#reporting live that i have indeed been surviving uni life (՞߹ - ߹՞)

[seelestia]

hi!!! 🫂

[queenofnohr]

Yan Qing Interlude - Death of a Certain Outlaw

Phew, this one was a doozy. Warning: This Interlude hinges on the reader having knowledge of how exactly Doppelganger and Yan Qing are tied to each other as well as knowledge of Water Margin. I try to give context in translator’s notes at the end, but…… yeah.

Only one set of options for now because I was supposed to put this up Saturday, but my internet was blown out for the last 4 days and anywhere with free wifi is quite a ways away. I’ll probably end up adding them this weekend (and for now the corresponding options are bolded)

If text isn’t tagged in brackets or with a character tag, it means it’s unnamed narration. (I also recommend pulling up a video or the Interlude itself cuz there are some cool effects (like the scenery being “glitchy” during narration segments))

Now that I’m done with uni, translation commissions are open for the immediate future!

―Doesn’t everyone have this thought at least once in their lives? That is - am I really myself? Can you say for certain whether or not you’re just a puppet, controlled by someone else? Maybe this world is nothing but a sham, and I am a being that only exists within the mind―

In this world, “yourself” isn’t anything that truly exists. Legends, myths - those certainly do exist.  Now then. ―Just who am I?

[in Shinjuku]

Yan Qing: *pant* *pant* *pant* …… The sky is dull, the water tastes filthy, the stench of blood hangs thick in the air - the atmosphere is altogether the fucking worst. The bleeding won’t stop. I’ve been cornered. ???: How does it feel to die? Yan Qing: Ah��� it really is the worst. Laughing, sneering, jeering. And yet, here, in my final moments, doubt rises from the depths of my mind. In the end, all I wanted to know was life as a human being. Just who was I, really? I wonder if the man before me laughs because he knows. Yan Qing: Hey - who am I? ???: ……. ……. You are― I can’t hear him laughing. I quietly close my eyes.

[scene change, rooftop]

> We’ve come to Shinjuku again……

Mash: Communications are stable, Master. Allow me to explain the situation once more. Shinjuku, as a Singularity, has already been corrected. As such, no matter what strange phenomena might occur here, it will have no effect on the Human Order Foundation, however― One Servant Leyshifted to Shinjuku. Known as the Shinjuku Assassin, his True Name is Yan Qing…….

> Does anyone know what happened to Yan Qing? > Is it certain he’s in Shinjuku?

Mash: I have no other information to report other than that he Leyshifted to Shinjuku. Accompanying you as navigators are Cursed Arm Hassan and Geronimo. I look forward to working with the both of you. Geronimo: The pleasure is mine. Cursed Arm: Then, Master, where shall we begin the search? Geronimo: We won’t find him by searching at random. It seems we have no choice but to follow his magical energy…… Mash: Yes, and we have the tracking data from it. The problem is, at a certain point, Yan Qing’s trail effectively disappears. It might be because of increased interference on the part of the monitoring device, or perhaps…… Cursed Arm: Hm. Perhaps he suffered a grievous wound, or even perished. No, excuse me - I spoke without thinking. Please be at ease, Gudako-dono. Yan Qing is a strong person with high mental fortitude. In fact, he’s probably at his best running around this city. Geronimo: I suppose you’re right - this isn’t a serious enough issue to require fortune telling. I, too, will guarantee his survival. Cursed Arm: Then, for the time being, I’ll investigate our surroundings. We shall have a better chance at finding him with our options narrowed down. Geronimo: I suppose we’ll wait until you’ve returned. But taking our Master’s endurance into account, I’d like to finish this within the day. Cursed Arm: Haha, but of course. Well then, I’ll be back shortly.

> Take care > Be careful―

Cursed Arm: I’m grateful for your concern. But worry not. For we Hassans are one with the shadows.

[Cursed Arm leaves]

Geronimo: Then, for the time being―

[Cursed Arm returns]

Cursed Arm: I found him. Geronimo: That was fast.

> So fast!?

[scene change, streets]

Yan Qing: Oh, Miss~! Can I get a meat bun with whatever kind of meat that is? Thanks~.

> It really is Yan Qing…… > What the hell is he doing

Cursed Arm: When I saw him I, too, doubted my eyes. I thought - there must be a limit on how much one can slack off. Yan Qing: Oh, if it isn’t my Master. What’s up?

> Don’t you “What’s up” me!

Yan Qing: ? ……No. That’s right. After all, I just turned up without a word, didn’t I. Ah, sorry. I really am sorry, but― There’s something I must do here. I won’t let anything get in my way. Yan Qing (?): It’s no excuse, but I will not allow myself to be caught!

> This is Doppleganger’s power……!? > He shapeshifted!

Yan Qing (?): That’s right. I’m going all out this time. It’s all over if you catch me here, you see! Geronimo: He’s about to lose it. At this rate― Our best course of action is probably beating him into submission. Let’s go, Master. Mash: Everyone, please prepare for combat!

[battle]

Yan Qing (?): Sorry, but I’m out. See ya! Geronimo: A smokescreen……! Cursed Arm: It seems he stole it from someone while we fought. Mash: W- What should we do? He said he had something to do, but…… Cursed Arm: ……This is certainly unfortunate. Gudako-dono, let’s pursue him. Geronimo: Oi. Cursed Arm, do you know what exactly it is Yan Qing should be doing? Cursed Arm: Indeed, as it has to do with me. Now then, shall we head out? His destination is unknown, but so what? We’ll just have to go over this city with a fine-toothed comb. It’s a routine job for a Hassan such as I.

[2nd arrow]

Wandering, searching for that which must be done. Something that cannot be cleaned away, atoned for, compensated. If something gets in my way, I’ll eliminate it. Because my objective is righteous. Because it is righteous, it is for the sake of being righteous. I will take revenge on him. [scene change] Geronimo: So, basically, it’d be better to go after him, but…… If he’s disguised, finding him would be impossible. Then, what should we do? Cursed Arm: Not impossible - in our previous battle, I secretly marked him. It’s a cursed incense passed down in my organization. We only need to be near him to detect him. Geronimo: Oho, so that was what you were preparing during battle. Then we’ll be counting on you to guide us, Cursed Arm. Cursed Arm: It would be my honor, Master.

> Please guide us!

Cursed Arm: ……Hm. It’s faint, but the scent is in the air. It’s surprising that we’d locate him so soon. He’s this way. I’ll take the lead.

[scene change]

Geronimo: By the way, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from earlier.

> What are you thinking? > About what he “must do”?

Geronimo: Indeed. Why did he want to go back to Shinjuku? And you, Cursed Arm - what is it that you know? Cursed Arm: …………Alright. It isn’t something I should’ve spoken of so easily, but the situation being what it is, I happened to have a slip of the tongue. The truth is, in Chaldea, Yan Qing came to apologize to me.

> Because of the Shinjuku Incident…… > Apologize for what?

Cursed Arm: Indeed, because of what happened during the Shinjuku Incident.

[Chaldea flashback]

Yan Qing: Eyo, Master Cursed Arm. Do you have a minute? Cursed Arm: Go ahead and come in, Yan Qing-dono. What troubles you? Yan Qing: I feel like there’s something I need to apologize to you for. Cursed Arm: Apologize……? I can’t think of anything in particular that would warrant an apology. Yan Qing: But it seems like, because of what I did in Shinjuku, I caused you trouble. Cursed Arm: ……So that’s it. What you did certainly was described in the Shinjuku report. My name appeared in it, so I read it just in case, but…… It isn’t anything you need to apologize for. Living as an intelligence agent, disguising yourself to betray others is inevitable. Yan Qing: Maybe you’re right. After all I don’t particularly feel any way about it. But even if it isn’t in my heart, my body itches for it*. I must make amends with you if I want to move forward. And, if possible― I must return to Shinjuku to accomplish it. Cursed Arm: Accomplish “it”……?

Yan Qing: Yeah, you know that saying - “If you commit a sin, work to atone for even a part of it”? It’s sorta like that. Cursed Arm: ……But isn’t is enough to fight alongside our Master? You don’t have to search for atonement in Shinjuku specifically. Yan Qing: ……Yeah, I guess you’re right. No, you’re exactly right. Man, what was I thinking! Just forget I said anything. Cursed Arm: …………

[end flashback]

Cursed Arm: Altogether, I didn’t think anything of it, so I didn’t press it, but…… Upon entering Shinjuku, I remembered how I felt at that time. Even if I was smiling then, my heart was not. Yan Qing is still probably seeking atonement. Geronimo: Atonement, huh. But what the Shinjuku Assassin did has nothing to do with Yan Qing. It can’t be that way. If it were, as Heroic Spirits, our sins would pile up with each time we’re summoned. Even if we were talking about a hero from the Age of Gods, that’s an unbearable burden to place on anyone. To prevent this, we only retain records themselves, we do not “remember.” Mash: As a Demi-Servant, I have no memories from Galahad…… If I did, I think my mind** would wear down.

> But, Yan Qing……

Cursed Arm: ……That’s enough talk. We’ve caught up with him. The Hornet over there is Yan Qing.

[Hornet enemy type appears]

> Yan Qing!

Yan Qing (?): Gah, you already found me!? Geronimo: Yan Qing. Is what you seek atonement? Or is it perhaps retribution - to be judged for your sins.

[Yan Qing reveals himself]

Yan Qing: ……I’m not searching for anything. It’s something I must do, I’m sorry, Geronimo. I have to do it, or I will no longer be me.

―I have a headache. Proper Heroic Spirits don’t understand the agony grating against my soul. Is simply being killed a punishment in itself? No, I have to die more miserably than that.

> Yan Qing……?

Yan Qing: ……Don’t try to stop me, Master. I beg you…… I’m begging you. I have to die. Cursed Arm: You’re contradicting yourself. And you’ve gotten green, Yan Qing. If it’s a sin so heavy you must be killed for it, in order to bear it, fight― I can’t leave you as you are right now. You’re just a despicable greenhorn who’s lost his head trying to scrub away his regrets. Yan Qing: ……! Cursed Arm: How about you, Master? ……If you’re to accept his atonement, with the way things are now, it would be best to just go back.

> I can’t accept it > Let’s talk it out

Yan Qing: Unfortunately, I don’t have time for this……! ―Damn it, so it’s gotta be like this again.

[he turns back into the masked enemy]

Yan Qing (?): If that’s the way it is, I’ll take you on! Sorry, Master!

[two more appear]

Geronimo: Hmph, he can multiply himself just like a planarian or some seaweed. Mash: I think he just called for reinforcements…… Ahem. Anyway, prepare for battle!

[battle]

Geronimo: It seems he escaped while we were defeating the other Hornets. But…… hm. What do you think, Cursed Arm? Cursed Arm: About what? Geronimo: If the end is just? Cursed Arm: ―Of course. That’s why I came here, after all.

> What do you mean? > Perhaps you’re right……

Cursed Arm: Allow me to explain next time we encounter Yan Qing. He also needs to hear it.

[third arrow]

―It’s not here. It’s not here either. It isn’t anywhere. How strange. It has to be here. That person is still here, I’m sure of it. Ah, my body is crumbling. I can’t maintain my spirit foundation as Yan Qing. The sky is dull, the water tastes filthy, ???: How does it feel to die? When I look back, the Grim Reaper is standing there, waiting eagerly for me.

[black screen]

Yan Qing: What, so you were here after all? Cursed Arm Hassan.

[Cursed arm is in view along with the city]

Yan Qing: That’s right, I have to apologize to you. I killed you, I killed you, after all. No, that’s wrong. I was killed. I was killed by you. ……No, wait. Please wait. My memory- My memories are all jumbled up……! Cursed Arm (?): It’s already over, so it’s best to quietly accept it. ……. ……. We can never atone for our sins. Yan Qing: ……That voice…… No, wait…… Are you me? Cursed Arm (?): I shall answer your question with another. Who are you?

[Cursed Arm turns into Yan Qing]

[scene change]

> Hassan…… > Yan Qing……!?

Yan Qing: Eyo, sorry Master! My plan was to trick him, but it didn’t pan out! Geronimo: Hm. It seems you are the real Yan Qing. However, that one also maintains a Saint Graph comparable to Yan Qing. ……This one is at least able to laugh. Is the Yan Qing over there Doppelganger then? Yan Qing (?): Ah…… A- Ah…… AGHHHHHHHHH!! Yan Qing: Oi, oi, calm down, me! Ah, it’s no use. This is bad, I revealed my true form too soon!

[Doppelganger starts rapidly changing forms]

Mash: This is…… A Servant…… No, Christine……? As well as Hassan, Yan Qing…… It transformed into various other enemies! Yan Qing: Well, whatever, let’s calm him down, Master!

> So we just have to beat him! > Er, meaning……?

Yan Qing: Yup! Well then, me that isn’t me. It’s time you return to the place we can be ourselves. Here, the existence you must atone for doesn’t exist. So― If we don’t finish everything here, neither of us will be able to maintain ourselves!

[battle, then scene starts off with a screen blood splatter] [flashback, rooftop]

Cursed Arm: Guh― Shinjuku Assassin: It’s over, Hassan-i Sabbah. Cursed Arm: ……It’s my loss. Take this head of mine. Shinjuku Assassin: Huh? Why would I do a stupid thing like that? No, I’m going to copy your Saint Graph instead. Cursed Arm: ……! Shinjuku Assassin: After all, sooner or later your little Chaldea friends are gonna come to visit, and I’ll - or should I say you’ll - be there to greet them! Cursed Arm: ―So you stay your hand for the perfect ambush setup. You’re a Heroic Spirit worthy of the name Assassin. Very well. Then as a Servant summoned to this land, let me show you the depths of my will. Shinjuku Assassin: Oh, so you’re taking me on? The Big Shot of the assassin world. It’s an honor to be able to kill each other, Hassan. Cursed Arm: ―Dying without being able to do anything. I thought that would be my role, but it is precisely because I cannot do anything that there is indeed something I can do. Shinjuku Assassin: What……? Cursed Arm: ―Zabaniya! Shinjuku Assassin: Ha, I knew it! You can’t take my heart without any prep! Cursed Arm: You’re right. But this time I don’t need a copy.

[blood splatter]

Shinjuku Assassin: What……!? Cursed Arm: Kuku…… Looks like it was successful. Shinjuku Assassin: Your own heart…… why? Cursed Arm: It should be obvious. I believe Chaldea will save this city…… If that’s the case, then I am merely lending my support as a Servant. Shinjuku Assassin: Huh…… Huh……!? How stupid! All this for a hunch! You’re giving your life for someone you’re not even sure will come!? Cursed Arm: Of course. I was summoned as a stray Servant. As such, my mission was to save this city. No, it wasn’t just that. The will of heaven…… No, it’s better to refer to it as a mission. In any case, it’s only natural to become a martyr to that end. Shinjuku Assassin: ……! Cursed Arm: With my death, your imitation cannot be complete. ……It’s such a small thing for me, and such a large failure for you. To the person who will save this yet unknown city - farewell……!

[Cursed Arm disappears]

Shinjuku Assassin: Damn it……! What the hell! For fuck’s sake! That wasn’t for the sake of your lord. Dying for someone you’ve never even met……!? That’s such a fucking bullshit end……! Damn it, damn it, damn you……!

[scene change, looking at sky, still flashback]

―My Saint Graph grates against itself, crashes together. I was someone who once betrayed my Master at the very end, yet even so I still intended to serve faithfully. So, I understand completely. That Assassin’s devotion isn’t something that just anyone can live up to. How ungainly, how very enviable. Ah, it’s grating. It’s coming apart. Splitting in two. It’s being torn apart……! O, lord, my lord! Why did you rush so foolishly to throw away your life! You were smarter than that! Was it for the sake of some hint of glory? Is that unfathomable devotion in me! ……I don’t understand. At that time, fear pierced the depths of my heart. How could I oppose my lord, who saved my life, which should have been abandoned? I didn’t know what I should have done. Nothing, nothing……. Not even the slightest bit……. I didn’t understand anything at all……***

[scene change, present]

Yan Qing: ……And that’s the reason why. That person is me and yet not me. Doppelganger, an existence that should be a phantom. That’s why I could pursue them pretty easily. After all, I still possess some of Doppelganger. Cursed incense? Sorry, that was a lie. Geronimo: So you separated…… I don’t quite get it. Yan Qing: If I had to say, it’s a copy. Using Doppelganger’s power, Shinjuku Assassin could transform into anything. ……Little by little, I lost sight of who I was, until I was defeated by Master. This is what remained, but it was still connected to the me that was summoned by Chaldea. ……That’s right. We’re tied together. The report that I Leyshifted was probably due to the disorder at that time. He thought he was Yan Qing, and returned to Shinjuku again. And I couldn’t allow him to do the same kinda stuff he was doing before. I’m not the villain who controlled Shinjuku, but a chivalrous outlaw. Look, I’m a person with a strong sense of justice, right?

> If it’s you we’re talking about, you’re definitely an outlaw of justice > You mean a chivalrous outlaw of darkness?

Yan Qing: Wahahahaha. Thanks for playing along, Master! Yan Qing (?): Ah…… Ahhhhh…… I can’t atone……. I can’t redeem myself…… There’s only regret…… Nothing but regrets piled high, and I’m still alive…… I can’t stand it…… Yan Qing: You wanted to die, so you tried to kill. Because if you killed then you would be killed. Am I wrong?

[Doppelganger turns into a skeleton ghost]

Doppelganger: ……I…… I am…… I am****…… Everyone……. No one…… Because I have no self, I am no one, because I possess neither good nor evil intent, I cannot become anything. I can only live in the interval between darkness and whispers, no more than an unsightly phantom…… But…… Even so…… I wanted to- at the very least, atone…… But I don’t want to die either…… I don’t know- what to do…… Yan Qing: Oh, in that case, you should join together with me. I mean, I came to invite you, anyway. Geronimo: Hm, joining with a phantom? Can you even do that? You’ve retained your individuality up until now, but your sense of self may be affected. Yan Qing: It’s fine, it’ll be fine. I am me. Right, Master?

> If it’s Yan Qing, everything will be okay > I’m a bit worried, but……

Yan Qing: Righto! Doppelganger: I- It’s okay……? For me…… to be with you…… truly……? Yan Qing: Yeah, become my strength. And don’t forget the feeling of being driven mad, starved of justice. If this is happening, be a splendid outlaw. Doppelganger: An outlaw…… Someone with honor and compassion, who opposes kings, who can control themselves…… Even I…… Could be that……

[Doppelganger disappears]

Mash: Doppelganger…… Wasn’t exterminated, instead I confirmed it’s integration into Yan Qing. There is no disturbance concerning the numerical value of his Saint Graph. Yan Qing: So you’re saying everything’s fine? Geronimo: However, this is an exceptional situation. It’s probably best to receive counsel from Da Vinci upon our return. Yan Qing: Yep, yep, roger that! Geronimo: …… …… Because it had no ego, it wrought evil upon Shinjuku― Consequently, possessing a personality, Doppelganger has the potential for good…… It could be said that this is a miracle borne of the instability of the Foundation of Humanity. Then, Master. No matter who forgets, I want you to remember. By being witnessed by you, his despair and struggle become immortal. And in doing so, surely it will be his glory. Yan Qing: Yeah. For believing in me until the end, you have my gratitude, Master. Everything I do, is for the sake of my lord― For your sake, Gudako!

[end]

Notes: * The furigana reads “body” but the main text reads “Saint Graph” and the verb is “whisper” which is a major sort of….. clue, I suppose, as to what’s going on ** Japanese has a lot of words for mind/soul/heart/will with some of them used interchangeably. This particular word could mean either mind or spirit. *** Hoooo boy. Okay so the entire narration here is based off what happens in Water Margin. Basically, Li Junyi - Yan Qing’s lord who saved him (and thus earned his loyalty) - was lured into a trap and poisoned. Doppelganger, who’s sense of self is tenuous at best is overwhelmed by Yan Qing’s memory of it because of Cursed Arm’s sacrifice, and loses it. I have no idea if there was angst in the original text, but here Doppelganger/Yan Qing is torn up because he regards his greatest sin as surviving even though his lord (as well as a lot of the other outlaws) died.  **** Here, Doppelganger starts cycling through different ways to say “I” in Japanese (Watashi/Ore/Boku/etc) which is obviously difficult to translate directly into English especially since he doesn’t include any other text in these “personality” shifts. It is a cool thing in the OG text though in a short but effectual way to show Doppelganger’s lack of “self” ***** As always, whenever “outlaw” is mentioned, it’s the chivalrous type that Ya n Qing prides himself on being

[zrtranscripts]

Radio Abel, Season Four

Part 2 of 6

DOMHNALL: Before we begin with our backstory, who have you got with you today, Baz?

BASIL: This is Myxie! She's a New Zealand White, a common laboratory rabbit. Despite the name, New Zealand Whites are actually an American breed. She's such a sweetheart. Out of all the Kiwi bunnies – and we've got 50 or so – she's my favorite! She'll just sit on your lap, docile. Likes a scratch just behind her ear.

Don't put her on her back, though. Rabbits will go into tonic immobility and it's a stressful state for them. So please don't rub a rabbit's belly! How do you like that – my seamlessly sneaking in a public service announcement? Well, I suppose it's not that seamless when I draw attention to the seam like that.

DOMHNALL: Um, well done, Baz.

BASIL: Didn't seem like your heart was in that. Want to try again?

DOMHNALL: I'm afraid to ask, but why did you call her Myxie?

BASIL: Uh, you know.

DOMHNALL: It's short for myxomatosis, isn't it?

BASIL: Wrong! Mixolydian. It's a musical mode.

DOMHNALL: Really?

BASIL: No, it's myxomatosis. But she's named for the Radiohead song, not the -

DOMHNALL: You're sick.

DOMHNALL: Do you remember your first day at the lab, Baz?

BASIL: Wish I could forget it. Second year uni student, absolutely gormless. First day, I was sat in Doctor Leatherby's office for hours, waiting. When the door finally opened, instead of the old codger walking in, it was a lion! Let me repeat that: a lion. With a mane and everything!

DOMHNALL: How very Life of Pi.

BASIL: No ruddy tigers in this tale, Don. I was up against the king of the jungle.

DOMHNALL: Dear listeners, Doctor Basil Hibler is well aware that lions primarily live in the savanna, and less so the jungle, unlike tigers.

BASIL: And that lion settled on the chesterfield like he owned the place! Me, I was quivering in the corner of the room, cobbling together a spear from a letter opener and a meter stick. I made a heroic attempt at the door, but it was locked. A chute opened in the ceiling, and a stream of bloodied [?] fell on my head. That's when the lion pounced.

DOMHNALL: How did you escape?

BASIL: Well, I didn't! I laid there, slowly crushed under the lion's weight, spear broken. I tried to roll him off, but he wouldn't budge. Then the lion opened its hot, gaping maw, and -

DOMHNALL: And?

BASIL: And he licked me up and down, didn't he? It was Toothless Tim. He didn't even have his dentures yet. But that didn't stop me from wetting myself. Tim had delicate sensibilities. Left me alone after that. That's when Doctor Leatherby unlocked the door. Of course, he'd watched the entire time via the security cameras.

DOMHNALL: Filmed it as well. I think there may still be a recording on one of the computers.

BASIL: Note to self: destroy all the computers.

DOMHNALL: Well, it may be on the server.

BASIL: Note to self: figure out what a server is, and then destroy it.

BASIL: You started work here before I did. I'll wager you didn't have to fight a lion for your job.

DOMHNALL: No. Doctor Leatherby was my professor. He asked if I wanted to be his lab assistant, and I said I did. The next day, he gave me a key card, and a lab coat, and the directions to this facility.

BASIL: Which is impossible to find, listener. And impenetrable. Titanium doors a meter thick!

DOMHNALL: And booby-trapped.

BASIL: Yeah, good one. And booby-trapped, a la Temple of Doom. No rolling boulders, but a modern analogue.

DOMHNALL: And of course, many zombies.

BASIL: Swarms. Hordes. Legions. They're drawn to the smell from our incinerator, which will not help anyone find our facility. ... I can't believe you didn't have to fight any predators for your job.

DOMHNALL: I don't know. Doctor Leatherby was generally kind to me.

BASIL: He always liked you. As much of a crackpot as he was, he at least got that right.

DOMHNALL: I think it was because I was like his animals. I was scientifically manipulated, a freak. He probably thought I belonged in this place.

BASIL: Leatherby was a prat.

DOMHNALL: The centrifuge is done.

BASIL: Yeah! It didn't even fly off its axis and turn into a wheel of plague doom this time.

DOMHNALL: This is it, Baz. We discover whether the zombie virus has become zoonotic - or anthroponotic, in this case.

BASIL: You sound wistful, Don.

DOMHNALL: Now that the data's at our fingertips, it's my responsibility to analyze it, but I enjoyed the mystery of not knowing! The mystery, and the potential.

BASIL: Sorry, mate, but it's one or the other. It's Schrödinger's cat: undead edition. We should really let the cat out of the box and see if the Geiger counter went off. You have more important things to focus on, like synthesizing those hormones.

DOMHNALL: I don't want to talk about that.

BASIL: I know, but you either have the tools to do it, or you don't. Hope makes you you, Don, but it's not going to keep you that way.

DOMHNALL: Indeed. Oh, look at that, you got us off topic again! Don't go anywhere, listener...s. The startling conclusion to the catus zombiticus tests, Afterlife On Earth will return in a moment.

DOMHNALL: Welcome back, gentle listeners. The results are in, and -

BASIL: Yeah, it's not a zombie cat.

DOMHNALL: No, she's not.

BASIL: But she is very sick.

DOMHNALL: Hopefully was. I've never seen this particular strain before, but I can say that the virus was synthesized in this lab. Thankfully, its characteristics were documented, as was the existence of a cure, helpfully labeled, "antibodies: cat." After a quick diagnostic scan, it looked legitimate, so Baz gave her the treatment.

BASIL: That was an hour ago, and she's already looking much better, but we'll keep you apprised of her progress, listener.

DOMHNALL: Poor moggie.

BASIL: This was appalling, even for Leatherby, whose default setting is appalling. Reminds me why I quit this place.

DOMHNALL: What, the first time, or the second time?

BASIL: Both! But in a bad economy, a good man sells out his principles, don't he? Leatherby was always so smug when I came back, tail between my legs. [imitates DOCTOR LEATHERBY] "Told you you would be back, zookeeper. Now grab a shovel. The shit always piles up when you're on holiday."

I know he was your mentor and all, but I'm glad he lost the plot and ran off to live among the zoms. Couldn't imagine waiting out the end of days looking at his ugly [?].

DOMHNALL: To be fair, I like our ark the way it is.

BASIL: Me, too.

BASIL: You know, Don, I'm not sure I would have survived this without, you know, your being here with me.

DOMHNALL: I'm sure you would have, Baz. You're very resourceful. You have many practical, real-world skills, like surgery, and cooking, and animal husbandry. You're particularly adept with a machete spear.

BASIL: [laughs] Yeah. I've got a decent character card, I suppose.

DOMHNALL: I wouldn't have survived.

BASIL: Well, you have many academic world skills, like writing beautiful lab reports, and inadvertently humiliating speakers at conferences. Also, you tap a mean vein. But mostly you're just an utterly decent person. Good person, even. Kind. Maybe too kind for these times.

DOMHNALL: Baz, your hand.

BASIL: Yeah?

DOMHNALL: It-it is very cold. Perhaps we should test your circulation. We've been so sedentary since civilization ended. I know! We could start doing uh, calisthenics every morning. Wouldn't do to survive the zombie horde only to be done in by DVT or bedsores.

BASIL: [laughs] Yeah. Maybe.

DOMHNALL: But look at us. We've strayed off topic yet again. Why don't you find us an animal?

BASIL: I know just who to bring out. Give us a sec. [opens office door] I'll give you three guesses as to -

[knock on outer door]

DOMHNALL: What the - ? Baz, was that you?

[knock on outer door]

BASIL: Oi, quit messing about, Don. The animals are already getting agitated enough.

DOMHNALL: Baz, this isn't funny.

[knock on outer door

BASIL: Don, knock it off. [opens office door] Look who I've got!

[knock on outer door]

DOMHNALL: Zoms!

BASIL: Zoms don't knock. That's your listener.

DOMHNALL: For the last time, we have more than one listener, probably.

[knock on outer door]

BASIL: Ouch! Damn it, Melvin, don't pull my arm hair!

[knock on outer door, Melvin tap dances]

DOMHNALL: Baz, keep Melvin quiet.

BASIL: Right. Melvin, stop it. Melvin, stop it! Melvin, stop it!

[knock on outer door]

DOMHNALL: Baz!

BASIL: What? I don't know how to speak tap dance. I mean, I'm fluent in soft-shoe, but there are subtle but vital differences in syntax!

DOMHNALL: For goodness' sake! The zoms will sense the vibrations from its routine!

BASIL: So zoms are snakes now? Next you'll be wailing about their echolocation or heat sensors or -

DOMHNALL: Baz, pick up the damn monkey

BASIL: Oh no! Every time I bring an animal on your show, it wees on me. I haven't any clean clothes. I am not going to die stinking of monkey musk!

DOMHNALL: Stinking of – ? Baz, you have a much greater chance than most of defecating upon death, so I don't think monkey piddle will matter!

BASIL: Hey, you just said I was full of shit, didn't you? You also said piddle!

BASIL: Oi, where are you going?

DOMHNALL: Won't be a moment.

BASIL: Someone's entirely too cavalier considering we're under siege. Wait, what is - ? My yo-yo! [laughs] I knew I didn't lose it! Melvin, reach your arm under – no, like this. Damn. What's "reach under the desk for my yo-yo" in tap dancing? Don, this is no time for a wardrobe change.

DOMHNALL: Right, so... [tap dances] and a-para-diddle time step. Poor thing. And - [continues tap dancing]

BASIL: When did you learn how to speak monkey?

DOMHNALL: Eight years tap, seven years ballet.

BASIL: And you just happened to keep your tap shoes at the lab?

DOMHNALL: Melvin and I were meant to dance a duet at this year's holiday party. Anyway, he should be quiet now. He was just frightened and needed reassurance.

BASIL: I'm frightened and need reassurance! Will you dance about with a brolly for me? Or, if you prefer, I could fetch you a sailor suit and a mouse.

BASIL: Can't believe you tap dance and never told me.

DOMHNALL: It's not that impressive. A monkey can do it.

BASIL: But I suddenly feel as though I don't know you at all! What else are you keeping from me? Are you a spy? A Morlock? Are you even Scottish?

DOMHNALL: You know all my big secrets, Baz. Hang on! I'm not Scottish!

BASIL: But you always say Scottish things. You even say "Scottish" like a Scotsman.

DOMHNALL: My parents are Scottish. I grew up less than ten miles from here.

BASIL: Right. I knew that.

DOMHNALL: Actually, sometimes I feel as though you know everything about me, but I know very few details about you.

BASIL: That's because I talk constantly but never say anything of substance.

DOMHNALL: Baz, I'm serious.

BASIL: Almost always, yeah. That knocking stopped. Seems your listener's given up. That's because this lab is a fortress! Absolutely impregnable, I tell you! It would take an army to break – [audio cuts off]

DOMHNALL: We've been breached! A warning to all: it appears homo sapiens sapiens zombiticus has evolved, its faculties now allowing for such strategic thinking as shutting off primary generators, finding emergency hatches, and manually overriding the lock system during the 30 seconds it takes for the secondary generator to kick on.

Listeners, if this behavior is reflective of all zombiekind, then it is advised that all communities reevaluate their security measures immediately, and – Baz. What are you doing with that machete spear? You don't plan to engage them, do you?

BASIL: Engage the zoms? No. But were I a betting man -

DOMHNALL: Which you are. I'd even say you have a gambling problem.

BASIL: Were I a betting man, I'd wager a thousand quid it's not zoms. Or your listener, mostly because I don't believe your listener exists. I know, I know, you're upset. But this is a good thing for us, considering you've just told any hypothetical audience how to circumvent our security.

DOMHNALL: ... oh. Wait for me, I'll find a weapon.

BASIL: If I'm right, there will be no need. If I'm wrong, it wouldn't make any difference, and we'd both end up dead. Besides, if I die, you'll need to take care of the animals.

DOMHNALL: But -

BASIL: I'm off. Give us a good battle cry.

DOMHNALL: Uh...

BASIL: Come on, don't have all day.

DOMHNALL: G-geronimo?

BASIL: No.

DOMHNALL: Baz smash?

BASIL: No.

DOMHNALL: Excelsior?

BASIL: Frack yes!

DOMHNALL: I think you're mixing fandoms, there, Baz. Baz!

BASIL: Excelsior!

BASIL: Excelsior! Excelsior!

[metal clatters, BASIL shouts]

DOMHNALL: Baz? [BASIL laughs] Oh my... [door creaks open] Doctor Leatherby?

DOMHNALL: Baz, is that really -

BASIL: Doctor Solomon Leatherby, in the stinking, rotten flesh. Emphasis on "stinking." I figured it would be. There's no one else left on the planet who knows our security system. Except for your listener, whom we've established doesn't exist.

DOMHNALL: I can't believe he's alive!

BASIL: I just said he doesn't exist.

DOMHNALL: I was talking about Doctor Leatherby.

BASIL: Well, mind your pronouns. And anyway, "alive" is a relative term these days, isn't it?

DOMHNALL: Can you make out what he's saying?

BASIL: My best guess is, "Ugh, augh. Brains, yum." Hence I trapped him in the cage. See?

DOMHNALL: He doesn't quite look like a zom.

BASIL: Likely he's not finished transitioning.

DOMHNALL: Like mentor, like pupil. Well, I thought it was funny.

BASIL: Aw, bless. But you shouldn't compare yourself to him. He's a soulless monster. And now he's also a zombie!

DOMHNALL: Baz, we need to prep the surgery for plasmapheresis!

BASIL: We don't have enough plasma on hand for that, remember? He used it all up before he left, experimenting on that intern.

DOMHNALL: Of course. And it'll take more time than he has to synthesize it. I believe he's genuinely trying to tell us something!

BASIL: Get away from that cage!

[cage rattles, DOMHNALL gasps]

ZOE CRICK: Twist! Their supervisor's a zombie.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Zoe, you do know these are actual people, right? Actual people having actual lives, and him being a zombie is not great news for them.

ZOE CRICK: I'm ironically distancing myself from their pain to make it more bearable.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: See, you're saying that ironically, but actually it's completely true.

ZOE CRICK: You think I'm being ironic about being ironic?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think you're not being ironic about being ironic.

ZOE CRICK: So you're accusing me of ironically being ironic about being ironic? [sighs] My head hurts.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Maybe this next song will help. I've always found it very soothing.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, please! I'm just trying to help you.

BASIL: He's a zom, Don. You can't reason with him. Damn it, don't lean towards his mouth!

DOMHNALL: He's trying to tell me something.

BASIL: You mug, he's trying to bite your ear! Where's my - ? Ugh. Why is there never a machete spear around when you need one. Oi, Don, did you know this thing was still broadcasting? Should we break for a musical interlude while I fetch my machete spear?

DOMHNALL: What's that? Speak up. Something about a toad? Do you mean one of the psychoactive ones? If you think that'll help alleviate your suffering, we still have a couple of Bufo alvarius. Shall I fetch one? Or I could mix up your Friday cocktail. Double shot of LSD? Hmm, Doctor Leatherby? I'm going to ask you respect Human Resources Policy 20.2.5 and not talk so close I can feel your breath on my ear. Gosh, that's ripe.

BASIL: What is wrong with you, Don? You steadfastly believed the cat was a zombie, knowing full well the virus had never displayed zoonotic tendencies, but despite Leatherby's obvious zombification – why the hell is he pointing at me? You just put that necrotic finger away, mister!

DOMHNALL: What's that, Doctor Leatherby? The cat? What about it? He just keeps saying, "the cat, the cat!"

BASIL: Oh, sod off about the cat, old man. You tortured that poor thing. If Don hadn't found the antidote -

DOMHNALL: The cat... oh, the cat! I understand now. Please, Doctor Leatherby, let me go! I know what to do.

BASIL: He's not going to – oh, would you look at that. He's let go.

DOMHNALL: BRB, Baz!

BASIL: I don't know why he does that. He never texted, even when we had a working mobile phone network. Plus, that particular acronym is not actually faster when verbalized.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Idiot zookeeper...

BASIL: As I don't know how to translate Zombie, I'm going to assume you said, "I've always admired your intellect, Doctor Hibler. I demeaned you with words like 'idiot' and 'zookeeper' and 'shit-shoveler' because I was intimidated by your genius, and jealous of your relationship with Doctor Barra." Blimey, Zombie is an efficient language.

BASIL: Where's the fire, Don? Also, didn't anyone ever tell you not to run with syringes? Needle pointing down, please.

DOMHNALL: [laughs] The cat, Don, the cat!

BASIL: You mean Pusstopher Jones?

DOMHNALL: [laughs] No.

BASIL: You mean Blister Mistoffelees?

DOMHNALL: [laughs] No.

BASIL: You mean -

DOMHNALL: I mean the cat what looked like a zombie but wasn't! The cat that we cured with the vial marked "cat antibodies", beside which I found a vial marked "me antibodies". Apologies, Doctor Leatherby. This might pinch. Don't you see, Baz? Doctor Leatherby has the same affliction as the cat, or a human variation of it, and like her, he should be as good as new in no time.

BASIL: Great.

DOMHNALL: Isn't it?

BASIL: But we keep him in the cage until we're certain he's not a zombie.

DOMHNALL: Agreed. We can't be too safe.

BASIL: And you can only keep him if you promise to feed and water him, take him for walks, and clean up when he makes a mess. We really should put newsprint down.

DOMHNALL: Baz, I know the two of you don't get on well, but he's still a human being, and he's obviously been through an ordeal. Have some compassion.

BASIL: That's the difference between us. You think everyone deserves kindness. I think people deserve what they put out.

DOMHNALL: But if that's true, then what consideration are you to be afforded by dispensing vengeance on behalf of others?

BASIL: Now who's derailing the conversation? Since when did this become a morality debate?

DOMHNALL: Don't be cross. I didn't mean -

BASIL: You're responsible for Leatherby. I have my hands full keeping the zoo. And I was only half joking about the newsprint. By the way, you are still broadcasting. If you care at all about this enterprise, you might want to consider wrapping up this segment.

DOMHNALL: Capuchin monkeys - like Melvin, our tap dancing monkey – are considered the most intelligent of all the new world monkeys. They're omnivores, and well-known for their usage of tools. They are favored by Hollywood studios and organ grinders alike.

As it is for most primates, Capuchin society is complex. Theirs is a male transfer system in which females stay in natal groups and are presided over by an alpha male. Mutual grooming creates bonds between members, but no amount of nitpicking will earn share of the kingdom. There is only room for one at the top, and Capuchins are notoriously territorial.

This is not an analogy. There are no females. I'm Domhnall Barra, and this is Melvin the tap dancing monkey, bidding you goodnight.

DOMHNALL: As far as science knows, felis silvestris catus zombiticus does not, in fact, exist. The zombie contagion is not anthroponotic, and is thus contained in the human species. As fascinating as it would have been to study the zombie state up close, there are many reasons why our findings have proved fortuitous, the main reason being that the cat formerly known as Zombie Cat is very very very very very sweet. And when one is sequestered in a hellish bunker in the middle of a dystopian, plague-ridden world, one cannot discount the value of a loving, purring cat in one's lap.

This is Afterlife On Earth, and I am your host, Domhnall Barra. And here with me today is the wee moggie previously known as zombie cat. We should probably rectify this state of namelessness. If anyone out there - either on the waves or on Rofflenet - has any suggestions, I'd be much obliged. Baz is usually in charge of naming, but I'm loathe to hand her over to him, considering the names he's proposed to date. Also, there's a chance he's not talking to me. I mean, he hasn't pointedly ignored me or anything, but I haven't seen him all day. So we'll carry on without him.

Today on the program, a quiet afternoon with felis silvestris catus, the ordinary housecat. More with our friend after this musical interlude.

DOMHNALL: Our sweet friend is a shorthair, an English Blue, with the defining characteristics of the breed. These include a steel blue coat and copper eyes, with a broad-jowled face and sturdy, compact frame, although she is malnourished at the moment. Also, her fur is patchy and growing in tufts, but Baz bathed and groomed her last night, and she's eaten, so she already looks, smells, and generally seems much better.

As an aside, Doctor Leatherby seems to be similarly progressing. Just to clarify, Baz did not bathe him, thus he does not smell nearly as sweet as the cat.

Can you hear that, listener? She's purring. Ah, now here's something fascinating. As ordinary, albeit welcome, the sound of purring is to cat owners, the mechanism itself is extraordinary. Purring has always been a defining characteristic of felinae. In fact, we have traditionally organized cats by their vocalizations. Felinae consisted of cats who purred, while pantherinae included roaring cats. We now know that the cats of pantherinae, the great cats – not that you're not great, sweet moggie – also purr, but only when they exhale.

Felinae, which include housecats, wild cats, as well as cheetahs and cougars, cannot roar. A cat's reasons for purring is ambiguous, as is the exact mechanism by which they create this sound.

[cage rattles]

Doctor Leatherby? [office door opens] Doctor Leatherby, are you awake? What's that? Speak up! What? What? Oh. Well, that's a tad hyperbolic. Certainly I'm not quite as boring as watching mold grow. Oh, so you think that simile is, in fact, accurate? That listening to me broadcast is comparable to observing mold? Oh. [cricket chirps] Tell us again why we're breeding crickets?

DOMHNALL: Welcome back, listener...s. This is Afterlife On Earth. I am here with the feline previously known as Zombie Cat, as well as my mentor, Doctor Solomon Leatherby, who will speak to us from the safety of his cage, as there is still a slight chance he may be transitioning towards zombiedom. Doctor Leatherby, please say hello to our audience.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Release me! Was... not... zombie!

DOMHNALL: I want to believe you, Doctor Leatherby, but surely you realize that is exactly what a zombie would say, and how he would say it, complete with sentence fragments and haggard ellipses.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Me... cat... cage! [?]... fool! Domhnall...

DOMHNALL: You don't have to be cruel. You would agree with this protocol if you were me, and had caught a possible zombie.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Zookeeper! Zookeeper!

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, please desist! That's not going to help your case. Now, in your own words, if you can please share with our audience – our vast audience – your experiences in the wild, living among the zombies.

BASIL: What the bloody hell is going on in here? Why is zombie Leatherby miked up?

DOMHNALL: I couldn't find you! My show was boring without a cohost.

BASIL: So you offered my position to a zom?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Not... undead! ... I... pre... cat... me!

BASIL: Ah, that trademark zombie wit.

DOMHNALL: He's likely not a zombie. He's just like the cat, and look at her! She's doing much better.

BASIL: Why's the cat out of her cage?

DOMHNALL: Um...

BASIL: Give me the cat. She has two more days on her quarantine. And for God's sake, don't let him out, either.

DOMHNALL: Obviously, I won't. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me as though I were a child.

BASIL: You're still broadcasting.

DOMHNALL: What does it matter to you? You're convinced no one's listening.

BASIL: Well, I'm not sure, anymore. I mean, no one gives a toss about you droning on about [?] vocalizations or goose migration patterns, but I'd tune in to listen to this drama.

DOMHNALL: What drama?

BASIL: Us, fighting

DOMHNALL: ... we're fighting?

BASIL: You should hook the old bastard up to an IV, just in case he isn't a zom. And I've left more blankets in the hall.

DOMHNALL: Thanks.

BASIL: The cat, Don. And don't take the animals without asking. Some of them are very sick. I'm fairly certain one of them badgers is a vampire. And while you're spending all your time in here nattering on, what are you doing about your injections? ... yeah, that's what I thought.

BASIL: This is not Afterlife On Earth. It's just me, Basil Hibler. Ol' Baz. [laughs] Can't sleep. Brain's racing. Usually, I wake up Don, or chat with Pedro the macaw, but I don't want to chance rousing the facility, not with Doctor Leatherby back.

There's probably no one listening. No, not because no one tunes in to Don's program, because I'm sure someone somewhere does. Obviously I'm just, you know, taking the piss out of him. [laughs] But it's late. Only ones up are the dead.

There's something soothing about the microphone, about the illusion that it's attaching me to someone somewhere who's flesh and blood and alive. Like, confession or something. Maybe that's why Don likes it so much, recovering Catholic and all.

Doctor Leatherby's got better. He's not 100%, not even 60%, but it's clear he's not a zom, which means he's back to stay. If it were me, I'd kick him out on his ass without a second thought! He survived all that time in the wild, I'm sure he can do it again.

But Don'd never go for it. We'd have another row. We never fight, except when it comes to – [sighs] Leatherby's always been good at that – dividing and conquering. For a loon, he's remarkable Machiavellian.

I mean, It may be perverse, but this facility's become our home. Now that Leatherby's back – albeit in a cage for everyone's safety – it feels like Don and I... like we've played house while the grownups were away. We've built a life! An odd one, sure, but... you know, good. And of course, the only person with enough sway to dismantle it is a cockroach capable of surviving nuclear winter.

Anyway, I'm off to check on the menagerie. Night, listener. Sleep tight. Don't let the zoms bite.

DOMHNALL: Zombie: it is a word laden with fear, pregnant with connotation. Mere mention sends our imaginations reeling with images of the shambling horde, a phalanx of ravening carnivores, sloughing off their necrotic skin, their mouths bloodied, sinew caught between their rotten teeth like wilted spinach and popcorn kernels. Memory reminds us of their stench, the bushy death musk that lingers in their wake, and our dreams entangle imagination and memory into plaguing mares of terror.

Few would venture into their path, none into their midst. None save one, and that man is with us today. This is Afterlife On Earth, and I am your host, Domhnall Barra.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Barra, you don't always open with such purple tripe, do you?

DOMHNALL: Well, I try to infuse some drama into – [nervous laugh] I can stop.

BASIL: But you won't, because your listeners like your monologues the way they are.

DOMHNALL: Thanks, Baz.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: My mistake. In my haze, I thought I overheard the zookeeper state that "no one would willingly listen to such a rambling, prosaic, insipid rubbish." His words, not mine.

BASIL: Nope. Not my words at all. Don't even know what prosaic means.

DOMHNALL: [clears throat] As you can hear, listeners, after his brief sojourne, my cohost, Doctor Basil Hibler -

BASIL: For the last time, call me Baz.

DOMHNALL: - Baz has returned to the show.

BASIL: Hello, hello, gentle listener...s.

DOMHNALL: We are both just chuffed [BASIL snorts] to introduced today's guest, a giant in the field of virology, my mentor, Doctor Solomon Leatherby.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Good afternoon.

BASIL: It's morning.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: It's four minutes after twelve, according to my watch.

DOMHNALL: Against all odds, Doctor Leatherby has returned to civilization relatively unscathed after spending an extended time living among the zombies, studying their migration patterns, the nuances of zombie society. After the break, his miraculous story, only on Afterlife On Earth.

DOMHNALL: Welcome back to Afterlife On Earth. We're here with scientific pioneer, Doctor Solomon Leatherby, newly returned to civilization after living among the zombies. Living among them, but not as one. Doctor Leatherby is alive, listeners, not undead.

BASIL: Well, he's not a zom, anyway. Jury's out on vampirism.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Ah, I see your formula, Barra. You share zoological facts with the populous in the style of those general interest nature programs, and the zookeeper infuses lowest common denominator humor in order to make you more approachable to the unwashed masses.

BASIL: Speaking of unwashed...

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: In order to fit in with this dynamic, I shall don the role of learned elder statesman who queries your thesis and leads you towards the path of scientific enlightenment in which you disprove yourself and dismantle your entire belief system.

BASIL: Yay, old times!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Glad you're taking interest, Hibler. Your articles make even Barra's somnambulistic ramblings seem academically rigorous.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, Baz isn't an academic, remember? He's a veterinarian.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Is he, now? I didn't realize that. I hired him because he's a fine butcher.

BASIL: Yeah, yeah, I'm a surgeon. I'm a bloody hack. All I do is cut things.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: But never the right things, Hibler. Far too many adjectives.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, if you please, we're all on tenterhooks. How is it you survived all this time living among the ravenous horde? How did you infiltrate them? Camouflage yourself? How did you meet your own basic needs in the wasteland? Have you gleaned any new insight into the nature and potential cure of the undead mutation-virus-pathogen-bacteria-prion?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Patience, Barra. Excitable as ever, I see. I suppose you haven't had much stimulation, living down here with the rodents, apes, and the badgers.

BASIL: Well, he has me.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Yes. I said ape. As a veterinarian, you should know that humans belong to the taxonomic family Hominidae, a classification also known by the term great ape. Although in your case, the emphasis is definitely on ape.

BASIL: Yeah, well, obviously you're a great ape, too. Emphasis on the "gray". Without the T.

DOMHNALL: Baz, don't be ageist. Let's focus on the task in hand. Please, Doctor Leatherby, your story. When we return.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Fine. It all began when an intern called Johnny decided he would brave the horde to find his sweetheart, a young lady with the unfortunate name Clotilda Drudge, a name now permanently subscribed on the annals of time.

BASIL: Yeah, because the great Doctor Solomon Leatherby has deigned to speak it on record, ho ho ho.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Young Johnny's efforts always proved in vain. First, he mimicked the zombies, adopting their shuffling gait, their posture, their dead-eyed gaze. Johnny proved affective at adopting the affectation primarily because it differed only slightly from his natural mannerisms.

BASIL: Because he's young, and all young people people have poor posture and headphone-induced thousand yard stares? Now who's bloody ageist?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: He only made it partway down the lawn before the zombies noticed. I hypothesized as much. If it were as easy as mimicking zombie physicality, the teenagers would remain untouched, and the world's survivors would primarily consist of actors!

BASIL: And of course, that would spell trouble for the human race, as none of these groups know anything about the world or have any skills transferrable to survival.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Oh. Excellent. If you manage to make that conclusion, then surely the listeners would be able to as well. Let us take a break to allow for proper intellectual digestion.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: When mimicry failed the young intern, he turned to olfactory camouflage. This was a two-part test. The first time, he rolled in animal hair, urine, and excrement, as canines do. This, with a slow shuffle, allowed him a little further towards the Tesco's car park. We don't allow the interns access to the underground car park or tunnels.

On his sprint back, he collect body parts that had fallen off various zombies, as I'd earlier instructed. The second part of this test involved using the smell of dead human flesh. This netted the most success. He very nearly made it to his car. But I propose that his natural living odor permeated the shield of decay. The stress and physical activity would have encouraged sweat production, especially in a young man prone to lethargy.

The zombies caught Johnny before he could jump over the fence into the car park. In hindsight, he should have brought along wire cutters, as he wouldn't have successfully scaled the fence, even if the horde hadn't swarmed him.

DOMHNALL: And this led you back to the lab?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Yes. I realized that in order to fool the zombies, our camouflage had to begin at the cellular level. As we had several interns, we conducted multiple experiments. First, having the interns consume foods known to change human scent. Onions, garlic, asparagus, plastic analogous cheese products. While none proved successful, some showed the theory promising. 

If you recall, Barra, two years ago, we worked on bacterial strain V-A12LEP095, which targeted the skin and glands. One of the early symptoms of this strain was the smell of what could only be classified as death. Most early stage symptoms were mild, primarily skin issues that could be treated topically. In later stages, the strain proved painful, and occasionally fatal. But as zombification always proved fatal, I felt it worth the risk. 

I still had two interns, and thus injected them both with modified strains of V-A12LEP095. To my delight, both made it to their cars in the car park. Of course, I couldn't allow them to leave without doing follow-up on the experiment, so I had my research assistant Lola take the underground tunnel to the other side of the car park to drive nails in all the tires.

BASIL: Bloody hell.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Oh, don't fret, zookeeper. Lola wasn't an intern. She was allowed to use the tunnels.

DOMHNALL: What happened to the interns, Doctor Leatherby? We know they're no longer at the facility with us.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Well, one of them didn't take well to V-A12LEP095. He tried to escape and was gunned down by a random woman on a horse! The other one left with Lola and Marianne.

BASIL: Who the hell is Marianne?

DOMHNALL: Marianne was Doctor Leatherby's car.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: In hindsight, we probably shouldn't have let research assistants in the underground car park, either.

DOMHNALL: You left the facility not long after that.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I injected myself with the stable strain of V-A12LEP095. Leading up to my experiment, I practiced my zombie mimicry and collected fouled clothing. With trepidation, I infiltrated the horde. They accepted me without curiosity. 

When I grew bolder, I joined a shamble of nomadic zombies – a shamble being a collective noun for a cohort of zombies. I packed charcoal water purifiers and desalinators, food, vitamins and medication to help stem the progression of V-A12LEP095, and left, following the shamble through the city.

DOMHNALL: And what did you discover, Doctor Leatherby?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Well, as expected, zombie movement patterns are dictated by a small number of variables. One: sound. They are not discriminating. Any sound indicates life, thus, food. Two: smell, for the same reason. Three: movement, see above. Four: resistance. If not in pursuit of sustenance, zombie movements are seemingly random. However, environmental resistance limits locomotion. Even a small pothole can disrupt zombie movement.

Feeding patterns are similar to pack dynamics such as a pride of lions, with no special consideration given to child zom. I have observed zoms grooming each other in ways similar to that of living primates, but with less motor skill and social gain. Most likely a vestigial habit.

DOMHNALL: How fascinating! Isn't it, Baz?

BASIL: So why'd you come back, then?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: As I said earlier, V-A12LEP095 can be dangerous in later stages. I need the cure.

BASIL: And why'd you dose the poor cat?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I needed to leave a clue about my procedure in case I required medical assistance upon return. I wasn't about to inject Barra, and I couldn't find you.

BASIL: Did you ever think about, oh, I don't know, leaving a note?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I didn't want to chance someone else conducting my experiment before I had my chance.

BASIL: You mean someone like Don or me.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: And of course, if Barra knew what I was doing, he would have attempted to stop me, or come with.

BASIL: And you didn't want to share the glory.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I didn't want him harmed in case the experiment didn't work.

DOMHNALL: You're right. I would have tried to stop you, and then wouldn't have collected all this fascinating data!

BASIL: You... you killed six interns.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: False. I only killed five. The last one stole my automobile. But I should very much like to kill that one, I think.

BASIL: Ugh. And on that note, this is Baz Hibler, and on behalf of Domhnall Barra and I, thank you for tuning in to Afterlife On Earth.

DOMHNALL: Hang on, that's my job - ! [audio cuts off]

DOMHNALL: Welcome back to Afterlife On Earth. I am your host, Domhnall Barra, here with my copilot, Baz Hibler.

BASIL: Hello, hello!

DOMHNALL: And the cat formerly known as Zombie Cat.

BASIL: She's purring! I'll hold her up to the mic so folks can hear.

[cat formerly known as Zombie Cat purrs]

DOMHNALL: Today's show will not focus on the cat formerly known as Zombie Cat, but we wanted to open the segment with sharing a few of the name suggestions we've received via Rofflenet. The fact that we've received suggestions from multiple users indicates what, Baz?

BASIL: I'll concede. There are at least five people listening to this program. Or your listener has at least four friends. Good on you, listener.

DOMHNALL: Baz, would you kindly read out the names?

BASIL: So, here are your suggestions: Beauregard, Catchy, Figaro, Selena Kyle, and Pretty Polly Leapshadow! All excellent names for a cat.

DOMHNALL: Thank you all. And do keep the names coming. We'll consider every suggestion, and announce our decision at a later date. Now, Baz will take the cat away and bring out our next guest.

BASIL: We can't have them out at the same time. They'll fight like cats and dogs. Because they are. Cats and dogs. Won't be a moment.

DOMHNALL: As we wait, let me give a brief introuction to our next – [office door opens] Oh, hello, Doctor Leatherby. Would you like to, uh - ?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Barra, I have no further interest in this enterprise. I just wanted to know what it is you're cooking up in Lab C.

DOMHNALL: Lab C? Oh, uh, it's nothing.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Nothing? Good to know. Because it looked as though you were synthesizing testosterone from DHEA and propionyl and hydride.

DOMHNALL: I may have been trying to synthesize some hormones.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I gather you haven't had the courage to inject yourself yet? When did the subcutaneous pellet expire?

DOMHNALL: It's been a while. After that, I was injecting the samples you fabricated earlier, but...

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Fine. Leave it to me.

DOMHNALL: Really?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: You're a good assistant, Barra. You're obedient, with fine motor skills and neat handwriting. And occasionally, you show some insight. But you are no pioneer, and no toolshed drug cooker. I'll synthesize your hormone. Unless you want to revert to being a shy, mannish girl. You might consider it, given that the nearly eradicated human race will requires breeders.

DOMHNALL: Thank you, Doctor Leatherby. I appreciate your help in the lab.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I should have made you a batch before I left. It appears I was naive, expecting you'd devote yourself to your research while I was away. What a shock to return to find you hosting a silly radio program and playing house with the zookeeper. Like children.

DOMHNALL: I'm sorry.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: And here I was thinking you'd accompany me on my next expedition.

DOMHNALL: To study the zombies?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Of course. The last trip was just for curiosity's sake. The real research lies in studying the changes in their unbiology. This is the term we will use when describing undead physiology – unphysiology! We will add "un" to everything.

DOMHNALL: Very sensible.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: We need to get on this before that fame monger, Van Ark, does. This unplague is exactly the kind of crackpottery that knee-jerk experimentalist is hankering for. We have to crack this before he does. He always had those government connections, but I won't let him steal one more tax payer penny from me.

BASIL: Just a moment.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: So, that settles it. I will synthesize your hormones, and following that, an improved strain of V-A12NEL095. When my body can handle another dose, we'll leave.

DOMHNALL: I... wow!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Excellent. I'll leave you to your little radio program.

BASIL: Here we are. Say hello to the keeper of the underworld!

DOMHNALL: Cerberus.

BASIL: Who's a good boy? And who else is a good boy? Yes, you are! And you are! You both are! We all are! [laughs] Oi, Don. Pet him, will you? He's got two heads, after all.

DOMHNALL: Right. Good boys, Cerberus.

[Cerberus barks]

BASIL: What's wrong with you?

DOMHNALL: Nothing.

BASIL: Was that old coot in here? Did he say something to you?

DOMHNALL: Why don't you tell our listeners about our dog?

BASIL: Well, his name's Cerberus. Yes, he has two heads. Not in a creepy, transplanty, Demikhov kind of way. In a natural, conjoined sort of way. He's actually perfectly healthy otherwise. He has two hearts, four lungs, three kidneys, and a penchant for liver sticks. This particular two-headed dog is a Rottweiler poodle mix. A Rottenpoo, if you will.

DOMHNALL: Cerberus is not a Rottenpoo! Stop trying to coin that.

DOMHNALL: What else can you tell our listeners about this particular two-headed dog, Baz?

BASIL: Uh, it's not enough that he's got two heads?

DOMHNALL: This is supposed to be educational, remember? So, the domestic dog, uh, canus lupus familiaris, man's best friend... I guess most people know about dogs.

BASIL: Well, we could talk about how dog breeds emerged, both naturally and due to human manipulation. Or we could -

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby wants me to go back out in the field with him.

BASIL: What?

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby -

BASIL: You mean with the zoms?

DOMHNALL: Yes, but – [BASIL laughs] You know how successful his – his experiment proved - !

BASIL: He plans to inject you with a leprosy cocktail and drag you out into the ruined waste to live with the flesh eating undead, and you're going to let him?

DOMHNALL: Baz, this will allow us to study zombification, to monitor the progression of the actual unaffliction, to take unliving samples that we can bring back to the lab to study. We could even possibly create a cure, or innoculation. Baz, it's my responsibility as a scientist!

BASIL: This is mental! Don't you think if zombification could have been cured, it would have been by now?

DOMHNALL: I have to try.

BASIL: No, you don't. Leatherby is mad. He killed all those interns unnecessarily. He tortures these animals. For God's sake, he tortures us! He doesn't give a damn about you. If you're lucky, you'll be eaten alive. If you're not, you'll be shambling around with the rest of them "un-fools". [opens office door]

DOMHNALL: Sit down, please!

BASIL: I'm taking Cerberus for a walk. Bloody braindead dead brain trust. Come on, dog.

DOMHNALL: Baz! Damn it. We're still broadcast – oh, damn it again! This is Domhnall Barra for Afterlife On Earth, and just – just piss off! Baz! Baz, you came - Doctor Leatherby. [BASIL shouts] What are you doing? What's – what's in that syringe?

BASIL: Let go of me, old man!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: 10 years, and you still haven't learned respect, zookeeper. Barra, you will accompany me on my next excursion. I am director of this facility, and you are my employee. I am not asking, I am assigning you to this task. It will make your career, and could save the lives of many people. I will not have you jeopardize this experiment so you can run amok with the menagerie and play [?] with this imbecile.

DOMHNALL: Of course! I mean, I don't understand what you just said, but never mind that! I'll go with you! I plan to!

BASIL: Don, don't!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: If you don't stop wriggling, zookeeper, I'll stick you with this, and we'll get to test the effects of botulinum toxin on veterinarian, and I assure you, at this dose, all we'll be measuring is how long it takes you to meet Cerberus at the gates of hell! [Cerberus howls] Damn dog! And damn those interns!

What's that blinking light? Blast you, Barra. Are you still broadcasting? Turn it off, now! [audio cuts off]

ZOE CRICK: That just doesn't seem fair.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, it doesn't.

ZOE CRICK: Where does he get off dragging poor Domhnall into God knows what dangers?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, he's his boss, I suppose. It's still crappy, though.

ZOE CRICK: It really is. What if something happens to him? What will Baz do? Also, calling Baz an imbecile is not okay.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Baz is emotionally intelligent.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. And that's the last recording we've got of theirs?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So far. But you know, they might send out more.

ZOE CRICK: They'd better. Baz, Domhnall, if you're listening to this – actually, if you are listening to this, we're really sorry about broadcasting your private-ish conversations to lots of people without your permission. But also, please get in touch. We're worried about you.

[theoneloneblogger]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mVkLnrssx0)

Perry’s Retrospective Rumors: Part One - The Madness of King Dabulamanzi Ist

 Note: Some of the following is a fictional and romanticized version of true accounts and should not be held to historical scrutiny.

  As I gander over the medical reports and brain analysis of medical files of mine I have collected over the years relating to my epileptic condition I find myself remembering the stigma of years gone by that reside even up to this day; it is in our constant struggle to forget the stress and strife we have created in the past for other nations that our fears still reside today. The sins of the father stay the same in all outlooks of life. As with most of the trail of devastation our country leaves behind, even to this day, all our beaten down ex-colonies want to do is survive into the next day. The psychological and social effects are also evident. With family units being split up because of their fear over this condition and the jobs market not allowing workers to even try and take part in a normal life as we would see it the World Health Organisation tried desperately to teach the rest of the world with minimal results it would seem.

  The Zulu Prince who was at the head of the attack on York’s Drift in 1879 probably felt a sense of inadequacy as he headed his men in the charge. I know that sinking sensation of old. He experienced being lost but found at the same time and continued to sink with an unknowable joy, into the eternal void that his consciousness provided. Deeper into the never-ending waves of truth. Feeling the calm of things to come, the storm of the mind died down. It was this experience he felt with the utmost intensity of attack. It was in the last two days that January had been exhaustingly squelchy, not to say dramatic. He was epileptic and as a result of the incompetence the Zulu’s saw this as the reason the attack on the Uni Corpse that day was defeated.  It is with this stigma that the Prince found himself upbraided by his brother the King that week, and indeed his very life.    

  In Africa today for example there are 5 neurologists to every 1000 people and the general populace still rely solely on Juju, or magic, to solve the growing epidemic. The social understanding is overwhelming too. With a lot of the inhabitants of the rural areas believing that a spiritual doctor or church minister can get rid the demon that lives within them for a massive fee. 80% are not treated with modern drugs even in the 21st century. In the West now the statistics speak for themselves. 174 deaths per 1000.  The infant mortality rate reflects the adverse perinatal environment that favours the development of secondary epilepsy. Funny that. It might be a main symptom of continual mechanical solidarity taking place. A state of affairs in which the average man is trapped by his own society that has been put upon him by an outside agency. A fake society some might say. Phenobarbital and Sodium Valproate are available only to those who can afford to pay, despite the employment issues. The management of epilepsy is restricted to individual communities and regions, which results in there being a reluctance to give help when traveling outside those regions; despite the detrimental conditions the patient might be in.

  456,000 people in UK have epilepsy and 30 per cent have a learning disabilities as a result of that epilepsy. We institutionalize those with such disabilities without recognizing their independence or looking into the possibility that they might be able to overcome these difficulties. The only thing that might be needed in even the most severe of cases is understanding and support. However, we in Britain see the fear the eyes of conservative institutionalism and everyday life and we run from the reality that those with challenges in their lives might have the possibility of overcoming their lives. We praise those who accomplish and excel in commercialism and careers without looking at those that have accomplished just as much just by doing what might otherwise be considered the most mundane of things. Just surviving and tapping your own potential as a human being is perhaps the most triumphant of accomplishments. How much money you have can be said to be irrelevant? Pensions and the number of houses or cars you have can be said to be irrelevant. What you eat or how many holidays you have also can be said to be irrelevant.

  Febrile convulsions are caused by a change in temperature and can be seen in epileptics all around the African and more calm climbs in the world. In particular the pain of the unknown made its way time and again within the ambitions and battles of Prince Dabulamanzi kaMpande. These can lead to status epilepticus and considered the work of the devil by such nations. Here ailing health delivery system continues to sink down the abyss resulting in, among other things, a serious shortage of epilepsy detecting machines as well as an acute drug shortage in public and referral hospitals, making life unbearable and harsh for people living with the condition. Yet these people struggle on. Having to pay for attention during epileptic attacks before even being treated. Yet the UK still complain about an ailing and cracking health system and rising costs of treatment. I by no means disparage or intend to lessen the urgency or severity of the situation. I myself rely on the drugs and treatment provided by such institutions.

  My only intent in writing is to set a realization to the overall big picture we try so hard in this country to block out. Prince Dabulamanzi kaMpande was staunch in his intent to protect his country and way of living. Even his independence. A concept we still fail to recognise in this country. The Epilepsy Support Foundation of Zimbabwe (ESFZ) 2014 reports that 60 percent of epileptics in the country are children and these may suffer developmental delays both mentally and physically. A focus of determination that they are bond to overcome on their own. If for example an epileptic from this country were to be forced to live over there the life expectancy of such an individual would be minimal. Drugs such as carbamazepine and sodium valproate, epinutin and other early developed drugs are the only one’s available at large prices in the nation. Not only are they the only treatments available they are also only available in South Africa. A dangerous place to visit even for those native to the continent.

  Taurai Kadzviti, ESFZ advocacy officer, has said ‘Shortage of specialist medical personnel is a great challenge in both private and government hospitals. Currently, Zimbabwe has only two neurologists of which one has recently graduated and there are no neuro nurses. This has led to some epilepsy patients being assessed by psychiatric nurses who may end up diagnosing psychiatry instead of epilepsy.’ Not a good situation. The lack of modern treatments for epilepsy such as Lamotrigine and Leveteracitam is alarming and Phenobarbital, Carbamazepine and Phenytoin. After two to five years of successful treatment, drugs can be withdrawn in about 70 percent of children and 60 percent of adults without relapses of seizures. Person centered care, such as that said by phycologist Carl Rogers is virtually non-existent. Tom Kitwood developed person centred care in the 1980’s and it is the focus of all brain damaged support we regard as the norm in the UK today. Nothing like that can be seen in such undeveloped countries. Kitwood states that, 'Person centered care is founded on the ethic that all human beings are of absolute value and worthy of respect, no matter their disability, and on a conviction that people with dementia can live fulfilling lives'

  Our expectations and insistence on the rights established so long ago by a fractured and damaged nation have burned us to the realization that we are in fact lucky to have the opulent lifestyle we have in this benighted Post Modern country of ours. It is only through the constant colonialization and insistent capitalism that is indicative of the East India Company and such short sighted expansionists as Cecil Rhodes that we have such a society today, pattered and scabbed by organic solidarity. I’m not sure that the Zulu’s shouldn’t have wiped Undi Corps faces with their feces at York’s Drift to be honest. The arrogance towards western self-indulgence and expectations is boundless. Heather wafts through collective time, a free commodity for which we don’t pay a dime. The streets filled in the shadows of the line.

 Video

·         Zulu, 1964, Cy Endfield, Stanley Baker, Stanley Baker, Jack Hawkins, Ulla Jacobsson, James Booth, Michael Caine, Richard Burton

·         Epilepsy Association of Zimbabwe, 2012

·         The Score, ‘Revolution’

·         BBC News Footage, 2013

[thoughtsgarden35]

2018.

2018 has ended and I want to at least write something about it before I totally forget what this amazing year made me or gave me, whatsoever. 

I remember I welcomed 2018 with JB’s family at their home. I was assigned at NPMC during that time and I was on New Year’s duty. I brought two gallons of ice cream and my very timid face. I was of course happy that I would not be welcoming the year in the office, but in a household full of smiles. This is actually the first time that I welcomed a new year in another family’s household. Nevertheless, I was super overwhelmed to be there during that time. The very second that 2017 left and 2018 entered, I was standing right beside JB. Thank you Lord for that. 

1st Alumni Homecoming- Sir Bolanos is a member of the host class for alumni homecoming 2018, thus we were all encouraged to attend the event. Coming back to my beloved Alma matter gave me this one of a kind feeling of happiness and excitement. Marching in the hallowed grounds of Borromeo along with the cavaliers and being the last class in the long gray line made me prouder that I was able to surpass the rigors of cadetship. Another thing is that I was able to hang around with my classmates who I spent the best four years of my life with. I realized how much I missed them. We are now on our own ways, own BOS and own paths. However with God’s grace, our class will always stand and be resilient as one SALAKNIB. 

On my 22nd birthday, JB gave me this little book of encouragement and inspirational quotes. It is tiny but the motivation that it can give you is enormous. I hosted a dinner at Yakimix with the close friends from NPMC and some classmates. A week later, JB flew to his first deployment in the south. It was his first trip via plane and our first time to be really on LDR. I remember accompanying him to the airport, seeing him walk through the gates and going back to BNS alone with water in my eyes. This is the profession that we chose, this is the career that we got ourselves into and this will be the setup of our relationship and of our lives for the next 20 or so years. 

On the 12th of April, I found myself reporting at OCNS as ADC. Yes, it happened very quickly. I think I wrote an article about my gloom about the idea of me being an ADC to whoever. When I was interviewed for the position, I, of course, answered enthusiastically. I corresponded as if I really wanted it. Maybe because I was taught to accept whatever is given to me. Thus, the issuance of orders hastened. It turned out, I am one lucky fucking ens to be of assistance to this well respected, outstanding and highly professional officer. I did not knew then, but I am blessed to be where I am now. 

One of the highlights of 2018 is when I got this schooling in Australia. This course was not originally for me, but who am I to refuse such incredible opportunity. My processing of the requirements became a lot easier because I am at the OCNS. After going through the procedure, I finally boarded Qantas airplane and flew for eight hours to Sydney. Their craft-superb; the airport-majestic and their English-very different (as expected). We waited for a couple of hours in Sydney before landing another craft for our flight to Melbourne. Again, one fancy flight to the number 1 most liveable city in the world. I spent a week at DITC for familiarization and orientation program. For five days, after every class, I went out to the city to not miss a chance to explore the wonderful place. Melbourne star, federation square, Flinders street station, Melbourne trams, Uni’s, I forgot the name of the river, their gigantic park, etc. I literally forgot their names and I am lazy to find it out in Google. After my 5 days, we flew back to Sydney for my course proper. That was in HMAS Creswell, Jervis Bay, New South Wales. During my 3 weeks stay there, I was able to explore the wonderful city of Wollongong, Sydney and Canberra. Thanks to the Jovin, my highschool friend who is a cadet at ADFA, Crystal, Teban’s college friend who is a resident nurse at Wollongong, Mr and Mrs Palenzuela and other PMMA graduates who became our foster family in Sydney. After a month of vacation (because NOLC was not really a course for someone like me), I went home with a thankful heart. 

Being an ADC kind of made my year gone so fast. I go to sleep every night equipping myself with everything that needs to know for tomorrow’s schedule and I wake up every morning making sure everything is ready for the day. I survived every single day carrying my bag on my left hand and with my two phones on the right. Every day, I see my boss everywhere. Every event, I make sure to get a nice photo and document it on his files. I get schedules of the navy’s top 3 from time to time and every changes in the schedules freaks me out. Every Saturday, I do my laundry and have my uniform ironed every Sunday. That is basically what I can recall from most of the mid 2018.

Moreover, our travel to Cebu, Zamboanga and Davao became as easy as a travel from HPN to GHQ. I experienced staying for several times in various hotels and FOIC’s cottages. One of the good things on it is that I was able to pay a visit to my classmates who are assigned in these areas.

One ordinary day in August, I received a call from JB and I was beyond happy. I actually get that kind of feeling every time I see his name popping in my phone. However, during this call, I sensed sorrow in his voice. He called to tell me that his nanay came to rest. I was a thousand miles away from him but I can feel right in that moment the sadness in his aura. It is one of the rare moments. A week after, he came for his emergency leave and we went straight to their house- the same house where we welcomed 2018. It was horrible. His mom was there and so were other of his family members. The scene was heart breaking. I hope every one of them were not miserable because their nanay was gone, but happy because she is now up above with God. As for me, I am very fortunate to have the pleasing opportunity to meet her. I know nothing about anything because I am just somebody, but with the little time that I got to have known her, I can say she is an amazing person.

October 2018, we travelled to China for the first ever ACMEX. Another first for me, another reason to thank God for a very astonishing year. We stayed for over a week in that gigantic nation. Together with Maam Myla and some senior officers, we boarded South China Planes going to Guangzhou. We stayed in a very beautiful 5 star hotel in the province- the White Swan hotel. I enjoyed the bath tub and the Jacuzzi in my room, thank you very much to our Chinese counterparts. At the night of our first day, we traverse the mighty Pearl River overlooking the vast buildings and colourful lights of the city. By the way I also enjoyed talking to my PLA counterpart who like me is not very fluent in English. After a couple of days, we flew to Zhanjiang via their PLA airforce craft. We checked in at Sheraton hotel and again, thank you for the huge tub! Our trip to China made us see how technologically progressive is this country. Imagine a hundred drones can be controlled by a single person in a single computer with them forming any letters or image in the sky. Some of them can even deliver your food right to your footstep. They have big ones that can be used for transportation and many other features that of course were not showcased to us, because they are who they are. They also have advanced ships, planes and weapons that are nothing compared to what we have. From a personal view, however, these innovations cannot ever surpass a nation that has compassion and people who are mindful of others.

Yuletide season came in quickly. I had no idea how the holidays would be for me, but I knew then that I would be delighted with the days to come, undoubtedly, I did. Christmas party at OCNS was simply amazing. My boss wanted it to be for the children of the men and women of our office. Magicians, singers, dancers and other entertainers were rented to grace the party. Our gathering ended at night with the parents happy because their children were happy. The next day, I was the OIC of the Support Group for the Christmas party of the Hinirang Class. After all the stress, I was delighted for the appreciation we received from my upper class men. The HPN Christmas party was my last day for 2018 at the office (of which, I am so thankful for).

Before heading home for the much awaited break, my fortune never ended for I had a couple of days free to spend with JB. We went strolling to the mall, watched movies, bought stuff and had our picture taken at a photo booth. This is how our dates are like. Simple things but each other’s presence makes it extraordinary. We also had lunch with his mom and a cousin at their favourite restaurant. Simply great.

Like the famous catch line from our local network, family is love. Indeed, family is what makes Christmas special. I realized lucky I am to have been able to spend it with my family. Nothing can ever compare to the joy that the completeness of my family brings. We went hiking on the 25th and enjoyed each other’s company to the fullest. On the 26th, we went to a photo studio and our happiness was captured in frames. Afterwards, we had a sumptuous lunch at Hill Station. Mom and dad went to North Haven for their three and a half hour relaxation time and the four of us went to try our thinking skills at Locked-In (for the record though, we did not made our way out of the room, sad but fun).

We spent the remaining days of 2018 watching movies of varying genre in Netflix, cleaning the house, doing laundry, making fun of Lynette and attending masses (in compliance to mother dear). We travelled to buguias on the 29th for Buansi reunion. I realized that my generation is no longer the one that runs around the house or builds blanket houses. We sit by the oldies and talk serious matters now. Yes, adulting realizations. I and mom went back to Trinidad first hour the next day because my dad was not feeling well. Forever thank God, my father was born stronger than the carabao.

We waived goodbye to 2018 and greeted 2019 lying in the couch and hugging our pillows. No fireworks nor loud noises were made inside our house. We just thanked God for we are complete, safe and sound were able to be there.

So this was my 2018- full of things to be grateful for. I do not know how to convey my thankfulness for just everything. I realized that I owe it to myself and to everyone to spend the coming years working in every manner that I can to repay the every goodness that I have received.

And I, thank You!