#she like screenshotted our msgs and sent it to her
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last night i found out that one of my old hs friends wants like nothing to do with me so thats f u n
#it was coz i was like honestly rlly shitty to them in hs#and like ik that now but i get y they dont#also the friend (T) who told me that the hs friend (A) didnt wanna talk to me told A#she like screenshotted our msgs and sent it to her#and A was upset i didnt tell her personally even tho i stg i was going to but T wanted to show her anyway#so thats funnnnnnnnnn#ill probably send her a more personal apologise tonight
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(DISOWNED)
The dark truth about arsikphonegreat
Well me and my friend thomas are in science class, our teacher said that she's indonesian and her favourite food is arsik,
Thomas told me about someone else from the same name, It was some girl that we won't tell, so the arsik guy is one of her former friends.
Alright thomas showed me a discord dm with the same user, She told me about her former friend's dark side, like he used to sext her when he was 10.
The girl sent us a screenshot of one of her dms from 2021, when the user arsikphonegreat was sexting her: (Also she asked me to remain her as anonymous to avoid harassments! ^^)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6b85940e44bd0b2b6cadfd6ca92b73cf/67d9cffb755d182a-5f/s540x810/249eb26f224f63c5a3d54388f2a0c5543c80635d.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6dd54d12d87a947f7e3bf119548c9ab8/67d9cffb755d182a-38/s540x810/1914b68a38d237224e07b9f242fcdad4c262afe5.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9de9f48a1669ec210b754feaa6173ec5/67d9cffb755d182a-40/s540x810/36a355228a0199aff5dc1a06ac896bdfee024292.jpg)
The girl also said arsik started to sext her in 2020 during a drama that they're involved, Another screenshot from her is this,she really doesn't know if it's the re-start of the roleplay in 2021
So that wasn't THE GIRL'S fault, it was ARSIK'S OWN fault
Arsik and his friends raided the girl's server to appear ""better"" in december 2022, yet he was the one who initiated the nasty stuff
Thanks to a mini mod from her server from the screenshots! ^^
"Frenchman in new periodt" is arsik, "da ikea shark" is a former friend called proxion and the other user "mepa000" is raul, also one of his friends.
He Almost spammed nsfw stuff since the mini mod didn't screenshot it Edit: the girl sent me another pic of him saying this:
Arsik told that to the girl. edit #2: if the user arsikphonegreat(discord ID:469909355018452993) wants to contact you or something, deny any requests and block him, Because of his sexual acts, and other things that he did go wrong, You can also ban him from servers if you want. Edit #3: the victim told me that people say that these messages are fake, so she showed us a video To prove they are not
youtube
(please ignore her profile picture, i wanna remain her as Anonymous) if you can't hear her here are some subtitles:
< okay so i will explain why is it real?
<as you can see, i'm at the discord desktop website.
>people are thinking these messages are fake.no no no no,
>THESE are real messages, from arsik himself.
Not edited,
as you can see.. i have proof
more proof! if your guys thinking that is fake. don't think about it."
if you have more proof about him, send me a msg.
That's all for now! Final edit: the main person, arsik had exposed the victim for doing these actions. Her name is banjo, if you want you can see the banjo exposing here.
Thank you for reading the final edit of this exposing page, this will be disowned for now.
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I'm not like her other friends
Recently got a message from friend I'm calling Linn. Linn was my first friend when I started High School, and I made friends with Anna and Joe, who were her childhood friends, and a chick I chatted to in homeroom named Freda, who was Linn's bff.
Two events started the downfall from me getting kicked out of this group. I felt like a taxi driver while driving Linn and Freda around on Halloween, and mentioned to Linn, hey I don't like being a third wheel afterwards. So whenever she brought up hanging out with Freda, as I was the only friend with a car, I always rejected it. The second was I brought us tickets to Impractical Jokers, our fav show that was touring in our town that year. She agreed to pay me back the 70 over time. This was the only time I ever asked her for money in the 6 to 7 years of friendship.
Linn never had much money so I hung with her and brought the tickets, the food, and the events. I hung out with her because I could always make her laugh and loved our shared interests.
However, turns out everything that was said, was shared between Joe, Freda, family, and others. I got a bf and wanted to ask her yknow girl/perverted questions, I wanted a conversation about this stuff with her as we been friends for years and I only knew her attempts at relationships. I made her feel uncomfortable with this open conversation. I apologized but I learned this was shared with everyone and I was a bad friend for not noticing the signs.
A group chat was formed later on, with Joe, Freda, Linn, rando, and a chick named Iris. I knew Iris but I really don't know what side she was on throughout this whole thing, she had conversations with both of us and sent me screenshots from Linn, so I suspect she did the same for Linn. I made a comment, like "what up b*tches" and that fucking broke Freda. Apparently I hated her and it was aimed at her. And Im insensitive (which is a bit true but I have said worst, and Linn brings this up a lot later on).
I wanted an overnight hangout for spring break, I invited Linn, Joe, his gf, Anna, Iris. Linn knew I smoked and drank, but due to the friend group, I was never planning on bringing those items along. They didnt know I only invited them, my bestie, and a HS friend. Only Iris ever drank. Only my bestie smoked.
After hearing no, I gave up and just went to the hotel with my best friend and our HS friend. I had a good time playing uno. But Linn asked to hang that night and I told her I was doing this as I had planned a long time ago.
Apparently I got blocked from the friend group (i had it muted so I never noticed), i only noticed when I got invited back and saw the messages.
"That's so messed up of you S to leave one of your real friends whose been there for you" said iris.
It been planned for a long time, it was even planned with everyone in mind.
"I don't wanna start anything bc she'll just try 2 play the victim lol" "I don't trust her with alcohol and weed. But now I kinda don't trust her with a lot of things" "I mean if you look how Savannah grew up, you see why she is the way she is...." "I didn't like her mom the moment I saw her"
No, I had party friends and a pothead cousin. The mom comment is because my mom smokes cigarettes and Linn hated the smell and called her mom to leave my house. And I moved to my grandparents years later.
"She's reckless and tbh I'm sorry to say this but she is also kind of a hoe" said Joe. The same guy who wanted me to sleep with him when I had a bf for over a year. And he even said if I slept with him (while having a gf) that he would put in a good word. Linn agrees "I only want to find a bf and sleep with him. Not sleep with the whole town"
"Ig when I hang with her again I don't want drama but I have 2 talk 2 her maybe steer her on the right path maybe she's secretly sad. And puts her pain into weed and drinking"
No, when Im sad, I talk to you or my bestie, but then that gets shared to everyone so I stopped talking to you about my feelings.
I don't remember when this happened, but I made a comment about her oversized bra as she had tiny chachas. My mistake. Everyone has body issues, and that was hers, and I spent an hour apologizing as sometimes I do run my mouth. I just felt like the bra didn't mean much if it wasnt padded, but just there for air for her body type.
Through months of talking. Getting mad at each other. Stopped talking. Unfriending each other. Of how Im not like her other friends. We agreed on a movie. I sent her a msg at 10am asking if 10pm was a good time to go see a random movie, she read the message. I never got a message back until 9pm saying she was ready. I told her, dude message me sooner I thought you ignored me and got ready for bed. And she got mad I didn't tell her I got ready for bed while she was prepared to go out. I said it's a movie we can reschedule, it's too late to drive to her home and movies especially when it's opening night. This, of course, got her mad. I said Im sorry for the miscommunication on my part.
I heard back from her 3 days later, 4 days before the Impractical Jokers. "Are you still taking me to Impractical jokers?" At this point, I'm over these issues and her so I finally stood for a battle.
I replied, "Linn, how things are looking like right now, probably not. And I don't really feel bad since it wasnt paid." I told her I didn't want to because she more focus on the tickets when we still had last arguement.
She had 5 dollars, I told her at least 25 (not even half the price but it was something) or least try to pay me in small amounts. She said she was saving up for something so 15 at most, and I repiled like you tried saving up for these tickets.
She said "Ur like my only friend who wants me 2 pay back a concert ticket. Everyone else has brought it out of just being nice. But I did agree to pay back $70 which tbh is too much. So I said $15 but Idek bc rn I have $5" "U want me 2 ask ppl hey can u give me money bc my friend wants me 2 pay her back 4 a concert? They aint gonna do that Bc they're gonna say that's ur friend's problem"
It's your problem, Linn. Not mine.
She said this should be her bday gift, and when I brought up how much I spent on her throughout the years, she said "you never had to and Plus u should kinda do that out of being a good friend not do it 4 money btw....but now ik not 2 ask u 4 shit bc ur gonna want me 2 pay u back 4 it. I wouldn't want u 2 pay me back but that's just me 💁💁"
She msg me on my phone. Went through the cycle of her saying hey I can make payments now, and me saying it's too late since I already invited someone else, "Im money hungry/i never apologized", she had family issues and is broke, stop bringing up things in the past she already apologized for (when she brought up things I apologized for). How she kept me as a friend, how loyal she was, when all of her friends and family told her to drop me, who knew every single bad detail about me, every bad secret. Yes, this came up a lot during our disputes. Even when I told her I didn't care what her friends thought cuz I wanted just us talking.
I thought we liked to hang out together, but maybe it was just me who enjoyed those times. She always wanted someone else there. Anna, Iris and Joe I was okay with just in small amounts because of gas. Plus, those guys never had money either and I can only pay for so many. Maybe I was her friend because I had a car and okay with spending money.
So yes, I'm the bad apple. I've been living with the same guy for the last two and a half years, clean from weed for the last one and a half (bf told his dad he would stay clean, i only smoked because i was always offered some by others), drinking once a month.
And then Linn messaged me on my bday, happy birthday we should hang out with anna she misses you!
Uhuh. Sure. Maybe someday.
Sorry I had to rant since apparently I always saw myself as the victim. I did fuck up with the uncomfortable questions and bra comment. I felt I had these conversations with my other friends, so why not with the friend I had for the longest. But the movie ticket, like come on seriously?
Tl;dr toxic friendship turned bad, got witchhunted by my "friends" and money hungry for a ticket I brought.
#toxicity#toxic#broke bish#bad friends#insensitive#argument#heart break#bullies#witchhunt#seriously#toxic friends#toxic friendships
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Continuing Travels of Cophine, Part 2, Chapt. 10
Disclaimer reminder: I haven't been to the Middle East, so if I've gotten some details wrong, please let me know in a respectful manner. This chapter and the upcoming ones involved some interesting research, and I've tried talking to people who've been there, but of course things slip through sometimes. Let me know!
You can read the entire work from the very beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799
The night after the party, after a small dinner at Sarah's house, Cosima and Delphine rode with Sarah to the airport as cold evening rain peppered the city. Most of the trip was silent, with Cosima in the front seat and Delphine in the back with their carry-on bags. Delphine had spent most of the day recovering and doing a great unintentional impression of a cartoon sloth, but the after-effects of last night's brownies had worn off by late afternoon, and she was more or less back to her usual self.
As the airport infrastructure came into view, Sarah sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose.
“You gonna be a'right, then?” she asked.
Cosima peeled her face from the passenger side window and blinked at her sister. “Yeah. Yeah, we're gonna be fine. Why?”
“No reason.”
Sarah steered the car towards International Departures and sucked on her teeth.
“We will have personal security from the moment we arrive in Baghdad,” Delphine assured her. “It's a highly reviewed company, personally recommended by our contacts both here and abroad.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sarah rubbed her nose some more and the airport itself came into view. “I would feel a bit better if Helena went along with you, though, to be honest.”
Cosima laughed and imagined Helena following them around the Middle East. Hell, just getting her through airport security would be a trick to write home about. Putting a hand on Sarah's shoulder, Cosima said, “Do not worry about us. We're okay with what we have, and Helena needs to stay here with her boys. And don't go reading too many news stories about the places we're going to, either.”
Sarah laughed. “Not often someone accuses me of reading too much. Anyway, it's not me. It's the kids, reading up on every place you two go off to. I've got Alison on my case, too, telling me every little horror story she sees online –”
“Yes, we've heard,” Delphine cut in. “She's been on our cases, too.”
“She's calmed down recently, though,” Cosima added.
“And Art,” Sarah went on, like the words were being pushed from her body against her will. “He's coming to me every week with some other story he heard from one of the translators about someone's brother getting his head cut off, or somebody's sister being sold off to IS for God knows what. It's not like I just can't listen, Cos.”
The car wound its way into the departures lane and down the alphabet of airlines as everyone thought about what Sarah had said. Aer Lingus, Air Canada, Air France...
“Well,” Cosima said, “just remember, and tell everybody else this, too, that the stuff that makes the news, and the stories people tell, are the exceptions. I mean, yeah, obviously it happens, but not every day. Aid workers go in and out of Iraq and Syria every day without getting any more than a paper cut or a couple of nasty pimples.”
“We're being careful,” Delphine added. “We're being very careful.”
Sarah made a face. “Right.”
Five minutes later, Sarah pulled up to the curb near the Turkish Airlines sign. There were hugs and promises to call once they'd arrived in Baghdad, and as Cosima and Delphine went inside with their suitcases and bags, Sarah leaned against her car and watched them go.
Inside, the check-in process was smooth and the security checks predictable, and when they settled into the airport-standard restaurant close to their terminal, they still had thirty minutes before boarding their plane. They sat sipping water and nibbling on what passed for a “harvest salad,” and Cosima watched the other late-night fliers going by while Delphine did her daily social media Leda check, twelve hours later than she usually did.
“You did yours, then?” she asked Cosima.
“Yeah, at lunch time. You were kinda busy trying to remember that pool noodles aren't sentient, though, so you get a pass.” Cosima kissed Delphine's cheek, then her lips. It would be weeks, or possibly months, before she could that in public again. “You were super cute the whole time, though, fyi.”
Delphine grunted and resumed flipping through status updates of new bikinis, inspirational quotes, and cute babies.
“By the way, didn't Gabriela call you last night?”
“You mean while you were baked out of your mind and climbing all over my sister?”
Delphine looked like she had a retort coming, but just rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
Cosima giggled and squeezed her fiancée's arm to show no ill will. “Yeah, apparently her husband's divorcing her. Guess he was only in it as a monitor, and he was kind of convinced they could have kids, but when that obviously didn't happen, he peaced out.”
“Hm.” If Delphine had any thoughts or comments about being a monitor herself, she kept them to herself. Her thumb hovered over her Facebook feed. “Look at this.”
“What's up?”
The post Delphine pointed to was in Hebrew, and the picture beneath it showed a hand with an IV going into it.
“Oh, shit,” Cosima whispered.
“It's Avigail Chernev,” Delphine said. “One of the Israelis. It's the first time she's posted anything in almost a year.”
Cosima scooted her chair over to get a better view. “Is that her hand? For sure?”
“I assume so. It looks like yours.”
Cosima held her own hand up next to the picture on the phone and squinted. “I'll take your word for that. You are, like, the Leda expert at this point.”
Delphine's eyebrows twitched. “Yes, I suppose I am. You're still my favorite, though.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
Delphine took a screenshot of the Facebook post and emailed it to David Margolis, their Hebrew translator and Israeli cultural guide based back in Toronto. They would translate it themselves, too, with Google, but David's translations were more accurate and nuanced, and he could more easily match up the texts with others he had on file for both Israeli Ledas.
“There's WiFi on the plane, at least,” Delphine went on, “we'll need to monitor this pretty closely.”
Despite the severity of the situation, Cosima smirked. “Did you seriously just say monitor? Even after what I said about Gabriela's husband?”
Delphine stuck her tongue out and copy/ pasted Avigail's status into Google translate. In a second, the English side read Third treatment of the week, here we hope we can cure it soon!
“Third of the week, shit,” Cosima murmured. She pulled up a map of the Middle East on her phone and measured the distance between Baghdad and Tel Aviv. It was a hell of a lot closer than Toronto, but they weren't exactly next door neighbors. And then there was the whole messy political situation.
Meanwhile, Delphine pulled the Europe and the Middle East notebook from her carry-on bag. She flipped through it and tapped her finger on the first Israeli entry.
Avigail Chernev, born 11 June, 1984, in Bet Shemesh, current residence Tel Aviv Monitor as of 2016 – Daniel Fridman Primary care physician as of 2016 – Dr. Joseph Blachar [two msg sent by D.Cormier via D.Margolis, no replies] Social media contacts attempted 21 July, 3 September, and 4 December – no response
Delphine added a line about today's Facebook post on the otherwise empty page that stood in sharp contrast to the information-crowded pages on either side. The page before detailed the medical history and social media habits of Lonah Gerbi, the clone in Haifa they had already made an appointment to treat. Delphine tapped Lonah's page.
“We're not scheduled to be in Israel until the end of May,” she said. “Eight weeks from now.”
“Right, and we scheduled Lonah's treatment after all these other countries for a reason.”
She checked the time. They had fifteen minutes until boarding their plane to Istanbul, where they had a five hour lay-over before flying on to Baghdad. Baghdad, of course, being in one of the many countries with restrictions on travelers who'd had their passports stamped in Israel. Then she looked at Avigail's hand again. Third treatment in one week. Failed treatments, almost certainly, probably radiation or some kind of chemotherapy. The side effects alone probably kept her from working or taking care of her family or whatever else she would have been doing otherwise, and it was quite likely that the treatments had actually hastened the disease's progression, as it had in Jennifer Fitzsimmons.
“She can't wait until May,” Cosima said. “None of the other clones in the Middle East have shown these kinds of symptoms.”
“That we know of.”
She nodded. “That we know of.” Of course. More than once before had a Leda stayed quiet and private right up until she was dying, and only then did Delphine and Cosima hear anything about it. Desperation brought people out of hiding. Or, in the case of Nooran in Djibouti, brought the attention of enough people to point Cosima and Delphine in the right direction.
Delphine was watching her with those big doe eyes, waiting for her to say something, but the decision was obvious.
“I'll email the airline from the plane,” Cosima said. “Change the flight from Istanbul to Tel Aviv instead of Baghdad.”
Delphine's face didn't change, though. She licked her lips. “We still have to cure the others, though. Even if they don't have symptoms, we still have to – ”
“Oh, for sure, we're curing them, too. But we have to get to Avigail first.”
“Yes, but – ”
The airport announcement gong sounded, announcing preboarding to Turkish Airlines Flight XXX bound for Istanbul. They packed up their things, threw away their trash, and went to loiter near the gate with everyone else. At this hour, the crowd of passengers was quiet, mostly businessmen buried in their phones or newspapers.
“What if,” Cosima offered, “we just ask them not to stamp our passports in Tel Aviv?”
Delphine snorted. “Yes, certainly. Have you ever tried telling a passport controller what to do?”
“Not yet, no.”
“Well, I don't think it's a very good idea.”
Some of the businessmen looked up from their devices to listen to the only conversation happening, but the announcer called for first class boarding, so Cosima and Delphine hoisted their bags back onto their shoulders and got on the plane.
Once they were in their seats, enjoying the perks of the frequent flyer program, Cosima said, “Maybe someone else can go to Israel. Cure the Israelis, and we finish up the rest of the Middle East.”
“It's an idea,” Delphine agreed.
Cosima pulled out her phone and texted Scott while the coach passengers filed past.
A minute later, though, that idea was shot. I'd love to, he replied, but I can't take that kind of time off work. We have a big project right now.
She swore under her breath but typed, Okay, thx anyway
The faces of Clone Club flashed before her eyes, and she imagined all of them in lab coats in an Israeli clinic, syringe in hand. Art, Sarah, Alison, Helena, ... None of them fit that image. None of them had experience putting needles in people. Well, Helena might, but she probably wasn't used to aiming the needles with the intention of helping, and she had none of the other necessary skills for this endeavor.
She tapped on her phone until the crew directed them to turn off their devices, and held Delphine's hand as Toronto faded away below them. When the city was entirely gone behind clouds, she turned to Delphine and said, “Rachel would do it. She gave me my treatment, and she knows clone stuff.”
“And she is completely inaccessible to anyone who wants to contact her.”
“And there's that. Fuck.”
Once the fasten seatbelt sign was off, they both had their laptops out, emailing everyone on the Clone Club listserv for ideas and support. David Margolis confirmed their translation of Avigail's status and offered to reach out to her in Hebrew for them, which Delphine replied would be very helpful. Delphine posted a notification on the Foundation's website, just in case Rachel happened to be checking in from wherever she was. Cosima's Google searches confirmed that, indeed, for most of the countries they would be traveling to in the next two months, entrance was denied to anyone who'd been to Israel.
After thirty minutes, though, Cosima found herself staring into space at the shadowy clouds moving below them, forgetting what the hell she'd been typing, or starting one sentence and finishing it with another thought entirely. Beside her, Delphine kept trying to hide her yawns.
“It's after midnight,” Cosima said, dropping her head on Delphine's shoulder. “Maybe one of us should get some rest.”
Delphine kissed her forehead. “You go ahead. I'm used to working late.”
“And I'm not, is that what you're saying?”
“Mmm, yes. You work late, of course, but not like this.”
“Not on an airplane.”
“Correct.”
*
Delphine was right. Something about traveling had this way of knocking Cosima right out. Maybe the sound of a motor, steady total-body vibration, and occasional rocking back and forth made her feel safe, like she was six years old again and her parents were taking care of everything.
When she woke up, the window shade was closed and Delphine's light travel blanket was tucked around her shoulders. To her right, Delphine dozed with her arms across her chest and her head tipped to one side, laptop still open on her tray. The rest of the cabin was bathed in daylight and a flight attendant went down the aisle announcing the last call for beverages or snacks. According to her phone, it was 7:20 in the morning, but when she raised the shade the sun was well above the horizon.
Right. If it was 7:20 am in Toronto, it was 2:20 pm in Istanbul, and they were scheduled to land at 3:15.
She opened her laptop, trying not to jostle Delphine as she checked the clone business email. Five new messages.
Art said he would look into it but made no promises, which could really apply to most of the emails they'd exchanged with him over the past year.
David Margolis forwarded both Cosima and Delphine the email chain with Avigail Chernev, her medical team, and himself. Avigail's primary doctor right now, it said, was a Dr. Ada Bronstein, and both she and Avigail were excited about the possibility of a new treatment option.
There was an email from her mother, linking to an article about a suicide bombing in Basra and begging Cosima to be careful while she was over there.
Her advisor at U Minn sent her a list of epigentics conferences that Cosima “really should consider presenting at.”
And to her surprise, Rebecca Twell replied to Cosima's mass email, saying she was so sorry to hear that another of their identicals was ill, but Rebecca could not take off that kind of time, either, and regardless she did not feel comfortable administering any kind of medical treatment to anyone. She ended her email with a reminder that if and when Cosima and Delphine made it to Scotland, they should absolutely drop by for a pint.
Cosima went back up to the email chain and tapped Dr. Bronstein's number into her phone. That five-hour lay-over coming up in Istanbul was starting to feel awfully short.
*
At Istanbul Atatürk Airport, they got microwaved sandwiches and juice from Starbucks and found a terminal waiting area with no one else sitting in it, so they could spread out over several seats and the floor, charging everything that needed electricity. Delphine exchanged more emails with David Margolis and Avigail's medical team, and compared her symptoms with notes in the MEDICAL notebook that listed all observed symptoms and treatments with side effects.
Cosima called everyone, starting with Adele. Alphabetical order seemed as good as any order right now.
Adele answered with a dynamic yawn. “Oh, hey, Puddin' Pie, how are you doin'? How's Delphine, more to the point? She back from her brownie trip yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, she's good,” Cosima said. “Did you get our email?”
“Huh? No, I haven't checked yet. Why, what's up?”
While Cosima explained the situation, Adele responded with various “uh huh,” “yeah,” or “well shit.” When Cosima finished, Adele laughed. “Oh, honey, I wish I could help you. I really do. But heroin is the one drug I will never, ever touch. Needles skeeve the hell outta me. I stick to drugs that go into holes my body already has.”
Cosima had not said anything about heroin, but she laughed for Adele's sake and said, “Okay, that's cool. That's, uh, probably for the best, actually.”
“Yeah. Hey, have you tried Colin, though? He's gotta have some skills there, right?”
“Uh, not yet. I don't have his contact info, actually. Do you?”
“No, but you know who does.”
Felix picked up on the third ring. “You want Colin's phone number? What for?”
“For the stuff I emailed you about. Did you get our email?”
“I mean, I skimmed it. I've only been up for about 30 minutes. Why? You still haven't found anybody?”
“No. Colin's, like, potentially our last hope.”
Felix muttered something unintelligible, but a moment later produced the number for her, and listened as she read it back to him. “He won't go, though,” Felix added. “I'm certain of that.”
“Why's that?”
“Well, first of all, he's hates flying. He's only flown once, and that was to Calgary ten years ago. He doesn't even have a passport.”
“He doesn't...?” She had forgotten that people could even exist in the world without a passport. “Wow.”
“So, feel free to call him. Tell him that I'm not pining away in his absence, and that he's much more attractive when his head's not shoved up his own arse.”
“You know, I think I'll let you tell him all of those things, and I'll just stick to clone business, okay?”
She called Colin and left a message, and checked the message that had dinged while she was talking to Felix. A picture greeted her at the tap of her thumb: the main room of Nooran's apartment in Djibouti, with the girls and Mohammed, the younger boy, sitting around a folding table that had not been there when Cosima last visited. On the table were the art supplies Cosima and Delphine had given them, and each of the younger children held up a piece of artwork to show off. Fatima sat the farthest from the camera, and she held a book close to her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. The table wasn't the only new item in the photo – a calendar and a flag decorated the wall, and a drying rack laden with laundry snuck into view in the lower right corner. The cell phone used to take the picture must have been new, too, since the family had not had one before.
While Cosima studied the picture, distracted for a moment from Avigail's troubles in Israel, another message popped up, this time showing Nabil taking a selfie with his siblings in the background. Tapping Delphine to get her attention, Cosima took a picture of them together, Delphine smiling and Cosima making a face, and sent it to the kids.
“They are such good kids,” Cosima remarked. “We gotta see if we can keep helping them out, somehow.”
“Mmhm.” Delphine's attention was already back on the task at hand. “Julian can't go. Neither can any of my other medical contacts, including the doctors we know are aware of the cloning situation. All of them are busy, uninterested, or no longer reachable at their former email addresses. I texted Ali, even, from Tripoli, but he's tied up for the rest of the month, apparently.”
“Why Ali? He doesn't have medical training.”
“No, but I thought maybe he could at least transport the cure to Avigail's doctors for us. They could administer it, I expect, on their own, although I haven't confirmed that with them.”
“Oh, yeah. That is a good idea.” She texted Clone Club back with that idea – not to treat, but to transport. Anyone could do that. Anyone that didn't need to go to any of the Muslim-majority Middle Eastern countries that Cosima and Delphine needed to go to, that is.
Colin called back at 4:23 pm Istanbul time. “I'm sorry, you want me to do what, now?” he asked.
She gave the spiel again. “And you're really our last hope.”
“Why can't you do it?”
“Because once we get an Israeli stamp, all these other countries won't let us in. It's geopolitical bullshit.”
Colin exhaled into the receiver. “I don't think you understood my question. Why can't just one of you go, and the other one go to all the other countries? I mean, there are two of you, right?”
Cosima bit her tongue and pushed her hand into the top of her head. “Well, for starters, all the people we're curing look exactly like me. Haven't you noticed? We're clones. It's gonna be pretty weird for me to look all of them in the eye before treating them.”
There was another heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “And you can't futz your way around that for one dying woman? Wear colored contacts or something? Seems like it'd be pretty easy. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”
Felix's last comment about the location of Colin's head came to mind, but Cosima said, “Just trust me. It's not the best idea.”
“Well, I haven't got any other ideas for you. I am not flying to Israel for you. I am not sticking a syringe into a woman I've never met for you. I am not going to deliver biological material that I have not personally inspected to a doctor I've never met for you. I don't even work with the living, remember? I sure as hell don't speak Hebrew.”
“That part really doesn't matter. Think about it, at least?”
“Yeah, maybe. But I'm not changing my mind.”
Just go yourself. She could change her appearance somehow and treat both Israeli Ledas while Delphine was in Iraq, but then Delphine would be in Iraq all by herself. And several weeks after that, Delphine would have to go to Syria all by herself, because Cosima would not be allowed in either of those countries.
Cosima made her way down her contacts lists and called everyone she hadn't already talked to, to see if they or anyone else they knew would be willing to pick up the job. Some people she called again, just in case.
“We'll sort something out,” Sarah assured her after coming up with no new ideas. “I already gave Art a call.”
Cosima even called her mother.
“Oh, Sweetie, I'd love to help,” her mother said, her voice heavy with sleep, “but I am completely unqualified for that kind of work. Even though you know your grandma's been trying to send me to Israel for decades, like with that Birthright program, you know, but for older adults instead of teenagers? Anyway, Israel would be great, but I really just can't go treating someone's illness. I'd probably do it wrong and make everything worse. I'd stick the needle in the wrong organ or something. I work with fish, not people.”
“Well, maybe you could just bring the cure into the country, then? Drop it off and take a week to see the sights.”
“Oh I can't. I'm having bunion surgery tomorrow. Did I tell you that?”
Bunyan surgery. Great. “Uh, no,” Cosima said. “You didn't. How 'bout you send me an email all about it, huh? I have to make some other calls. Unless you think your podiatrist might want to go to Israel for us?”
Sally laughed. “No, but she is Jewish, and I think she's been before. Hey, why don't you just mail it? The treatment, I mean? It's all sealed up, isn't it? You'd have to pay extra, but I don't think that's a big issue.”
Cosima could have kicked herself for not thinking of that earlier, but still, the idea didn't sit well with her. She and Delphine made a point to personally carry the treatment whenever they travelled specifically because they didn't trust anyone else with it. When she floated the idea to Delphine, Delphine's face mimicked her own.
“I mean, it's possible,” Delphine conceded. “But certainly not ideal.”
“I don't know how many other options we have, though.”
She shook her head. “Not very many. None that I like very much. We have a phone conference with Dr. Bronstein in about ten minutes, though, so we can always run it by her, see what she thinks.” Delphine checked her watch and muttered “putain” under her breath before winding the little knob to get in sync with local time. “It's very last minute, of course. I was afraid we might have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her, and, like we've been saying, Avigail doesn't have much time left. Dr. Bronstein seems willing to do whatever it takes, though.”
In the time before their phone conference, Alison called, and after a moment of checking in, repeated Colin's suggestion. “I don't know why you don't just go over there yourself, Cosima. You and Delphine are the only ones who have any experience with this. Put a surgical mask on and no one will notice you look the same.”
Cosima bit her tongue. “So you don't know anyone who could step in and help us out? No one at all?”
“No one who I'm willing to out myself to by sending them to Israel to treat one of my clones, no. Just go! You can rejoin Delphine when she's finished treating all our sisters in those... other countries. Or, you know, like I've been saying all along, you can just split the work and get it all done in half the time.”
“Alison,” Cosima began, “People recognize me. They recognize that I look like other people. Don't you remember how you felt way back when Beth first contacted you, first said you were a clone...”
Delphine nudged her before she could continue. “Dr. Bronstein's calling.”
“Gotta go, Alison. We'll talk soon, yeah?” She hung up before Alison could say anything else, and popped in Delphine's left earbud so she could participate in the conversation without annoying the few other passengers now camping out in the waiting area with them. Cosima took a deep breath to center herself and switch her brain from Sestra mode to professional mode as Delphine gave Dr. Bronstein a warm greeting.
“Yes, hello to both of you,” Dr. Bronstein said with a voice that reminded Cosima of character from Downton Abbey. “It's so felicitous that you've found us. I'm afraid Ms. Chernev's prognosis is quite poor at this point.”
“Yes, that's my understanding, as well,” Delphine said. “She knows that you're in contact with us, yes?”
“Oh yes, I've just spoken with her and her family, and Ms. Chernev has signed the agreement allowing me to discuss her condition with you and your translator, Mr. Margolis. I believe a PDF of the agreement has been emailed to you, as well.”
Cosima didn't see it right away, but considering everything else they were doing to save the Ledas, she wasn't too worried about a single release of information form.
“So, Dr. Bronstein, can you give us another quick run-down of Avigail's symptoms and prognosis so far?” she said.
“Well, she's been in my care for almost two years,” Dr. Bronstein told them, “starting with lung polyps that remain and have no clear cause.” She went on to give every symptom of the disease, and all the attempted treatments. Avigail had had numerous seizures that resisted the effects of anti-convulsant medications, and she'd been on oxygen full-time for the past year. Her doctors had tried every treatment that Cosima would expect them to and then some. Avigail had lost her hair and now weighed only forty-one kilograms. Her vision was spotty, She had difficulty swallowing. She was jaundiced. Her kidneys failed almost a year ago, and she was on dialysis, but the rest of her health conditions kept her off the kidney transplant list.
“Anyway,” Dr. Bronstein concluded, “I don't know exactly how you've found us, but any help you can offer is incredibly welcome. We don't know how much time she has left, since we've never seen something like this before, but, well, to be honest, it might not be very much time at all. Her family's been advised to help her get her things in order.”
Cosima hung on every word Dr. Bronstein said, picturing the cells and tissues and organs, and the woman lying on the hospital bed. “Third treatment this week,” she'd said, just that morning, on her Facebook page. The understatement of the century, it seemed. If nothing else, Avigail's attitude seemed positive.
“I'm glad she has her family with her,” Cosima said.
While Dr. Bronstein gave a standard sort of agreement, Delphine put her arm around Cosima's waist and held her tight, until an airport employee walked by and gave them a double take, and Cosima scooted away. On her own cell phone she typed We're in Turkey again, babe and showed it to Delphine. There could be no public displays of affection here.
“So, Dr. Bronstein,” Cosima said, “we've actually seen this condition a few times before, and we're very interested in treating Avigail if she'll let us, but, um –”
“Yes, that's what your colleague said in her email. How soon can you get here?” She laughed, and Cosima had a mental image of large front teeth.
“Well, that's just the thing,” Cosima began. “We'd love to get there as soon as possible, but –”
“–but we're also going to a lot of other countries in the region,” Delphine finished when Cosima's hand flapping indicated she needed help.
“I see,” Dr. Bronstein said.
“For the same purpose,” Delphine went on, “and our understanding is that we're not allowed into those countries after we've been to Israel.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Cosima and Delphine exchanged a long look. In her research, Cosima had run across another interesting fact – people who visited Palestine were occasionally not allowed to enter Israel, unless they were Israeli citizens. She'd made a mental note of that and moved on, since they didn't plan to visit Palestine, but now she dredged it back out.
“For what it's worth, Dr. Bronstein, we're traveling exclusively for medical purposes. We really have no interest in anyone's political positions. We just want to cure these women. And, again, for whatever it's worth, we are not planning to go to Palestine. We haven't heard of any patients there with this condition.”
“Oh! Hahaha...” Dr. Bronstein chuckled. “No, no, I was thinking more of our patient here. You see, I've reached out to other doctors, and no one has any idea, either, so I'm simply surprised, ehm, surprised that you've had so much experience. That's all. And, worried, quite frankly. I am quite worried about what will happen if she is not treated soon.”
“Well, we have the treatment with us,” Delphine said. “We could send it to you.”
“With you? As in...?”
“As in, we're sitting next to it right now,” Cosima said. “But we're worried that if we bring it over, we won't be allowed into some of the other countries that we really need to get into.”
“I see. Well, one of you could come and the other could go to the other countries. Or not?”
That idea again. The worst part was that it was right. It would be the easiest solution. It would also be the absolute worst one.
“Yes,” Delphine acknowledged, “that is one of our possibilities, but we'd prefer not to travel alone if at all possible. I'm sure you understand.”
“Well, where else are you going, exactly?”
Delphine pulled up the itinerary she had save on her laptop. “Iraq, later today. Iran, Kuwait, Turkey, Lebanon, Syria...” Below Syria on the list were Jordan and Israel, followed by the European countries, but the noises Dr. Bronstein was making on the other end of the phone interrupted that flow.
“You're going to Syria?” Dr. Bronstein exclaimed. “Have you really found a patient there in such dire straights that you must absolutely go into that blazing inferno to treat them?”
Dire straights was putting it rather dramatically for most of the Ledas at the moment, since less than twenty percent had developed visible symptoms, but that was beside the point. “Yes,” Delphine said. “We have. She may have more time than Avigail, but we don't know how much.”
“Well, you certainly are dedicated,” Dr. Bronstein said. “You're not going to Jordan, then? It's a bit more peaceful.
“We are,” Cosima said. “After Syria.”
“I see. I was going to tell you that entering Jordan and Egypt is often easier after a trip to Israel than some of the other countries are, so you may consider going there instead.”
Cosima leaned her head back against the wall. That was not the point. “We'll keep that in mind, thank you.”
“About our other suggestion, though,” Delphine said, “about us mailing you the treatments. There would be five vials, all properly secured, with extensive instructions --”
“Erm, I don't know about that. You've administered this treatment to other women, you say?”
“Yes, more than a hundred of them.”
“Oh! Well, I can't think of anyone better qualified, then, to administer than yourself. I wouldn't feel completely comfortable no matter how extensive your instructions are, if I knew that there was someone better qualified to do it. And I assure you, Tel Aviv is quite safe. You don't need to worry about traveling alone here.”
Dr. Bronstein probably had a reassuring smile on her face, but Cosima's stomach continued the drop it had started twelve hours earlier. If Avigail's main doctor did not want to give her the cure herself, there wasn't much chance anyone else over there would, either.
“And if you're worried about the stamp,” the doctor went on, “I'm told that many tourists don't get their passports stamped at all. They have this little piece of paper they stamp for you instead. You can throw that away once you've left the country, if you like.”
Cosima and Delphine looked at each other. That changed everything. “Really?” Cosima asked.
“That's what I've been told. I'm a citizen, myself, so of course I've never been in that position.”
“It's worth a try,” Delphine said.
“Can we expect a visit, then?” Dr. Bronstein asked.
“We, euh, we need a few minutes to discuss it, privately,” Delphine told her. “May we call you back?”
“Of course. This is my mobile, so it shouldn't be any trouble.”
They got off the phone, and Cosima started pacing around. “If they just don't stamp it for anyone, we've been pulling our hair out for nothing. Not that I'm complaining, but, it would be suspiciously convenient.”
Delphine tapped away at her keyboard, then her eyes darted back and forth. “Other travelers back it up, actually.”
“Shit, we should've just put that in our Google search first. Here I was trying to see if I could tear the page out of my passport without anyone getting suspicious.”
Delphine leaned back against the wall, fingers resting on her keyboard. “You want to be the one to go, then?”
“I think it makes the most sense.”
Delphine nodded. “I agree. Just in case, you know.”
“In case they don't let me in anywhere else, after all. Which is still a possibility, I think.”
“I think so, too, but I don't know how much of one.”
Cosima thought of everything Dr. Bronstein had said about Avigail, about how she seemed to be staying alive out of sheet pluck while her body fell apart all around her. In the end, there really had been only one solution – this one. “Go ahead and call her back,” she told Delphine. “I can be there by tomorrow morning.”
*
A few hours later, after a visit to the ticketing agent, a phone call with Alison, two more phone calls and an email with Dr. Bronstein, and repacking of their carry-on bags, they stood together just outside the terminal for Delphine's departing flight to Baghdad, which she would take alone. Cosima's flight to Tel Aviv left in two more hours. Outside the terminal windows, the sun had set almost an hour ago, and each of them had several more waking hours ahead of them.
“Try to get some rest where you can,” Delphine told her. “You won't do Avigail any good if you're exhausted.”
“Yeah, I could say the same for you.”
“I have a little more time. The appointment isn't for another twenty-five hours.”
“Yeah, but you have to get to it.”
Outside on the tarmac, Delphine's Turkish Airlines plane pulled up to the extendable passenger bridge. Before it began discharging passengers, Cosima nudged Delphine and gestured towards the women's bathroom.
“Come on. Last chance for a little while.”
Delphine followed her into the largest stall and giggled as Cosima locked the door behind them. “You want to have sex in the bathroom? In ten minutes?”
Cosima made a face. “Not sex, no. Not smelling like this. Just...” She draped her arms around Delphine's neck and pulled her down for a long kiss. They stood together holding each other and kissing until passengers flooded the bathroom with their chatter, their laughter, their complaints, and a couple instances of explosive releases.
“I just wanted to kiss you again,” Cosima said. “It's gonna be a couple days till I can do it again.”
Delphine cupped Cosima's face in her left hand, stroking her earlobe with her pinky finger. “It's just a couple of days. I'll text you when I land, yeah?”
“Yeah. Same. I'll... I'll keep you abreast of all affairs.” Her terrible attempt at imitating Dr. Bronstein's accent made Delphine break into giggles again, but their moment was cut short by knocks on the stall door.
“We have to go,” Delphine whispered. She peppered Cosima's face with kisses and told her how much she loved her.
“I love you, too,” Cosima said, just before the knocking resumed with a bit more force. “Be safe, okay?”
“I will, I promise. You, as well.”
When they opened the door, they were greeted by a stout cleaning lady and a couple of curious travelers, all of whom expressed some version of “oh!” Delphine gave them her best smile and a cheery “Bonsoir!” as she and Cosima maneuvered their way through the people and back out into the main terminal.
And like every other flight they'd taken in this part of the world, Cosima did not hold Delphine's hand in the boarding line, or rest her head on Delphine's shoulder. For those other flights, though, Cosima had still been beside her, and now she wasn't. She stood by the departures board and watched her fiancée move through the line of almost exclusively Middle Eastern travelers and get her ticket checked. Just before rounding the corner onto the passenger bridge, Delphine turned and paused. She smiled and gave Cosima a tiny air kiss, then made her way down the hall and out of sight.
* * *
Four hours later, standing in line at Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv, Cosima flicked through her messages. Delphine had arrived safely in Baghdad an hour before and was suitably exhausted. She said the security escort was working out fine. Cosima texted her love and sent another message to Dr. Bronstein saying that she was waiting for passport control.
Wonderful! Dr. Bronstein replied. I will retrieve you personally and deliver you to our guest house. I am the tall thin woman in the burgundy jacket, but I also have your name on a sign, so we should have no trouble at all finding each other.
In the next message, Alison assured her that “the Jewish family who lives down the street” had been to Israel and never gotten their passports stamped in Tel Aviv, and they'd never had an issue visiting any other countries. She did not, however, specify which other countries they had tried to visit. See? Alison went on, I told you this would work out just fine.
Scott texted her that one of his Muslim coworkers had tried visiting Israel a few years ago, but got turned away at the border with Jordan. But that shouldn't be a problem for you, Scott said.
The line inched forward. A baby cried. A man bragged to a woman about the ultra marathon he'd run in Israel last year. A little boy whined about being hungry. And Cosima swayed on her feet with no one to lean against.
It was after one in the morning when Cosima finally reached the passport control window. She gave the uniformed man behind the glass her best smile and handed over her passport, open to the picture page.
“Miss Niehaus?” he clarified, winning top marks as one of very few people who got the pronunciation right on the first try. He spent longer than any other passport official ever had comparing her face to her picture, confirmed her date of birth and residence, and asked how long she planned to stay in Israel.
“Two weeks,” she said. They'd made the mistake way back in Ecuador of being vague but honest about how long they would stay, so now they gave a nice firm, if wrong, time frame right up front. He nodded and began flipping through the passport, slowing down after a few fully-stamped pages.
“Um, actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I could get one of those stamps pieces of paper instead?”
He glanced up at her and resumed his exploration of her travel history. “You go a lot of places, Miss Niehaus.”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
He clucked his tongue. “Very many places. Mexico. Argentina. Oman. Libya. Saudi Arabia.” He looked up at her with a frown. “And you have visas for Iran, Syria, and Iraq. You plan to visit them later?”
“Yes, well, you see, that's why I'm kind of hoping you might stamp a different paper instead, because they might not let me in if I have your stamp, and well, you know.” She smiled and held up her hands in a “what're you gonna do” gesture, to show that it wasn't his fault politics were all fucked up.
He did not smile. He leaned over, picked up the phone receiver, and mumbled into it. When he hung up, he gestured for Cosima to step to the left. “Stand aside, please, Miss Niehaus.”
“Oh. Okay, sure. Um, can I have my –”
The officer handed her passport to a tall man in a gray uniform who approached and looked her up and down, one hand on the strap of his rifle.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered.
*
The room they took her to was tiny, with a long table on one side and two metal chairs on the other. A uniformed woman directed her to remove her boots, jacket, belt, and all of her jewelry. She then gave Cosima the most thorough pat down Cosima had gotten from anyone other than Delphine. While that went on, an middle aged woman (Soldier? Guard? Border officer?) sat in one of the metal chairs. The man who'd taken Cosima's passport placed her bags on the long table, and he handed the passport to the second woman, who set a recorder with a blinking red light on the table.
“Sit,” the woman told Cosima. “Take your hair down.”
Cosima did so, and the younger woman worked her fingers down the length of every one of Cosima's dreadlocks.
“It's okay, I left the explosive hair pins at home,” Cosima snarked when the hair inspection was about halfway done.
The younger woman paused for a moment. “No jokes, please.”
So Cosima sat quietly while the man opened up her bags, setting the electronics to one side, and the older woman looked through her passport. Maybe it was her exhaustion seeping through, but the more she watched them working, the more they reminded her of General Leia Organa and Kylo Ren from the new Star Wars movies.
The officer Cosima now mentally called General Organa began the conversation. “So Miss Niehaus, what brings you to Israel?”
She had practiced professional answer for that. “It's a medical trip. There's a patient here who's arranged for us, I mean, for me to come and treat her.”
“What's the patient's name?”
“Uh, that's confidential. Patient confidentially's very important to us.”
“Who's us?”
“The Sadler and Daughter's Foundation. Their information is on a card in my purse.”
The Kylo Ren guard emptied her purse onto the table and fished around in her things until he got the little stack of business cards, which he handed to the General.
General Organa arched an eyebrow. “So you're based in Toronto, but hold a US passport. Where will you be treating this patient?”
“At the Tel Aviv Medical Center.” When the General put the cards back on the table, Cosima added, “I have an appointment there first thing in the morning, and our patient's life really depends on me being there.”
As if on cue, Cosima's phone rang, vibrating its way in a little circle on the metal table next to her laptop.
“That's probably my contact at the hospital,” Cosima said. “She was supposed to pick me up here.”
No one moved to hand her the phone, but they waited until it stopped ringing to speak again. “And who is this contact?” the General asked.
That part was not exactly confidential. “Dr. Ada Bronstein. I can give you her contact information.”
“Please do. We also need to search your email addresses and your mobile phone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Failure to comply will jeopardize your chances of entering the country.” The General gestured to the male guard, who handed the laptop and the cell phone over to Cosima.
“Unlock these,” he said.
Unlocking her phone, she saw that, indeed, Dr. Bronstein had called her, and sent a text message inquiring about her whereabouts. “Can I just respond to these real quick?” Cosima asked.
General Organa frowned up at her, but did not say no, so Cosima sent a quick text. They're asking me a lot of questions. Then the young female guard took her cell phone and the General took her laptop. While they poked and prodded, Kylo Ren continued his search of Cosima's carry-on bag.
“I hope you like all the pictures of my fiancée,” Cosima muttered to the guard scrolling through her cell phone.
There was no reaction from the guards to her statement. Kylo Ren, though, held up the case containing the Avigail's cure, and Cosima sat bolt upright.
“What's this?” he asked.
“That's the medicine we use to treat people.”
“What is the chemical composition?”
At this point, it must have been close to two o'clock in the morning local time. Cosima's hands and legs were trembling, and biting her tongue got harder with every question they asked. Still, miraculously, she did not give the chemical composition as “the cum I scraped off your mom's face last night, bitch” but rather gave the actual breakdown of materials in each vial. The guard's face glazed over after five words or so, but the little recorder on the desk blinked away, and someone listening certainly knew what she was talking about.
“Where was it manufactured?” Kylo Ren asked.
“Toronto, Canada.”
“Where exactly?”
“The basement of a comic book shop. The Rabbit Hole.” She waved at her laptop. “Look it up. There's a picture of it on our Foundation's website.”
General Organa leaned forward on her chair. “You have been asked a serious question, Ms. Niehaus. If you wish to enter the country, I strongly suggest that you take this process seriously.”
Cosima's voice trembled and she dug her fingers into her palms. “Dude, I am as a serious as a fucking heart attack. There is a woman here in Tel Aviv who needs that medicine to survive. You can call her doctor if you don't believe me. Her number is in my phone.”
“That won't be necessary.”
Cosima bit her lip and struggled not to cry. She was in the habit of not drinking much in the last hour of any plane ride, in case she couldn't use a bathroom anytime soon after landing. The habit came in handy now, but her throat was dry and the blood vessels in her head throbbed, and crying wouldn't make any of that better. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Can I at least know why you're holding me? Or, like, your names or anything? Badge numbers?”
In college, when she participated in far more political protests, she'd had the whole spiel of what to say to cops memorized. But that was years ago, and she hadn't been exhausted or desperate to save someone else's life.
The young female guard came around in front of her and held Cosima's phone up so the screen was a foot away from Cosima's nose. “Who are they?” she demanded.
Cosima put her glasses back on to see the picture of Nabil and his siblings around their new kitchen table. “Friends. Their aunt is a friend of mine.”
The guard handed the phone to her superior and looked down at Cosima with a face that had switched from professional indifference to outright contempt. “Where are they?”
“Djibouti. Why, you wanna call them, too? Wake them up in the middle of the night?”
The General's body language also changed when she saw the picture. “How do you know these children?”
“I just told you, they're my friend's nieces and nephews.”
“What friend?”
“A friend in Djibouti. She was also a patient of mine, and the kids are in her custody.”
The General shoved the image closer to Cosima's face. “Those children are not Djiboutian. They are Arab.”
If she had been less tired, Cosima would have rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you got me, they're from Yemen. They're refugees. You might be aware that there's a bit of a refugee situation, like, fucking, globally right now, right?”
“Well, that's a bit closer to the truth, finally.” The General pointed to Nabil's selfie, not to his smiling face but to the wall of their apartment, where a green flag with white swords decorated the drab brown and gray. “What symbol is that, Ms. Niehaus?”
“I...” She looked again, with the feeling of being dropped into the most important geography pop quiz of her life. The flag looked Saudi Arabian, but the swords pointed up more, and there was a book between the sword tips that wasn't present on the Saudi flag. The flag wasn't Djiboutian, Egyptian, Algerian, or any other country she recognized, either. “I have no fucking clue. I'm sure you have a specialist somewhere in Tel Aviv who can answer that question for you, though.”
“Smart ass,” Kylo Ren muttered, shaking out her underwear once piece at a time.
“Ms. Niehaus,” the General said, “I suggest you give us a very good explanation for this photo, right away, or I shall have to deny your entry into our country, not only for today, but for the next ten years at the very least.”
Tears fell from Cosima's eyes before she could speak. So much for not crying. “What the fucking hell,” she whispered into her hands. “Please,” she said, looking at the General and opening crying now, “they're just kids. They're good kids. Their parents are dead. I don't know what the flag means. They probably don't know, either. For fuck's sake half of them can barely read! This has nothing to do with Israel, or, or with anything else! Just let me cure my patient and leave! Then I swear to God I'll stay away for the next ten years or forever if you want me to!”
General Organa might have said more, but the door opened and a trim young officer stepped in and addressed her in Hebrew.
They stepped out together, leaving Cosima with her guards, staring at her belongings scattered across the table and quietly sobbing. Delphine would have been out of here by now. She would have said just the right things, had just the right whatever-the-fuck, and they would have let her in the country with no problems. But now, hopefully, Delphine was sleeping peacefully in a hotel bed, in a country that everyone had told them not to go into, and Cosima was this close to being denied entry into what Alison called “the only civilized country in the Middle East.”
Cosima had almost dozed off on the little metal chair when the door opened again and the General came in with Cosima's passport in her hand and a scowl on her face. “You're very lucky, Ms. Niehaus. We've been instructed to let you into the country without further delay. Get your things together, please.”
Keenly aware of the guns still pointed not exactly at her but certainly not away from her, Cosima stuffed everything back into her bags, only taking any care with her cell phone, her laptop, and the cure. She asked no questions and made no comments. Once she was finished, she turned and held out her hand for her passport, but instead, the guards led her back around to the passport control desk.
“Dr. Bronstein will meet you through those doors,” the General said, her voice dripping with disdain. Then she cut in front of the other people waiting to get into the country, went into the passport control booth, and stamped Cosima's passport with the Israeli travel visa.
#continuing travels of cophine#cophine fanfiction#cophine fanfic#orphan black fanfiction#fictional depiction of israel
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Mari Please Don't Do That
Set in a time where Aqours wasn’t a thing but guilty kiss are friends(chat is called guilty kiss cause yohane loves the thought of them three being called that).
(i came up with this while i was texting my two friends)
Guilty Kiss Group Chat
mari: riko i hear u goin out with you watanabe ;)
yoshiko: omg the swim captain??? tbh id go gay for watanabe too
riko: Guys! Yes its true I’m going out with You but its not a big deal!!!
mari: its a big deal :o
mari: its like yohane calling herself yoshiko!!!!!!!!!!
yoshiko: hey!!! i call myself yoshiko all the time
mari: totally
riko: Guys! Let’s get back on topic. Since I’m going out with You please don’t threaten her!
riko: Especially you Yocchan!
yoshiko: i would never
Private chat between Yoshiko and Mari
yoshiko: whos gonna distract riko while the other msg watanabe?
mari: u do it i can msg watanabe ill send screenshots :3c
Private Chat between Mari and You
mari: hey watanabe
you: this is ohara right?
mari: yep!! now lets get to the real stuff. u love riko right
you: of course i love her. why wouldnt i
mari: great now let me tell you now. Riko is mine and Yoshiko’s ray of sunshine. She’s basically like our own kid. If you hurt her you bet your ass is going to be beat the fuck up. now that the serious moment is over lets celebrate!!!!!
you: sure! when and where?
mari: come to roof!
Guilty Kiss Group Chat
mari: lets go to the roof guys!!
yoshiko: sure ill get riri
Afterwards, the trio went onto the roof to meet up with You. They had a party although Mari and You were kind of tense
Omake???
Private chat between You and Riko
you: baby i think ur friend ohara doesnt like me
riko: What do you mean?
you: Has sent a screenshot
riko: l’ll talk to her.
I’m pretty sure you can imagine what happened to Mari after.
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Image: Kathy Willens, File/AP PHOTO
Just as it was starting to seem like no one would agree to perform at Donald Trump’s presidential inauguration Jan. 20, it was announced that the Rockettes would be dancing at the event.
Some of the renowned dancers and other allies have started to post online about not wanting to perform for a man who has openly objectified women and has been accused of sexual assault.
In response, the Rockettes’ union, the American Guild of Variety Artists, was reportedly forcing all full-time Rockettes to perform at the inauguration, saying that boycotting the event would be “invalid.”
“It is a job, and all of you should consider it an honor, no matter who is being sworn in,” an email sent to the Rockettes by the American Guild of Variety Artists read.
Then, the Madison Square Garden Company, which produces the Rockettes shows, released a statement late this morning explaining that only those who choose to perform may do so.
.@MSG says “it is always their choice” in new statement on #Rockettes performing at Trump inauguration https://t.co/6CjiuSCFAG http://pic.twitter.com/gbDIrROqbW
Jackie Strause (@jackiedstrause) December 23, 2016
Mikyl Cordova of the MSG Company sent a statement to Mashable to further clarify.
“Women are never compelled to perform whether for regular performances or inaugurationswe had more Rockettes request to participate than there were spots,” she said.
SEE ALSO: ‘P*ssy grabbing’ threats are now a thing in Trump’s America
The change in stance might have been brought about by the increased attention to outspoken Rockettes voicing their protest to work the event on social media.
Rockette Phoebe Pearl wrote an Instagram post expressing her disdain about being forced to perform at Trump’s inauguration.
Image: PHOEBE PEARL/INSTAGRAMSCREENSHOT VIAnypost
Her post reads:
I usually dont use social media to make a political stand but I feel overwhelmed with emotion. Finding out that it has been decided for us that Rockettes will be performing at the Presidential inauguration makes me feel embarrassed and disappointed. The women I work with are intelligent and are full of love and the decision of performing for a man that stands for everything were against is appalling. I am speaking for just myself but please know that after we found out this news, we have been performing with tears in our eyes and heavy hearts #notmypresident
While Pearl says she is only speaking for herself, she implies that many of her fellow Rockettes feel similarly.
A former Rockette wrote an open letter, tweeted out by Ani Maeme, about how devastated she was to hear that Rockettes are being forced to perform.
@jenstatsky More details from former Rockette and contact info for Producers #Inauguration2017#January20th#SwampMonster#Rockettes http://pic.twitter.com/G05ydQmsr5
Animaeme (@animaeme) December 23, 2016
“The Rockettes are not just leggy, happy showgirls. They are dedicated, highly-trained, ridiculously hardworking WOMEN. I love what they stand for,” the former Rockette wrote. “And for them to be paraded in front of a man who has demonstrated a complete lack of respect for women (and has been accused of even worse), flies in the face of everything the women of The Rockettes actually are.”
She continued by urging those in support of the Rockettes to contact the Madison Square Garden Company and the AGVA.
Many who believe the Rockettes shouldn’t have to perform shared their thoughts on social media.
Hey @RadioCity, Don’t force the Rockettes to perform when they despise even the mention of Trump’s name. Don’t do it. #inauguration
steven pasquale (@StevePasquale) December 23, 2016
As a performer in SAG-AFTRA & Equity, I place faith in my union to support me if my work place is unsafe. #AGVA, do your part w/ @Rockettes.
happy sparksidays (@kyliesparks) December 23, 2016
By saying that all full timers are required to perform at the inauguration, the AGVA is suggesting that their employment will be terminated if they do not comply.
However, MSG’s statement means that the social media outrage against this situation was actually productive, since the full time Rockettes are now no longer required to perform at the inauguration. It also presents a new twist: that many of the Rockettes are willing to perform for Trump.
You can read the full email that BroadwayWorld released from “a high-ranking member” of the American Guild of Variety Artists’ administration sent to the Rockettes below:
We have received an email from a Rockette expressing concern about getting “involved in a dangerous political climate” but I must remind you that you are all employees, and as a company, Mr. Dolan obviously wants the Rockettes to be represented at our country’s Presidential inauguration, as they were in 2001 & 2005. Any talk of boycotting this event is invalid, I’m afraid.
We have been made aware of what is going on Facebook and other social media, however, this does not change anything unless Radio City has a change of heart. The ranting of the public is just that, ranting. Everyone has a right to an opinion, but this does not change your employment status for those who are full time.
This has nothing to do with anyone’s political leanings (including AGVA’s), it has to do with your best performance for your employer, period. I will reiterate that if Hillary Clinton was the President-elect, nothing would be different, and there would probably be those who would not want to be involved because of her. It is a job, and all of you should consider it an honor, no matter who is being sworn in. The election is over and this country will not survive if it remains divided.
Everyone is entitled to her own political beliefs, but there is no room for this in the workplace.
If you are not full time, you do not have to sign up to do this work. If you are full time, you are obligated. Doing the best performance to reflect an American Institution which has been here for over 90 years is your job. I hope this pulls into focus the bottom line on this work.
Mashable has reached out to the American Guild of Variety Artists for further comment.
UPDATE: Dec. 23, 2016, 3:05 p.m. EST This post was updated to include a quote from a Madison Square Garden Company spokesperson.
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The post Here’s what’s really going on with the Rockettes and the Trump inauguration appeared first on MavWrek Marketing by Jason
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March 12, 2017 - 3:17 PM
- Alright, so this past week we talked a lot about the village thing, like it seemed like all of our conversations somehow lead to that issue. - So last sunday I talked to my mom on the phone about it and shes like yeah we cant really do anything, like he should ask his family, and then I mentioned it to him and he’s like let it come to him naturally - he told me he would figure out a plan this weekend because during the week he had no time to think about it - also my dad now knows because of my mom, but he’s chill about it and hasn’t mentioned it to me, thank god lol - I also joked with him and said I msged his brother’s wife and sister to ask them about it, and he didn’t believe me at first but then I wasn’t giving up and he did lol - Anyways, we didn’t msg for like 2 days and then he came back and sent me a text and asked if we could do a phone call..and so we did (tuesday) and idk he was just annoying me so several times i was like I am going to hang up and then he’d be like no we can’t end on this note. - then the next day he sent me a screenshot of a convo he had with another girl where he was asking about me and the whole issue, and she pretty much said if you like someone you oversee that kinda stuff and that its not weird in the first place. and she told him to just go with the flow, which he communicate with me - so then we had another phone call that night, and it got pretty senti - and then on thursday night he also called and I think that was the most senti I heard him because I was like I dont know if you actually like me and I dont think you know that either, and he kept saying he did like me, wasnt ready for a relationship though, and like it would be so much easier if we could see each other all the time. And then I was like in order for me to talk to you, I just need to get rid of any barriers already in the way, im not rushing you to get into a relationship anyway, not like things would change because we’d be the same if we were to get into one - and then he told me to actually ask his brother’s wife but I was like no, it’s his family so he should - and yeah we were both frustrated and sad and then I tried to cheer him up because he had a presentation the next morning and he actually stayed up so late just to hear me talk about it all and how I said I should’ve gone with my gut feeling in December and stopped talking to him. - And he got really sad that I said that and was like he really does like me and if I went with another guy he would be heart broken - so yeah then I just cheered him up and we went to sleep. - Friday we didn’t really text all day until he msged me at like 12 am (saturday) and the convo was just kinda weird because i was giving him short replies but that’s cuz I hate small talk when we have issues to worry about - then saturday morning he sent me a picture of the equate face cream saying “when you try to look pretty as bae” but he got the wrong one because I use nivea LOL - Anyways, we were talking throughout the day and it was normal until I asked what he was going to do to figure his shit out - and that’s when the frustration came back and he’s like please don’t kill my vibe, and how it’ll come to him naturally, that he can’t talk about this right now because it makes him feel sad and suicidal. And then I told him not to make a joke about that kinda stuff. And he didn;t read or respond to my msg for a while. - at 9:11 pm he goes “Fuck I did it” and yeah, so he asked his mom and she said why are you drinking and hes like because he needs to clear his mind and it’s all fucked up, and then she asked why and he said because of a girrl. - she asked him who it was and he said he told her straight up, and she was happy and liked the idea of us talking! And he told her its fucked up because of the village thing, but then she said it’s not an issue - so yeah, then hes like its so awkward and he was buzzed, so how awkward would it be when he’s sober lmao - but yeah Im just super shocked that he did it so randomly like that - but I am happy and proud that he did, and now I guess we’ll see where it goes - and I also found out his friends know about me because he’s like did you get a msg on isntagram? and i said no why? and then hes like his friend told him he msged me, but was just joking. - I asked how he brought me up and he was like they hardly ever discuss it but that he was like “I thought I was gay, until I met this girl” lol - Anyways, we haven’t talked today and I am at school all day, but I wonder if he will give me any updates on whether or not his mom asked him about it or told anyone else LOL
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