#nothing anyone says will ever change me being a Tommy apologist

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

fucks me up that c!dream did his worst out of love. and i don’t mean that in an apologist tragic way i mean that in a woah that’s more fucked up than if he did it out of hate way. it is very tragic but it’s his own tragedy he made these choices.

he loved c!george and c!sapnap as friends at some point, but stripped c!george of all his autonomy and titles as a patronising way to protect and control him, started treating c!sapnap as an attack dog more than a person and humiliating him in public by openly stating he didn’t care about him (which, regardless of whether it was a bluff or not, was still cruel), and immediately went after the nation they helped start when they’d done nothing wrong because of his sense of entitlement.

he loves the server. he wants it to be his own family. and to achieve those ends, he traumatised and used almost everyone he came across, ruined people’s lives, all to build it up into His ideal and not anyone else’s, without their consent. his goals require squashing the independence of anyone but him, because there isn’t an outcome where people can say ““no. i don’t want to be a part of this.””

and, he definitely loved c!tommy once as a close friend and partner in crime. they caused chaos together, hung out all the time, they were genuinely great friends! but even back then, dream was desperate to control him. he literally stalked him, multiple times, and played as unfairly as c!tommy ever did. and then… well, we all know the horrific atrocities c!dream did to c!tommy, don’t we? yet those too, were not done out of hatred. if they were, c!tommy would be long dead. c!dream wants c!tommy alive- suffering, but alive- and while there’s many many reasons for that i think one of the primary ones is that c!dream does like c!tommy. he likes his company he likes spending time with him he likes being his friend! and he refuses to let that change, because he’s attached no matter how little he’d ever admit it.

if c!tommy’s arc is about the power of attachments, c!dream’s is about the danger. no matter how much he claims to have cut off all his attachments, all he does is for the things he loves, but it’s to keep them Controlled, not Happy. and that’s where his life fell apart.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (March 14/2021) -     The Plan

Tommy tells Tubbo and Ranboo about his plan to kill Dream and they establish a space to stake out the prison. 

While they plot, though, an old friend makes his return!

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Tubbo

Tommy

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

Eret

---

- Tommy walks over to look at the prison. He has a plan to kill Dream.

- He briefly greets Sam Nook and shelters him from the rain

- First, he heads over to Snowchester to explain to Tubbo and Ranboo what’s gong on. He makes it there and looks in the mansion. Foolish sees him, having thought he was dead.

- Tubbo and Ranboo come over and explain the manor house. To discuss business, they go to the execution room.

- Tommy asks Tubbo about getting married without him. Then Tommy opens up to Ranboo about feeling lonely about Ranboo stealing his best friend.

- He then tells the both of them that he died in prison and Dream is planning on breaking out. When he was dead, he spoke to Schlatt and Wilbur. Tubbo asks if Schlatt’s changed his ways.

- Tommy explains that time passes faster in death.

- Someone made an explosion on the top of the prison, Technoblade owes Dream a favor and might be a problem, Tommy wants to stake out the prison.

- Tubbo asks why it’s different now. Why didn’t they just kill him to begin with? Tommy tells Tubbo that he’s only planning on reviving Wilbur. The revive book wouldn’t be used for good.

- Ranboo agrees with Tommy. Tubbo asks why they wouldn’t want to revive Wilbur — Tommy tells them that Wilbur’s different now and can’t be let back. Tubbo still has doubts about the plan.

- They decide to make a space near the prison to observe.

- Tubbo leads them to his detective room

- Tommy tells them that Sam has failed his job and went against his orders to not let anybody else visit. Ranboo and Tubbo ask who else has visited since — Tommy doesn’t know.

- Tubbo shows him the evidence.

- They go back to Tommy’s house and Tommy reads Puffy’s message.

- The Egg comes up in conversation. Ranboo thinks it’ll solve itself.

- They go into the Nether to gather resources

- They spot Punz on top of the Eggpire meeting room and briefly speak with him. Ghostbur also shows up.

- Tommy asks if Ghostbur remembers him being dead and speaking with him. Ghostbur says the last time he spoke with Tommy was a couple days ago.

- Tommy asks about Wilbur, not Ghostbur. Ghostbur’s been away, he doesn’t remember.

- Ghostbur points out how everything is red. He likes it, red’s a good color. Like blue but wrong.

- Tommy asks Ghostbur if he wants Wilbur to come back.

  Ghostbur: “The world needs structure and order, and he was good at that.” Tommy: “The world needs less villains, and he was a villain if I’ve ever seen one.” Ghostbur: “Sometime’s the line’s a little blurry… A villain is just a hero you haven’t convinced yet.”

Tommy: “No, but he started as a hero, and then he was the villain. I don’t think we should bring him back ever.”

- Ghostbur loves being able to walk around, he loves being able to touch things

- Tommy tells Ghostbur that he spent months with Wilbur, and Wilbur can’t come back. Ghostbur asks about the time conversion in Limbo.

Apparently in the afterlife, Wilbur spent a month explaining hemorrhoids 

- They show Ghostbur the prison

- Ghostbur asks why Tommy doesn’t want Wilbur back again. Tommy says when they were trying to bring him back, he still thought there was some “brotherness” there

- Ghostbur points out he spent a lot of time with Schlatt, and Schlatt’s “the bad guy.” Schlatt and Eret.

- They say there are a lot of other bad guys out there, like Dream. Ghostbur says Dream was nice to him, though.

- They ask about Tubbo and Ranboo’s marriage (they got married for tax reasons initially) and they also bring up Michael.

- They introduce Ghostbur to Michael.

- Eret points out that he tried to revive Wilbur a while ago in chat. Ghostbur doesn’t remember.

- They head to the McPuffy’s and encounter Connor on the Prime Path. He gives Ghostbur his stabbin’ knife back. Ghostbur asks if Connor has his Chekhov’s Gun.

- They introduce Ghostbur to Sam Nook

- Sam Nook tells Tommy that Awesam gave him specific orders to keep Tommy away from the prison for his own safety. He says he might have to report this to Awesam, and he won’t be pleased.

- They continue building the tower

- Ranboo tells Ghostbur he hasn’t seen him in a while. Ghostbur’s been sleeping. The resurrection was stressful — he got a glimpse of the other side. He’s back because Tommy needed him, and he heard it through the grapevine.

- Ghostbur asks why they’re trying to break into the prison again. Ranboo explains that they need to kill Dream, or else a lot of bad things — even things Tommy doesn’t know about — might happen.

- Ghostbur says that Dream was a bad guy, but then they were friends. Ranboo explains that Dream tends to manipulate to gain power, and they need to get rid of him because he still has power.

- Ghostbur asks what the worst he could do is — Ranboo says he could bring back the “villains” in this story.

Schlatt? Mexican Dream? 

- Ghostbur asks if bringing back Wilbur is off the table. Ghostbur is scared. Not scared of Wilbur, but scared of going back to nothing. He likes being here.

- Ranboo never knew Wilbur, only Ghostbur. But it seems like Ghostbur is Wilbur’s good intentions.

- Ghostbur’s read Wilbur’s memoirs (though they’re destroyed now), and explains that Wilbur started out with good intentions.

Ghostbur: “Now more than ever, I think it’s really important we have a leader.”

- Ghostbur is willing to help, whether that means keeping Ghostbur or bringing back Wilbur. Ranboo doesn’t know what would be best, though.

Ghostbur: “History is written by the winners.” Ranboo: “Yeah, and he…technically won.” Ghostbur: “But he lost, everyone hates him.” Ranboo: “I don’t think that everyone hates him. I don’t really hate him, I mean it’s like hearing about a historical figure.”

- Ghostbur leaves to get snacks, leaving Ranboo to ponder. Tubbo never told him much about Wilbur. He doesn’t know — he doesn’t think they need a leader.

Ranboo: “Because if someone rules everyone, then when the leader becomes corrupted, then — well, we see what happens.”

- He doesn’t think anyone really wants Wilbur back, so why is it even a question? All they know is that they have to kill Dream. The only person who might want Wilbur back would be Phil.

- If they can get rid of Dream, then everything will be good! If Dream comes out of prison, the voice might come back too. And the one thing Dream will want is revenge against the people who put him in the prison in the first place.

- Ranboo needs to be involved and not stand idly by. As the person with three lives, he has the upper hand.

- Ghostbur returns with snacks! He also gives Ranboo some blue

- Ranboo goes back to his house and looks at his vault, where he has an extra set of maxed Netherite armor. The others need new sets prepared.

- Puffy sees the Red Banquet decorations being set up in the Egg Room

- As she walks around on the surface, she talks about how Tommy is making an effort to better himself with therapy

- She’s heard a rumor today about her “duckling,” Dream — that people are plotting to kill him. 

- Dream has done wrong, she says,

“But, more than anything else…murder…is not a proper consequence to another murder. Two wrongs don’t make a right. And although I’m not a Dream apologist — believe me I hold him more accountable than most — there’s a reason that I haven’t visited him. And…it’s because I don’t think, right now, he deserves it. But…as much as he’s wronged Tommy, as much as maybe Tommy thinks this will help him in the long run, in some way, shape or form…I think it’s gonna hurt Tommy more than anything. I think, ultimately, Tommy’s gonna feel guilty for this and we don’t — I don’t know how he’s gonna handle it! I don’t know if Tommy’s meant to be the one to go through something like this again, even if it results in Dream’s death.”

“See…the thing about morals is, everybody has different ones.”

- She says Dream needs to pay, and the walls of the prison aren’t secure enough to contain his chaos. She doesn’t think it’s as impenetrable as Sam says it is.

- Dream is stuck in prison, but he’s still the topic of discussion on everyone’s minds — which Puffy sees as the jail not doing its job.

- Everybody has now seen how they’ve reacted to Tommy’s death, including the people who didn’t care, and they now have to come to terms with that.

“More than just therapy is coming to the Dream SMP."

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- The Red Banquet

- Eret’s lore stream

END OF WEEK RECAP:

3/8 - Ponk’s preparations, Michelle is brought to Snowchester

3/9 - Ponk’s last warning to Foolish, Hannah gets trapped with the Egg

3/10 - The Eggpire’s attack on the Temple, Sam rescues Hannah

3/11 - Nothing much happens

3/12 - Tommy exits Pandora’s Vault

3/13 - Nothing much happens

3/14 - Tommy plans to kill Dream, Ghostbur returns

[stellocchia]

I was rewatching the stream where Tommy got locked up in prison with Dream (Tommy Gets Locked In Prison with Dream) and there are just a few quotes that I want to drop here for everyone:

"What's up Dream?" "Nothing much. I lost my clock since the last time you came" "That almost... if you take the 'L' out of that word then it's... it's a different word and that's funny..." "That's the Tommy I know!"

It's just so damn uncomfortable from the get-go. Because keep in mind that Tommy went in there with the idea of getting closure. In hindsight, not the best idea, but it's not like he knew how to deal with what he went through any better.

But no, what makes it so absurdly uncomfortable it's how Dream just effortlessly steps back into the "friend" role. Immediately trying to go back to their old banter and all. And, like, Tommy didn't fall for it entirely. He was clearly uncomfortable as soon as Dream said the last line, immediately going on the defensive again, but it doesn't change that there is a part of him that still had (and possibly still has) a tendency to fall back on that as well.

"I'm glad you came to visit me, you know? It's been a while... I- I wish you'd visit me more"

Like... rewatching it I'm fairly sure that either Dream doesn't understand that Tommy doesn't, in fact, see him as a friend or he's simply very willing to ignore that fact because he's just that desperate to have him around.

"This is my last visit Dream" "Like e...? Y-y..." "Yeah. Yeah... I'm- this is my last visit seeing you" "You're- like... forever?" "Yeah. Yeah I think so" "Well... forever is a long time"

Maybe desperate then. I completely forgot how genuinely shocked he was at the news that Tommy didn't want to ever go back. I'm fairly certain that this is the first time he's left completely with no words and no idea on how to react.

Also, Dream "forever is a long time" Wastaken having absolutely no qualms as long as it's him and Tommy spending that forever together. This man really needs some new hobbies. Maybe a potted plant or something.

"...you know what? there's nothing you can fu- This is my last time visiting you. So anything you wanna say to me now you can- you have to say to me now. Uhm, 'cause I'm not gonna see you again" "Why?" "Are you fucking-"

See... that's what I mean! Like, yes, he lies and manipulates and all of that, but there could be actual confusion here. Like, I do think that Dream understands exactly how fucked up everything he did to Tommy was. I don't think he's ignorant about that at all. I do think that he may not understand why that would be enough for Tommy to want to stop "their game".

Like, he obviously knows that Tommy has a shitload of trauma from what he put him through, but that's part of the fun for Dream isn't it? So does he actually understand that that "fun" is exactly why Tommy doesn't want to be around him anymore?

"I've been suffering from success while you weren't here" "Me too... except for without the 'success' part, just suffering"

Imagine abusing someone for months and then trying to get them to pity you once you end up in jail, what a f*cking looser! Also, Tommy definitely stumbling with the response because he's just very empathetic even towards Dream. Like, he repeats to himself a few times that Dream did deserve being in jail and that he did do bad things which feels much more like a reminder for himself on why he shouldn't pity him more so than a reminder for Dream.

"You had all this shit coming!" "I did... but... you know? I don't know. Maybe one day, right?" "No! No, have you seen the prison? It's kinda the most secure thing ever! Dude, you're not- you're not leaving here! sam's name still there, okay, thank god" "I'm just saying, like, maybe one day, you know?" "I- I don't-" "Eventually" "Maybe if you have extreme therapy" "Maybe one day I'll just walk out of here. Like-" "No, I don't-" "I feel like I've already been changing since I came here"

It's interesting just how quickly Dream managed to regain control of the situation though. Trying to harp on Tommy's tendency to empathize with people.

"This is my last time here. I might- I kinda- I don't wanna-" "But why?"

He asks a second time? Is he actually just that dense? Like, I get the trying to fish for sympathy aspect. He was trying to get something useful to get out of there and whatnot. But man... that's the guy he literally abused. Did he actually expect it to work? Was he just heavily relying on Tommy's empathy to pull this off or does he actually just not understand Tommy's view on their relationship at all?

"I don't wanna know you" "I mean exile it wasn't too bad, right?" "You fu-" "I mean you still- you had, you know? I mean we hang out and stuff" "I fu- you fucking- you bastard Dream!"

Honestly hear Dream talk about exile is always fascinating. Also, a gentle reminder that Dream was well aware about Tommy being suicidal during the whole duration of the exile. And yet he still defines it as "not too bad" because they were spending time together. Just... that... something alright.

"Listen, when I'm around you my brain feels like I'm fucking conditioned to be your friend but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart man it's like I don't- you don't make me a good person Dream, you make me bad, alright? All this shit that's happened has been because of you and I don't- I'm moving onto bigger and better things now bitch. I- I'm done. I'm done" "But isn't- what if- what if you just- like once a month or something?" "No. No, I don't- I don't wanna know you in my life anymore. This is done"

I simply couldn't not include this. I'm too much of an inniter for that. But also Dream is STILL insisting after that speech. He still didn't give up on getting Tommy to visit him more. It may be that he was just stalling for time until the explosions now that I think about it, but still, wow.

"You're a terrible man, alright?" "I did bad things-" "You're a bad guy. You're a wronging'" "Well, everyone thinks they're right from their perspective that's why I-" "That's not true. That's not true!" "Well, I think I'm right. I did bad things but I did them for good reasons, but-" "What do you mean good reasons? You're a psychopath" "I've learned. Yeah I did bad things but I've learned that I shouldn't have done them"

See, this is what I mean when I say that c!Dream apologists parrot c!Dream's rhetoric completely. Like, the whole idea that Dream had "good reasons" for his actions and that somehow that makes them okay didn't come out of nowhere, but it's sure recontextualized a lot when you understand that Dream is spouting this kind of bullshit just to convince his abuse victim to continue spending time with him. Like, when you actually look at how Dream uses his rhetoric instead of taking it as gospel it becomes pretty interesting to see how manipulative he can get.

"No what- what good reasons? No please, please enlighten us. Please enlighten me!" "I just wanted to- I just wanted to bring the server together. Have it be a happy family, you know?" "Bri- bring the server to- you fu-"

It's incredible how he was able to say that to Tommy of all people. After Tommy just mentioned moments priors how Dream tried to kill Tubbo. After he mentioned that he has trauma related to plain biomes because of Dream towards the beginning. Tommy does immediately call out the bullshit though and that's so satisfying...

"You ruined my past Dream, but you will not ruin my future" "I'm not- I- I- Tommy! I'm trying- I'm trying to change, to be better and not be the same person I was and you- it- it doesn't- y- you can visit me. Like, every now and then, right? It'll help! It'll help! Right? It'll help- it'll help me... be better" "Fuck off mate"

This was honestly the reason I rewatched the stream in the first place. I was looking for this specific quote because I thought I remembered it from somewhere and then I got distracted...

But yeah, the reason I was looking for it is that this is possibly the single slimiest f*cking move on Dream's side. If anyone is confused on the why, it's because, once again, this is emotional manipulation pure and simple. Dream putting the baggage of getting better on Tommy and appealing at his empathic nature to keep him into this f*cking abusive relationship. And also he's doing this while clearly panicked and grasping as straws. Because he does know that Tommy is not going for it right now, it's very obvious.

It's just... slimy...

[firstandforemoste]

I would like to say that I am not a dream stan, nor apologist, just as a disclaimer of sorts.

As someone who is kind of a c!Tommyinnit anti, I would like to address some of the stupid shit some of the people who feel the same about his character have said. 

 A lot of Tommyinnit anti’s (of course referring to his canon character) are really stupid in the fact that they are mad at him for ‘betraying’ both Tubbo and Technoblade, even though the entire reason Tommy betrayed Techno was so that he could side with Tubbo. You can’t be mad at him for both, it was either one or the other in that situation.  

I personally don’t blame Tommy for supposedly ‘betraying’ Tubbo. Tubbo was the one who exiled him and so I dont think that that should be pinned on him, though I do believe the reasoning behind his exile was justified. Setting fire to the house of the then king of the Greater Dream SMP was definitely a very stupid move on his part especially as a vice president. Further pushing his luck during the meeting was even more of an idiotic idea. He put Tubbo in a very difficult situation where he was forced to choose between his best friend, and what he believed was best for the nation of L’manburg. I also don’t blame Tubbo for the events that took place during the first bit of Tommy’s exile. There was no way Tubbo could have known how bad things would turn out for him during that time. 

Continuing on to the Technoblade side of this, which I must admit I’m a little more biased in as someone who is a borderline Technoblade apologist. I will admit, I do feel quite a bit of resentment towards Tommy for betraying Techno like that, but I see where he’s coming from. If I had to put myself in that kind of a situation, It would definitely be a difficult decision. A choice between a long time friend, and someone who was there for you when no one else was. 

However, I do think Tommy tended to see Techno as more of a weapon than a person, at least most of the time. Even during their Pogtopia days, he referred to him as ‘The Blade’ and that never really sat well with me. During his exile, when he was staying with Techno, everything he did was for the discs and it was nearly all he ever talked about. He was even planning to use Techno to get them, saying that Techno should fight Dream even when he expressed discomfort in the idea. 

This is sort of the type of thing that makes me resent him as a character. He seemingly puts his discs on a pedestal where they can be more important than the people around him. It isn’t to say that he does this all the time (A prime example being when he sacrificed them to get L’manburg independence) but it’s safe to say that during that time he was kind of obsessed with them to the point where practically nothing else mattered. I can’t exactly respect a character like that. He also doesn’t use his head a lot and tends to be reckless, but that’s more something that iI find personally annoying as someone who tends to think things through logically and thoroughly before making a decision, so I won’t expand on that.

I’m very behind on lore (like VERY behind) so my opinions on Tommy as a character will likely change as I struggle to catch up. 

If i’m being entirely honest, this entire post is just an excuse to rant about my views on the DSMP because no one I know irl could give less of a shit.  

THIS DEFINITELY WASN'T MADE TO OFFEND ANYONE, MERELY TO GET MY OPINION OUT IN THE OPEN SO I APOLOGIZE IF I HAVE OFFENDED ANYONE IN ANY WAY WITH THIS POST

[sending-the-message]

Amerikan Historie by JohnHenrysHammer

This is the story of the last time I saw my grandfather. It was the summer before I started college, and a group of my high school buddies and I were on an extended road/camping trip. One of our camp sites was within a few miles of my grandfather's hunting cabin, where he was living for the summer. I decided to make the drive and spend the evening with him. I'm still not sure whether or not that was a good decision.

I arrived early in the morning, unannounced. He turned as he heard my truck make its way up the long drive. "Tommy!" he roared with glee when he saw me. "What in the hell are you doing here junior? I thought you were Clarence."

"Who's Clarence?" I asked as I stepped up onto the porch. It was clear he was expecting someone. There was an extra coffee mug set out as well as some bagels and oranges. I helped myself to an orange and tried to hide my disappointment. It never occurred to me that my grandfather would have visitors out there in the middle of nowhere. I had been looking forward to an evening of stories and good conversation. My grandfather was always good for staying up half the night, ready to debate or discuss anything. I had been hoping for some sage advice, some words of wisdom before I headed off to school. Be careful what you wish for I guess. I sat down in the chair next to him. He was staring thoughtfully out at the meadow in front of his property.

"In some ways I have no idea who Clarence is," he said. "None of us really ever did. But I do know that he's brilliant. Maybe a genius even. I met him when I was in college, about the same age you are now. He was an anthropology major, obsessed with American history. And he was a tough customer boy," he chuckled. "He couldn't accept the account of history we were given. It was unbelievable to him that no great civilization existed here. The native people were 10,000 years behind the rest of humanity when the Europeans arrived. The world had complex systems of mathematics, sciences, had built large scale cities, developed ways to keep records. Here there was none of that. No innovation beyond the basic needs of life. It bothered him immensely. There was no evolutionary difference to account for it.

"He rejected all the usual explanations: No contact with other cultures - Bull, Clarence said. There had long been evidence of occasional brushes with explorers, but they were few and far between and deemed insignificant by historians. Different religion or value system - Rubbish, he said. There are always those who question, who act against the status quo, who desire to leave a legacy behind. Clarence didn't buy for one second the stereotype of the Native American Indian, a people who lived in such harmony with the land and each other that they had no need of anything else. 'When has that ever worked?' he would ask. 'Utopias are an idealistic dream. They are not reality. Sure everyone agrees that they are a good idea, but human nature will not allow for it. There is always somebody who wants more. Then there is someone else who wants even more but wants to do less. It's the story of us, of humans.'"

"The mystery consumed him," my grandfather continued. "It became all he ever thought about. He worked tirelessly on solving it. It wasn't easy work. Most of the history of Native Americans was written by Europeans. Their writing had all kinds of motive, and truth was almost never on the list. At graduation he got an offer from the Smithsonian to join their anthropology department. Clarence was the top student in the country, and they were prepared to give him free reign; expenses paid and government permission secured to study, research, and dig wherever he wanted. He would have teams of people working under him. Wouldn't you know the crazy bastard turned them down. Instead he headed west to the remaining reservations, to attempt to speak to natives and learn whatever he could. He was aware they might want nothing to do with him. He told me he turned down the job because he was afraid that if it was discovered who employed him, any chance he had to learn the truth would be crushed forever."

"And then he was just gone. No one ever heard from him. Until last week. He got in touch and wanted to know if he could come by to talk. I was surprised to say the least. He was not the social sort. But age changes our priorities I suppose." He gulped down the last of his coffee and looked at me, eyes sparkling. "I am curious about him," he confessed. "When I spend time out here, in the middle of nowhere," he paused to wink at me,"I think sometimes that this right here is what this country used to look like long ago, before war, and revolution, and progress, and destiny, or whatever they're calling it these days. Evey now and then I would wonder about old Clarence and if he ever got anywhere with his research." He stood up and began to gather up the remains of the breakfast he laid out. "I hope he makes it. You'll get to meet a genius. Or a madman, who knows?" We laughed, and just then a car turned up the drive. My grandfather whistled. "Well now we will see, won't we." My disappointment vanished, replaced by curiosity. Whether this guy turned out to be brilliant or bonkos, it would at least be entertaining.

We settled ourselves in the kitchen. Clarence seemed to be unsettled by the woods. "Boy you really are far out into the wilderness here Jack," he said. When he first got out of the car he had peered around nervously. My grandfather laughed and made jokes about the city boy meeting the country.

"Don't worry, I haven't seen any bears since yesterday."

Clarence didn't seem to hear. He looked at us, and said hesitantly, "Have..have you ever seen anything, you know, unusual out here?"

"What do you mean unusual?"

Clarence looked down and kicked the dirt with his boot. "Nothing I guess," he muttered. My grandfather and I exchanged a look. The eccentricities of a genius, I thought. Now that we were inside, he seemed only slightly less on edge. He would constantly glance out the window. My grandfather tried to keep him focused.

"I was telling Tommy here all about your research," he said. "But I'd bet he'd rather hear it from you. Go on, tell us, did you make any big discoveries?"

He sighed deeply and looked around again. "Do you like it up here Jack? I mean, do you plan to spend a lot of time out here?"

I could tell my grandfather was tiring of humoring our visitor. "Well, yes. I'll head back to the city in a few weeks, but I come out here every year. Have done for a long time now. Ever since this one was a boy," he pointed to me.

"Well then, I suppose I have to tell you. Even if it puts you in danger. Because it might be more dangerous if I don't tell you." He looked at me. "What do you plan on studying in college son?"

"I'm not sure yet," I replied.

"Do yourself a favor. Study something sensible. Technology or medical, or something like that. Don't get it into your head to start running around the world and asking questions. You never know what you'll find." He ran a hand through his wiry gray hair. His thin frame shuddered a little, and I wondered if he had completely lost it. I found myself watching and listening very closely, mentally cataloguing every word and movement. Which way would the scales tip, sane or insane?

My grandfather was similarly transfixed. "You found something didn't you? How come you never published anything? I looked in the journals all the time."

Clarence snorted sarcastically at that. "I was never taken seriously enough to get published. My entire objective was deemed ridiculous, racist even. I was too much of a pseudo-scientist for academia, and too much of a scholar for the mysteries of the unexplained rags. Not to mention the fact that all my evidence was anecdotal."

"Evidence!" my grandfather said. "So you did find something!"

He nodded. "I was on to something. I know that now. Damned if I can't un-know it." His gaze shifted suddenly. "What's that!" he cried in fright, pointing out the cabin's back window.

"It's nothing, it's a decoration, don't worry about it." My grandfather gestured to me and I rose to close the curtain. When I came back I saw that he had given Clarence a beer. His head was tilted back, downing nearly half the bottle. I looked questioningly at my grandfather, but he just nodded at me and I sat back down. I wasn't sure giving alcohol to a crazy person was such a good idea.

"My original question," he began, "was why had the typical progress of civilization not occurred in North America? I had several theories in mind to follow. One was the possibility that there had indeed been a great civilization here, but all physical evidence had been destroyed over time. In such case it was possible that indigenous people had preserved evidence in the form of oral traditions. It would further be possible that they saw no reason to share their history with the Europeans. I believe they view that sort of thing as tarnishing the sacred memory of their ancestors."

"A second possibility was that the records we have are in fact true; that factors such as isolation, the environment, and the availability of natural resources all contributed to the delay in development. Yet another possibility hinged on the superiority of their culture. Beings at once behind in time, yet so far advanced that they had no use for material matters." He looked at my grandfather. "You know well Jack, that I never accepted that last one. It's an apologists story. It's white people bestowing a kind of saintliness to a group that suffered immeasurably at their hands." He shook his head. "I dislike it because it robs them of their humanity. The natives were no worse and no better than anyone else. I believe among their number existed great men and women, intelligent leaders, mothers and fathers who loved their sons and daughters, as well as those who were difficult, lazy, prone to temper, jealous, power driven, murderous." He paused and rubbed his hands over his face. "I just wanted the truth. Their truth. Not the version written by their conquerors. And I would understand if they didn't want to give it to me. But I had to try."

"So off I went, west into the unknown. It took so long to gain the confidence of the people I met. But I had expected this and I was persistent. The trouble with myths and legends is that they change over time. After several years among the natives I heard hundreds of versions of the same stories. I discovered only that their history was shaped by all of the influences previously theorized. Just like the history of any people anywhere. The only question that remained unanswered was Where were all the great thinkers? I was stubbornly convinced that there had to be someone who looked up at the stars like in ancient Greece, someone who shirked off their responsibilities to draw and make art like early man had done in the caves of France, someone who tried to explain, to make sense of the world in which they lived. But no one seemed particularly interested in my question. Or they acted as if they didn't understand.

"I was completely dejected. I had wasted years of my life out here. Academia thought I was a fool, I had passed on one of the biggest opportunities anyone could ever hope to get." He paused and finished the rest of his beer. He pushed his chair back from the table and hung his head in his hands. Then he breathed in deep and raised his head. He continued. "And then one day everything changed. I met the grandchild of a highly respected medicine man. He agreed to talk with me. He said he was going to tell me so that I would stop asking. I was putting people in danger by continuing to ask about forbidden things. He would speak to me only under the condition that once we spoke, I had to leave and never come back, and I could never again set foot on Indian land. It would be too dangerous."

Clarence looked at me, then at my grandfather. "Jack, have you ever looked back on your life, all the changes you went through, and tried to pinpoint the exact moment you've changed course? He looked at me again. "You can't recognize them when they happen. It's only later that they become the most important moments of our lives. My life changed forever the day I agreed to talk to that man. I can never go back to being who I was before. So I want to tell you both that I'm sorry. Because a few months or a year from now, you might look back and realize that this, right now, is one of those moments you cannot come back from."

"I'm an old man Clarence, I'm pretty sure I can handle it. Tommy's young yet, he can bounce back from anything, isn't that right Tommy? Now go on and finish your story," my grandfather said. He had a beer as well now, I noticed, and he placed another on the table in front of Clarence. He sat down and looked at me. "Aw hell," he said, "go on and grab yourself one too." I hurried to the cooler. The ice was cold, and I felt that strange cold-burning sensation on my hand as I fumbled through, feeling for a bottle. Clarence waited until I was seated to continue.

"The man I was to meet called himself Whitewolf. He was adamant we meet off the reservation. I had to drive an hour to some little diner. When I arrived I asked him why he wanted to come so far away. He said that we were being watched. By who, I asked him. The trees he said." He looked at my grandfather who had started to laugh. "Exactly what I thought Jack. But I had come all that way. So I decided to stay and listen. And pretty soon I forgot about any urge I'd had to get up and leave."

"This man Whitewolf explained that from the beginning, the native people had lived alongside a presence. It had always been there, and it always would be. Calling it a presence was not exactly accurate. It was a struggle to explain these things in English, he said. To them it's an ancient fact, so ingrained it does not need explaining. All attempts to put such a concept into words falls ridiculously short. Which is the point, he said. The presence wants to exert its influence unnoticed. It desires control, and it goes about it's work by any means necessary."

"Is it malevolent?" I asked him. I was thinking this would be a great story to scare my friends with when I got back to camp. Except I would say evil instead of malevolent when I told them.

"It can be," Clarence answered. "It seems to enjoy chaos. Many of the earliest people succumbed to the influence. It whispered things in their ears, made them afraid, jealous, or angry. People couldn't get along with each other. Groups were split, and it made survival very hard. So the wise men, the medicine men decided they had to do something. They tried to figure out ways to ignore it, to block the influence. Whitewolf claimed he was a descendant of one of the first men to battle the presence. It was very difficult and took much time to achieve the skill. It became an essential part of every child's upbringing. Before they were taught how to hunt, or how to collect and grow food they learned about the presence and how to fight its influence.

"Soon the elders discovered that their efforts weren't enough. The presence was evolving, growing stronger. A few courageous medicine men dedicated themselves to learning all they could. Their task was very dangerous and they knew they may not survive. Some never came back. Some returned changed, given over to evil pursuits. The presence had turned them from goodness. And whatever knowledge that person had, the presence now had."

"Sort of like possession," my grandfather mused.

"Yes, exactly. Silence became a way of life. Languages became complicated in order to confuse and mislead the presence. Names became carefully guarded secrets. The medicine men who survived continued to discover more. The presence played on desires. The overly ambitious were eyed with frightened suspicion. Were they under the sway? After awhile it mattered little if they truly were. It was socially unacceptable to have or to want more than anyone else."

"So it seemed that I had my answer. It was the combined effect of belief and social conditioning that had arrested the development of their society. Because of course I believed none of it. I began to get depressed as I sat there listening to Whitewolf. I wanted the truth to be different. I wanted stories of remarkable individuals who had made great advances in learning. I was sure I would find them here. Their achievements perhaps lost to recorded history, but living on in memory. Stories and legends so sacred they were never shared with the white man. But it seemed that the greatest minds were caught up in a ghost story. All their energy was devoted to shadows. Whitewolf kept talking though, and I kept listening. Maybe it was because he was a good storyteller. Maybe it was because he was the only one who would talk to me at length. He had gotten to the point in his tale when the colonists began to arrive."

"At first the natives wondered how to go about warning them about the presence. By this time it was instinct for them. They knew how to guard themselves mentally and emotionally from the dark influence. But it was becoming rapidly clear that the colonists had no interest in learning the native ways. They had strange ideas about ownership and conquest, and they were desirous of everything. And they talked non-stop. Words were scattered about, dropped carelessly, trampled on. They would say one thing and the next day say something completely different. It shocked the natives, who had long used words with the utmost care. So there arose among them an informal agreement to let the colonists fend for themselves. They would learn soon enough about the dangers posed by the presence. The more pressing matter was how to co-exist with these new people whose numbers never seemed to stop increasing."

"What happened next caught the natives by surprise. The clash between the cultures reverberated like a shockwave. Loved ones were lost, food became scarce, violent uprisings occurred over ownership of land. High levels of anxiety, grief, and anger weighed upon the natives. The mental strength that protected them from the presence began to weaken and splinter. They knew it, and they were afraid. But they didn't have to be. Because the presence had discovered the colonists. And it liked what it had found. These new people were full of weaknesses. They were so easy to manipulate and bend. The presence no longer needed to try and turn the natives, who were too good at resisting anyway. How could the new people resist when they never knew they were under attack in the first place?"

I looked at my grandfather to see if he saw it too. His eyes met mine in conformation. Something was happening to our guest. He was no longer the meek, anxious man he was when he first arrived. His eyes had a sort of glaze, and he was swaying to and fro in his seat. He took on the aspect of a southern preacher spewing out a fire and brimstone sermon. My grandfather cleared his throat."Well Clarence, that's an amazing story. We should invite the old gang over sometime and you can tell them. Say you ever hear what became of Frank Delacroix?"

Clarence was having none of it. "Do you know what became of Whitewolf? On the way back from meeting me he was killed in a car wreck. Witnesses say he lost control when he swerved to avoid a deer that ran out in front of him. Well some of them said it was a deer. Others saw a coyote. Others swear it was a man. Think of it though," he hissed. "What if it's true? There are stories that personify temptation as the devil on your shoulder, we all know that one. Where did that story come from? Wherever did man get such an idea? Especially those who, like the natives, had no exposure to Christian belief, to the idea of Satan the tempter? And yet these people believed, they believed more strongly than certain churchgoing folks I know. What horrors did they see to convince them this was real? Whitewolf told me some of them. They are awful stories. Stories of men who set their sleeping villages ablaze. Mothers who skinned and roasted their babies. The hunting party who stopped hunting animals and began to hunt each other. Three of them were discovered in the woods chewing on the entrails of a man still alive. And yet, if you added up their crimes, their offenses, the natives capacity for evil was nothing compared to what just arrived."

He stood and began to walk aimlessly around the cabin. He shook his head violently, as if he were trying to shake loose the horrible imagery lodged in his mind. "Keep an eye on him, I won't be a minute," my grandfather said. I nodded and tried to look brave. This man was really starting to scare me. I could hear my grandfather rustling around in the other room. Why had he agreed to let Clarence come here? He didn't really even know him. Now we had to deal with him. How were we gonna get him out of here? Should we call an ambulance? It would take them forever to get here. I was watching Clarence as my mind ran through these options. Suddenly he whirled around to face me, and I jumped.

"What if the presence whispered to those weary colonists? Showed them all this country could give them. Led them on with promises of prosperity. And why not? What would it whisper? Would it say to them, look what you've been through? You deserve better. Never mind these people here, look how they live. All the potential that lies in this land, and they don't know what to do with it. But you, you know what to do. You shouldn't have to do the work. You've done so much already. You've nearly starved coming here. Why don't you sit for a moment. Rest. Think. You've suffered so much. Look at these folks here. They are so strange. Let them do the work. Look at those funny looking ones. They don't know anything. Can they even take care of themselves. Whats that? They can't even read? Put them to work. They can labor and toil. You have more important work to do." He turned from me abruptly and made for the window. He pulled back the curtain, and let loose an earth shattering howl. My grandfather was at my side in a flash.

"What is that? What is that?" Clarence screeched. He pointed out to the backyard along the edge of the woods.

"it's nothing Clarence, it's a decoration, calm down," my grandfather said.

"I can't be - I'm not supposed to be here!" Clarence screamed. "You tricked me! Why didn't you tell me - " He collapsed in a heap onto the floor.

"Some sort of panic attack I guess," my grandfather said. "C'mon, help me get him to bed." He had been busy making up the guest bed, anticipating that Clarence would probably need a few hours to calm his nerves after getting so worked up telling his story. "I don't want him leaving here in the dark in such a state. God knows what could happen to him." We lifted him onto the small spare mattress. "But then that means I don't have room for you. You better get a move on kiddo. I know you know these roads in and out, but it's still not good to be on your own after dark. Give me a call when you get home from your camping trip alright? Send my love to your mother."

I walked out to my truck. I felt drained. It was near sunset now. I had spent all day listening to this crazy tale. I started the engine and took off down the drive. I honestly can't remember now if I really did hear screams in the distance as I turned on to the road or if my imagination is making up that memory. In any event I kept going, a decision that probably saved my life, and one I know my grandfather wouldn't blame me for. I still can't understand how it happened. It was my grandfather's hunting cabin, he had all kinds of guns and knives up there. He should have been able to protect himself.

I went back to the cabin once, a few months later with my father. The mess of blood, broken glass, splintered wood, flesh, and bits of brain had long since been cleaned up. I pretended not to notice the dark stains on the wood when we entered. My father pretended not to notice too. My grandfather did not own the cabin. He rented it from a woman who was now selling it. She said it freaked her out to go there after the the murders. So my dad and I were summoned to gather up my grandfather's belongings. The woman met us there with a key and waited outside while my dad and I loaded up the van. She refused to come inside. I remember seeing her wander around the backyard. She stopped and looked up at the totem pole that stood at the edge of the property. Her black hair shone in the sun.