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sultrysirens · 5 years ago

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Blue Blood [Part 15]

Universe: Detroit: Become Human

Rating: PG-13 (swearing)

Characters: Connor, Evelyn (OC)

Tags: interspecies, romance, fluff, detective, law enforcement, original character, continuation, sex

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“Well, that was...an adventure,” Evelyn noted as they departed.

“And informative,” Connor added, thoughtful.

“Yeah? Anything in particular come to light?” she prompted. They pulled out of the estate’s grounds and were back on the main road quickly, the destination: her apartment. They’d done more than enough investigating for one day, a simple arrest leading to looking for a missing person leading to a chat with the matron of a powerful crime family.

Forbes obviously needed her weekend break by now, he assumed, so he was fine with letting the trail be for now. They could pick it up again tomorrow.

Glancing at her, he said, “I think Elias and Émelie were lovers.”

She nodded. “I was getting that impression, too.”

“Unless Elias crossed her somehow, I don’t see a motive for her being involved in his death,” he went on.

“Hugo might have,” she suggested. “If they were lovers and he found out...”

“It’s possible,” he agreed. “But I don’t think Hugo would’ve cared. It seems their marriage is more one of business than romance.”

She inclined her head. “It’s very common. Especially with that comment Émelie made -- about Hugo being ‘overjoyed’ that a woman is interested in him.”

“Extra-marital affairs,” he said.

“Or an open marriage,” Evelyn offered. “Those are pretty common these days, too.” They were both quiet for a moment, then, before she checked, “Find anything of note while you were looking around?”

He shook his head. “Nothing possibly crime-related. No recent blood stains, footprints out of place, nothing in the air...the house, at least, is crime-free.”

“Unless everything is digital,” she noted.

“Likely. I found it odd there wasn’t a computer in the study -- just a TV set.”

“And how close the desk was to it -- I’m betting there was something behind there, the TV was just a better mask than a painting would be.”

“Heavier, harder to move, more innocent -- I can see it,” he agreed.

“I’ll just file that one away for later,” she said, “in case we ever raid the place.”

Smart. He’d already done so by the time she verbally declared it. There was something intriguing, even comforting, about the knowledge that they followed the same train of thought, he noted.

Like they really weren’t all that different, androids and humans.

He asked then, “So...you know French?” He was impressed.

She laughed. “Actually, no -- that was a bluff. I know two sentences in French. That was one.”

Amused, he asked, “And what’s the other?”

She grinned and, between chuckles, forced out, “Où sont les toilettes?”

Where is the bathroom?

He laughed. Of course she’d know one profound statement -- and a ridiculous query. “Well, your pronunciation is fairly accurate,” he noted.

She shook her head. “Yeah, I practiced that.”

“Why?” he prompted. “What drove you to learn exactly two phrases, and those two in particular?”

Chuckling again, she answered, “I-I didn’t, really. I picked them up from TV. Films, I think. I do this thing sometimes where I’ll repeat foreign languages, try to work out the pronunciation. And sometimes they stick.”

“And those two stuck?” he checked, doubtful.

“Yeah. The former cause it was difficult so it took a lot of work, the latter cause it was so simple,” she explained.

“Your mind is a curious thing,” he noted.

“From my perspective, my mind is fine. Yours is the curious one,” she countered.

A fair point, he agreed. He doubted humans and androids would ever fully understand each other; as he understood it, the way they thought was entirely different despite the many similarities. His thoughts could be broken down into Binary if he dug deep enough, he was sure, and he was actively recording everything he saw and heard as video and audio files.

Humans often thought either in pictures and sounds or words, some of them hearing their thoughts as verbal communication and others only as abstract intention. Neither aligned very well with how androids thought.

They were so different in their cores, humans and androids, despite how visually similar they were.

That thought managed to loop back around to another from earlier that day, and he asked, “May I ask you a personal question?”

She smirked, amused. “Let me just answer that indefinitely: yes, you can ask. Whether or not I answer is another matter, but you can always ask.”

That was good to know. “Your leg,” he began, “you said there were metal pins in the bones?”

She hesitated, that simple inaction telling him a great deal -- namely that this was a very sensitive subject. He could understand that, he thought; she must’ve faced a great deal of trauma to have received such a wound. Psychological after-effects were common to the point of being expected.

At length, she offered, “Uh...yeah. Old wound, permanent damage,” she hinted.

He absorbed that, thoughtful, then ventured, “May I ask what happened?”

She gave a smile, but it was strained -- tense. “Accident involving a tower of weights. They fell over on top of me. My leg got the worst of it. Woke up three days later in a hospital bed.”

That...definitely sounded traumatic, he admitted. “Where did this happen, Brass Balls?” he asked, concerned. If this happened at that shop...well, he already knew it was barely up to code. This would be the kind of thing to shut it down, and...thinking of Quincy...he really didn’t want to do that.

Nowadays his gym is his family, Evelyn had said.

Connor didn’t want to be the one to take that away.

Shaking her head, she hedged, “No, this was...before I graduated. Had this...injury...my whole adult life.”

Her pauses, hesitating over certain words, got his attention more than what she was saying. She was implying much deeper psychological damage than she realized, he thought -- possibly more than she was aware of, herself.

And he found himself both impressed and confused as to how she would’ve ended up an officer with such issues. Officers had to have pristine physical health to get accepted; Evelyn had a bad leg, it seemed. Yet, he’d never seen her limping or displaying such an injury. The only time she favored her leg was when she was sparring, and even then she was just keeping it out of danger.

He noted, “You don’t seem to be bothered by it.”

“It doesn’t slow me down, if that’s what you mean,” she returned. “I just try to stay conscious of it.”

Hesitating, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

At once, he could feel her tension skyrocket. It was such a bizarre thing -- she barely changed in a physical sense, only her throat giving a strain before relaxing again, yet he was aware of just how much that question had distressed her.

She answered, subdued, “Sometimes.”

Sometimes, he repeated. The way she said that made him think that it didn’t hurt often -- but when it did, it was very painful.

In his mind, he tried to construct how her leg might be functioning based on the information he’d been given, and ultimately he determined that either the pins could fall out of alignment -- or she’d suffered nerve damage and sometimes it acted up.

Either would account for sudden, unpredictable spikes of pain, he thought. And he made a decision then to keep an eye on her, just in case she fell prey to those surges when he was around. He wasn’t exactly built with physical therapy in mind, so he couldn’t offer a great deal of help, but he’d do whatever she needed.

Then she said, more sharply, “About this...I need you to not talk about it. Don’t bring it up with anyone.”

Surprised, he checked, “At the precinct?”

“In general,” she corrected. “No one knows -- I don’t want anyone to know. Outside of my family, it’s -- it doesn’t exist.”

He could see that, he thought. If it came to light that her leg was permanently damaged, she might lose her job. She’d told him that it was her career that kept her going, kept her from falling into depression. It was clearly vital to her, and more so, she was a fantastic officer.

Her case history was more than enough to prove that, but over the last few days he’d seen some of it in action. Even visibly exhausted and overworked, she’d still managed two-hour drives and active chases and hours of research. Her work ethic was admirable.

She was valuable in this profession.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “I won’t bring it up. For context, though, may I ask who does know?”

“My parents and my sisters -- sister,” she corrected.

He sidestepped that particular landmine, checking, “Then, your husband...?”

“Doesn’t know,” she confirmed with a nod. “I never told him.”

Curious, he asked, “Why not?”

She hesitated over that question, hedging, and after a few moments of struggling for a response, she said, “Plead the fifth.”

...Noted.

That was highly suspicious, but he supposed everyone had their secrets. It wasn’t his place to pick apart her brain and try to figure out why she chose to keep some things quiet over others. She had her reasons, he was sure -- and those reasons were probably traumatic. Best not to prod at them.

Nodding, he relented, replying, “Then I take it you never wanted me to know, either.”

She inclined her head. “Not really. But there wasn’t anything to be done about it. Metal detectors are my bane.”

His, too. “I wasn’t certain I’d set it off,” he said, thoughtful. “I would’ve thought CyberLife would’ve found a way to prevent that by now -- they already succeeded in protecting us from electricity, so it seemed logical.”

“Well, are you magnetic?” she asked.

“No.”

“That’s probably about as much protection as they felt you needed,” she said. “Unaffected by electricity and magnets -- boom, you’re safe from all the big things. Keeping you from setting off metal detectors was probably determined as being a luxury, and lord knows big companies aren’t keen on providing luxuries.”

He could definitely see that.

“I’m surprised you set off the metal detector, too,” she began. “I thought you were plastic?”

“Externally, yes,” he agreed, “but internally there’s still metal casing and things similar to bones.” Patting his chest, he explained, “Keeps everything sturdy and in place.”

“Makes sense,” she noted, nodding. “So you have, like, a rib cage?”

“Not so much. More of just a spine, shoulders, arms, legs...the frame is simplistic. Its design is more to keep all our biocomponents and parts in place while keeping us light in weight.”

“Cool.”

He smirked, amused.

They fell into small talk then, mostly Evelyn sharing information about L.A., which he appreciated. He could look up the history of the city from its founding in 1835 or even earlier, but none of that would account for a citizen’s perspective. Her insight was invaluable.

The most important things were obviously how the city functioned currently, but he was curious about everything. Like Detroit, it had a storied past, entire books written about this one city. So old and intrinsic to the U.S. as they both were, they were living monuments of human achievement and persistence.

Evelyn didn’t know much beyond when she’d begun working at the precinct a decade earlier, but it was more than enough to get him up to speed. Combined with his foot tour the day prior and he was compiling a great deal of information about the city as a whole.

It was a contradiction, this city -- simultaneously one of the richest and poorest of U.S. cities. The SubTube had seen to that, he thought, at once both despondent and impressed with the transportation achievement. Its speed and capability were incredible and priceless, but the effects L.A.’s populace were suffering for its release was...painful.

He was worried Evelyn would end up one of those displaced by its appearance. It would be a disaster, both for her and all those she helped on a daily basis. He could only hope that, if it came to that, her husband would be able to keep her off the streets.

Following that thought, he asked, “Detective? What does your husband do? He’s employed, correct?”

She seemed surprised by the question but answered, “Yeah. He’s a manager at a hotel. La Esencia,” she explained.

He ran a quick search on it, concluding it’d been built in 2027. Reviews stated it was smaller but comfortable, four stories tall with ten-to-fourteen rooms on each floor. It was ranked as four-star and just recently began plans to expand out of L.A.

What had begun as one hotel became three in 2033, then six in 2038, and now it’d been announced that they were going to start opening hotels across the country. Construction had yet to begin.

And Richard Sinclair was the manager at one location, it seemed.

“That’s likely lucrative,” he noted.

“It certainly was,” she agreed.

Curious, he checked, “What changed?”

“The revolution,” she answered. “Most of the employees had been androids. Richard said only two came back after everything settled -- cut down from thirty-two,” she hinted. “The workload on all of them has skyrocketed.”

A little shocked, he checked, “Did he not have any human employees?”

“Six, yeah, and they’re still on,” she agreed, “but they’ve all had to take on heavier loads. Granted, tourism plummeted in the last month, too, so they’re not having to wrangle the raw numbers they once had, but still. It’s hard on them.”

And Connor heard the sympathy in her voice as she spoke, the almost reluctant affection. She was concerned, he realized.

“You’re worried about him,” he concluded.

Her shoulders dipped a fraction. “Yeah. I worry. He used to run the front desk, then worked his way up to manager. He knows the ins and outs of every part of the job. But that just means he can -- and will -- do everything.”

Drawing a picture, he suggested, “And you’re concerned he’ll hurt himself doing so.”

“He’s hurt himself before, doing so,” she answered quietly. Shaking her head, she said, “He works too hard sometimes. He messed up his knee just from how much walking he does around the hotel.”

And now Connor was seeing a parallel between husband and wife. Both of them seemed to be very hard workers, willing to put themselves through Hell for their careers.

With a sigh, she went on, “From a personal standpoint, the revolution happened at a terrible time. It’s bad enough just being separated like this -- and now we’re both bogged down with extra work on top of it. It’s chaos, everywhere, and we can’t even be there for each other...”

Sympathetic but not apologetic, he replied, “I won’t apologize. We needed our freedom. But I feel for your individual situation.”

She gave the barest smile, reaching over to give his shoulder a rub. “I don’t expect apologies. And I agree with you, Connor. None of this is your fault,” she told him, “except all the good parts.”

It was surprising, how much relief he felt from that simple statement. “Thank you,” he said, sincere.

Her smile warmed, then, and she replied, “Thank you, too.”

Touched, he could only respond, “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the day passed quietly -- which, after the last few days, was preferred. It was barely four in the afternoon when they made it back to the apartment, and Evelyn was more than ready to get in some relaxation. Connor, on the other hand, never quite stopped thinking about the case.

She made herself a late lunch, then sat down to catch up on the news. He watched absently, his mind elsewhere, ultimately concluding that nothing worthy of national news had occurred since yesterday evening. He did, however, catch a brief news report about “the first android assault case” in L.A.

Evelyn glanced over at him with a smirk. “See? Told you there’d be a statement.”

He couldn’t withhold a grin, pleased. She’d been right. Then, settling on a different thought, he said, “I’m curious about something.”

“Wassat?” she prompted.

“Have you ever...had an android?” he asked her, though he had difficulty with the phrasing. He found he couldn’t ask if she’d owned an android, the very idea scraping at him.

She shook her head. “No, actually, funny though that might sound.”

“Why would that sound funny?” he wondered.

“Cause these days, pretty much every human bought at least one android,” she pointed out.

“Yet there were only 120 million across the planet,” he countered. Now closer to 100 million, he knew, but he opted not to think about that.

“Fair point. The answer is no,” she told him.

“So you’ve never had an android?” he pressed. It wasn’t that he doubted her, he just wanted to be sure. He told himself as much.

“Nope. Never.” Then, waving her hand, she corrected, “Well, Richard did, when I first met him. A secretary,” she explained. “Named her Joanne.”

“But he didn’t keep her?” Connor checked.

Shaking her head, Evelyn explained, “I told him I wasn’t comfortable, having an android in the house. So he sold her. No idea what happened to her since,” she said, a note of melancholy to her voice.

He felt a bit the same, a part of him wondering what happened to Joanne and if she was even still alive after all this time. Generally androids didn’t last that long, either due to being replaced or mistreated until killed.

A memory rose to the fore: Eden Club, the back room, androids of numerous appearances standing in lines to be diagnosed after sustaining damage. At the time he’d had other focus, had felt indifferent to the sight, but Hank’s horror and the perspective of hindsight painted a different picture. Now he felt...sorrow, a yearning to go back and help those he couldn’t at the time.

He hoped Joanne had found a better life.

But, for now, he tried to stay in the present. “You weren’t comfortable?” he echoed, confused to hear Evelyn having that reaction to androids. He pointed out, “You’re fine with me.”

“You’re my partner,” she told him. “Joanne was a...servant. I don’t like that -- never did. Don’t like being served, like I’m incapable of handling my own affairs. I got why he bought Joanne in the first place, though -- running a hotel isn’t easy. Secretaries help. I told him I’d feel better if he hired a human rather than use an android, he said androids are better with computing -- we argued,” she hinted. “Ultimately I got my way...and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

Concerned, Connor asked, “Why?”

Shaking her head, she explained, “I put my comfort over her safety. Richard’s a gentle one,” she told him. “He never mistreated her and I wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. If I hadn’t been so pushy...I could’ve at least watched out for her. But, then,” she added wearily, “I couldn’t have predicted this: the revolution. How would I have known that she might’ve needed me?”

“Evie…” he murmured, a feeling of sorrow welling up. Her heart was too soft, too kind; she was clearly suffering in guilt for things that might’ve happened, and years after the fact.

She glanced over, pulled from wherever her mind had traveled, then said, “I guess there’s no point in worrying over it now. Can’t change the past, can’t predict the future...the only thing any of us can really do is try to be better than we were yesterday.”

Excellent point. “That’s a good philosophy,” he noted. “One everyone -- human and android alike -- would be wise to adopt.”

She gave a half-smile. “Evelyn Forbes, zen guru, full of pearls of wisdom,” she joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you are fifty-seven times older than I am,” he hinted.

“Oh -- oh, ow,” she complained, patting her chest. “Ugh, straight knives, right to the heart! How dare you,” she pouted.

He shrugged. “It’s the truth,” he tried. Then, as another thought came to him, he asked, “Had you ever thought about...buying an android?” That was difficult to ask, he found. The very implication that Evelyn might have bought an android went against the grain, given what he knew of her. But he admitted that people change, and the way she was now didn’t mean she wasn’t different before his arrival.

That took her by surprise. She answered, “Well...yeah, the idea crossed my mind. Plenty of times. Case in point, back in ‘35, for a while L.A. was obsessed with personal trainer androids, and I train on weekends, Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was a sensible idea,” she explained.

“But you decided against it,” he concluded.

She shrugged. “I didn’t really need it. Besides which, my routine is a source of pride for me. If I got help, started depending on an android to keep track of my progress -- well, there goes the whole point.”

“You have a lot of pride,” he commented.

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Day one,” he hinted.

She laughed. “Well, it’s not like I was keeping it secret.”

“Out of curiosity,” he said then, “what was it about androids that caused you so much irritation? Most humans seemed perfectly fine with, and even excited by, the prospect of android slaves.”

She paused, thoughtful, then replied, “The unofficial tagline -- do you know what it was?” He didn’t; he gestured to her to continue, and she answered, “‘You don’t wanna do it, have an android do it.’ At first I’m sure it seemed like a great idea. Hate doing dishes? Have an android do it. Hate washing clothes? Have an android do it. It went on. Hate cooking? Hate cleaning? I certainly do,” she added to herself. “And it spiraled from there.”

God, if it hadn’t, he agreed.

“Boring jobs turned into dangerous jobs turned into greed and from there into true, infinite laziness.” She shook her head. “Humans very quickly started using androids for absolutely everything. Housework, heavy labor, secretary work, policework,” she hinted, “and finally to sex. ‘What you don’t want to do’ turned into ‘literally every possible task’.”

“NASA had planned on sending androids to Jupiter with no return plan,” Connor noted. “They were designed to die, alone and stranded in space.”

“Were going to be,” she corrected. “Hopefully that plan was shelved.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “Do you know what really got me? Child-rearing androids,” she told him. “How...fucked up is that, that we consider raising our own kids something we don’t want to do?”

She was tense, he could see. This clearly scratched her deep. He tried, “Humans have had nannies for millennia. Is it really so strange, having someone else raise your children?”

“Not in that context, I guess,” she allowed, “but there’s still a key difference, Connor: choice. Any human can hire a nanny, pay them for their work -- instead they chose to buy an android and leave it at that.”

“I don’t expect as many people had that choice available to them as you think,” he argued. “If your choices are to buy an android for $900 or pay a human for the foreseeable future at a fixed rate, and you’re already struggling to hold a job, what choice is there?”

Shaking her head, she shot back, “You’re assuming anyone struggling to keep a job will just have $900 on hand at any point, and they don’t. The poor couldn’t afford to buy androids -- only the rich. And chances are, they have the time they need to raise their kids, they just find it unpalatable.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, “or maybe the poor had greater need, so they found a way to afford the costs.”

She inclined her head. “Cut corners, clipped coupons -- I can see that. But choice goes both ways. Humans can choose to be nannies, to raise children, because they enjoy it. We never gave androids the chance to enjoy anything -- just forced them into the roles we wanted.”

He considered that for a moment, then offered, “I suppose, on the scale of undesirable tasks, child-rearing is easily one of the best. I imagine if you gave every deviant the option to go back to their former lives, the ones most likely to do so would be nannies. There’s an inherent joy to it.”

That seemed to give her pause, and at length, she nodded. “I can see that. Raising children can be incredibly rewarding and even euphoric, depending on the person. Who’s to say androids wouldn’t enjoy it, too? For that matter, who’s to say how many androids had been perfectly happy with their lives before the revolution and would go back if given the chance?”

He couldn’t speak for all androids, but he’d quite enjoyed being a detective -- hence why he’d returned to this profession.

“But you’re still missing the biggest -- and arguably the worst -- android luxury there was,” she went on.

That had him curious. “Which was?”

Catching his gaze, she answered, “The YK500. Literally children you can program to behave exactly how you want them to. No worrying over hunger or struggling to get them into bed at night. All the love, none of the nasty surprises -- like waking up to hear your kid screaming in pain and finding they fell out of bed and broke their arm, or sudden illnesses cause they ate something they shouldn’t have, or puberty as a whole. No temper tantrums,” she hinted. “All the things that make raising kids actually worth it -- poof, gone.”

He couldn’t argue that one -- both because he had no idea what raising children entailed or what its rewards were, and because she’d made her point very concisely.

“That’s when I knew the decline of humanity was imminent,” she said. “It was always inevitable, but now it’s right on the horizon. We’ve reached the point where it was considered okay to have robots raising our kids while we raised robotic kids instead. Taking the easier path in every sense of the term.”

Something heavy and uncomfortable hit him then, right in the chest. Empathy, he wondered? Was he picking up on Evelyn’s obvious turmoil -- or was this his own?

“There’s no point, you know,” she told him. “No point to android kids except the phrase ‘I want’. Greed coupled with apathy -- I want kids, but I don’t want real kids with flaws and unpredictability. I want kids I can tell how to behave and they’ll do it. Just sheer obedience. Slave children,” she said, voice hard.

And he didn’t know how to respond to that. She was right -- at least about there being no point to android children. If the purpose behind androids was usefulness, then the YK500 had none. It certainly lent credence to the theory that there was more to android creation and marketing than what CyberLife claimed.

Most androids had a hypothesis about the truth by now. Among them: androids were meant to replace humanity; androids were meant to be immortal bodies for rich humans, they just needed to be good enough first; androids were meant to lead humans to a utopia of unrivaled bliss; androids were meant to supplant and destroy humans...the list went on.

Then again, maybe it really was all about money. That’s what Amanda had told him: that CyberLife’s goal was just to keep selling androids and making money. But then what? What happens after, when androids outnumber humans? What was the end goal? There was no way CyberLife didn’t have a plan for what comes next -- the question was what that plan was.

They were both quiet for a time, lost in their own thoughts, before Evelyn concluded, “Anyway, that’s why androids make me so uncomfortable. Not for what they are -- for what you are,” she told him, “but for what it represents for humans. The end,” she said, melancholy.

The end...of humanity? That’s what androids equated for her?

“Evie,” he murmured, hesitant. The decline of humanity is imminent, she’d said -- and this is what she meant? Not androids destroying humans, but humans allowing their own destruction through androids’ existence?

The future is going to go one of two ways, she’d said when they met. Either androids are going to grab us by the ears and pull us out of this hole, or they’re going to grab shovels and bury us.

“What is it you expect to happen?” he asked, cautious. Her signs of depression were stronger than ever before, and he knew how easily it could tip into suicidal thoughts. He needed to proceed carefully, get a feel for her mental state, and hopefully get her on steadier ground.

She shook her head. “I honestly couldn’t guess. Aside from the total decline of humanity,” she added, “but I expect that’ll occur regardless of android intervention rather than because of it. But for all I know that’ll take millennia yet.”

Still hesitant, he ventured, “You know most androids don’t want a war, right? Markus, especially -- after everything that’s happened, he truly believes that humans are good, as a whole. The bad ones just stand out more.”

“Negative affinity,” she mused. “Funny -- it’s one of humanity’s worst traits, and somehow we managed to give it to you, too.”

Negative affinity, he repeated: the condition of seeing bad things as worse than they are, largely because bad things are more rare than good ones and, thus, are less expected. Getting into a car accident or falling ill were noted because it happened comparatively rarely to successfully driving to your destination or having another perfectly healthy day.

“Or we developed it on our own,” he pointed out. “It’s useful for reminding ourselves how fragile the good days are -- and how much we should appreciate them.”

She glanced at him sideways. “Look who’s the zen guru now,” she teased.

He smiled.

[>>>NEXT>>>]

#siren nightshade #detroit: become human #dbh #blue blood #part 15 #interspecies #exophilia #romance #sfw

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thegoddamnnews · 5 years ago

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[Placeholder Post] 18th Brumaire Presentation

The ink was barely dry on the pages of the Communist Manifesto when, as if stalked by the spectre of Marx himself, revolutions spread all across Europe: from Italy, Germany, Russia, Spain and Scandinavia, and most perhaps most potently in France. The French absolutely love a revolution. It seems that Marx was right. These revolutions were distinct from the past political revolutions as now the social question was central to the motivations of revolutionaries and reactionaries, and the most radical members belonged to the ascendant proletariat class. In France the Revolutionaries carried by the proletariat were victorious, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.

The February Revolution of 1848 toppled the July Monarchy—the bourgeois monarchical state presided over by the Orleanist branch of the Bourbon dynasty. While the Bourbons were the dynasty of the ancien regime and continued to rule on behalf of landed property after the restoration of 1814, the Orléans were the gentler, liberal face of monarchy, and ruled on behalf of the bourgeois. King Louis Philippe was himself the son of the Duke of Orléan during the first revolutionary period, a liberal noble who stood with the bourgeois against the absolutist regime, renounced his noble title in favour of the name Philippe Égalité, and later knelt just as his cousins did before Madame Guillotine during the reign of terror.

The ecstasy of the 1848 revolutions were quickly replaced by the agony of reaction that followed. Only in France was universal manhood suffrage achieved, but the republican governments that followed appeared no less reactionary than the monarchs. Marx wrote the 18th Brumaire in the immediate aftermath of the Coup of 1851 by Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte, nephew of the original.

The Marx of 18 Brumaire is probably my favourite Marx, and therefore terrifies me to do it justice. Here Marx is writing on current events, not making abstract critiques. It’s a thorough accounting of the brief life of the Second French Republic, but it’s polemical, and Marx does not hold back in firing off take-down after scathing take-down of the clowns of the second revolution. W. Bush had Colbert and Stewart, Trump has…literally every crappy late-night host, and Louis-Napoleon had Marx. And it wasn’t just Louis-Napoleon he hated, his contempt for just about every major player of this period is palpable.

The first page of 18 Brumaire is absolute full of bangers. Marx begins by laying out in a rhetorical fashion what would continue throughout the piece as a serious theoretical framework. Hegel remarks somewhere [but probably didn’t actually] that all great world-historic facts and personages appear, so to speak, twice. He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce. . . Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living. The revolution of 1789 was dressed in the imagery of the Roman Republic in order to “glorify new struggles” while the 1848 revolution self-consciously drew on the revolution of 1789, and became a mere parody of the old.

He’s not just showing off here, I think he lays out an important point on his methodology. He does not accept the Great-Man Theory of History, as none of these men are great. One must place people and events in their proper context. At the same time, history does not unfold in a mechanistic way, separate from human struggles. He stresses that history is always in conversation with itself. History is producing tendencies and counter-tendencies, and events may unfold in ways that are constrained by the past, but how the past is called upon plays an important role in how the future is developed. Events shape people as people shape events. The interplay of events and people, ideology and material struggle, conscious effort and unintended consequences, are the ingredients of history.

He argues that bourgeois revolutions are dramatic but short-lived, because they are necessarily assimilated into an ordered society as quickly as the struggle that elevated their status. Proletarian revolutions in contrast, are necessarily self-critical, sweeping and final. The social revolution of the nineteenth century cannot take its poetry from the past but only from the future. It cannot begin with itself before it has stripped away all superstition about the past. The former revolutions required recollections of past world history in order to smother their own content. The revolution of the nineteenth century must let the dead bury their dead in order to arrive at its own content. There the phrase went beyond the content – here the content goes beyond the phrase. Emancipation occurs in overcoming the past, but not in isolation from it. But it is not romanticizing the past, neither is it pantomiming it. It is something new that emerges from old struggles and supplants them.

This, if I understand it correctly is a troublesome proposition. It assumes the working classes, upon consciousness, are always revolutionary. They are never tired and never become conservative. It seems to me a point of fact that no revolution has every been complete. Marx appears to argue that bourgeois revolution is unique in its tendency to reconcile with the past.

So why did this revolution, which was so promising, fail so spectacularly? The June days are the central event to this narrative. It is the swift end of revolution, from which the republic disintegrates stage by stage into Empire. It was a coalition of the proletarian and bourgeois of all stripes that brought the July Monarchy to an end, but the provisional government that emerged was not unified in its goals. The royalist factions representing the landlords and haute-bourgeois, the bourgeoisie, and the petty-bourgeois and proletarians of the social-democratic Mountain were only only allied in their opposition to the excesses of the July Monarchy. Their reasons and interests rooting their opposition were diverse. The bourgeoisie opposed the crackdown on civil liberties and suffrage, which stifled their sources of power in the press and within government. The proletarian were concerned with the social question, of the right to work without subjecting themselves to vicissitudes of the market and ruling classes.

In June 1848 insurgents took arms to transform the bourgeois-republic into a social-republic. The bourgeois National Guard stood with majority of parliament, and unlike the government of Louis Philippe, they had no qualms consolidating their victory with bloodshed. Thousands dead on both sides, the bulk of them insurgents, thousands more imprisoned and exiled. From then on even moderate liberals were red-baited, and any challenges to their bourgeois-republican order were painted as socialistic, communistic.

Here Marx gets into the sweeping theme of 18 Brumaire: the state. Marx concerns himself with both the role of the bourgeois state, and its form. Louis-Napoleon enters the stage as the overwhelmingly popular choice for president of the new republic, whose term was to last until 1852. He spent most of his life in exile, living as a vagabond. His name shaped his aspirations and popularity, not the other way around. The National Assembly thought he was a fool, but he was their fool, constrained by the constitution they themselves has written.

With the revolution of 1848 the bourgeois (the Legitimists and Orleanists somewhat reluctantly, the rest sanguinely) controlled the state completely. Louis-Napoleon, who preferred the title Prince-President over President, was not one of them, but they believed he was in their pocket. Under their constitution, Parliament could impeach the president, but the president could not dissolve parliament. Parliament could dismiss the ministry, but the ministry had no constitutional authority over the Assembly. Sure the military was controlled by the executive, but its command was thought to be somewhat autonomous, even outwardly hostile, to the Fool-President. And the National-Guard was thoroughly bourgeois, and who controlled the National Guard controlled the fortunes of the state.

First, Louis-Napoleon was nobody’s fool, in the sense that he was everybody’s fool. His Society of December 10 was founded on “champagne, cold poultry, and garlic sausage.” He was the Prince of the Lumpen Proletariat, the shiftless urban surplus population of vagabonds, pickpockets and prostitutes. He made inroads with the army, trading the scorn of its command for the cheers from its rank-and-file. Importantly, as Marx notes, he had an overwhelming popular mandate, and his term stretched beyond the provisional government into the republic, through their elections and by-elections, in-fighting and disintegration. While the Parliament was the people’s sovereignty divided into 750 constituents, the President was the nation embodied in one man.

Here Marx identifies the fatal flaw of bourgeois rule. Fatuously believing they are the universal class and their interests are the interests of the nation they expose themselves to fracture, and they resort to “parliamentary cretinism”. They mystified the constitution, believing their constitution gave them power, not that their power gave them their constitution. This mystification in the end left them cuckholded by Napoleon III who at least knew where true power lay.

The bourgeois state was held together with support from the proletariat in order to take direct control of government. Once the proletariat became a threat, and since they were no longer needed they were disposed of. Universal suffrage was constrained by increasing residency requirements, authorized by the employers. The liberal organic laws were constrained by their “marginal notes” in the interest of public safety—rather, the safety of the bourgeoisie. The Party of Order, the majority party of the National Assembly, dominated by the royalist faction ruled in the class interest of the bourgeoisie. The mask of liberalism began to slip as their interests came into conflict. They are only liberal insofar as they are not challenged by the socialists. Then when they are challenged by the petty-bourgeois they again reduce liberties and suffrage to tighten their hold on Parliament, while undermining their majority within it. Their legitimacy with the people in the early days of the republic was contingent on a return to nationalism and a booming economy. With their own hand they swept away the first pillar and the laws of motion of markets swept away the other.

For their part, the opposition parties undermined their authority with equal vigour. The Mountain played the same parliamentary games as the Party of Order, bombastically calling to arms against the unconstitutional military action in Rome, and after failing to impeach the Bonaparte government, meekly accepted exile. As Robbespierre of the tragic revolution said: “So you want a revolution without a revolution?” The revolutionaries of parody, the Party of Order and the Mountain, merely play-acted as their counterparts of 1789 without their substance.

The Party of Order dominated the state, and at first the ministries, Napoleon seemingly content to scrape by as a figure-head, occasionally grovelling for a few more francs from the public purse. As Parliament undermined its legitimacy at every turn for the sake of domination, it soon lost its material basis of power, and thus failed to dominate. Louis-Napoleon used his money and princely vagabondage to buy the loyalties of the military and the lumpen. The stumbling economy drove the peasants into his arms. The Party of Order brought only disorder with their “parliamentary squabbles” and their illiberal rule alienated the majority of the classes they were supposed to represent.

Their completely unmediated parliamentary rule had the ruling classes, in the end, practically begging for domination. The Industrialists and the Financial press published The Party of Order’s own words against them, as Louis-Napoleon was now the candidate of order and tranquility. Parliament humiliated itself by voting in the majority to grant Louis-Napoleon a constitutional amendment necessary to extend his term as president, but failing to pass the amendment by the legal super-majority needed. Now controlling the ministries, the military, and the national guard, imbued with the sovereignty of the nation through universal suffrage that Parliament itself had snatched from the people, Louis-Napoleon did not need to overthrow the government, it “fell down at the touch of a mere hat. A Three-corned Napoleon hat."

Importantly, Marx does not argue this is the iron law of bourgeois-republican states. He contrasts the incomplete bourgeois rule in France where history still weighed upon it like a nightmare, to that of America, where “classes are constantly in flux.” But it does imply that liberty and capitalism find themselves in contradiction, and its reproduction is contingent on finding a resolution to that contradiction. The naked Parliamentary form proved too contentious for the fractured classes of France, too totally dominating to secure legitimacy with the people. Unmediated rule is a dangerous thing. What is common, though, between the revolutions, was the centralization of the state. The process of rationalization was already underway during the Bourbon absolutist period. To quote Marx: All revolutions perfected this machine instead of breaking it. The parties, which alternately contended for domination, regarded the possession of this huge state structure as the chief spoils of the victor.

It was the proletariat, who are simultaneously the most exploited by this increasing divine of labour, but in a social position to become conscious of their exploitation, that was destined to overthrow the state. Was it simply not their time, were they not developed enough? Need the other classes—the bourgeois classes that betrayed them in the June days, and the reactionary sack-of-potatoes supporting the Prince President—be swept away by history before they can complete their destiny as a class? How has the transformation of the state in the 20th century altered historical landscape and revolutions?

Here Marx is refining his theory of the state that was introduced more bluntly in the Manifesto. He recognizes the contradiction the bourgeois state inhabits. The ruling classes have always dominated the state, and ruled in their own interest. Increasing centralization increases state power, but expands the state and thus brings within it new interests, new struggles for power. Power increases and then undermines itself.

Here I’ll return to the significance of the title. There are arguments about when exactly the first French Revolution came to an end, but the Coup of 18 Brumaire generally gets the plurality of the votes. The coup took place in 1799 and was organized chiefly by the Abbé Sieyès who wished to bring stability to the French government after 5 years of coups alternately from the left-wing republicans and right-wing royalists. Among his conspirators were Napoleon’s brothers (one of them Louis-Napoleon’s father) who warned against using the ambitious and egoistic general as their military instrument. When events conspired to necessitate Napoleon’s inclusion, he predictably used the opportunity to place himself at the centre of the new government, as First Consul. The coup was the result of careful planning, back-room dealing, and political intrigue. Napoleon, a popular and uniquely talented general who had saved France once from a royalist insurrection, was the dialectal figure of his day, smoothing civil war between republicans and royalists. He rose to power on the strength of his ability and his cunning, seizing power when opportunity was ripe. He was their meritocratic king.

The nephew Napoleon was a fool, but more in the Shakespearean sense, with ridiculous public proclamations, roundly mocked, and later proved prophetic. While the Coup of 18 Brumaire was accomplished through subterfuge and back-room intrigue, the nephew’s coup was foreshadowed and prognosticated in public for so long that his opposition seemed to be lulled into a false sense of security. Louis Bonaparte’s love of coups was well-known—he was continually plotting but, Marx scoffs: “He was so weak that, just as continually, he gave it up again.” However, just as the uncle’s weakness lay in his strength, the nephew’s strength was in his weakness. “His usurpatory longings seemed to make themselves heard only in order that the malicious laughter of his opponents might not be muted.” His blundering feints towards a coup d’état was suddenly embraced amongst an incompetent ruling class. Where the uncle seized the moment the moment seized the nephew.

He was the dialectal figure of this revolution. He embodied the contradictory demands of peasant and financier, the worker and industrialist, the lumpen and the merchant; but he never aligned them. Rather he was aligned by them. A dynastic name and a republican. He was a bourgeois absolutist. A feudal lord and captain of industry. Finance capital’s steady hand at the tiller and the peasant’s emancipator from financial extortion. In this way “Bonaparte would like to appear as the patriarchal benefactor of all classes. . . But he cannot give to one without taking from another.” He was “anarchy in the name of order . . . [stealing] all of France in order to make a present of it.” He was the Prince of the Lumpen.

I’ll finish by restating a few of the open questions raised sporadically throughout my presentation. What does the failure of 1848 mean for future revolutions? Must revolutions always move forward? Are they ever finished? Are they always looking forward and never nostalgic? Is state centralization an autonomous force? Is state centralization built upon a contradiction that continually undermines itself? What is the relationship of the state to the ruling class? Are modern states defined by mediated rule?

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readyplayerhobi · 7 years ago

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A Constellation Of Fires | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff, future smut

; Word Count: 12k

; Warnings: Mentions of scarring

; Synopsis: Vulcan Industries, a titan in the world of technological inventions that have helped humanity progress. Despite its influence though, their CEO remains a mystery to the world, content to simply invent in the shadows. That is, until a journalist uncovers the mystery that connects a simple car mechanic to the technology giant.

; Greek Gods Series

Hades; Poseidon; Zeus; Hephaestus; Artemis; Athena; Ares;

01 | 02

“Excitement today as Vulcan Industries revealed its newest product, a revolutionary mobile phone that incorporates ful 3D holograms. The surprising reveal far exceeds what industry experts had been predicting and represents a huge leap in technological advancements, with Vulcan Industries highlighting that a subsection unit has been developed directly for the health industry, allowing for completely sterile interactions with patient files and more.

“Industry analysts are reporting that Vulcan Industries stocks have risen by 5% at the news that has sent shockwaves through the technology industry.” Sitting back in your uncomfortable office chair, the back long since broken on it meaning it was at an odd angle which often caused back ache, you eyed your laptop as the perfectly coiffed woman read out the hottest news story in a while.

Accompanied with the news anchors voice was footage of the reveal, taken at a news conference at the Vulcan Industries headquarters in Northern California. It was justifiably awe inspiring, watching the assistant bring out a mobile phone and with a few button presses, everything on the screen leapt up into the air and was projected perfectly, from documents to a few basic games Vulcan had created.

After this, those attending were invited to play around with the holograms, moving things around and flipping through screens by simply flicking their fingers in the air. It boggled your mind how they’d done it, and you had no doubt that it was boggling every other industry as well. This was truly science fiction technology that was only ever seen in film or on shows, but what did anyone expect from Vulcan Industries?

They’d always been decades ahead of everyone else, all thanks to their mysterious CEO who was credited with the biggest inventions they created. While they had plenty of inventors who had produced hundreds of smaller technological advancements, such as the latest in television screens and so forth, it was the reclusive CEO who created the biggest news worthy inventions.

Every piece of technology created had an original purpose for a certain industry, such as this 3D hologram technology being created to allow medical staff in hospitals and laboratories across the world to use screens without having to touch anything, allowing for 100% sterile technology.

The medical holograms were also being used in conjunction with current Vulcan technology found in hospitals that allowed for completely 3D scans of bodies, allowing doctors and surgeons to view breaks or tumours and so forth. With the addition of holograms, surgeons could now overlay the scan above a person during a surgery and provide real time imaging of what was happening.

Modifying the technology for mobile phones was simply a way to bring it to the general population, allowing this to fund the larger scale productions. The sheer genius and skills of the Vulcan CEO made him, or her, a very wanted person and yet they shunned the limelight, allowing others in the company to take over.

Even in depth searches into the history of the company, or rooting through legal documents about the companies ownership, simply resulted in pseudonyms such as Hope Justice or Heff Jackson, making the hermit-like CEO one of the biggest mysteries in the world.

It’s only when you register your boss calling your name that your attention is diverted, leading you to poking your head up over the top of the section divider and looking into his glass fronted office. He gestures towards you, signalling that he wants to talk with you.

Grabbing your notebook and a pen, you lock your screen before shuffling into his office. Hopefully this isn’t getting your ass reamed out for failing to land the big scoop about Vulcan Industries, he’d put you on the job months ago when the rumblings that they had something big incoming began.

But really, this wasn’t your fault. Literally no one saw this coming, not even the other tech companies. Vulcan hadn’t even been rumoured to be experimenting with holograms, the last you’d heard was some rumours about satellites that would generate solar power and somehow feed it back to Earth. It made your brain hurt and from the sounds of it, made the experts brains hurt too.

Nodding your head to Donghae, you quickly sit yourself in the chair opposite him and open your notebook ready to jot down any notes that are important. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes focused on the large flat screen situated on some drawers to your right. It’s on the same news channel you’d been watching, the sound silenced while subtitles pop up a few seconds after the anchor speaks.

It’s still showing the new Vulcan announcement and your stomach sinks slightly. Your ass is going to be chapped by the time you leave here; you just know it. Donghae hates being late on the news.

“Donghae, I’m really sorry that I didn’t catch this. I’ll try harder next time I swear, I think I have an in with the company now-“ Your pre-emptive apology gets stopped though when he lifts up a hand, a contemplative look on his face.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s already done now. And quite clearly Vulcan had this shit on lockdown; I doubt anyone got wind of this happening,” he rubs his chin slowly before leaning back, the cushy executive chair cushioning his back as it squeaks slightly from his weight. “But I think we need to change gears. Instead of focusing on the company, maybe we should try and focus on the person behind the scenes.”

Your eyes widen as you look back up at him, shock clearly evident on every inch of your face. “Are you kidding? Go after the CEO? Literally no one has ever gotten close, what makes you think I could get anywhere near?” He was deluded if he thought you could get this answer.

“You’re my best investigative journalist, you already said that you have an inside mole in the company right? Work it, find out who it is. I have faith in you.” You’re not entirely sure why he has faith in you. If you couldn’t find out that Vulcan was developing hologram technology, how on earth where you going to find out whom the elusive CEO was?

“If you do it, this will be the expose of the century. Everyone across the world would want this scoop. Even better, I’ll give you a 7k pay rise and a 10k bonus if you get this. Your job would be more than secure forever.” He leans forward and rests his chin on his entwined fingers, mouth turning up in a smile that you’re positive he thinks is persuasive, but instead is coming off slightly sinister.

You freeze for a moment before answering, hesitant and unsure suddenly. Unveiling the CEO of Vulcan Industries was as juicy a news story as any journalist could ever hope for and it would propel your career skyward, but at the same time your morals were arguing with each other fervently.

The devil on your right shoulder was pointing out that you were a journalist, it was your job to uncover news and the stories that people wanted to keep hidden. The CEO’s identity was news that the world was desperate to know.

But the angel on your left was vehemently pointing out that people had a right to privacy, and the CEO had quite clearly asked for that by making it so hard to find out who they were. It’s with more than a little shame that the journalist in you won out, deciding silently to yourself that it was unfair for this crazy rich and talented individual to stay unheralded when there were likely thousands, if not millions, of people worldwide who would love to thank the mystery inventor for improving or saving their lives.

Besides, it’s not like they’ve done a crime or anything right?

“Okay, I’ll work on it. No time frame though; this might take a long time. And I might never find out so don’t get annoyed if I produce nothing.” Donghae nods and a sly grin spreads on his face, letting you know that he’s already thinking of the fame and dollars that will come his way if you succeed.

On the other hand, you leave his office feeling slightly sick from a guilt you can’t push away. Taking one last glance at the television screen playing the news, you swallow thickly as you pray that you’ve made the right choice.

It was a good job that you’d made it clear to Donghae that it might take a while, as seven months later you’ve still found almost nothing. Your mole in the company is proving to be distinctly unhelpful, telling you that the CEO doesn’t even visit the headquarters and instead has video conferences with the Board of Directors and any communication is sent through his assistant, who serves as his proxy in the building.

You have found out however, that it would seem like the abstract boss is apparently completely uninterested in how the company is run except that it’s run in the interest of the people. The employees have ridiculous benefits, even by Californian company standards. Even the cleaners are given top-of-the-line premium healthcare and dental and each person is given at least 10 stocks of the company that can be sold once they leave.

Employees with children are given a college fund with $20,000 in it for each child and if an employee dies, their family is paid their salary plus 50% for ten years. Honestly, it makes you think that you’re in the wrong job.

Not only that, but the company was obligated to give 10% of all profits to charity, with 10 charities chosen each year by their employees across the world. It had been a leader in adopting full scale recycling and trying to turn completely green, all at the behest of the CEO.

If you weren’t trying to uncover their identity, you’d be in awe of them in all honesty. But it’s after these long months that you finally make a break through when your mole informs you that all company owned vehicles have to be serviced at a specific car shop.

The shop is in some little throwaway town about two hours away from the headquarters near the mountains, which confused you initially. Surely the company had a whole host of mechanics that could work on them? But apparently not, which immediately made you wonder what made this little shop so special, particularly as it didn’t even have a website or anything.

After informing Donghae of your discovery, he allows you to leave to do some further investigation into the car shop, which is how you find yourself standing outside an old looking, but incredibly clean and well-maintained garage. It’s quiet outside, with no cars passing by and from your position in the car park, standing next to your piece of crap car; you can see that there’s a respectable looking house hidden down a road behind the garage.

The mechanic must live there as well, indicating that this place must be his, or her, pride and joy. Fingers tightening on the strap of your bag, you move towards the door that enters into a little waiting area, blue plastic chairs looking well used but more than serviceable.

Plain white walls surround you, decorated with diagrams of cars and a couple of posters of some supercars. There’s a few magazines piled haphazardly on a low table in the centre, the contents ranging from cars to beauty to nature, ensuring that they cater for a wide audience.

There’s a counter to your left with a bookcase piled high with files behind it. A dark green door next to this no doubt leads through to the garage, through which you can hear a radio playing music loudly, the beats loud and pounding to the extent that you can feel the vibrations from here.

On the counter is an old school bell, which causes your eyebrow to rise in disbelief as you look from it to the door. How the hell is anyone supposed to hear that tiny ass thing when it sounds like Glastonbury is playing next door?

Still, you walk over and bring your hand down on the little bell with amusement, the little chime sounding loud to you but unless the mechanic has the ears of a bat then it’s useless.

You’re immediately proven a fool though when the music cuts out in the garage behind the door and a female voice that sounds ever so slightly robotic calls out clearly over the speakers.

“Customer waiting.”

Looking down at the bell with surprise, you look it over for any wires that may be connecting it to some system. For a moment you think this is all just a little big high tech for a tiny mechanics shop in the middle of nowhere, but then you remember that this is the chosen place to repair all the cars of Vulcan Industries.

And from what you’ve learnt, their cars are the crème de la crème of the car world, just like every other industry they enter. They’d succeeded with the first self-driving, eco-friendly cars to be approved for sale. Given the amount of tech that goes into their cars, it should only make sense that they likely pay this mechanic by the bucket loads.

He or she’s probably got more than a few things that are probably at the cutting edge of technology back in there, all courtesy of Vulcan Industries.

The door opens finally, giving you a glimpse of what looks to be a standard car garage, with a black Vulcan Fuego sedan currently up in the air on a stand to allow a mechanic underneath without worry of injury. Industrial sized brackets are held up against the wall, with tubs of car parts stashed in each one and even from here you can see that they are all carefully labelled.

What little you can see soon vanishes though as a man walks through the door, head down as he focuses on cleaning his hands with a grease soaked rag. Clad in a t-shirt that you’re sure was white once but is instead now a grimy grey that is streaked with lubricant and black jeans that you’re sure are used to hide the stains he gains constantly.

His feet are firmly placed into a pair of grubby and scuffed brown work boots, no doubt with a steel toe in each to try and prevent, or at least offset, any injuries that could potentially happen. Throwing the towel over his shoulder back into the garage, the mystery mechanic finally looks up and you find yourself feeling rather like the towel, thrown for a loop.

Black hair that is subtly highlighted with red shines in the artificial lighting that has been designed to simulate sunlight, messy and wild as if he’s been running his fingers through it constantly in frustration. Some of the strands are stuck together, partially from the car oil and grease that patterns his arms like a mechanics camouflage and partially from the sweat that is currently running down his face and neck.

This region of California is currently experiencing a heat wave, and a physically intensive job like a car mechanic is bound to be even worse in these kinds of conditions, no matter how fancy your garage is.

It’s as he wipes away the wet strands, simultaneously streaking grime across his forehead with the back of his hand as he does so, that you get a good look at his face. A strong and sharp jawline led up to prominent cheekbones that make you think of some of the most famous statues in history, only they pale when compared to this ethereal beauty found in a car garage of all places.

As he turns his head to close the door behind him, you get a glimpse of an arresting side profile that is dominated by a sloping nose, turned up slightly towards the tip. It’s as he turns back around that you see it sits firmly in the centre of two warm eyes, their shade so unusual that you find yourself staring without meaning to.

Around the outer iris is a rich brown, reminding you of mahogany almost with the reddish tint, which then bleeds into a vibrant hazel in the centre that makes you think of a wolf.

You’ve never been able to see someone’s eye colour so clearly before, particularly with dark coloured eyes but here he is with eyes that demand attention. He has gentle eyes, you decide, gentle and soft but more than a little wary despite the bright smile that takes over his face at the sight of a potential customer.

Reaching out towards you, he offers his hand in greeting. “Hello, sorry about that, music makes it easier to work. I’m Jung Hoseok, I own this place and I’m also the head mechanic. Do you need some work doing on your car?”

Taking his hand, your gaze is brought down to his arms and you can see immediately why he’s so wary despite his welcoming grin and effervescent personality.

His arms are currently bare, the skin almost glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat and veins prominent amongst muscles that speak of hard work and effort. But along his right arm is a prominent scar, pale against the darkened gold of his tanned skin, the shape of which indicates to you it was caused by fire or at the very least something very hot.

His hands and various points of his left arm also feature various scarring, and along the left side of his face from his cheekbone down to his throat is rough tissue that has long since healed. While he gives no indication of acknowledgement about the scars except for the hand he’s not holding out fisting slightly, it’s the hesitance in his kind eyes that gives away that he’s likely been treated badly because of this before.

Pulling your eyes quickly from his arms, you flush lightly with embarrassment and can’t help but wince in shame at being caught staring by him as you turn your attention to the counter between the two of you. You haven’t even said hello to the guy and you’re being unbelievably rude and insensitive.

“Oh er, yeah I think…maybe yeah. It’s been making this…rattling noise lately and I was just passing by and saw the sign and thought…maybe I should get it checked.” He’s let go of your hand now, crossing his arms over his chest in what you feel is protection but accidentally drags your eyes to the bulge of his biceps.

Christ, you’re here on the hunt for a story not to eye-fuck the, admittedly insanely attractive, mechanic.

Biting his lip between his teeth as his eyes run over the ceiling in concentration, he releases it slowly with a sigh that leaves you staring at the now wet, soft skin. You’re pulled away from the sheer distraction that was the pure visuals of this guy when he pulls out a phone from his pocket and lays it on the desk just below the counter.

Any sight to his phone is lost as he does so and you don’t give it much more thought, figuring he’s probably checking out some information. That is until you hear a soft chime and suddenly the air in between the two of you is displaying what looks to be a calendar for the day with various time slots filled in.

For him, the image is perfect but you’re seeing a mirrored version, meaning all the text is backwards. With a casual confidence that lets you know he’s more than well versed in this, totally brand new not even out on the market yet as Vulcan was still hyping it up, technology, he uses two fingers to move around some of the times as he re-organises his schedule.

“Okay, I can take a look now for you if you’d like? I don’t know if I’ll find anything but it can’t hurt to look.” With his entire hand flat, he swipes downwards in a fluid motion and the holograms disappear with another gentle chime.

He’s looking at you expectantly, his mesmeric face of perfect proportions open and honest, while you’re stuck staring at where his phone is. Leaning forward, you catch a glimpse of the sleek, black device and to you, it looks exactly like the newest phone Vulcan has released, the VU8.

“Oh my god, isn’t that the new hologram tech from Vulcan? How have you…how did you? Holy shit that was so fucking cool!” You blurt out, internally cringing immediately at how you just sound like a fangirl of 12 instead of a journalist of 29.

Hoseok flushes lightly, his tanned skin being brushed with soft pink before he ducks his head and pockets the phone quickly. “Ah, yeah. It is. I fix a lot of the cars for their stock fleet and they asked me to test one out ages ago. It’s pretty useful.”

His voice trails off and it’s patently clear that he’s uncomfortable about the conversation. You tamper down your excitement when you figure that it’s because he’s currently holding tech that no one else in the world has commercially yet.

As you hand him your car keys and watch him leave, totally not admiring the flex of his thighs as he crouches next to your car, that was old 20 years ago, to give it a quick look over and most definitely not letting out a little groan when he bends over the engine which allows his jeans to mould perfectly to his ass, you wonder what makes this mechanics garage so important.

Not only do they have the exclusive contract to fixing all of the cars that Vulcan own on the West Coast, but also the owner is deemed important enough that he gets access to one of the most impressive feats of technology realised in the last few years? No, there’s something going on here and you’re going to figure it out. The eye candy outside is just a bonus.

Tugging your eyes from his physique, you run them along the waiting room one more time. It looks perfectly normal, perhaps a little too clean for a car garage but there’s nothing that screams why he’s so important.

In fact, after wandering around a little and giving everything a much more closer perusal, including the files that you can see from your position, you realise that there is zero reference to anything from Vulcan Industries here.

The glass door opening causes you to jump away from the counter, hands flying behind your back in what you’re 100% positive is not a suspicious manoeuvre, as Hoseok makes his way inside. Thankfully he wasn’t paying attention as he was more focused on wiping away some sweat off his brow; the sun was brutal today.

Pointing behind him, his face twists in apology. “I’m really sorry, I could only do a quick visual scan and see what the engine sounds like. I couldn’t hear anything but I don’t have time to take a closer look at the moment as I have a car up in the garage that’s going to be collected in an hour.”

Your hands are immediately gesturing out towards him in a placating manner while your own expression mirrors his apologetic one.

“No, no it’s totally fine. It might just be something in the back rattling around, it hasn’t killed me yet right?” Giving a nervous giggle, you wonder desperately how you’re supposed to find out more information about this place if you don’t have an excuse to hang around more.

“No way, I can’t let you drive that if you’re hearing noises from it. If something happened to you now because of it then I’d feel like it was my fault for being lazy. If it’s okay with you, you can leave it here overnight and I’ll give it a closer look at the end of the day? Should be ready tomorrow morning for you?” Well, it looks like Hoseok has given you the excuse you needed. Maybe there’s a god of journalism looking out for you or something.

“Really? You’d do that? I mean I can pay extra if you want if it’s out of your normal work time.” Reaching into your bag, you rummage around for your wayward purse, ready to pull out the credit card. Immediately Hoseok is rushing over, a gentle hand pushing the purse back into your bag and you’re swallowing thickly at how close he is.

If he was beautiful from afar, then he’s a vision sent from the heavens up close. He stands a whole head taller than you, which leaves you staring at his broad, toned chest until you’re shyly lifting your head to look into his unique eyes. If he wanted to, he could rest his chin neatly on your head.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, the distance so minimal that you can feel his breathe on your skin with every exhale and smell the mint of the gum he’d been chewing, until he suddenly seems to realise your positions when he catches your eyes flickering over his face.

He moves a few steps back quickly, turning his face from you. You think he was embarrassed because of how close you were, but it’s only as he brings up a hand to cover his cheek that you realise he’s mistaken your appreciation for his exquisite face for ogling of his scars.

It makes you want to reach out in turn and gently pull his hand down, but you make no move. He’s obviously not comfortable with it and you don’t want to bring attention to something when his body is literally radiating tension right now.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to pay anything extra. Just knowing you’re not going to potentially die is more than enough.” His words, slightly mumbled through his hand, bring a warmth to your stomach that takes a moment to fight with the guilt of knowing you’re going to investigate and potentially use this sweet and helpful guy.

“Okay, if you’re sure about this? I saw a motel a little up the road so I’ll go check if they have vacancies. Do you need my number to contact me?” While you’re fully aware that he would need your number for work purposes, there’s an embarrassingly large part of you that is hoping he might use it for other purposes too.

Scolding yourself internally, you try to shake yourself out of it. You can’t be hoping that this incredibly attractive yet sweet guy might get bored and want a booty call or something. Particularly not while you’re also intending to look closer into him. Ethics, remember the ethics.

It’s much easier to remember ethics when they don’t look like a god come to life.

Still, it’s hard to follow that line of thought when a look of such worry crosses over his face. “A motel? You’re not from round here? Oh I feel terrible, send me the bill and I’ll pay it. It’s my fault that I’m making you stay a night.”

He’s scurrying behind the counter and you hear the sounds of stuff being moved around, before he’s suddenly lifting up a business card with a grin that tells you he’s currently yelling ‘A-HA!’ in his head. Turning to you, he holds it out and once you’ve got hold of it, he’s tapping the surface.

Looking down at the card, you see that it’s pure white with the black and red logo of a volcano taking centre stage. Below that is the name of the garage, Vesuvius Mechanics, in elegant script. Underneath all this is his name, Jung Hoseok, along with a mobile number.

“Tell Manny at the desk at the motel to bill it to me, show him this and he’ll understand. Oh err, can you write your number down for me? I’ll contact you tomorrow once it’s done. I swear I’ll try and do it fast.” Placing his card slowly into the card section in your purse, you can’t help but give him a smile.

You’re half expecting him to offer his spare room with how much he’s going out of his way, and it makes the mystery of why one of the richest and most influential companies in the world goes to this affable mechanic who you feel would give the shirt of his back if you asked.

Or at least find you a clean shirt that wasn’t covered in sweat and stains.

“It’s okay Hoseok, honestly. I’m going to be in town for a few weeks anyway for my job. I’m a writer and I’m looking for some inspiration to break my block so, I’d be paying for the motel anyway.” He pauses at that, hand reaching behind his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Oh, well maybe you should try renting somewhere instead? The motel is great for one night but it gets pretty expensive you know. I can give you a list of people who would be willing to rent if you want. It’s a small community here but everyone’s happy to help if they can.” If they’re all like Jung Hoseok then you fully believe him.

“Okay, I’ll look tonight. Thanks for your help, and I’m sorry if it turns out there is nothing wrong it and I’ve wasted your time.” You start heading back to the door, strangely unwilling to leave the magnetic pull of him but fully aware you need to otherwise it’s going to start getting weird.

Leaning a hip against the counter, Hoseok gives another heart stopping grin to you as he lifts a hand in goodbye. “It’s fine, honest. I’m a mechanic; it’s kind of my job right?”

Laughing, you nod your head in agreement and wave goodbye to him as well. Outside of the air-conditioned glory of the waiting room, the sun immediately begins to make you sweat from the oppressive heat that beats down and you let out a deep breath slowly, rolling your neck and shaking your shoulders.

It’s only when you’re dragging your suitcase down the road to the motel, mentally cursing the fact that today had decided to feel like the inside of a volcano, when you suddenly realise you’re still smiling. Glancing back at the unobtrusive garage, the white walls gleaming in the sunlight, you tell yourself that it’s because you’re managed to finally get a break in your investigation and that the feeling in your stomach is because you’re onto something.

It has nothing to do with the incredibly sweet man with the body physique of an Adonis, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’d spent the entire conversation with oil streaked over his cheek like a kid. No, it didn’t.

The motel had been adequate, quite possibly everything one might expect a motel to be. Unsurprisingly, it had been mostly empty and you’d even been able to pick your room. Given the choice of car park or car park, you weren’t sure why they bothered.

It had taken exactly ten minutes for you to realise you would be taking Hoseok up on his offer of helping you to rent a room somewhere.

You’d been half convinced that sleeping on the floor would have been more forgiving on your back than the rock that was masquerading as a bed. Not to mention the Wi-Fi that had been so poor it had taken 5 minutes to load up one page. No, this simply wouldn’t work, and for a small motel in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere California, the price of a room was extortionate.

Which was why you found yourself walking back over to the garage in the morning, after taking a quick detour at the little family run café, which had the best bacon and perfectly seasoned eggs you’d ever eaten in your life. The early morning sun was still warm, but there was a cool breeze that was flowing down from the far off mountain range.

Lifting your head up to the gentle rays of sun, you paused for a moment before inhaling deeply. As someone who had lived in a city your entire life, the crisp and clean smell of the countryside felt both refreshing and revitalising. You loved the city, but the hustle and bustle could be too much sometimes and you fully understood why people would give that up to come somewhere like this.

This was the kind of place that you could imagine people raising families in on those homey television shows, sending their kids to sports games and just living the suburban dream or something. Part of that made you shrink in horror at the sameness of everything but then another part of you wondered whether it would be nice to grow up here.

The relative normalness of this tiny town, with its two main streets and family run stores made it even stranger as to why one of the biggest and most influential companies in the world chose to send their cars here. In towns like this, you could almost forget that cities exist at all.

Opening your eyes, you let a little smile at the bright blue sky before taking in the garage in front of you. The big door that led into the actual garage itself was up and open as you walked closer, allowing you to see inside the workshop.

It was incredibly clean; with the stone floors swept and only old oil stains that are likely impossible to remove marring it. White walls could be seen on all three sides with metal shelving everywhere, each shelf neatly segmented into boxes that contained certain parts and labelled clearly.

There was no car up on the mechanism today, instead there was a Vulcan car parked in the centre of the garage with its hood up, revealing the complex engine interior that kept the car going. What surprised you though, was the group of teenagers standing in front of the car, peering inside as Hoseok points at something.

“This is where you check the oil okay? Why is it important to check the oil in a car?” He asked, his voice kind but stern. It was only then that you noticed that there was an older woman sat off to the side, her face buried in a magazine and you realised that this must be a class from the local school.

A gangly teenager with dark skin lifted his hand up and Hoseok nodded towards him encouragingly. “If you’re out of oil then it can damage the engine right?” The mechanic grinned and nodded, lifting up the oil stick for them to look at.

“Yes that’s right. Consider the oil in your car like the blood in your veins. If you don’t have enough of it, your body can’t work properly. It’s exactly the same with the oil in a car. So, when you’re checking the oil you want to make sure that your car is turned off and the engine is cold, that’s purely for safety as you could burn yourself otherwise.” He went on to show them the entire inner workings of the engine and how to check for themselves before getting them to check.

You simply watched from just outside the door, feeling slightly creepy and stalker-ish but maintaining to yourself that you were just waiting for him to finish so you could talk to him. He was nice to watch anyway, with a very calming aura that was patient with the teenager’s questions, even when they started making dumb jokes like kids their age do. He just took them with a gentle smile.

Once they were finished, he said goodbye to each one by name before shaking the hand of the older woman who’d finally deigned to involve herself in the situation. “Thank you Mr Jung, we appreciate these visits and it gets the kids out of the classroom which they love you know?” He nodded his head in acknowledgement before coming over to the door to watch them off.

You’d slid to the side as he’d started to come over, part of you hoping that he hadn’t seen you. That hope vanished pretty soon as he stood there, arms crossed and gaze on the group as they made their way to where you assume the high school was. A quick sideways glance told you that the corner of his mouth with lifted in an amused smile. He let the moment carry on a little longer before finally inhaling.

“Did you enjoy the lesson then?” He asked, tone light and innocent with just a hint of mischief involved. Shoulders slumping, you turn to him and shrug slightly, the movement causing the strap of your top to fall over. Pulling it back up, you eye him for a moment.

Hoseok looks almost exactly like yesterday, only not nearly as warm as he’d been. He seems to exude waves of contentment in the early morning sun before he finally turns his intense gaze to you, unique eyes causing a subtle shudder to run through your body.

“I came over to see if my car was done and you were busy, so I just waited. Happened to catch the lesson too.” Watching you for a few moments, he licks his lips before shrugging himself, turning back into the garage and heading over to where your car is parked up.

“Okay, I hope you learnt something then. In case you’re wondering, every year I give the kids who are learning to drive a lesson on the engine of a car to make sure they’re educated and going to be aware of how to take care of a car. A lot of people don’t know anything about their cars except to press the gas and the brake, but cars require far more care than that.” He runs a hand along the hood of your own black car, fingers trailing gentle over the dent that’s been there since you’ve owned it.

“That’s nice of you. You were good with them, for a bunch of teenagers there was surprisingly little push back.” A grin spreads along his face slowly, white teeth becoming visible as his face begins to light up. His tongue pushes into the side of his cheek for a moment before he’s biting his lip.

“They’re good kids and I try to make it interesting. Plus they’re pretty happy at not being in a classroom right?” Silence falls between the two of you, surprisingly not awkward before he’s clearing his throat.

“So, I put your car up last night and checked it over. Do you find when you’re braking that it feels like it’s vibrating more? Or the brakes squeal?” He asks almost casually and for a moment you’re trying to remember what excuse you’d given him yesterday.

“Err yeah they squeal occasionally but, don’t all brakes do that? Mine’s always done that.” You’re not entirely sure why he’s asking this, but you’d be the first person to admit that you know nothing about cars. You just get in yours and start driving, and given that you live in a city you don’t drive very often.

Hoseok is quiet for a moment before looking at you incredulously, his eyebrow raised high. “No, brakes most definitely do not squeal all the time. Your brake pads are almost worn through, that’s very dangerous. They could wear through completely and then you’re at risk of not braking, which can lead to accidents obviously. Your car is too old to have warning sensors so it’s no surprise you didn’t know though.”

For a moment you’re standing there in confusion. You’d made up the issue on your car but it turns out that there actually is one? This is like that time that you pretended to have an illness in high school only it turns out when your mom took you to the doctors, you actually had a chest infection.

“Wait there’s something actually wrong with it? Like genuinely wrong?” Your shocked tone causes him to raise his other eyebrow before squinting at you suspiciously.

“Yeah there is, and it needs to get fixed. Unfortunately, I don’t have any free slots until two days from now. I’m getting a bunch of cars in that have priority. I’m really sorry.” He holds his hands up in apology, expression open and remorseful.

“Oh, okay well, that’s fine. I mean I need to be in town anyway right so I guess I don’t need my car? I was coming over to ask about those rooms you know are for rent as well. The motel is okay for a few nights but I don’t think I want to stay longer you know?” You’re smiling at him shyly suddenly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear before realising you’re acting like the teenagers he was teaching.

He doesn’t seem to notice though as he immediately springs into action, heading over to a worktable pushed up against the side of the garage that is piled high with papers, binders and more. If the waiting room is clean and tidy, then his desk is just a concentrated pile of mess.

Hoseok grabs his phone from under a stack of papers and walks back over, his stride long and loping with the confidence of a man who is comfortable in his own skin. At odds with how he reacts sometimes. Fingers flying across the screen, your own phone soon starts to ping in your bag causing you to pull it out.

A message from an unknown number pop up on your screen and it doesn’t take a genius to work out its Hoseok. Opening the message up, you see a bunch of names and numbers pop up.

It’s only a few seconds later that you register surprise at the fact he’s apparently saved your number, but maybe he saves all his clients numbers for quick communication in the future. Or maybe it’s some fancy Vulcan tech.

“Give these a call and tell them that I’ve recommended you. Someone should have a room available, maybe even an apartment, as the rent is pretty cheap here. If you need a ride then let me know as some of them are on the other side of town and I can take you after I close the garage tonight if you’d like?” He gives an encouraging smile and you find yourself smiling back, saving his number in your phone just under his name.

You’ve never seen someone so selfless and giving to someone he doesn’t even know, making you wonder if maybe Vulcan Industries is perhaps taking this guy for a ride. Maybe they’re going with him because he’s too kind to up the price for a big organisation like them. It kind of makes you annoyed to think that.

“I’ll work on your car as soon as I can, I feel really bad that I don’t have one to give you to use in the meantime.” He looks a little distressed at the thought of you having to walk everywhere or something and it’s unbelievably endearing.

“It’s fine Hoseok, honestly. I’m used to walking places, I’m from the city remember?” You tease him, hand reaching out to push at his arm without even realising. It’s only one you’ve done it that you register what you’ve done and immediately pull your arm back, hoping he didn’t take it the wrong way.

He hasn’t noticed the oddly intimate gesture from you though as he’s too busy chewing his lip and frowning in thought. Glancing back up, his hazel-brown eyes focus on you intently, causing your stomach to flutter.

“Yeah, okay. Just be safe okay? Let me know if you find something quick and need to move your stuff, I’ll help you as it’s my fault.” Biting your own lip to prevent the grin and the argument that you’re going to be here anyway, you nod in acquiescence before moving backwards out of the garage. You have a feeling he’d just argue with you anyway.

“I will do, I swear. Thank you for working on my car, let me know when it’s done and I’ll be back to pay okay?” He watches you quietly before nodding. Any communication between you two is suddenly stopped the loud screeching of a truck coming to a stop outside and you look out to see a car carrier, loaded up with Vulcan cars in various states of disrepair.

“Looks like your next two days of work is here so, I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for your help Hoseok, I appreciate it.” Waving at him, he gives a wave in response before his attention turns to the cars, eyes already scanning over them to assess what’s wrong. You can’t help but smile at him, though when your own eyes track over to the Vulcan carrier your forehead falls into a frown.

What was it about this endearing mechanic that had roped him into the world of Vulcan?

The first three numbers on Hoseok’s list had been a bust with all of them reporting that their rooms were either not available for short term leasing or had already been rented out. It was on the fourth number that you finally hit gold, leading to you walking around the tiny apartment that was situated in a squat building smack in the middle of town.

It was small and plain, but clean, with white washed walls throughout. Honestly, it was probably slightly larger than your own place back in the city, and the rent was a third of your city apartment.

A little kitchenette, there wasn’t enough of it to warrant a real kitchen, took up the area to the left with a section of counters reaching out from the wall to provide a little separation.

Facing away from this was a small, cosy grey couch with a large flat screen television in front of this, on top of a glass table. To the back of the room was a window that looked out onto the main street, not the most exciting views but you could see snow topped mountains rising in the far distance which made it better.

The bedroom was in the room directly to your left as you entered, the door open to reveal just enough space to fit a double bed. To your right was the small bathroom, complete with shower but no bath. It was perfect for your needs at the moment and June, the older woman Hoseok had recommended, seemed sweet enough.

“This is really nice June, I’d like to rent it but are you okay with me not being sure how long I’d be here?” You’d been upfront about this beforehand, which had immediately got you rejections. And those were only for rooms, not an entire apartment.

“Oh yes that’s fine, this has been sat here for a few months now anyway. This town is nice and all, but it’s not prime location for youngsters. Too far away from the city to be close for most of them, so a lot leave to go to the big colleges around the state or across the country and see the bright lights. Most of them don’t really come back.” She gives a small smile and you get the impression that she has personal experience with this.

“Well, I’m more than happy to take this off your hands for however long I need it. I can transfer you the first rent right now if you’d like as a key deposit?” June gives you a gentle smile, reaching forward to lay a hand on your arm and causing your words to still.

“It’s fine, I don’t need a key deposit. We keep things low key around here. You’ve got the recommendation from Jung Hoseok and that’s good enough for me.” At those words, you’re left flushing slightly before shaking your head.

“Well, he doesn’t know me you know? We’ve met exactly twice for a total of like, twenty minutes. So please, it would make me feel better.” She gives a broad grin, eyeing you from top to bottom.

“You’re very similar to him you know? Very giving and not happy to take charity.” Chewing on your lip thoughtfully, you consider arguing with her but decide it’s better not to annoy your landlady so soon. Plus, she seems to like Hoseok and maybe she might know something about him.

“I noticed that too, he’s very nice and helpful. I appreciate it. Has he lived here long?” If he’d been here a while then perhaps he just had a good reputation that had led to his contract with Vulcan.

“Oh he is, he’d give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it. And yes, he’s been here for…oh 15 years now? Yes I think it’s been 15. He turned up when he was 21 and set up shop right there and he’s been there ever since. I don’t know how the town would cope without him.” She has a fond smile on her as she reminisces.

For a moment you’re quiet, contemplating this. He’s been here for a while then, but when you think on it, it makes even less sense. From June’s words, he’s a beloved member of the town which likely means he could get plenty of business just from this. So why take up the contract from a company like Vulcan?

“21 is a young age to set up a garage right? I mean, it looks like a nice place in town and the house behind it is so big, so it can’t have been cheap?” The questions are innocent but they leave an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Hoseok is such a nice guy and you feel guilty intruding into his life like this.

“He was young yes, but he didn’t go to college either as far as I’m aware. He has no family and I believe that he’s independently wealthy I think? You’re better off asking some folk in town for more details on him if you’re interested, I think he invented something as he’s got plenty. Lends out money to people who are in need and never seems to need any himself.” You pause at that, fingers pulling at a thread that’s loose on your shirt.

You want to query further but figure it would start to seem suspicious if you keep asking her about him, though she seems more than happy to spill the beans on the striking, big-hearted mechanic.

After that, you sign the contract with June and head back to the motel, ready to pull your suitcase into town to your new apartment. It’s a good job that you’d had a lot of savings, as you doubted Donghae would be happy paying for an apartment for you. Despite it being the story he wanted.

The time you spend going back and forth allows you to consider the enigma of Jung Hoseok some more. He’s independently wealthy, very wealthy if he’s going around giving loans out to people if they need it and owning both the garage and that huge house. So then why take on the lucrative contract for exclusive rights to Vulcan Industries? He obviously doesn’t need it.

And the fact that he had the money to buy his garage, get it all fully kitted out and start up at only 21? Even in a small town like this that would have to take some serious capital.

June’s comment about him inventing something stuck in your mind, making you wonder if perhaps he had worked at Vulcan beforehand or interned there. Maybe he made something that Vulcan paid him for, allowing him to live happily in this little town.

There’s something connected here and you feel frustrated that you can’t see it, leading to what must be an attractive scowl on your forehead. In fact, you’re so deep in thought that you fail to notice that you’re passing his garage or the deep voice calling out your name until suddenly you see two scuffed, black boots in your vision.

Looking up, you’re surprised to see Hoseok standing there with raised eyebrows and his tanned face a picture of pleasure. One corner of his lips is lifted in a tiny smirk before he straightens it out.

“Oh Hoseok, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you.” You apologise profusely, hand coming up to your throat in an unconscious manner. Hoseok’s pearly teeth peek through as he laughs lightly, bringing up a hand streaked in black from working in engines to run through his dark hair, shining red in the sun. What doesn’t stick together falls back forward; framing his elegant face slightly while the oil gives it some unintended volume.

“Yeah, I figured after you didn’t respond to my fourth call. Did you find somewhere?” He asks, pointing down towards your suitcase. Glancing down, you look at the black fabric blankly for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah I did, with June Settler. It’s a nice little apartment in the middle of town. I think it’ll work out.” Hoseok grins broadly, happiness practically radiating out of him and the bright midday sun gives his golden skin a glow, as if a fire you can’t see lights him from within.

“That’s great! I can take you if you want? Save you walking in the hot sun?” Hands playing with the towel that was on his shoulder before he gives a nervous smile and it emboldens you a little.

“I’d really appreciate that. Would you like to grab lunch too? I’m assuming you’re ready for something to eat right?” He pauses for a second, mouth opening slowly as his eyes widen. His movements are slow, the rigid column of his throat working as he swallows before his eyes are flickering back at you before skittering away.

“Really? You want to go to lunch?” His voice, normally bright and enthusiastic is suddenly shy and quiet, causing you to frown. Surely the guy is aware of how attractive he is, even if you’re not actually asking him on a date? It’s only when he brushes a hand against his scarred cheek that you realise once again.

“Yes I would like to. I know exactly two people in this town and one of them is a middle-aged woman who’s my landlady. She’s sweet but I don’t feel we run in the same circles if you get me?” Hoseok eyes you for a moment, brow creasing in confusion before gesturing for you to follow him.

His attire for today is similar to yesterday’s, with denim jeans that are splashed with spots of oil hugging his legs only today he’s got an old black band t-shirt with a Metallica print on it. It suits him, with the cut making his shoulder seems larger and his waist narrower.

“I’m not too sure we run in the same circles either if I’m being honest? I mean, I’m a 36-year-old mechanic and you’re a writer who’s what? 23?” He queries, eyebrow raised as he opens the door to a Vulcan Hammer, a huge black pick-up truck that’s as pristine on the outside as it is on the inside. You’d expect nothing less from him though, given what his garage looks like.

“Writer? Yes. 23? I wish. I’m 29 and feeling older every day I swear.” For a moment you forget yourself, groaning loudly as your head falls back against the seat, suitcase in the back. Hoseok looks over at you, face lit up with a pretty smile and you can feel his eyes drag over you.

“Wow, you do not look 29. And I get what you mean about feeling older, I swear more of my joints crack every day.” As if to prove his point, he reaches out and shifts the car into gear, his elbow cracking as he does so. You giggle softly at it as he shakes his arm, the muscles in his bicep flexing enticingly each time.

The short drive to your new apartment is filled with small talk, both of you feeling out the other conversation wise and trying to establish what is okay and isn’t okay to talk about. While he’s always willing to give a hand and help, you discover that he also knows when to step back and let you do things on your own as he waits in the car for you to finish moving your stuff.

Once done, he drives to the other side of town to a small Italian restaurant that he swears has the best food outside of Italy. You’re not entirely sure whether to believe him, given that this is the only Italian restaurant in town so there’s not much choice.

Still, it’s a charming little place with soft lighting and irresistible aromas. It’s not even 1pm but the place is already half full, though it doesn’t surprise you given how tiny the restaurant is. Even Hoseok has to bashfully admit that there aren’t many restaurants here, so they tend to fill quickly.

An older woman with dark hair pulled tight into a ponytail comes across and gives you both plastic covered menus, but you’re too amused with the obvious flirting she’s doing with the handsome man opposite you to take a look at the food. He engages with it graciously, taking her flirtatious comments with an ease he’s lacked with you before turning his gaze back to your own and smiling amiably once she goes.

“That’s Mariella, she’s the daughter of the owner of this place,” He leans forward suddenly, picture perfect face suddenly inches from your own and his unbelievably beautiful eyes so close you can swear you can see individual strands of colour. “I think she has a thing for me.”

You laugh loudly, hand moving to cover your mouth as you nod your head slowly. “Hoseok, my newest friend, she most definitely has a thing for you. But I don’t think she’s interested in actually pursuing.”

Lifting up his menu, he grins broadly before sending over a wink. “Oh I know, she’s been doing it for 13 years now. We’re just not fated to be unfortunately.”

He buries his head into his menu after that, soft noises of contemplation coming from him unbidden and for a moment you watch him as he concentrates. Tiny lines bisect between his eyebrows and his mouth moves silently as he reads, causing a little smile to spread over your face. He’s cute.

The waitress comes back with a jug of iced lemon water, filling both your glasses and taking your menus once she’s taken your order. Hoseok picks the spaghetti carbonara while you opt for the tagliatelle with bacon and mushrooms with a side dish of garlic bread for the both of you.

There’s an awkward silence that falls between the two of you once the waitress leaves again and you’re no longer preoccupied with menus. Within even realising it, you both take a sip of water to try and hide the awkwardness at the same time. Eyes darting around the restaurant, they eventually come to rest on Hoseok, who is sat staring determinedly at his hands, which are twisting nervously.

This close, you can see the grime that has absorbed into his skin so deeply he’ll likely never get rid of it unless he stops working on cars for years. The outline of his nails is surrounded in black with the palm of his hand looking tough and as you watch, he rubs them together self-consciously.

“It’s hard to keep them clean in my job, if my hands are clean then I’m doing something wrong.” He gives a little apologetic laugh, causing you to smile at his shy demeanour. You barely know the man, yet you’ve never met anyone as confusing as him. One moment he’s timid and apologising for himself over the smallest thing and withdrawing from contact whereas the next he’s bold and flirting with a middle aged waitress.

You get the feeling that he has moments of confidence that soon whither away around people, as even with Mariella or the teenagers he’d looked to be holding part of himself away. As if he was afraid to fully let someone see the true side of him. But you didn’t know him nearly enough to know if this was true and you didn’t particularly want to psychoanalyse him when you’d barely talked to him.

“So…why’d you come here? It’s not exactly the most happening place in California, as beautiful as it is.” Hoseok asks, eyes flickering up to meet yours before skittering away at the direct contact. The amused, confident man of this morning has vanished and you find it kind of charming.

“I’m…researching something for what I’m writing and my queries led me to here. It seems nice though so far; the people are unbelievably friendly. All two I’ve met.” Hoseok grins at that. “But it seems pretty relaxing and the air is so much fresher here. Maybe I’ll get to finish what I write and feel better when I go back?” You muse, almost to yourself as you look out the window.

You’ve told him the truth, with just a little extra truth omitted from him. This place really was beautiful and soothing, and maybe you would complete your article and go back to the city and your job feeling better than ever. Hoseok humming to himself quietly brings your attention back to him, watching as his black hair falls forward into his face again.

“It is nice. Peaceful.” Looking at you, his lips break out into an innocent smile that lights his whole face up. In the dimness that makes up the inside of the restaurant, his bold, unique eyes seem to look even brighter than usual which you know is unusual. You feel slightly ridiculous, as you never normally obsess over people’s eyes like you are his.

But you’ve never seen anyone with eyes as captivating or as exceptional as his either.

“What about you? Err, June told me that you moved here when you were 21 right? Seems pretty young.” Tongue running over his teeth; he lets out a breathy laugh before shaking his head.

“Ah June, she does like to talk. Why are you implying I’m too old now?” The grin on his face lets you know that he’s teasing you. “Yeah I moved here young. Yosemite is close by and I just love volcanoes you know?” At that you’re staring at him with a frown before he’s suddenly laughing loudly, hands clapping at the sight of your face.

“I’m kidding! I just like my solitude and this place seemed calm, when I first visited it was like it pacified my soul as ridiculous and silly as that sounds. I like it here, everyone knows everyone but at the same time they’re all respectful of my privacy and my personal life. No one asks questions here.” His tone turns slightly bitter at the end and his words cause your stomach to roil with guilt.

The poor guy moved all the way out here to get away from questions and people, yet here you were, intending to pick his life apart to find out that connection to Vulcan and hopefully find the trail of the elusive CEO.

“You say that, but June was pretty eager to tell me things about you.” Another sip of your water reveals that the glass is already half empty, with the ice melting rapidly due to the warmth that is strong even inside. Hoseok snorts lightly.

“June just wants to set me up with someone. She’s never seen me dating and I think she feels sorry for me and like I can’t get my own dates. Though in fairness it’s normally her sending pretty boys and girls to me, not the other way around.” Your cheeks flush rose at being called pretty by this handsome man and you start tearing your napkin apart to distract yourself.

“So no girlfriend then?” Your question is innocent but immediately you can’t help but cringe, causing him to laugh at the brazen line. Of course you’d say something stupid like that and make this even more awkward, but Hoseok is a gentlemen and doesn’t make it worse.

“No, no girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or wife. Or husband. Not even a dog. I am married to my job. I don’t know if you can’t tell but, I don’t really get along with people all that well.” Now it’s his turn to start tearing at his napkin, causing you to frown.

“You’re kidding right? You were amazing with those kids and June obviously loves you. Along with that, you have a whole contacts list of people willing to help you out, the motel guy gushed about how nice you are which makes me think he has a crush, and you’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet to me.” His cheeks are burning bright red at this point, a shy smile causing his lips to twitch as he cocks his head slightly.

“No, no. I mean, well. No. Helping people is easy, like I don’t have to think about it. But like, friend wise? Or romance wise? I don’t really know what to do; I’ve always been a loner so I don’t have very good people skills. Or maybe that should be intimacy skills? Either way, I don’t get how people work up close.” He sounds embarrassed, causing you to instantly feel sympathy for him.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. There’s lots of people out there that can’t do intimacy, you just have to try I guess? If it’s really not for you, then you find someone who is okay with that. If that doesn’t interest you, then you stay alone if you feel happier.” You’re not entirely sure if Hoseok expected to have a lesson in inter-personal relationships when he agreed to lunch but here he is, getting one anyway.

As if he read your mind, he gives a soft laugh before looking up at you with an adorable smile. “This is not what I expected our first proper conversation to consist of you know? I feel like I’m on Dr Phil or something.” Nodding, you give an apologetic smile of your own.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go all weird and philosophical there. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something way more normal yeah?” There’s a moment of silence from Hoseok before he nods his head, biting his lip as he watches you.

The conversation changes pace to something much more neutral, which turns out to be a lot about your life and going to college. He tells you that he never went and had no interest in going, instead preferring to work with his hands from the get go.

It’s only while eating your lunch, which you have to agree with Hoseok is truly delicious, that you find out that he not only fixes cars for a living, but apparently also enjoys metalworking. He only says this when you ask what he does in his free time, to which he chuckles and notes he doesn’t like free time as he doesn’t like being idle.

“I think I’ve re-done my house about 3 times in 5 years because I just hate having nothing to do. But I also do metalworking which is fun, let’s me unleash my creativity and it’s something I’ve always done.” At your little confused frown, he smiles before pushing a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewing quickly.

“It covers a lot of things, like you could build a ship or instead you could make jewellery. I like to make anything from things that could be used as household decorations to large sculptures. It helps keep my skills fresh and occupies my mind when I’m making something beautiful come to life.” He gets a wistful look on his face for a moment, overtaking the passion that had filled those striking eyes with a gleam.

Taking a moment to eat some more of your lunch before eventually placing your cutlery down, the food was delicious but far too much, you watch him for a moment as he goes on to eagerly explain some of the metalworking he does.

“It sounds interesting, I mean I don’t really understand half of what you’re saying but you seem to enjoy it. I’d like to see your stuff at some point if I could, I don’t think I’ve ever paid attention to metal sculptures.” At that, Hoseok flushes and his head drops shyly, fingers scratching at his nose.

“Ah, well, yeah…I guess. Maybe.” His self-consciousness causes you to bite your lip in an attempt to stop the smile, lifting a hand to bring the waitresses attention and save him from discomfiture. For a moment you both fight over the bill, Hoseok wanting to pay for the both of you to be a gentleman before you point out that you’re the one who invited him to lunch.

He relents pretty quickly though, evidently not wanting to kick up too much of a fuss. The short drive to your new apartment ends just as quickly, with classic rock playing through the Bluetooth connection from his super high-tech phone.

After convincing him that you’re fine walking to your place without him, you start to head towards what is possibly the smallest apartment block you’ve ever seen in your life. A loud call of your name causes you to turn around though.

The sight of Hoseok with his window down, strong and lean arm resting on the edge while a set of black Ray-Ban style glasses perch on his nose and his hair parted on his forehead causes you to feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach.

He gives a quick grin, lips lifting up to brighten what little of his face you can see and causing your abused stomach to turn over on itself. Did he really not realise how beautiful he was?

“Feel free to call if you want, or text or something. I know you don’t really know anyone here but I can introduce you to some people. Or we could hang out, I guess. If you want. Work on those people skills I guess? Which I really need as I just ‘I guess’ twice.” His boldness dissipates quickly, resulting in him almost mumbling the words out by the end and causing you to smile at him.

“I’d like that Hoseok, I’ll let you know okay?” He’s dumbfounded for a moment, as if he’d expected you to reject his awkward proposition before an excited smile of his own spreads over his face, looking more like it belongs on the face of a teenager asking out his first crush.

“That’s great! Yeah, totally, I mean…message whenever. Well, I’m not free till 8pm but I’ll answer if I have time you know? You can text whenever but if you wanted to call then after 8 works best okay? That works best for me. Wait I just said that. But…I guess…if that’s not good for you then call anyway and I might be able to answer?” A giggle from you causes him to stop and rub his forehead with a grimace.

“Sorry. Bad people skills remember? Just…do what you want. And please, call me Hobi.” He gives another heart stopping smile, tinged with embarrassment before giving a little wave and moving off before you can respond.

You watch his huge car drive off before leaning back against the wall and shaking your head. He was truly a mystery that you desperately wanted to dig into and unwrap; only you weren’t entirely sure anymore if it was for the investigation or for yourself.

A/N: Okay this was supposed to be a one shot but it’s 12k and it’s not even halfway done. I didn’t want it to end up like 30k or something and people not be able to read so...there will be a second part! Hopefully this wasn’t boring ;-;

Hephaestus Hobi is a genuine sweetheart and I love him so I hope you all love him too! I’d love to hear your thoughts on what’s going to happen!

#armiesnet #btssunshinenet #btscreatorsnet #kkreationsnet #j hope angst #hoseok angst #bts angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok one shot #j hope fanfic #j hope one shot #bts fanfic #bts one shot #j hope fluff #hoseok fluff #bts fluff

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houseofvans · 7 years ago

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SKETCHY BEHAVIORS | KATY ANN GILMORE

Inspired by mathematics, architecture, perspective, and illusion of space, Los Angeles based artist Katy Ann Gilmore combines her love of art and math in the amazing work she creates–from sculptures to drawings to a recent mural at Vans HQ! Find out more about Katy Ann Gilmore, what artists inspire her, and her process for creating her insane optical art below!

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself? My name is Katy Ann Gilmore, and I live in Los Angeles. I’m originally from Indiana / Illinois, and I moved out here 7 years ago and fell in love with the area. I’m a big fan of being outside and hiking, so I make sure to take breaks and free my brain from the studio often. Although, I sometimes think of my best ideas on a hike. :)

I grew up making things, but in the mural Midwest, I didn’t really have an idea of what it meant to make art professionally. I’ve been keeping journals since I was 8, so it’s fun to look back and see how many times I wrote that I just want to “make things” for my job. I feel so incredibly lucky that I get to wake up and do that each day!

You recently did a really cool mural at Vans HQ. Can you tell us a little about how that came about, the process, and the idea behind the design? I had so much fun with that mural! Jamie from HQ reached out with an idea to have me interpret the “Off the Wall” slogan in a way that was inline with how I’d been using perspective and illusion of space. Another feature was incorporating the Vans checkerboard pattern, which I think combined pretty seamlessly as everything I do is based upon some sort of grid system. The idea was the grab elements of work and concepts in the past, and design something for this specific wall at HQ. As with all murals, I had everything detailed and planned out before painting on the wall.

In your works, you’ve been influenced by topography and distortions of space. First, how did you first get into drawing, and second, when did your art form evolve into what you’re doing now visually? Also at what point, did this relationship with mathematics are art intertwine? I first started drawing heavily about 7 years ago. I had just moved to LA from the midwest for grad school, and I didn’t have a car, money, or a large space to work. That really limited me in materials and flexibility. I found that I had to make my studio wherever I was, so drawing was a perfect medium to explore. I took projects with me and worked when I could. I was working full-time at the same time, so I’d also use my lunch break to draw. Then, as life began to stabilize, I started working in more 3D/installation terms.

The same cycle happened again when I quit my full-time job in late 2014. I started focusing on drawing again as I didn’t have a dedicated space to make art, and started to use Instagram as a tool to push small drawings for purchase. I really credit those times focusing on drawing for providing the foundation for my mural work today. My work and drawing eventually began to mature as I started bringing in ideas and interests from the past about perception and the ways we engage with the environments around us.

Art and math have always been big parts of my life. I was always making something growing up, and also had a pretty heavy interest in buildings and architecture along with mathematics. The higher up in mathematics you go, the more abstract it becomes. You’re not so much dealing with numbers as concepts and problems. I really loved that, and particularly fell in love with non-Euclidean geometry. It’s been fun to see them naturally intertwine as I pursue ideas that seem interesting to me. I like that about art. Any interests that you have, no matter how seemingly disparate, can come together in what you make.

You’ve worked in various mediums from sculpture, installation to drawing and painting. Is there a new medium you’ve been meaning to explore but haven’t had the chance yet? Although it’s still sculpture, I’d love to create outdoor sculptural works at some point. I did my first outdoor mural last summer, and it was fun to think about how it interacted with the surrounding space. A big part of my process is spending time outside, so it seems natural to me to create work that will permanently live in an outdoor space. I have a few ideas rattling around that I’m sure I’ll have the chance to make someday! :)

What’s the process when you’re creating your topographical visual artwork? Do you work from sketches to laying it out on a computer? What do you find to be the most satisfying part of the process? I usually start with pretty messy and initial ideas in my sketchbook. I take a sketchbook with me wherever I go, so when these ideas come (I tend to get a lot while driving, on a walk or hike, basically during any monotonous activity where my mind wanders), I draw them out. From there, I pick the winners to develop into nicer sketches. From there, I pick a smaller pool of winners to be made into shapes cut out of paper that are basically miniatures of finished work. Then, I’d sort and order those to see which ones I think will be most effective on a larger scale.

I do my recent work on dibond (aluminum sheet with a plastic core), and create a file in Illustrator to have the shape cutout. Then the fun part starts! I get to actually make the work. This is the most satisfying and meditative part for me, seeing it all come together after so many steps. It’s a big planning process, so I’m simultaneously in the stages of sketching on piece, working on a finished piece, or drawing in Illustrator to keep work flowing.

Who are some artists out there that you find inspiring? I’ve been a fan of Daniel Arsham for awhile, and I’m also keen on Phillip K. Smith’s work. I really love how they both deal with spaces/environments as a whole to create an experience.

What’s a common misconception about artists? What has been your greatest obstacles and how have you overcome it? I think each career has a stigma attached to it, and unfortunately a common one about art is the brooding, emotional, starving artist. I don’t fit that mold, and I know tons of artists don’t as well. I’m sure you could find a brooding, emotional, starving accountant out there. When I talk about what I make, I reference how others in different careers approach their work. I treat it like I have any other job in the past. The hours are crazier, but more flexible, but it’s still a job. I love what I do, but obviously everyone has days where they really don’t want to work.

I intrinsically self-motivated, so it’s not too hard to push past that, but it does get frustrating when that assumption is associated with your personality. It took me a bit of time to realize that it was ok to just do my work as it fits my temperament and schedule.

What are you jamming to when you’re in the studio? What would folks find if they were to check out your most recent music playlist? I’m usually listening to James Blake, Nicolas Jaar, Darkside, or Bonobo...and most recently Loyle Carner.

We always like to know what artists would be doing if they weren’t artists? What career or profession do you think you’d be in? I’ve had this list of three careers that I would do instead for awhile now. These are half joking, half not. I’d be a paleontologist, astronaut, or some sort of engineer.

What are your favorite Vans? I really love the white Sk8-Hi’s. They’re usually my first go-to as they work with pretty much anything I wear.

What do you tell folks who want to do what you do as a career? The first thing would be to make things all the time. Make sure you have a stable avenue to provide an arena to make things, whether that’s keeping a full-time or part-time job (as long as it’s not too all-consuming and stressful...if that’s the case, find another job that facilitates you making work), living more frugally, or whatever else you can do to have the financial means to create work.

I think there’s something to be said about catering your life to have art at the center. I’m all for risks and jumping in (I quit a full-time job in late 2014, and while looking for another job, kicked art into full-time, made tons of financial sacrifices, and eventually that took off), but I think it is good to make sure your life is set up as a foundation for success in your artwork. Maybe financials aren’t a concern for someone else - it might be other life obligations. I think it’s just good to be aware of whatever those constraints might be, and don’t just work around them, but with them.

What do you have coming up that you’re super excited about? I have a solo show in May at DENK in Los Angeles, so I’m excited about that! I’m looking forward to sharing the new work I’ve been making!

FOLLOW KATY Website | Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Tumblr

#Art #Vans #Vans Girls #Vans Art #Sketchy Behaviors #interview #mural #design

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indd40041020202021 · 4 years ago

Text

I got my model from 3D printing and it looks good, except there are a few things I want to fix.

The mouth of the leech didn’t come out properly (there is a mouth with teeth that is missing), and its a little bit shorter/stouter than I wanted it to be.

I’ve been working for the past few days (hours and hours) on fixing it, but Im having an extremely frustrating, pull-your-hair-out-and-jump-out-a-window time at translating the file for 3D printing. I even rebuilt the entire model, and I still go from 1000 polygons to 11M+ polygons after baking and my computer can’t handle the modelling program, so every save takes at least 2 minutes, every bake about 5, with crashes about every 20 minutes. Going to reach out to Thomas to see if he can help me in any way, but for now I’d like to snap my laptop in half. :) This is the most time sensitive thing because I need to get this printed to what I want before moving onto modelling and fitting the electronics.

In other news, I was feeling a bit frustrated with the electronics as well, and found out by watching Paul MCWhorter videos (who I love) that what I want to do can be done with a simple motor controller. Another super frustrating waste of time, I am not having a good week! Honestly, here is the circuit comparison: original

new and improved

From 18+ pieces that overlap and switch directions, to 5 programmable pieces. I’m going to test this out this afternoon.

On the positive side, I had a really nice chat with Keith yesterday. I was thinking about the notes left about my design brief, and how there is room to create more connections with cause and effect of the project in the real world. Keith and I talked about exhibiting and fiction caricatures, and the idea of having it online. I had come up with this idea of an AR filter that lets the leech suck your face and analyze your emotions. Keith said to take it further and let people guide themselves through a fiction online and get to the realization that it is a fiction through reading. I like this idea, and then I thought about how to ground it in something that people will instantly understand.

I thought about the idea of aquarium exhibits, and how they are often interactive and as the participant to find out more. If I situated my leech display as if it were part of the aquarium, or aquatic rehab centre, then I think it would be easier for people to get interested in, and to jump off from in an abstract, futures- thinking way. I think this also takes it out of a super-serious, academic/untouchable exhibit into something that is semiotically nudging you to participate.

I thought if this reality was making huge steps towards heterarchies, that many colonial names of places would be replaced with indigenous names, such as Stanley Park going back to Xwayxway (a squamish village that was pushed out/destroyed/razed when settlers came).

Anyway, frustrating week - hoping it will pass, hoping that I can actually get something solid, done, checked off the list.

I found a cheap aquarium online too - going to hopefully pick that up this weekend.

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africanrenaissance · 8 years ago

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Oualata, Mauritania

Oualata (also known as “Walata”), located in Southeast Mauritania, is one town out of a string of 4 in total, coined by UNESCO as the Ksour (ksar - singular, ksour - plural; a Maghrebi Arabic term meaning “fortified village”) of Ouadane, Chinguetti, Tichitt and Oualata. The city of Oualata became a popular caravan city, a trading hub, between the 12th and 16th centuries CE. [1] Today it is renowned for its decorative vernacular houses.

The medieval Moroccan traveler and scholar, Ibn Battuta, wrote of his stay in Oualata in his Travels in Asia and Africa 1325-1354, saying:

“Thus we reached the town of Iwalatan [Walata] after a journey from Sijilmasa of two months to a day. Iwalatan is the northernmost province of the Negroes, and the sultan's representative there was one Farba Husayn, ‘farba’ meaning deputy [in their Ianguage]. When we arrived there, the merchants deposited their goods in an open square, where the blacks undertook to guard them, and went to the farba. He was sitting on a carpet under an archway, with his guards before him carrying lances and bows in their hands, and the headmen of the Massufa behind him. The merchants remained standing in front of him while he spoke to them through an interpreter, although they were close to him, to show his contempt for them. It was then that I repented of having come to their country, because of their lack of manners and their contempt for the whites.

...Later on the mushrif [inspector] of Iwalatan, whose name was Mansha Ju, invited all those who had come with the caravan to partake of his hospitality. At first I refused to attend, but my companions urged me very strongly, so I went with the rest. The repast was served--some pounded millet mixed with a little honey and milk, put in a half calabash shaped like a large bowl. The guests drank and retired. I said to them, ‘Was it for this that the black invited us?’ They answered, ‘Yes; and it is in their opinion the highest form of hospitality.’ This convinced me that there was no good to be hoped for from these people, and I made up my mind to travel [back to Morocco at once] with the pilgrim caravan from Iwalatan. Afterwards, however, I thought it best to go to see the capital of their king [of the kingdom of Mali, at the city of Mali].”

He seems to have met an hateful sentiment against “white” North Africans from someone within the city. Nonetheless, he did not hate the blacks. Also by his own account (and as seen in the next excerpt), this city was inhabited by the Masufa Berbers, a tribe not known much about. The demographics of Oualata, being mostly black, could mean the Masufa are one of the few heavily black Berber tribes (the main most notably being Tuareg people), or they simply could have been the typical “white” Berbers.

University of Georgia historian Timothy Cleaveland notes in his book Becoming Walata: A History of Saharan Social Formation and Transformation (2002), on page 176, that the city was inhabited by a mix of the original Mande-speaking peoples (also inhabited by Soninke people as well), and later migrations of Zenaga-speaking Berbers, followed even further down the line by Arab or “Arabized” nomads. Although, he notes that the composition of the population didn’t change very much. [2]

The famous Israeli historian and expert of African Islamic history Nehemia Levtzion says in his book Ancient Ghana and Mali (1973) on page 147 that “Walata” had a mixed population of [”white”] Berbers and “Sudanese”; blacks. On pages 80 and 158, we read that it fell from its trading popularity to the city of Timbuktu in the second half of the 14th century. [3]

This is what Ibn Battuta had to say of his stay in the city of Oualata, its men and the quality of their women:

“My stay at Iwalatan lasted about fifty days; and I was shown honor and entertained by its inhabitants. It is an excessively hot place, and boasts a few small date-palms, in the shade of which they sow watermelons. Its water comes from underground waterbeds at that point, and there is plenty of mutton to be had. The garments of its inhabitants, most of whom belong to the Massufa tribe, are of fine Egyptian fabrics.

Their women are of surpassing beauty, and are shown more respect than the men. The state of affairs amongst these people is indeed extraordinary. Their men show no signs of jealousy whatever; no one claims descent from his father, but on the contrary from his mother's brother. A person's heirs are his sister's sons, not his own sons. This is a thing which I have seen nowhere in the world except among the Indians of Malabar. But those are heathens; these people are Muslims, punctilious in observing the hours of prayer, studying books of law, and memorizing the Koran. Yet their women show no bashfulness before men and do not veil themselves, though they are assiduous in attending the prayers. Any man who wishes to marry one of them may do so, but they do not travel with their husbands, and even if one desired to do so her family would not allow her to go.

The women there have ‘friends’ and ‘companions’ amongst the men outside their own families, and the men in the same way have ‘companions’ amongst the women of other families. A man may go into his house and find his wife entertaining her ‘companion’ but he takes no objection to it. One day at Iwalatan I went into the qadi's house, after asking his permission to enter, and found with him a young woman of remarkable beauty. When I saw her I was shocked and turned to go out, but she laughed at me, instead of being overcome by shame, and the qadi said to me ‘Why are you going out? She is my companion.’ I was amazed at their conduct, for he was a theologian and a pilgrim [to Mecca] to boot. I was told that he had asked the sultan's permission to make the pilgrimage that year with his ‘companion’--whether this one or not I cannot say--but the sultan would not grant it.”

In a quite hilarious situation, Battuta is surprised by this beautiful woman and attempts to flee like a nervous boy. And he does end up leaving the city of Oualata, in frustration, for Mali to see the king, and notes that it takes 24 days to reach if the caravan pushes on rapidly. [4]

Citation 4 is the text provided by Fordham University’s IHSP.

The renowned 15th-16th century Moroccan Berber-Andalusi writer, Leo Africanus, notes in his Descrittione dell’Africa that:

“The fourth part of Africa which is called the land of Negros, beginneth eastward at the kingdome of Gaoga, from whence it extendeth west as far as Gualata.” (pg 124)

“I* my selfe saw ﬁfteene kingdoms of the Negros: howbeit there are many more, which although I saw not with mine owne eies, yet are they by the Negros sufﬁciently knowen and frequented. Their names there fore (beginning from the west, and so proceeding Eastward and Southward) are these following: Gualata, Ghinea, Melli, Tombuto, Gago, Guber, Agadez, Cano, Cafena, Zegzeg, Zanfara, Guangara, Borno, Gaogo, Nube.” (pg 128) [5]

The last two citations are unrelated pieces written to explain what exactly this “Gaoga” kingdom was, seeing that it isn’t written of otherwise, for anyone interested.

The beautiful ancient city of Oualata, Mauritania remains a notable tourist attraction today. An hour-long documentary was made about the muralist women of Oualata who decorate these houses, titled “En attandant les hommes”, in 2007 by director Katy Ndiaye.

See www.walata.org if you plan to visit. Below are some extra pictures of the city (one of them shows muralists at work). Enjoy.

Citations:

1. http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/750/

2. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25653366

3. http://www.sahistory.org.za/sites/default/files/file%20uploads%20/nehemia_levtzion_ancient_ghana_and_malibook4you.pdf

4. http://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/halsall/source/1354-ibnbattuta.asp

5. Leo Africanus, The History and Description of Africa and of the Notable Things Therein Contained: Volume 1, pgs 124 and 128, published by B. Franklin, 1896

6. https://academic.oup.com/afraf/article-abstract/XXIX/CXV/280/121509/THE-KINGDOM-OF-GAOGA-OF-LEO-AFRICANUS

7. http://www.jstor.org/stable/180544

#mauritania #west africa #north africa #sahara #/africancreations #/blackmuslims #islam #arabic #melanin #black history #african history #black tumblr #unesco #archaeology #architecture #black muslims #/westafrica

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driftwork · 4 years ago

Text

life in the west...(3) - see it as aberrant and broken, you see it as the normal course of events....

There are two Pauls, one european and one american, one died the other will. Let's begin with the american one... We were sitting a bookshop cafe, holding a few hours over lunch to speak, to renew our acquaintance. We talked about everything, meetings, friends, politics, science. [He said for me, the things that interest are socialism, nationalism and integralism all of which allow for a collective subject and a morality that goes beyond utilitarianism.] We were always skirting around the edges of the discussion that was the ontological difference, the crisis of being that would always separate us, and yet not... He said I know - you and I disagree. I think anything can become political; you think everything already is. I see it as aberrant and broken, you see it as the normal course of events.... Dialectics, he said, it’s all dialectics and fuzzy logic to you. In that phrase “I see it as aberrant and broken, you see it as the normal course of events.... “ The ontological chasm is revealed. For he believes that it is possible to imagine a society that isn’t broken, whereas for me deep in the fuzzy sets I think rather that no matter what the society is like, being will always remain unbearable[...broken... ] In a sense the difference is delineated/exemplified by the fact that these two almost old men, one in his sixth decade, the other in his seventh decade became rather surprisingly friends. Shortly after we met, we immediately and continuously began to study everything, all the rather strange and fantastical details amongst which we found ourselves, a peculiar ontological gesture to understand why why why. From every knot in the wooden floor of the cafe, every blemish in the polished concrete floor, the hiss of the Essence of the espresso machine, to the rhizomic grass growing in the crevices of the walled courtyard to the rear of the cafe, the tree growing in the corner, to the last slither on the stairs, scuff marks, mud, the Saharan sand in the air and steadily coating the vehicles. This was all a neo(now almost)secret preparation for the continuation of the friendship. The bizarre decadence of the hospital club sipping vodka late at night over burgers. (Who could imagine me there?) The insanity of friendship. Beyond this the detailed examination of the others desired objects means little, the surprising curves and angles of the body, the folds and warm limits emerging from the laughter. It must be so unless the opposite is true and we'd rather be sitting drinking margaritas and whiskey sours than returning to rooms on opposing sides of the city and suburbs. When he arrived in the city he had put a small, crackling record player between the desk and the door, he turns the room into what passes for a home for a denizen of the liquid modern, A place he can curl up in his private space and breathe more easily; on evenings when he took men home, on evenings spent in front of the machine, (which changed into expensive digital equipment later) and in front of the machine with a growing circle of friends, whose conversation gave his depressed soul hope, sometimes when laughter filled the now bigger space he wondered what it was like to be a father. A grey parrot living in a large cage, did he ever let it out to fly around the room or local sky ? paul, paul, paul it cried. The parrot outlived him and remained long after he left.

And then the European one... The woman across the room whose elegance speaks of casual wealth, is standing by the bar talking to the owner - he looks like an interested man. A course or two of small dishes arrive as we watch them go outside to stand beneath the arbor and dream of smoking cigarettes together in the half-light, she laughs smoke and he smiles as if happy. We were amongst the last people to leave, we often were in those days. They were still together sitting on stools eating the additional food he'd ordered. It was raining outside. Everything begins with the anomaly of our latest meeting in Brussels.Soho, [ah Brussels] which leads to an investigation of practice and place, theory being possible across the divergence that had appeared, we ate bowls of pasta and light beer or wine. It was a fine spring day and we had come across a serious break in the network of our worlds, which happens even though it is becoming extraordinarily overcrowded with humans and their things (and what isn't their things?). Although nobody ever actually says anything, we wonder if we are the only ones who have noticed, but wonder in our joint madness if we dare say anything of this. How did that multiplicity of lines become political ? (does he speak of this in france and belguim?) We look across the square between the greyness of the bark of the London Plane trees, with drinks in our hands. (PL is drinking grappa whilst I sip shots of vodka, we are old friends, originally meeting in small political groups, three or four decades ago. Both gradually coming to exist in the dialectic of fuzziness.) And yet we recognize that it is meaningless for no one ever goes in amongst the trees, it is a conspiracy that cannot be broken. There is no way out. Between us there is an insufficient breakage of place and practice. We agree to stop the writing project, the ontology is cancelled, closed, papers end up in drawers, electronic files and diagrams vanish, the project ends. We are still trying to speak though its increasingly difficult. People move in, establish themselves and remain in stasis, not only unable to leave the place but actively prevented from doing so whether it is the desire to appear in the limelight, the economy of enslavement or a gay parade which runs a thread of conspiracy through the streets, still there and concealed behind their self-importance like a broken desire. [...] Occasionally as we walk through a square with a dozen multi-centenarian trees we notice something else, a sudden stillness of place, a recess where we notice that the trees are waiting for us to vanish. (The buildings crumble into ruins, the now empty courtyard transformed by the growth of trees...) We walk down a side street to another Portugese bar to have a few final drinks. Through the window of the bar I can see a block of luxury flats entered through a metal gateway set in a tall archway, which masks the perfect crime of their existence. All we need do is accept the invitation and we will live entirely on the surface and avoid the mystery of the break which would allow us to know what is happening. Either that or we will become part of the scenery, like the denizens of the luxury flats entering and leaving through the gates, we will become the story, perhaps even the final solution. And yet in the conspiracy of secrets that is us, we arrive back at the break which leads to an interrogation of place and practices.

These discoveries are a becoming part of the physical world and perhaps as we walk uphill later passing through the fallen leaves and thistles, the sound of owls and foxes around us, we'll become different. Whatever, we are unable to separate the two, even our friends find it difficult, even impossible to separate their images of the difference between the american Paul and I. For them dialectics and fuzzy logic are the same as aberration and broken, and we have no idea how to explain the difference as they continue to work so hard at destroying the planet. This is hidden from them in the bracelets and the clothes they wear, which are always fashionable and thus spectacular. We love their earrings, their muscles and pens hanging from the edges of their finary, their silk shirts iridescent in the... Becoming does not begin from an act as banal as removing one's clothes, its a constant, an endless movement from detail to detail, from an Italian restaurant to a Spanish bar in Soho, from a transitional jacket to a warm leather coat, from the swish of a stocking to the warmth of a thigh, to the sound of a heavy page being turned, despite this the connection remains, connecting across the plane of being, constructing a networked world together for a few moments... (Tomorrow he will be flying to Australia via Tokyo or Hong Kong, to vanish into finitude. [...] Did he speak of this to others before he died on the edges of the pacific? Did his mother and family fly in from the americas ?). In those full moments when the mind isn't taken up by fear and worry, but instead just covered with pleasures, when only the drinks in the Spanish bar of interest, when only the challenge of the ontological differences is of interest, when there are no obligations but the semiotic exchanges between friends, then we will return to the unanswerable questions, there is a room behind you that is roped off, the lights dimmed. Later you arrive home, switch on the light and the question remains there waiting. She is a a a asleep upstairs.

[ I am reasonably certain I will never go to Lisbon, the only aspect of Portugal that will come into my life now are humans who have migrated here for economic reasons, which is the only reason anyone moves anywhere]

In Brussels with PL leaning against a richly lacquered bar in the empty University Club. All the students and lecturers absent, vanished during this long holiday weekend. The bartender is there so that someone is in front of you as you drink. Not a therapist, or someone who can be said to care even at an abstract level nor even as an idiot might appear to. They looks at us with smiling indifference, intercepting our gaze across the bar so that we cannot scan the bottles for something strange and interesting to drink. But whilst she or he pours wine and other drinks into our glasses, PL and I talk with her/him about things, the locality, what's interesting and so on, for they speak perfect english, and we speak imperfect english. She/he has no name, no identity at all, when she says her name all we here is the 'saaaaan'. Only the fact that she is other, that we cannot grasp what the difference is and neither can we understand what the idea of it should be, which means we cannot separate her from the role she is playing, and this enables us to live with who we are.... which is why, from something related to vanity, we spent an evening in the University Club drinking with bartender rather than the people who had been expecting us, at a meeting which was raided. When we were alone we reminisced about driving people across borders, deep into western europe when we were young. Writing almost meaningless notes into the small tablet, we allow ourselves to appear out of the emptiness of the bar - out of something, making nothing - like the bartender dreaming of becoming something else. In the early evening ending up in his house. The house is full of things. Heaped surfaces, busy walls, window sills with things balanced on them, a plant on his office window, overloaded bookshelves that are dust traps, in the secondary library plastic crates filled with books. Only these are inventoried. Most things are related to the work we have carried out over the decades, the four or five decades of our adult lives. There are books that I/he often pauses to reflect on as he exists in the various rooms of the house, these books link the very different activities of our lives. The piles of unread books, unlistened to music have grown in the pandemic. The lack of others in the house over the past three months has been the strangest thing of all, he says. Instead the communication technologies so beloved of the spectacle have turned into essential items of everyday life.

It was all the american Pauls fault […] In the evening we sit in one of the booths its the cocktail hour and is one of the quiet times in the bar. Yet as we sit in the alcove beneath the hanging tapestry, at one of the movable tables designed to let the more common overweight drinkers to slide out of the alcove - or even to enable tapas or drinks to be passed around and shared, we realize suddenly that their are others are close by on adjacent tables, couples who find themselves suddenly embedded in our life stories, as we are in theirs, all part of the same chaotic uncertain universe, as are all our singular destinies. Whilst the young couple to the right are at the beginning of things, a certain carefulness in the way they speak... [-Jasa, han var det. Men i somras holl forbibindelsen pa att ga isar. - Ja. Falk fick veta att Hedlund brukade besome Ulla och da blev han tw .... Men det ordnade sig sa smaningnom. - Vad anser a a. Nn. ni om er vaninnas forsvinnande ? - Jag kan inte forklara t.qwnnqnwwjj. new yyy The - Hedlund kanner ni ju W. A. W. W. ....- Har ni nagr fotograpier av Yytt Lundgren och Hedlund ?] In the Hospital club we talk of the work that is to be done. Let us draw up a list, an inventory of exceptional places that will not reveal their qualities so much as interrogate them, forcing them to speak. We hope that as words slowly emerge the places lives will be recognized and acknowledged, the end of networks being drawn out by our post geo-philosophical moment, no longer binary connections between geo-local nodes on the network but instead entanglement. As we walk down the narrow street that parallels the main road we find our ideal refuge, where we can stop panicking like a lost city dweller with a broken semiosis system and relax. Then we set off again, sitting like a nomad sipping coffee with slices of sausage keeping our eyes open as we look for details, it is only as we sit that we realize that we are getting somewhere, eventually standing and walking, our footsteps echoing on the pavementssss... A last coffee and we part, he heading off to a hotel and a flight, W in a cab towards Tottenham and I walking to the north wondering at how difficult it was to speak, one foot going in front of the other. I couldn't get drunk that night I often wondered why. I drink a margarita whilst he drinks a whiskey sour, an espresso perhaps. He explains that "I'm going to Moscow for a conference on digital governance in September, flying in from a stopover in Singapore." A strange goodbye. Did anything explain why he became increasingly right wing over the last few years of his life ? It was never clear why things being aberrant and broken caused that rightward shift. We couldn't go to the funeral, the funeral rites passed us by as most do. The London memorial service was avoided, music, drinks and memories best avoided. It would have been as Michaux described it like being a body stretched out on "a sea of clouds". The cacophony of noises that were our shared space rumble on, buses changing gear, diesel engines (courtesy of Max) revving up, horns shrieking, police and ambulance sirens, planes growling, the overpowering sound of church bells ringing... the furnace heating up. All that is left is the dust of memories. Where did the ashes go? What happened to the cat ?

He reached the point on the hill where he can turn right or continue up the gentle slope, he takes the longer route towards home. He continues and takes out 'The Hegel Variations' from his jacket pocket which he had been reading in the cafe, and starts to read a few pages as his feet touch the road, listening to bird song between words. The occasional crunch of loose gravel that spills out of the driveways [...] walking along the pavement on the lane he passes the Nigerian Woman who is walking two Dachhunds, "nice weather no coats on the dogs again", he says interrupting the sentences on language. (He will see her again as he turns right into the house). He walks on musing about how the understanding of a Left and Right Hegel proposed here is philosophically applicable to most decent philosophers. The first of the gardeners looks at him as he passes. He reties his left lace on the bench. More gardeners, the machines they use grumble in the sunshine. One gardener is blowing beech leaves and mast husks out of the garden onto the road. A Red Kite circles over the Close, looking for food, perhaps, he cannot tell. A section of pavement is being re-tarmacked in front of number 8. He walks around the close anti-clockwise circumnavigating the woods, reading again, thinking of Darwin and Hegel... The european Paul is sitting in the garden, his left foot encased in a dark blue plastic cast. Tea? he asks in a long convoluted sentence. Sipping tea and eating fruit cake they/we talk of crises. The ontological difference is small - for us its "Dialectics, it’s all dialectics and fuzzy logic. In that phrase “We see it as aberrant and broken and also we see it as the normal course of events..." Their histories are close... differences can sometimes be circumvented / all narrative is annihilated. Living in a pandemic makes him feel nostalgic for these moments.”

[In memory of PS who died in January 2020]

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samiaedithg · 7 years ago

Text

Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data, Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

Augmentation Queries

In general, the subject matter of this specification relates to identifying or generating augmentation queries, storing the augmentation queries, and identifying stored augmentation queries for use in augmenting user searches. An augmentation query can be a query that performs well in locating desirable documents identified in the search results. The performance of the query can be determined by user interactions. For example, if many users that enter the same query often select one or more of the search results relevant to the query, that query may be designated an augmentation query.

In addition to actual queries submitted by users, augmentation queries can also include synthetic queries that are machine generated. For example, an augmentation query can be identified by mining a corpus of documents and identifying search terms for which popular documents are relevant. These popular documents can, for example, include documents that are often selected when presented as search results. Yet another way of identifying an augmentation query is mining structured data, e.g., business telephone listings, and identifying queries that include terms of the structured data, e.g., business names.

These augmentation queries can be stored in an augmentation query data store. When a user submits a search query to a search engine, the terms of the submitted query can be evaluated and matched to terms of the stored augmentation queries to select one or more similar augmentation queries. The selected augmentation queries, in turn, can be used by the search engine to augment the search operation, thereby obtaining better search results. For example, search results obtained by a similar augmentation query can be presented to the user along with the search results obtained by the user query.

This past March, Google was granted a patent that involves giving quality scores to queries (the quote above is from that patent). The patent refers to high scoring queries as augmentation queries. Interesting to see that searcher selection is one way that might be used to determine the quality of queries. So, when someone searches. Google may compare the SERPs they receive from the original query to augmentation query results based upon previous searches using the same query terms or synthetic queries. This evaluation against augmentation queries is based upon which search results have received more clicks in the past. Google may decide to add results from an augmentation query to the results for the query searched for to improve the overall search results.

How does Google find augmentation queries? One place to look for those is in query logs and click logs. As the patent tells us:

To obtain augmentation queries, the augmentation query subsystem can examine performance data indicative of user interactions to identify queries that perform well in locating desirable search results. For example, augmentation queries can be identified by mining query logs and click logs. Using the query logs, for example, the augmentation query subsystem can identify common user queries. The click logs can be used to identify which user queries perform best, as indicated by the number of clicks associated with each query. The augmentation query subsystem stores the augmentation queries mined from the query logs and/or the click logs in the augmentation query store.

This doesn’t mean that Google is using clicks to directly determine rankings But it is deciding which augmentation queries might be worth using to provide SERPs that people may be satisfied with.

There are other things that Google may look at to decide which augmentation queries to use in a set of search results. The patent points out some other factors that may be helpful:

In some implementations, a synonym score, an edit distance score, and/or a transformation cost score can be applied to each candidate augmentation query. Similarity scores can also be determined based on the similarity of search results of the candidate augmentation queries to the search query. In other implementations, the synonym scores, edit distance scores, and other types of similarity scores can be applied on a term by term basis for terms in search queries that are being compared. These scores can then be used to compute an overall similarity score between two queries. For example, the scores can be averaged; the scores can be added; or the scores can be weighted according to the word structure (nouns weighted more than adjectives, for example) and averaged. The candidate augmentation queries can then be ranked based upon relative similarity scores.

I’ve seen white papers from Google before mentioning synthetic queries, which are queries performed by the search engine instead of human searchers. It makes sense for Google to be exploring query spaces in a manner like this, to see what results are like, and using information such as structured data as a source of those synthetic queries. I’ve written about synthetic queries before at least a couple of times, and in the post Does Google Search Google? How Google May Create and Use Synthetic Queries.

Implicit Signals of Query Quality

It is an interesting patent in that it talks about things such as long clicks and short clicks, and ranking web pages on the basis of such things. The patent refers to such things as “implicit Signals of query quality.” More about that in the patent here:

In some implementations, implicit signals of query quality are used to determine if a query can be used as an augmentation query. An implicit signal is a signal based on user actions in response to the query. Example implicit signals can include click-through rates (CTR) related to different user queries, long click metrics, and/or click-through reversions, as recorded within the click logs. A click-through for a query can occur, for example, when a user of a user device, selects or “clicks” on a search result returned by a search engine. The CTR is obtained by dividing the number of users that clicked on a search result by the number of times the query was submitted. For example, if a query is input 100 times, and 80 persons click on a search result, then the CTR for that query is 80%.

A long click occurs when a user, after clicking on a search result, dwells on the landing page (i.e., the document to which the search result links) of the search result or clicks on additional links that are present on the landing page. A long click can be interpreted as a signal that the query identified information that the user deemed to be interesting, as the user either spent a certain amount of time on the landing page or found additional items of interest on the landing page.

A click-through reversion (also known as a “short click”) occurs when a user, after clicking on a search result and being provided the referenced document, quickly returns to the search results page from the referenced document. A click-through reversion can be interpreted as a signal that the query did not identify information that the user deemed to be interesting, as the user quickly returned to the search results page.

These example implicit signals can be aggregated for each query, such as by collecting statistics for multiple instances of use of the query in search operations, and can further be used to compute an overall performance score. For example, a query having a high CTR, many long clicks, and few click-through reversions would likely have a high-performance score; conversely, a query having a low CTR, few long clicks, and many click-through reversions would likely have a low-performance score.

The reasons for the process behind the patent are explained in the description section of the patent where we are told:

Often users provide queries that cause a search engine to return results that are not of interest to the users or do not fully satisfy the users’ need for information. Search engines may provide such results for a number of reasons, such as the query including terms having term weights that do not reflect the users’ interest (e.g., in the case when a word in a query that is deemed most important by the users is attributed less weight by the search engine than other words in the query); the queries being a poor expression of the information needed; or the queries including misspelled words or unconventional terminology.

A quality signal for a query term can be defined in this way:

the quality signal being indicative of the performance of the first query in identifying information of interest to users for one or more instances of a first search operation in a search engine; determining whether the quality signal indicates that the first query exceeds a performance threshold; and storing the first query in an augmentation query data store if the quality signal indicates that the first query exceeds the performance threshold.

The patent can be found at:

Query augmentation Inventors: Anand Shukla, Mark Pearson, Krishna Bharat and Stefan Buettcher Assignee: Google LLC US Patent: 9,916,366 Granted: March 13, 2018 Filed: July 28, 2015

Abstract

Methods, systems, and apparatus, including computer program products, for generating or using augmentation queries. In one aspect, a first query stored in a query log is identified and a quality signal related to the performance of the first query is compared to a performance threshold. The first query is stored in an augmentation query data store if the quality signal indicates that the first query exceeds a performance threshold.

References Cited about Augmentation Queries

These were a number of references cited by the applicants of the patent, which looked interesting, so I looked them up to see if I could find them to read them and share them here.

Boyan, J. et al., A Machine Learning Architecture for Optimizing Web Search Engines,” School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, May 10, 1996, pp. 1-8. cited by applicant.

Brin, S. et al., “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine“, Computer Science Department, 1998. cited by applicant.

Sahami, M. et al., T. D. 2006. A web-based kernel function for measuring the similarity of short text snippets. In Proceedings of the 15th International Conference on World Wide Web (Edinburgh, Scotland, May 23-26, 2006). WWW ’06. ACM Press, New York, NY, pp. 377-386. cited by applicant.

Ricardo A. Baeza-Yates et al., The Intention Behind Web Queries. SPIRE, 2006, pp. 98-109, 2006. cited by applicant.

Smith et al. Leveraging the structure of the Semantic Web to enhance information retrieval for proteomics” vol. 23, Oct. 7, 2007, 7 pages. cited by applicant.

Robertson, S.E. Documentation Note on Term Selection for Query Expansion J. of Documentation, 46(4): Dec. 1990, pp. 359-364. cited by applicant.

Talel Abdessalem, Bogdan Cautis, and Nora Derouiche. 2010. ObjectRunner: lightweight, targeted extraction and querying of structured web data. Proc. VLDB Endow. 3, 1-2 (Sep. 2010). cited by applicant .

Jane Yung-jen Hsu and Wen-tau Yih. 1997. Template-based information mining from HTML documents. In Proceedings of the fourteenth national conference on artificial intelligence and ninth conference on Innovative application of artificial intelligence (AAAI’97/IAAI’97). AAAI Press, pp. 256-262. cited by applicant .

Ganesh, Agarwal, Govind Kabra, and Kevin Chen-Chuan Chang. 2010. Towards rich query interpretation: walking back and forth for mining query templates. In Proceedings of the 19th international conference on World wide web (WWW ’10). ACM, New York, NY USA, 1-10. DOI=10. 1145/1772690. 1772692 https://ift.tt/2K8Uzdi. cited by applicant.

This is a Second Look at Augmentation Queries

This is a continuation patent, which means that it was granted before, with the same description, and it now has new claims. When that happens, it can be worth looking at the old claims and the new claims to see how they have changed. I like that the new version seems to focus more strongly upon structured data. It tells us that it might use structured data in sites that appear for queries as synthetic queries, and if those meet the performance threshold, they may be added to the search results that appear for the original queries. The claims do seem to focus a little more on structured data as synthetic queries, but it doesn’t really change the claims that much. They haven’t changed enough to publish them side by side and compare them.

What Google Has Said about Structured Data and Rankings

Google spokespeople had been telling us that Structured Data doesn’t impact rankings directly, but what they have been saying does seem to have changed somewhat recently. In the Search Engine Roundtable post, Google: Structured Data Doesn’t Give You A Ranking Boost But Can Help Rankings we are told that just having structured data on a site doesn’t automatically boost the rankings of a page, but if the structured data for a page is used as a synthetic query, and it meets the performance threshold as an augmentation query, it might be shown in rankings, thus helping in rankings (as this patent tells us.)

Note that this isn’t new, and the continuation patent’s claims don’t appear to have changed that much so that structured data is still being used as synthetic queries, and is checked to see if they work as augmented queries. This does seem to be a really good reason to make sure you are using the appropriate structured data for your pages.

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#Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data #Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

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rodrigueztha · 7 years ago

Text

Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data, Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

Augmentation Queries

How does Google find augmentation queries? One place to look for those is in query logs and click logs. As the patent tells us:

This doesn’t mean that Google is using clicks to directly determine rankings But it is deciding which augmentation queries might be worth using to provide SERPs that people may be satisfied with.

There are other things that Google may look at to decide which augmentation queries to use in a set of search results. The patent points out some other factors that may be helpful:

Implicit Signals of Query Quality

The reasons for the process behind the patent are explained in the description section of the patent where we are told:

A quality signal for a query term can be defined in this way:

The patent can be found at:

Query augmentation Inventors: Anand Shukla, Mark Pearson, Krishna Bharat and Stefan Buettcher Assignee: Google LLC US Patent: 9,916,366 Granted: March 13, 2018 Filed: July 28, 2015

Abstract

References Cited about Augmentation Queries

These were a number of references cited by the applicants of the patent, which looked interesting, so I looked them up to see if I could find them to read them and share them here.

Boyan, J. et al., A Machine Learning Architecture for Optimizing Web Search Engines,” School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, May 10, 1996, pp. 1-8. cited by applicant.

Brin, S. et al., “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine“, Computer Science Department, 1998. cited by applicant.

Ricardo A. Baeza-Yates et al., The Intention Behind Web Queries. SPIRE, 2006, pp. 98-109, 2006. cited by applicant.

Smith et al. Leveraging the structure of the Semantic Web to enhance information retrieval for proteomics” vol. 23, Oct. 7, 2007, 7 pages. cited by applicant.

Robertson, S.E. Documentation Note on Term Selection for Query Expansion J. of Documentation, 46(4): Dec. 1990, pp. 359-364. cited by applicant.

This is a Second Look at Augmentation Queries

What Google Has Said about Structured Data and Rankings

#Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data #Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

0 notes

evanstheodoredqe · 7 years ago

Text

Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data, Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

Augmentation Queries

How does Google find augmentation queries? One place to look for those is in query logs and click logs. As the patent tells us:

This doesn’t mean that Google is using clicks to directly determine rankings But it is deciding which augmentation queries might be worth using to provide SERPs that people may be satisfied with.

There are other things that Google may look at to decide which augmentation queries to use in a set of search results. The patent points out some other factors that may be helpful:

Implicit Signals of Query Quality

The reasons for the process behind the patent are explained in the description section of the patent where we are told:

A quality signal for a query term can be defined in this way:

The patent can be found at:

Query augmentation Inventors: Anand Shukla, Mark Pearson, Krishna Bharat and Stefan Buettcher Assignee: Google LLC US Patent: 9,916,366 Granted: March 13, 2018 Filed: July 28, 2015

Abstract

References Cited about Augmentation Queries

These were a number of references cited by the applicants of the patent, which looked interesting, so I looked them up to see if I could find them to read them and share them here.

Boyan, J. et al., A Machine Learning Architecture for Optimizing Web Search Engines,” School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, May 10, 1996, pp. 1-8. cited by applicant.

Brin, S. et al., “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine“, Computer Science Department, 1998. cited by applicant.

Ricardo A. Baeza-Yates et al., The Intention Behind Web Queries. SPIRE, 2006, pp. 98-109, 2006. cited by applicant.

Smith et al. Leveraging the structure of the Semantic Web to enhance information retrieval for proteomics” vol. 23, Oct. 7, 2007, 7 pages. cited by applicant.

Robertson, S.E. Documentation Note on Term Selection for Query Expansion J. of Documentation, 46(4): Dec. 1990, pp. 359-364. cited by applicant.

This is a Second Look at Augmentation Queries

What Google Has Said about Structured Data and Rankings

#Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data #Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

0 notes

janiceclaudetteo · 7 years ago

Text

Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data, Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

Augmentation Queries

How does Google find augmentation queries? One place to look for those is in query logs and click logs. As the patent tells us:

This doesn’t mean that Google is using clicks to directly determine rankings But it is deciding which augmentation queries might be worth using to provide SERPs that people may be satisfied with.

There are other things that Google may look at to decide which augmentation queries to use in a set of search results. The patent points out some other factors that may be helpful:

Implicit Signals of Query Quality

The reasons for the process behind the patent are explained in the description section of the patent where we are told:

A quality signal for a query term can be defined in this way:

The patent can be found at:

Query augmentation Inventors: Anand Shukla, Mark Pearson, Krishna Bharat and Stefan Buettcher Assignee: Google LLC US Patent: 9,916,366 Granted: March 13, 2018 Filed: July 28, 2015

Abstract

References Cited about Augmentation Queries

These were a number of references cited by the applicants of the patent, which looked interesting, so I looked them up to see if I could find them to read them and share them here.

Boyan, J. et al., A Machine Learning Architecture for Optimizing Web Search Engines,” School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, May 10, 1996, pp. 1-8. cited by applicant.

Brin, S. et al., “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine“, Computer Science Department, 1998. cited by applicant.

Ricardo A. Baeza-Yates et al., The Intention Behind Web Queries. SPIRE, 2006, pp. 98-109, 2006. cited by applicant.

Smith et al. Leveraging the structure of the Semantic Web to enhance information retrieval for proteomics” vol. 23, Oct. 7, 2007, 7 pages. cited by applicant.

Robertson, S.E. Documentation Note on Term Selection for Query Expansion J. of Documentation, 46(4): Dec. 1990, pp. 359-364. cited by applicant.

This is a Second Look at Augmentation Queries

What Google Has Said about Structured Data and Rankings

#Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data #Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

0 notes

miettawilliemk1 · 7 years ago

Text

Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data, Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

Augmentation Queries

How does Google find augmentation queries? One place to look for those is in query logs and click logs. As the patent tells us:

This doesn’t mean that Google is using clicks to directly determine rankings But it is deciding which augmentation queries might be worth using to provide SERPs that people may be satisfied with.

There are other things that Google may look at to decide which augmentation queries to use in a set of search results. The patent points out some other factors that may be helpful:

Implicit Signals of Query Quality

The reasons for the process behind the patent are explained in the description section of the patent where we are told:

A quality signal for a query term can be defined in this way:

The patent can be found at:

Query augmentation Inventors: Anand Shukla, Mark Pearson, Krishna Bharat and Stefan Buettcher Assignee: Google LLC US Patent: 9,916,366 Granted: March 13, 2018 Filed: July 28, 2015

Abstract

References Cited about Augmentation Queries

These were a number of references cited by the applicants of the patent, which looked interesting, so I looked them up to see if I could find them to read them and share them here.

Boyan, J. et al., A Machine Learning Architecture for Optimizing Web Search Engines,” School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, May 10, 1996, pp. 1-8. cited by applicant.

Brin, S. et al., “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine“, Computer Science Department, 1998. cited by applicant.

Ricardo A. Baeza-Yates et al., The Intention Behind Web Queries. SPIRE, 2006, pp. 98-109, 2006. cited by applicant.

Smith et al. Leveraging the structure of the Semantic Web to enhance information retrieval for proteomics” vol. 23, Oct. 7, 2007, 7 pages. cited by applicant.

Robertson, S.E. Documentation Note on Term Selection for Query Expansion J. of Documentation, 46(4): Dec. 1990, pp. 359-364. cited by applicant.

This is a Second Look at Augmentation Queries

What Google Has Said about Structured Data and Rankings

#Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data #Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

0 notes

mariaajameso · 7 years ago

Text

Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data, Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

Augmentation Queries

How does Google find augmentation queries? One place to look for those is in query logs and click logs. As the patent tells us:

This doesn’t mean that Google is using clicks to directly determine rankings But it is deciding which augmentation queries might be worth using to provide SERPs that people may be satisfied with.

There are other things that Google may look at to decide which augmentation queries to use in a set of search results. The patent points out some other factors that may be helpful:

Implicit Signals of Query Quality

The reasons for the process behind the patent are explained in the description section of the patent where we are told:

A quality signal for a query term can be defined in this way:

The patent can be found at:

Query augmentation Inventors: Anand Shukla, Mark Pearson, Krishna Bharat and Stefan Buettcher Assignee: Google LLC US Patent: 9,916,366 Granted: March 13, 2018 Filed: July 28, 2015

Abstract

References Cited about Augmentation Queries

These were a number of references cited by the applicants of the patent, which looked interesting, so I looked them up to see if I could find them to read them and share them here.

Boyan, J. et al., A Machine Learning Architecture for Optimizing Web Search Engines,” School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, May 10, 1996, pp. 1-8. cited by applicant.

Brin, S. et al., “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine“, Computer Science Department, 1998. cited by applicant.

Ricardo A. Baeza-Yates et al., The Intention Behind Web Queries. SPIRE, 2006, pp. 98-109, 2006. cited by applicant.

Smith et al. Leveraging the structure of the Semantic Web to enhance information retrieval for proteomics” vol. 23, Oct. 7, 2007, 7 pages. cited by applicant.

Robertson, S.E. Documentation Note on Term Selection for Query Expansion J. of Documentation, 46(4): Dec. 1990, pp. 359-364. cited by applicant.

This is a Second Look at Augmentation Queries

What Google Has Said about Structured Data and Rankings

#Quality Scores for Queries: Structured Data #Synthetic Queries and Augmentation Queries

0 notes