, and the old woman nodded in return.

          ‘Did you…?’ Something in the back of her head began to bristle. She sensed him before she saw whatever it was that had sparked his ire. Without a thought, she turned and started running as fast as she could to where Ben was stood, the trader cowering on the ground in front of him. The sand sucked her feet down with every step, making it all the harder to get to him before he did something stupid.

          She skidded to a stop in front of him, holding her hands out in front of his face. She looked to his clenched fists, grateful that she’d insisted he leave his lightsaber behind to avoid drawing attention.

          ‘STOP! Whatever it is you’re doing, Ben, just stop!’ She shouted breathlessly.

          ‘Get out of the way.’ He growled. He started to move past her, but his footsteps were faltering. She was using her powers on him again. This time though, he had his anger and the pain from his injuries to fuel his own, and he broke out of her hold easily.

          ‘I told you to never do that again!’ He shouted at her.

          ‘You need to stop. This is ridiculous, every time I turn around you’re…’ He’d begun to move past her again, determined to get to the man behind her. She reached out, grabbing his uncovered hand, and everything stopped.

          It was as though she’d been sucked into his mind, seeing everything from his perspective. Their thoughts overlapped, and she could barely tell anymore where he ended, and she began. The trader was no longer cowering on the floor, but rather stood proudly in front of her. He was rambling, extolling the virtues of a ship that, as any trained eye could easily tell, seemed to be missing several key components. It was garbage, and both she and Ben knew it.

          Ben’s head twisted round, bored by the man who obviously didn’t know when to stop talking.

          What was he doing? Oh, she thought. He was keeping an eye on her. He didn’t trust the people here and he was humouring the trader because his lot was perfectly positioned to continue watching her.

          ‘So, you’re taking the scavenger with you?’ The trader had finally noticed his customer’s disinterest, choosing to change the subject to common ground since he knew that Rey was with him. Ben turned back to him, his face neutral.

          ‘What do you mean?’

          ‘Just that she’s a good choice. Girls round here will do anything for a few portions. And that one, she’s feisty. I tried her myself, a few years ago. Got what I needed from her, but she’s not my usual type. She might work for you though, you look like you might enjoy the challenge!’ He began laughing, but Ben didn’t join in.

          His fun soon ended, his hands moving to grasp his throat. He was clawing at it furiously, his air supply completely cut off by Ben’s mental grip on him. He was lifted from his feet, slowly rising to be level with his captor, before being dropped unceremoniously to the sands. Something had caught Ben’s attention. It was her, running to him.

          And, just as suddenly as it had come, her view of the past ended. She was sucked back into her own mind, her own body, doubled over and gulping down huge lungfuls of air.

          But Ben had recovered more quickly than her, and he was already storming away. He’d seen something, just as she had, and it scared her to think what it could have been. She went to reach out again but stopped herself. She didn’t want another vision to occur if she touched him.

          She gathered her strength, still unsteady from her ordeal, and chased him down again. It was a small blessing that, even with his powers fuelling him, he was slower than usual.

          ‘What did you see?’ He ignored her.

          ‘Ben, so help me. I will jump in the ship and leave without you if you don’t fucking stop!’

          That caught his attention, but it made her feel immediately guilty. Using the threat of abandoning him was never something she’d wanted to do, not since she’d felt in the throne room just how deep his insecurities ran.

          He stopped, breathing deeply as he tried to control his actions, and she moved to stand in front of him. ‘What did you see?’ She said, much more calmly this time.

          His eyes screwed closed, as though he couldn’t stop replaying the images in his head, but despising himself for doing so, ‘It was… I saw… some creature. He had his hands all over you. He wanted you.’ She knew without him saying the name exactly who he was referring to. It was Plutt.

          She wanted to tell him that nothing had happened, that as soon as Plutt had tried to start something with her, she hadn't hesitated to beat him senseless, that she'd only returned to working for him because she'd had no choice and he'd needed her. But she was certain Ben had already seen that in the vision, and yet he was still seething. How could she get him to calm down? 

          ‘Ben…’

          ‘He can’t have you, you’re mine.’ His eyes flashed open, and the possession in both them and his voice frightened her.

          She tried to put her own feelings aside, wanting her mind to be clear as she finally expressed her thoughts, ‘We can’t do this. Every time I turn around you’re doing… something! Even when you’re calm, and you seem happy, I’m worried that something will happen to upset you, and you… you just change so suddenly, Ben. I can’t spend the rest of my life always watching you to make sure you’re not trying to kill someone. We’re just going around in circles.’

          The fight left him a little at that. He went to speak, but she stopped him.

          ‘You won’t argue with me on this. I know what he did, I was there, remember?’ She said with a small, forced smile. ‘But you don’t see me running to find him, as much as I may want to.’

          She took a step closer, finally feeling brave enough to grasp at his still clenched fist. ‘You told me in the throne room that I needed to let my past go. And I have. When we leave here today, that’ll be it. I won’t be coming back again. Everything I’m taking with me is in this bag.’ She raised the small sack she was still holding onto, ‘A few trinkets that the scavengers didn’t even think were worthy of stealing. All the bad memories I have of this place will be buried. But you need to do the same. Can you let it go?’

          His reply was instant, he knew that she could ask him nearly anything and he would agree to it, ‘I can try.’

          She shook her head at him, ‘No, that’s not good enough. I need you to swear to me that you will. You’re not a child anymore, and I won’t be your babysitter for the rest of my life.’

          ‘I swear. For you.’

          It frightened her, how much she believed his vow. Everything about their situation frightened her, though she’d never admit it aloud. The depths of his emotions were astounding, especially given that they’d only been on speaking terms for a few weeks now. He’d needed someone to place all his feelings of loneliness and abandonment on, hoping that they could fix him, and now they had this force bond between them, she had become his emotional crutch.

          But looking back on their times together, even before they’d run away, she couldn’t help but think that she was encouraging him, and maybe even doing the same thing.

          ‘From now on, when you feel yourself losing control, you come find me. No matter when it is, or where I am. I won’t let innocent people die because you can’t control yourself.’

          He nodded slowly, knowing that he was being chided but not caring how much she was treating him like a child. ‘And what do we do about him?’

          She looked down at the trader in disgust. He hadn’t moved from the ground, and Rey wondered if that was through fear or Ben’s own powers forcing him to stay still. ‘Nothing. We leave him, there are plenty of other traders around here prepared to give us a ship. He’s nothing to us.’

          Ben nodded slowly in understanding, then suddenly crumpled in half. Now that his anger had subsided, he was left with only the pain from his injuries, protesting strongly at his recent exertions. Rey threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling him up to standing with only a small groan for him.

          ‘You should go back to the ship.’

          ‘I’m fine.’ He said stoically.

          They began walking away, but there was something still bothering him, ‘Was he telling the truth? Did he…?’ He couldn’t even bring himself to say the words, trying to stop himself imagining a young Rey, willing to do anything to alleviate the pain and hunger that came from living in such harsh surroundings.

          ‘No, but would it matter if he was?’ She asked, curious as to how he’d reply.

          ‘No.’ He said, ‘I’m learning to let it go, remember?’

          Was that supposed to be an attempt at humour? The small smile she saw on his lips indicated that it was. It was dreadful, she thought. But the fact that he was making an effort was such a step for him, a show that he was willing to try. She was sure it had been a very long time since he’d last been able to smile, and she decided to play along with him.

          ‘I should think so. But you know that ship he was trying to sell you? It was terrible. I mean, really, it was awful! Even a child could have told you it was a piece of garbage.’

          ‘Well then, if you think you can do better scavenger, lead the way.’ And for the first time she felt as though he wasn’t using that word as an insult, that to him, it was just who she was.

Chapter 6

[netrunnerconduit]

Smoke’s Last Show

The screen flicked from black to neon green mixed with pink. Smoke's logo, an obnoxious smiling face that turned to smoke, faded in on top of the garish background.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, bio-roids and clones, naturals and synthetics, and everyone in between. Welcome to tonight's episode of Net Mercur, the only show NBN doesn't want you to watch! We've got a very special program for you tonight. I, your gracious, magnanimous, and certainly clever host will be doing a live speedrun on Jack Weyland's private servers in outer space. We're going to be breaking laws and breaking hearts tonight, and I got a good feeling we'll break Mac's number one in the world record too. But first let's take a look at the rig I'll be using:”

Black again, then some lights coalesced into the wispy silhouette of a cat. “This lil' cutie is the first of my breakers, first in my heart, and first in this morning's Net Mercur Subscribers' poll as to what you wanted to see me use on this speedrun. Remember paid subscribers get exclusive access to all sorts of great bonus content, including these polls. Now this is something of a rescue I saved from some stimheads down in La Costa but let me tell you her code is robust. I've spent all afternoon tinkering with her I'm very excited to see what kind of damage this kitty can do now that I've reclawed her. She's certainly bad luck for any sysop that crosses her path.”

The cat on the screen growled and then pounced through the camera.

Next an explosion of virtual sparks illuminated the screen then died out. Again the sparks exploded but now the camera pulled back to reveal a massive cylinder of light crashing down with immense energy creating the bursts of sparks.

“Now this here's a real treat for you that my own R&D group cooked up. This breaker is some industrial level shit and it will level the entire server to get past a gotcha bot. In fact I got a dummy server rigged up here with some *ahem borrowed corporate ice, just so you can really get an idea of how much fuckin damage this thing can do. I've put three, yes that's right three, top of the line, corporate bullies back to back to back for... demonstration purposes. Remember kids, DO try this at home, school and anywhere else with a net connection.

The cylinder rotated ninety degrees and accelerated to ramming speed passing effortlessly through some cyber constructs, shattering them completely.

“Oh ho ho, that was brutal. I cannot wait to drop this bad boy on some ice that can actually feel pain.” “To round out this trio I brought in something professional, because while I am serious about putting on a good show for you I am also serious about my own safety online. And I'm serious about wanting to break Mac's record! So feast your eyes on something real juicy.” The screen remained black, but the blackness seemed to shift and move in subtle shades. Suddenly a bright clear blade of light flashed across the screen and disappeared, resheathed in the void. “Did you see that?! This is what the pros use, obviously, because I'm using it and I'm the only pro you know. It's practically undetectable and it just provides targeted assassinations of any piece of code that so much as pings me funny. Normally you wouldn't be able to get your hands on something like this. I only got  it because I know people who know people. That's right, even the pro runners are fans of my casts, and I mean why wouldn't they be?”

“Last but not least, I'll be running these killas, thrillas, and chillas, off some top of the line hardware. You all know my lovely console: 128 pentabytes of processing power, basically infinite amounts of memory, and just like me she's got super-coolant ice running through her veins.” “Alright we're about ready to get this show on the road. Let's go over the rules: Today's targets are Jack Weyland's private servers in remote orbit. To prove we done the deed we have to both take something and leave something. I got this handy-dandy little 'fuck you' some of the trashiest, nastiest, little virus that we're going to gift to Mr. Beanstalk. Hopefully it doesn't jettison his O2 supply into deep space, or hopefully it does, I don't really care. Mac's current, and the world's record is twenty-two minutes, thirty-five seconds, seventy-eight milliseconds, and fifty nanoseconds. The timer starts when I first log in. I also need a witness to verify that I beat Mac's record and I figure vidding it to the entire network should be good enough. For all you code babies out there I'll try to keep you all in the loop as to what's going on, but I am going to be pretty deep in the tank on this run. Let's get to it, shall we?” A three second countdown flashed on the screen. Two. One. A rush of colours and shapes blossomed into as Smoke connected to the Network. “And we're off! First step is we gotta find a connection from Earth to Mars, that's easy. This is a Weyland-themed run so we'll bounce through Blue Sun's servers to go from earth to Luna and Luna to Mars. Oh if you didn't see that, that was a piece of trash ice that garbage sysops run and that my kitten just put in its rightful place in the slagheap. I could erase everyone's electricity bills while I'm in here, but that's not what we're doing today. Anyways we're on Luna now so I'm going to be getting almost a full second of lag, but that's no problem for me. Best way to deal with this is to read just be able to read the future, like I can. Alright here's some ice with some teeth, let's knock them out shall we? Ooh that looked like it hurt, and it hurt the guy behind him too. Anyways so we're on Mars now, the latency is getting bad, but it's only going to get worse the deeper we go. From here we gotta go through Weyland's Martian HQ which will be about the only server receiving direct transmissions from Jacky-boy's deep space station. We're going to piggy-back one of those signals to get to the finish line. We're at, let's see, eight and a half minutes so we are making excellent time. Now they don't got laws on Mars against the dangerous ice that can cause permanent brain damage so we gotta be real careful here. Or we would if all there ice were still alive to do some damage. Didn't see that coming did ya? We're into Weyland's 'secure' Martian deep space communications but before I start the piggy back, remember when I mentioned the latency? Well it's basically unfeasible past this point so I have to set my breakers to launch a little preemptive strike once we hit the space station. But with these beasts daddy-Weyland won't know what hit him. Let's lock down this puppy. We're piggy-backing the signal. Wait for it. And bang! Uh what's going on here. Where's the damage? Where's the ice? Fuck I can't do anything. What is that?” The screen which had been a nigh-incomprehensible blur of colours and motion halted jaggedly. A wall of eyes opened up and no matter which way the camera turned it was always being watched. The breakers launched themselves violently at the offending pupils but simply phased through harmlessly. Meanwhile Smoke started yelling.

“Shit! Kill the feed, jack me out! Shit they know where we are. Oh fuck, we're tagged. Someone get me ou-” The audio went dead and the camera stopped moving, but for anyone still watching the cast the walls of unblinking eyes stared on. Half an hour later the vid-feed finally died out too.

Smoke stopped the recording, finished emptying the Net Mercur Subscribers' Account of credits and started wiping her presence from all the hardware. “My best performance yet, but it's time I moved on.”

[big1ron]

The Venator “Resolute” had jumped right into a separatist trap. Somehow a virus infecting the main computer has scrambled the hyperspace jump coordinates, and now the companies on board were outnumbered and without reinforcements, deep in separatist space. A few last, desperate SOSs to nobody, and the ship was quickly overwhelmed with fire. The Resolute was going down. But not before each of the escape pods could be jettisoned.

————- Chapter One: Podrace. -————

The planet was thick in foliage and deep with caves. The contrast of the yellow pods on the blue stalks of many of the plants would have been beautiful, if they had time to admire it. The planet was currently in its night cycle. And the two Jedi’s escape pod had landed atop a rather high peninsula. Anakin climbed out of the smoking pod and coughed as he waved the smoke out of his face. He surveyed the ground far below him.

“I don’t see any enemy encampments, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. It’s impossible to see anything with all these crazy cliffs and caves. They’ll no doubt be sending hunter squads down shortly. How are the comms snips?”

“Fried master. The beacon too. Must have been destroyed in the landing.” Ahsoka climbs out after him, and steps up beside him, looking over the landscape below.

“Alright then let’s try to find another pod. Maybe a separatist base or some kind of settlement. We need to get off this rock.”

The escape pod crashed into the planet. Hard. All three passengers were thrown around pretty badly and Rex knew that would leave a mark. The impact had destroyed most of their equipment, and he had hit his shoulder against the wall of the pod. He knew it would bruise but it didn’t feel broken. He opened his eyes which he had squeezed shut on impact. He stirred to get up, and assess the other two men. One of the two, Echo, was doing the same. But the other, Kix, wasn’t moving. Rex gestured for echo to open the hatch while he climbed over to Kix and took his pulse, relieved he was alive before gently trying to shake him awake.

“Hey Kix, can you hear me? I need you in the here and now trooper.”

Kix groaned in response, pulling himself upright and rubbing his temples “wha’ ya need cap’n?”

He must have hit his head pretty badly, but he was awake, and that was a good sign. Rex hands Kix his bucket and turns for the hatch. Echo had already gotten it open and had been surveying their landing site. But before he could get outside the pod he hears Kix falling down behind him. He turns quickly to see Kix pulling himself to his feet again. That hit he took combined with the uneven floor of the pod made it hard for the medic to keep his balance. Rex took pity on him, and let Kix lean on him for support as Rex put an arm around his waist and practically dragged him out of the pod.

“This is u’necessary sir, ’m fine.”

“Define ‘fine.’ How badly did you hit your head?”

“Good.”

So, pretty bad rex guessed. The situation outside wasn’t looking too much better, as the pod had crashed though the ceiling of some kind of cave system upon landing. And it was rather dark in the caves with only the (admittedly pretty bright) moonlight from their entry hole, so rex switched is visor to night vision. Echo had already done the same.

“Two tunnels to the east, left one angled up, right angled down, and one tunnel to the north. Headed down. No sign of any hostiles.” Echo reported. “How’s Kix?”

“I’m fine.” With that Kix tried to stand up a little straighter, and away from rex to prove his point. But rex only pulled him closer, as if he was afraid he was going to fall again.

“He’s not fine. It looks pretty bad. But I’m no medic, and I don’t trust ours to give a proper diagnosis. Looks like we’re pretty close to the surface. So let’s try southeast.”

Echo took the lead, pistols in hand. But it soon became clear they were alone for now

“Hey Rex, do you think maybe you’re being a little overprotective again?” Echo asks as Kix trips, almost falling but held up by the captain.

“I think that’s proof enough that I’m not.” But as the ground levelled put slightly Rex hesitantly removed his supporting arm from kix. Which proved a mistake as echo, immediately overcome with the urge to pester, gave kix a light shove which sent him diving directly to the ground.

Fives stepped out of the escape pod, followed by Hardcase and Tup. Their pod had landed deep in the forest valley. Layers of escarpments and cliffs towered around them.

“The comms were sabotaged. Can’t get a message out.” Says tup, the last one out of the pod.

“We’ll just go find Rex. He has to be around here somewhere right? He’ll know what to do.” Says fives, who really has no idea what to do but has immediately assumed charge anyways.

“We don’t even know if Rex is out there. What we need to do is find some sort of communication, get a signal out. This is a separatist controlled planet right? So we find and take a base. We’ve still got guns, and they probably have communications devices”

“With just the three of us? Forget it. This is hopeless. I bet the others have already been shot down... I wouldn’t count on getting off this rock.” Hardcase falls silent at tups remark. He’s right, they are deep in separatist space with no ship, few rations and no communications. They’re probably going to be permanent residents. If they don’t run into and hunter droids of course.

But fives immediately contradicts. That’s no way for a republic soldier to think. “We have to at least try something. We can’t just give up. Let’s see if we can climb up to.... that ridge, and see what we can from that vantage point.” Fives points to one of the higher cliffs facing them, as they have no heading and he’s got to start somewhere.

“I don’t know, might be a better idea to stay put and wait for the hunter droids to find us. They might have salvageable communications devices”

“Really hardcase? I thought you were all about doing and hyperactivity” fives waves his blaster towards the cliff “you really just want to stay put? Wait for us to just die like tup does?”

“Hey! that’s not what I-“ Tup starts

“No, I don’t! But what I do want is for us to get off this rock and I think that’s our best option!”

“You know you wouldn’t be able to sit still that long so let’s start making time before we waste it. Move it troopers, let’s go.”

Ahsoka poked at the ground with a stick. They had traveled a fair ways away from the pod by now, and had stopped along a ridge. Her master was sitting cross legged and mediating. Actually meditating! That’s how you knew he had no clue. Anakin skywalker never meditated.

“You know it would probably help if you tried too” anakin opened one eye to look at the padawan. He had never been good at reading the living force, but even mediocre skill combined with his absolutely massive force signature had to account for something, right?

“What are you even trying to do anyways?”

“I don’t know, sense If there are any clones or droids around maybe? It’s not working anyways.” He sighs and gets up, turning in a seemingly random direction and stars walking. They need to find some sort of communications if they want to-

“Wait, master” ahsoka ignites both her lightsabers and anakin does the same

“I sense it too.”

Suddenly the engines of two speeder bikes are heard, and headlights wash over them in the dark, as two mounted commando droids rush towards them. The droids open fire and-“Ahsoka wait!”

Too late. She had already deflected the bolts into the engine of one of the bikes, causing it to explode. Her master skillfully decapitated the other droid and used the force to slow the bike to a stop.

“You could have used that bike. Now you’re riding pillion.” He mounts the bike and pats the space behind him. “But at least you won’t crash this way”

“Hey I never crash!” Complains ahsoka as she climbs on behind him. “Besides, you don’t get to complain about my driving when you’ve crashed every ship you’ve ever flown”

The last pod had landed in a slightly more flat area, nearby a crude and thin path, that the group was now following deeper into the thick forest. The group was occupied by Jesse, who had elected himself leader and nobody had objected, Coric, and Dogma. They had been walking a while and everyone had been pretty quiet. Especially since tensions between Jesse and Dogma was still... weird.

“So are you two just going to give each other the silent treatment for however long we’re stuck here?” Asks coric, fed up with the silence

“No.” “Yes.” They answer at the same time, in the same tone.

“Alright Jesse, why do you refuse to talk to Dogma?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you. And you already know anyways. Nows not the time for this. Keep your focus on the road.”

“You know you can’t stay mad at him forever. We could be more effective if we work together”

“Actually, I can. Look I’ll talk to him when I need to, ok?”

‘I’m standing right here you know’ Dogma almost says. Instead he just goes with “I have no objections.” To remind them he is, in fact there.

“Of course you don’t.” Jesse grumbles “cause I have orders for you and you can’t function without those, can you.” Dogma looks to his feet and coric looks defeated. It’s true, having clear orders from Jesse is the only thing keeping him from low key panicking.

Suddenly four pairs of glowing eyes flick on in front of them, where four hunter commando droids had been lying in wait.

[restoftheowl]

Does Culture need Humans?

Abstract: The pinnacle of evolution is culture which guides the evolution of humanity, by ruling genes through memes. The following text was published in what was to be Encyclopedia of Internet Memes and Phenomena and ended up as the Hungarian version of the same. Translation by the author.

If there's anything harder to accept than humans are descended from apes, is that we are descendants of apes and we are not the pinnacle of evolution. The assertion that on the top of the evolutionary tree we find culture, is peculiar not only because it de-biologizes the Darwinian system to some extent, but also works really well with the extremely biologized interpretation of memetics.

The insides of a coat

The phenomenon, which scientific terminology calls culture - and common language would rather use the word civilization - is key to human existence. This existence means the whole infrastructure of survival, from drinking water supply system down to individual level: that while on colder climate an animal grows thicker fur, man puts on a thick coat. The genetic answer expressed in fur was replaced with a complex object, composed of the technology manufacturing textiles with various qualities, patterns of construction, logistics, fashionable colours and brands. Coats created by culture are not only the result of their own evolution, they go beyond natural body covers in their space of application and their information/genetic background. Is it a real possibility, that humans were tailored to fit this coat, (or to be more general) this hyperevolutionary environment?

The fact that within human inheritance culture is of the most importance was pointed out by the father of immunology, Nobel-laureate Sir Peter Medawar. In his lectures titled The Future of Man we see vivid memories of the rise and fall of Nazism: Medawar states the primacy of culture, and warns of the reckless overuse of notions based on genetic analogies and the pseudo-scientific biologization of human beings.

"The conception I have just outlined is, I think, a liberating conception. It means that we can jettison all reasoning based upon the idea that changes in society happen in the style and under the pressures of ordinary genetic evolution; abandon any idea that the direction of social change is governed by laws other than laws which have at some time been the subject of human decisions or acts of mind. That competition between one man and another is a necessary part of the texture of society; that societies are organisms which grow and must inevitably die; that division of labour within a society is akin to what we can see in colonies of insects; that the laws of genetics have an overriding authority; that social evolution has a direction forcibly imposed upon it by agencies beyond man’s control—all these are biological judgments; but, I do assure you, bad judgments based upon a bad biology." (Medawar, 1959)

Our question now is how one of the latest theories of cultural evolution, memetics relates to the above mentioned bad judgments.

By today the meme concept has become a part of common vernacular, since despite its abstract nature it grasps the phenomena of high speed communication of the information age excellently. Memetics started its life as a playful interdisciplinary application of Darwinian logic. As the father of the concept Richard Dawkins, himself an admirer of Medawar, puts it:

"I am an enthousiastic Darwinian, but, I think Darwinism is too big a theory to be confined to the narrow context of the gene.  The gene will enter my thesis as an analogy, nothing more. What, after all, is so special about genes? The answer is that they are replicators." (Dawkins, 1986)

It's immediately apparent that the only way to avoid - despite Medawar's warning - the direct and aggressive genetization of culture if we the analogy of genes "only" on the basis of replication. The way of memetics from here on seems to be taking a path to being a information theory burdened by phobias, while in public conscience, which tends to handle the abstractions of analogies most economically, remains view of the direct genetic operation of culture, including misconceptions like memes are alive, because they replicate like viruses - while viruses are not viewed as living organisms precisely because of their dependence on a host for replication.

Domesticated replicators

Having not much to lose, at this point we take the liberty of meddling with Dawkins' concept and come out with a brutalized interpretation - slightly akin to the commonly held concept - , and see where it takes us if we view memes as simply cultural genes.

First of all, we need to take into account, that if we look at a DNA sequence we don't see any genes, since genes are abstract entities, sections defined by their function. Memes can be defined the same way - the efficient performance of their function and their cooperative benefit of which give them resistance against entropy. This also means, what we think of as a meme, encloses those not readily transparent details carrying psychological functions, which are the actual cultural genes.

If memes are a the part of cultural DNA, culture is literally alive, an informational organism, the environment of which consist of creatures capable of communication. We are now beyond the approach that sees culture as a construct invented by man to be able to fully convert his superb and energy expensive brain to actual survival. The viewpoint that culture is a secondary, artificial environment also changes: our connection to this environment is based on mutual benefit.

Multicellular organism is more than a bunch of cells. Evolution of cooperation requires adaptation by taking up communication, along with the differentiation of inner and outer environment, that is the definition of the borders of culture.

Biological adaptation to the circumstances of cooperation means that humans evolved adapting to culture moving ahead of them: by the way of memes culture forced the persistence of qualities keeping it alive, like the decrease of aggression, the drive for increasing efficiency of communication and other social capabilities. Thus being adapted to the symbiosis with culture means our origins are to be found in both monkeys and a cooperative informational organism - though we need to keep in mind that the above mentioned monkey is already a product of adaptation to culture to high-degree, since the evolution of information as a non-trivial direction for adaptation follows life all the way.

To put it another way: memes are primary and genes follow memes. The potential for the survival and reproduction of a cat (more specifically a modern internet connected cat) is directly proportional to the memetic potential of its eccentric, funny, or cute appearance. An even better example would be homing pigeons whose genes are expressed in superior navigation abilities, for which they had been domesticated to serve as a channel of - sometimes vital - communication.

Game theory views cooperative evolutionary solutions as an ethological question, instinctive reactions to external circumstances, and while it's role in evolution is acknowledged, it would hardly view culture - be it either an abstract or an actual living entity - as a sovereign, non-genetic part of evolution. Thus our present train of thought certainly appears to fall on the esoteric side, however to its defence we can say that even if it genetizes a bit here and there, the integration of culture within evolution is not one sided, and also doesn't go against Medawar's warning, being based on the priority of culture.

The future of human face

Let us introduce some questions to our suggested new life form.

Can man have a direct influence on culture? Our limits conform the laws of reproduction of memes, and the survival of the culture. What makes it even harder is that the function and consequences carried by the memes are presently not exactly known. Memetic complexes that have deeper influence on culture, such as ideologies (particularly failed ideologies) are considered to be very important by humans. The historical knowledge of the average person usully far more exceeds their knowledge of natural sciences - also in the general sense knowledge of history and identity are considered to be cultural knowledge.

A unique group of these memetic complexes are religions, the vital function of which is balancing hyperevolutionary pressure and human biological existence, serving as an interface, enabling the human evolutionary needs to appear in culture, in coordination with the political goal of collective survival.

How long does culture live? Does it get old? Can it break a leg? We have ample information about disappearance, disintegration, or fragmentation of cultures. We mostly describe their fate in biological metaphors. Culture and all known cultures can be seen as self-correcting scalable network immune to human tampering, however it could be the case that Nazism was not be the last example of a culture viewing human destruction as necessary, having been poisoned by memes of scientific origin.

Is there culture without humans? From the viewpoint of culture humans can be replaced by the any life form having the appropriate qualities. Even though potential sentient life in the universe would not necessarily have a humanoid form - in case of a contact we'd find a lot of social functions, mechanisms, and values that would look human to us.

Based on all this what is the future would we like to see? Humans avoiding obsolescence would be a nice thing, and the ability to coexist in culture with non-human - probably artificial - intelligence, and before that acquiring the ability to coexist in a culture with other humans.

by Viktor Papdi-Pécskői

[nothingnoteworthy]

Chapter 1: “If two dudes were on the moon and one dude killed the other with a rock don’t you think that’d be ineffective? I mean, it would take so much energy to kill the dude with a rock, not to mention the oxygen that would get burned up with the exertion. Couldn’t you just poison them or jettison them into space or something? And you would definitely get caught. I mean, it’s two dudes on the moon. They were sent there. Everyone knows. If one comes back covered in blood then it’s gonna be super obvious he just moon-murdered a guy. He’s super going to jail. Moon Jail. This message has been brought to you by the San Francisco Advocates for the Construction of Moon Criminal Rehabilitation Centers.”

There are 7 billion people in the world. According to the most recent global census, or rather, an averaging of multiple global censuses, At least 1% of those people are gifted, changed or non-human. In other words, 70 million people exist on this planet that have powers. And it’s likely that it’s more than that, if you count in the powers so faint they’re barely there. It would be easier if they all got their powers in the same way but the diversity is astounding. Genetic engineering, ancient magic, alien species, luck of the draw, it’s easier to gather abilities by type than spend the time figuring out where they came from. That means there’s a chance that some people could be walking around right now, completely unaware that they have something that makes them capable of amazing things. Or horrifying things.

This guy decided firmly on horrifying things. His skin writhed. Pulsing, bubbling, squishing. Like a pot of spaghetti sauce or a particularly thick soup. Except it was human flesh and that’s pretty much nasty. Very unappetizing. Unless you’re a sea monster. But it’s pretty dark down there and most of them don’t get a good look at what they’re eating. His face, his limbs, his torso, all swelled and shrunk in time with the bubbles. A gush and pop with every step. He sucked in deep wide-mouthed breaths. He exhaled scaling water. Onto people just sitting around at the bank. Didn’t even have the decency of saving it for armed police or military nah. Just right onto that old lady looking to withdraw twenty bucks for her grandson’s birthday. That was absolutely necessary, she was clearly a huge threat and needed to be taken down before she could stop his nefarious plans to rob a bank. To be fair she actually was. This particular old lady had the ability to influence other people’s emotions. She could’ve made him calm down and apologize. He didn’t know that though. He was just being an asshole. The kind of asshole who just walks into a bank and squirts old ladies with his death spit.

Liquid Lunch screamed at the unscalded, water dribbling from his lips. Give me this, take me there, don’t move or call the police or you’ll all get it. Soaking through the dust covered counter brochures with every steam driven demand. He wrapped one of his mushy loaf limbs around a terrified teller, dragging the gangly man deeper into the bank, hunting after the safe. The flailing inflatable hostage wagged his limbs down the halls. Trying to extend his life by just cooperating. So scared his pasty skin reached straight for translucent. He still got his head smashed against the heavy metal door. Not dead though so, someone succeeded today. Proud of you, bank teller.

The electronic lock was easily shorted by a pressured spit shot. The door creaked open. The power to suck up water from the air and then release it as boiling water is both disgusting to look at and also very ineffective at getting heavy things moved. It took him long enough to realize that maybe he should have teamed up. At least called a getaway driver on his smartphone. Or gotten a bus pass. Something. Anything. Ah well. We can’t all be bank tellers.

There’s something rather special about being bad. In that there’s always going to be someone a bit worse than you. There’s always going to be someone willing to go that much further, someone willing to do that much more of an awful thing, someone who embraces immorality a bit better. Which is how all assholes sleep at night. That and copious amounts of melatonin supplements. Villains have warehouse store memberships and that’s what they use it for. 

He entered the safe with a bulk box of trash bags and no plans on how he was going to carry more than four of them out of the building. Safe deposit boxes were smashed open. Cash, coins, paperwork, credit cards, stuffed into bag after handy flexible bag. That diamond pattern really does work. He didn’t pay much attention to the loud ripping sound until a large black spike scratched him as it impaled the box next to his head. He spun, following the black rope attached to it to a thin, uncomfortably pretty woman. The spiked tail trying to kill him was one of the least unsettling things about her. She giggled, shaking a small strip of blond hair into her overly symmetrical face. Her pretty blue eyes shimmered with gem-like clarity and just as much life as you’d expect in a very not living blue rock. Uncanny valley had arrived, and it wanted to gut him. For the first time in his life he did the right thing. He took a bag and ran for it.

It was easy for him to suck in breath with his panicked hyperventilating. Water gushed out in half-hearted streams, most of it splashing back onto him as he rounded corners and through himself through doors. He could hear cheerful laughter behind him. The crunching sound of something sharp and heavy tearing through the drywall. A rush of cool breath against the back of his neck. He was pretty sure he peed himself at one point. If it wasn’t while he was being chased by the physical incarnation of surrealist horror it was probably when he made it back into the lobby and was hit by lightning. Either was perfectly possible.

His attacker knelt at his side, checking his pulse. She was a young black woman, tall and strong, dressed for defense. Metal plating was installed down the sides of her pants and the front of her shirt. Another girl circled the lobby, more fanciful in her petticoats and lace. She hummed, and the crying of the victims slowed down and stopped. They watched her in a dreamy daze. Relaxed. A third stood at the front door, the simplest. Black pants. Blank tank. Black mask. Done. She scowled as the nightmare machine stepped in with a twist, tail scraping against the ground.

“You must be tired, I could finish him for you.” Her voice came through distorted, changed, as the singer stopped and focused attention on her. The tension that had been worked away slipped right back in. The black woman shook her head.

“He’s fine. Let’s go, open up Caroline.”

“Aw. That’s a shame.” Caroline smiled, wiggling her fingers up before scratching an unnatural gash into the air. The black woman shook her head, shoving Caroline through the hole. The lace draped girl went last, her eyes lingering on the moaning old woman, skin raw and red and covered in melting blisters. She glanced back at the incapacitated man. Her fingers clenched. Shook. A thin hand reached back through the portal, claws tracing along her jawline. The girl batted it away and shoved herself into the tear in space. It closed with a liquid pop after her.

Next Chapter ->

[iblameashley]

Mass Effect Andromeda: Going Forward (Spoilers!)

I’m just over half way through my second play through of MEA and I’ve had some idea’s I’d like to share regarding the series moving forward. I know, I know, the studio was gutted and ME has been placed on hold. Don’t kill my joy, damnit! I have hope and faith that we’ll get another MEA game! (Spoilers! Last Warning!)

First, let’s start with DLC content.

Mayday: Find the Quarian Ark.

 This should take place a few months (3 – 6) after the main-game has been completed. I was thinking that this would be an amazing opportunity to spend more time with the ark’s and flesh them out a bit. So here’s the setup: After finding the signal from the Quarian Ark, you (with the help of the Nexus) find a trail of clues to where the ark is. When you find it (I don’t want much time spent on jumping system to system), you find that it’s in similar condition to the Turian Ark. In order to board the Ark you have to jump from the Tempest to an exposed area of the ship (a la: Star Trek Into Darkness). Once on board you have to restore power to the primary systems and reset the drive core.

Along the way, you can encounter Quarian Engineers trapped or struggling to maintain the ship and gather more information about what happened (NOT the Kett, this time). Working your way from the Front of the ship to the engineering section, you earn AVP, XP and Research Points. What you come across is an infestation of ((bugs maybe?)) that latched onto the hull of the Ark when it arrived and began eating / corroding the hull. Before you can move the Ark you have to prime a detonation along the hull that will kill all the bugs.

When the ark jumps, you arrive at Habitat 8 – a world the Quarians discovered before departing for Andromeda that was suited for colonization.

Notes: I think this would be an excellent time to get the Quarians out of their suits. They’ve had 600 years in cryo to adapt and I think that should be taken advantage of. Using VI’s, their immune systems were stimulated while in cryo and they are now less susceptible to disease or infections.

I know that Drell and Hanar were mentioned, but I think an interesting albeit awful twist would be if the Quarians used them for resources to get their ark ready in time, and they launched with only Quarians on board.

 Much like the Asari ark, the Quarian ark should be hiding in the scourge.

 Angara: By Design

 This could take place either directly after or a year or so after the events of them main game. This should introduce the species (possibly extinct) that originally created the Angara. You return to Khi Tasira space station to investigate the Angaran pods which are being fought over by the Rokar and Kett who’ve managed to make it deeper inside the installation. This DLC wouldn’t uncover ALL the details of the Angaran story but would give you more insight into what was going on.

Making your way deeper into the station and solving puzzles, you are able to wake some of the Angaran sleepers and have them evacuated to safety. Through log entries and terminals you also discover that the people who created the Angara were working on a way of stopping the Kett Exaltation process by creating a species resistant to it, but were stopped when a fleet attacked (unknown, Kett maybe? Or possibly another new species?).

Due to damage, thousands of pods were jettisoned from a transport vessel and landed on Havarl where the Angara would wake up and make their home. This would take place about 500 – 570 years ago. The final piece of the mission would be deciding what happens to the knowledge gained. Give it to the people of Aya who will share what they know with Nexus. Give it to the Rokar who will take it (and as many Pod-Angara as possible) and leave. Give it to the resistance who won’t share it with Nexus but won’t affect relations. OR destroy the station and have SAM keep a copy at SAM-node safely.

MEA 2:

In the second game, I would like to see some actual changes to the worlds we originally visited. We activated the monoliths and meridian, so there should be noticeable changes in the second games. Game two should do a time jump of 5 – 10 years. We know the Kett in the cluster were MIA for a long time (15 years? Or am I mistaken? 75? Whetever.), so for the most part, Kett activity has died down. While I don’t have a storyline imagined, I do have some ideas about locations.

 Voeld: Melting pot

 I don’t want Voeld to go back to being a tropical paradise like it was originally, but I also don’t want it to stay the frozen tundra is it. I’d very much like to see it look more like Iceland. Melted for the most part but rocky and cool; Lots of large rocks, moss, icebergs in the water, etc. 

I’d also like to see the Resistance base expanded on; make it more of a colony. I’d love to see the rock hollowed out and Pre-fab housing inserted into it. Add some benches and a stone path; make it a home for the Angara.

Eos: The grass is greener on the other side.

For Eos, I’d really like to see it develop as grassland’s area. The fun part is I can think of two possibilities. The first would be to make them like the grasslands in North America, bright green, rolling hills, rivers, etc. 

Alternatively, you could make it more like Africa, with the golden look, trees randomly dotting the plains and more ponds than rivers. Add in some fun and colorful flora and it’d be amazing. 

Aside from that, I’d like to see major changes to Prodromos. I think it would be great to have large spires built into the mountainside of the colony. They would be interconnected by bridges that also connected to housing (also built into the mountainside), and living walls of moss and grass would fill in the bare spots. New housing and buildings could replace the temporary colony ones and you could actually make it feel like a town! (Like the image below but up a mountainside!) 

(^ Dis but SciFi)

Also, site 1 and 2 should be completely rebuilt and simply dubbed “Promise”. It would be larger and more “townish” but still retain the pre-fabs for the most part.

 Kadara: Stolen paradise.

 I think this could make for a good story to take place. We know that the Angara used to live here and that due to the Kett and the Exiles, they were mostly ousted from power. I would like to see the Angara take it back from the exiles (could make for an interesting story for Reyes), and expand on the port. The settlement you establish could be bigger but still mostly Pre-fab and there could be more carnage with the exiles. With the help of the monoliths, the sulfur could dissipate and the whole planet becomes more welcoming. Just… for the love of fucking GOD, make those doors open faster!

 Habitat 7: Ryding the colonial dream.

 This is where I’d like to see something major happen. I want Habitat 7 to be taken away from the humans entirely. I’d like a new species to come in and set up multiple settlements across the planet (not all accessible to us). The story would involve them fleeing from the Kett, and not detecting any activity in the nearby systems, decide to make a home on H7. Hundreds of thousands of refugee’s take up home on the planet and refuse human settlement. You could have missions involving diplomatic relations and attempting to set up an embassy on H7 and one for them on the Nexus. The goal would be to get them to assist with the Kett threat when you explain that, no, the Kett are here.

Nexus: Red tape everywhere.

Have the Nexus be completed and open up new areas like the Council Chambers. I’d like to see elected officials in power, and maybe open up the council to the Angara. The model for the Nexus could even be augmented to accommodate more people living on it. Add in some more rings either near the center or at the ends. Give us access to more places beyond the Docking Bay and Control Center. 

And yes, I think my titles are very clever. Fight me. :P