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dismuch47 · 3 years

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ADVANCED SETTINGS (Part 2)

Winner of Scarlet Vision Drabbles votting. Because SV/WV fans are thirsty af.

So I lied. This “drabble” is mutating and I’m long-winded. There will be a part 3.

Advanced Settings: Wanda and Vision find there is more to iron out in making their relationship “work”. This section is rated Explicit.

Vision’s head reared up when he heard the bathroom door finally creak open. He turned towards Wanda, to see her large eyes downcast. Her flame-like hair was free of it’s bun, draped behind her shoulders. She had one of the hotel robes on, which concealed her slim figure in white plushness. She chanced to look up at him, like a sorry child.

The synthezoid strode over to her, wine-glass ready for her, gentle and assuring smile upon his lips.

“Vision I’m sorry-“

“Absolutely nothing to atone for-“

“-But I was being so-“

“-Honest, which I so admire in you.”

Wanda huffed, accepting the wine. Her unease appeared to be waning. “Can’t you just be upset with me? I would understand…”

“Never.” He punctuated the word, pointedly. Then smiled broadly. Wanda finally caved with a grin, looking away. Vision gently captured her chin with his thumb and index finger, directing her back to his sincere face. “My greatest satisfaction is in seeking yours. And that you somehow are able to accept me. Odd quirks and all.”

“Vis…”

Her eyes were glittering. She was experiencing strong emotion. Unclear if it was extreme sentimentality or misplaced guilt, it seemed logical to stoop down and kiss her full lips to make it better. His index finger stroked down her chin and ventured down her soft throat. Wanda’s breathing shifted as warm and featherlight touch lingered on creamy collarbone. He had become expert at these areas of sensitivity, eliciting honest breathy responses from his love of flesh and blood. Cause and reaction. Scripted and executed

But perhaps there were some modifications he could accommodate to his side of the performance. Inwardly, he did not enjoy contemplating that notion. Their relationship had, thus far, been founded on honesty and acceptance. It seemed dishonest to her and a reminder to him of his limitations by… pretending. Sex was proving to be more emotional than he had anticipated, which was an extremely murky concept for him to grasp…though, slowly, he was learning. Through Wanda, he was learning.

Wanda’s hungry stomach gurgled loudly in protest, causing the two to open their eyes at eachother mid-kiss, before breaking away in laughter.

Vision took his place on the loveseat first, angling himself so that Wanda could easily nestle her back into his side when she came over with her plate of late-night indulgences and wine. She gave a sigh of contentment once she was situated.

“Anything good on?” she asked, already working on one shrimp. Rather ungracefully. It was endearing.

“3rd Rock from the Sun, Batman, or Green Acres?” Vision turned on the hotel flatscreen.

“Which would you like?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Right, but if YOU had to pick one-“

“I would pick what you would pick.”

A moment lapsed. Wanda’s chewing even ceased. Clearly Vision had miscalculated and his response had been received as an irritant rather than as affectionate. He was about to modify his meaning when Wanda spoke up.

“Well, I’m too tired for spazzy Dick Solomon, no to cheesy super heroes… so I guess Green Acres it is.” Her tone was not as cheerful as it had been.

Vision turned it to the right station, feeling uneasy. He wanted to correct their interaction, but he eased back into the loveseat when Wanda leaned her head against his chest. She still wanted contact.

It was interesting, hearing the lines dubbed in Russian. They turned on English subtitles for Wanda’s sake, but even she said that she didn’t know how long her eyes would last, straining to read and comprehend the words in her second language. Vision asked a couple of times if she was ready for bed. She would lazily protest, trying to “convince” him she was wide awake by how well she could mumble the catchy theme song. But it was clear that she was fading fast. She just wanted to stay in his embrace.

And that would have been suffice for Vision, if he didn’t feel she would significantly benefit from a good night’s sleep. When he was sure she was unconscious enough, he slowly and gradually phased through the couch to let the cushions take his place. He set about turning off most of the lights, save for one lamp to provide a soft glow to guide Wanda to the bed. He then went about covering the left-over food with a napkin and stacking her dishes in a neat presentation for the food service team.

After placing the tray outside the door, Vision returned to coax Wanda to proper slumber, only to see her now splayed out on the couch. Turning about upon the upholstered texture had worked her thick robe open. Her smooth skin exposed in a thin sliver between her breasts, down her navel, with a bent leg peeking out from under the cloth as the only provision of modesty.

She was... a vision.

He came closer, peering down at her in contemplative wonder, to see her eyes sleepily open. She then extended a graceful arm to him, slender hand beckoning. Her unspoken request transparently clear to him.

Vision’s clothes collapsed into a shapeless pile on the floor as his physical form faded in a golden shimmer for an instant. The very sight of his body stimulated her, he knew that well. He lightly wedged one knee between her legs, to steady himself as he leisurely untied the fastening of her askew robe. Wanda’s breathing deepened, her hands reaching above herself, tangling in an auburn pool of silky hair as soft terry peeled away from taunt flesh…

The synthezoid had always told Wanda that human bodies were not completely unlike an advanced, organic computer. She would scrunch her nose, sure that he was innocently patronizing her on some level. But it was true. And being globally aware of any and all signals and energies, seeing them in her now was not so different. Perhaps he didn’t know what they meant exactly, or what they felt like, but trace currents of electricity and signals from the brain to the billions and billions of neurons throughout the human body made sense to Vision. It was quite the light show, when he truly connected to the body’s activities as he was now. It mapped out what efforts were effective, and what areas needed his rapt attention next. Where to experiment with a squeeze, lick, or bite. When a rapid rhythm was paramount or a restrained thrust would guarantee instant and powerful release.

It was confusing, marrying the biological science which made complete sense to the synthezoid, to the complete language of erotica which was more abundantly used in literature and pop culture… and completely conceptional. And yet here Vision was, observing the messaging of Wanda’s body, comparing it to a brilliant and unbridled sea storm of scarlet, scattering billions of ruby fractals across her glittering coral shores. Complete nonsense, yet complete truth.

“Vis!” Wanda cried. Her thighs twitched in his strong grasp as the first scarlet wave hit. Vision raised his head from between her legs, laving his slick tongue over her apex one last time, like a signature. She gasped, well past the brink, her fist clutching at her hair to hold on to something.

He leaned over her, parting her legs wider, but massaged them after keeping them so restricted over his broad shoulders for a time. He then skimmed his maroon hands up her pelvis, and around to cradle the curve of her rear, then scooted her down close to himself. Wanda propped herself up on her elbows, but immediately her head fell back in helpless passion as she felt him sheath himself deeply in her and start a powerful rhythm.

Verbal coaxing always elicited positive response. “Wanda.” Vision murmured, deeply. More rubies and stardust, just at his voice. Wanda was too overcome to form words, but her hand traveled down below her navel, to where they joined and moved as one, then up his front. She squeezed, rubbed, then clawed… but to no avail. He could feel her touch… but it didn’t create storms and shooting sparks within him as it would her.

She dimmed in sadness. Suddenly those ethereal shores were darkening. Vision wavered. He was failing her.

He swallowed hard, reeling at this complete disappointment in himself, so he made a flawed calculation. He slowed, simulated heavy panting, eyes shut tight as if with desire. There was a shimmer in Wanda, of hopeful excitement. He recalled love-scenes in movies, trying to remember how the male human interacts, even though the camera was always fixed on the female in the thralls of ecstasy. He moaned softly, and then more loudly and with urgency. It was an act. It felt wrong and stupid to him. Humiliating even…

“STOP IT.” Wanda commanded. Vision abruptly stopped, gladly, yet mortified at being found out.

“I… I was just-“

“I know what you were doing, Vis.” Wanda slid herself out from under him. She was upset. “For a moment I thought…” Her voice broke off.

Vision sat back on his haunches, realizing the gravity of what he had done. “I thought it would help.”

Wanda stood up, sniffling back her frustration. She picked up the robe and put it back on, avoiding his pleading eyes. “I know you did. I know.” She put her face in her hands for a moment. The synthezoid stood up in concern, wanting to hold her. He moved forward to do so, but she put a hand up. “I just need you to let me hurt about this for a little, Vis. Okay? And not to try and fix it.”

Vis looked down at his feet, dejected. He slowly gathered his pants and slid them over his compact form. He felt Wanda’s arms slide under his and around his torso. He bowed his head.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, dear heart.” Vision’s voice had never hitched in such a manner before.

“Me too.” She held on to him for a few more beats. “I’m going to bed.”

“I am… going read for a bit.”

“…Alright.” The departure of her embrace left him standing alone in the dark.

#scarletvision #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #advanced settings #FOR THE FANDOM #it will all work out #Vision's POV just ends me #IT'S HARD TO SOUND LIKE A SMART ANDROID/SYNTHEZOID #rated A for Angst

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the-starry-messenger · 2 years

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Photography by Alexander Semenov / White Sea Biological Station

Researchers found marine copepods in the snow near the White Sea Biological Station in the Russian Arctic emitting a bright blue glow, in the first sighting of its kind. x

#i have no real reason to post this #i just thought it was a cool article #enjoy

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fizzingwizard · 3 years

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Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

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Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender, but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it. How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

#triweek2020 #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #taichi yagami #takari #digimon adventure tri #fizz writes #digimon

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scienceetfiction · 4 years

Text

2019 in Science

from Wikipedia

Some highlights:

3 January - China's National Space Administration (CNSA) achieves the first soft landing on the far side of the Moon with its Chang'e 4 mission.

Scientists report the engineering of crops with a photorespiratory "shortcut" to boost plant growth by 40% in real-world agronomic conditions.

4 January - Researchers at Ecole polytechnique fédérale de Lausanne (EPFL) report a way to control properties of excitons and change the polarisation of light they generate, which could lead to transistors that undergo less energy loss and heat dissipation.

Researchers design an inhalable form of messenger RNA aerosol that could be administered directly to the lungs to help treat diseases such as cystic fibrosis

8 January - IBM unveils IBM Q System One, its first integrated quantum computing system for commercial use.

9 January- Astronomers at the University of Warwick present the first direct evidence of white dwarf stars solidifying into crystals.

11 January – Researchers at the University of Michigan demonstrate a new approach to 3D printing, based on the lifting of shapes from a vat of liquid, which is up to 100 times faster than conventional processes.

14 January – A study in the journal PNAS finds that Antarctica experienced a sixfold increase in yearly ice mass loss between 1979 and 2017.

22 January – Alphabet's Waymo subsidiary announces that it will later in 2019 begin construction in the US State of Michigan on the World's first factory for mass-producing autonomous vehicles.

24 January - NASA scientists report the discovery of the oldest known Earth rock – on the Moon. Apollo 14 astronauts returned several rocks from the Moon and later, scientists determined that a fragment from one of the rocks contained "a bit of Earth from about 4 billion years ago." The rock fragment contained quartz, feldspar, and zircon, all common on the Earth, but highly uncommon on the Moon.

29 January – Researchers at Purdue University's College of Engineering release a paper in the journal ACS Sustainable Chemistry & Engineering detailing a new process to turn plastic waste in hydrocarbon fuels.

3 February: Medical scientists announce that iridium attached to albumin produces a photosensitized molecule able to penetrate and, via photodynamic therapy, destroy cancer cells.

6 February - NASA and NOAA confirm that 2018 was the fourth hottest year on record globally, at 0.83 degrees Celsius (1.5 degrees Fahrenheit) above the 1951 to 1980 mean.

7 February - Medical scientists working with Sangamo Therapeutics, headquartered in Richmond, California, announce the first ever "in body" human gene editing therapy to permanently alter DNA in a patient with Hunter Syndrome.Clinical trials by Sangamo involving gene editing using Zinc Finger Nuclease (ZFN) are ongoing.

18 February - A British woman becomes the first person in the world to have gene therapy for age-related macular degeneration (AMD).

Scientists use gene therapy to restore hearing in an adult mouse model of DFNB9 deafness.

19 February - Researchers at Oxford Martin School publish evidence that, in the longer term, some forms of cultured meat could be worse for the environment than traditional farmed meat.

21 February - Scientists announce a new form of DNA, named Hachimoji DNA, composed of four natural, and four unnatural nucleobases. Benefits of such an eight-base DNA system may include an enhanced ability to store digital data, as well as insights into what may be possible in the search for extraterrestrial life.

26 February – Researchers at RMIT University demonstrate a method of using a liquid metal catalyst to turn carbon dioxide gas back into coal, potentially offering a new way to store carbon in solid form.

28 February - Scientists report the first ever evidence of a former planet-wide groundwater system on the planet Mars.

Scientists report the creation of mice with infrared vision, using nanoparticles injected into their eyes.

11 March: Scientists report that cell nuclei from woolly mammoth remains showed biological activity when transplanted into mouse cells.

4 March – Scientists report that asteroids may be much more difficult to destroy than thought earlier. In addition, an asteroid may reassemble itself due to gravity after being disrupted.

7 March – Researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) demonstrate a new optical imaging system that could enable the discovery of tiny tumours, as small as 200 cells, deep within the body.[

8 March – Astronomers report that the mass of the Milky Way galaxy is 1.5 trillion solar masses within a radius of about 129,000 light-years, over twice as much as was determined in earlier studies, and suggesting that about 90% of the mass of the galaxy is dark matter.

13 March – The laser of ELI-NP in Măgurele, part of the European ELI Project, becomes the most powerful laser system ever made, reaching a peak power of 10 Petawatts.

15 March – NASA reports that latent viruses in humans may be activated during space missions, adding possibly more risk to astronauts in future deep-space missions.

20 March: First fossil bird, named Avimaia schweitzerae, found with an unlaid egg,

18 March - Researchers provide supporting evidence, based on genetic studies, that modern Homo sapiens, arose first in South Africa more than 300,000 years ago, traveled to East Africa, and from there, about 60,000 years ago, traveled out of Africa to the rest of the world.

Physicist Adrian Bejan presents an explanation of why time seems shorter as we get older, which can be attributed to "the ever-slowing speed at which images are obtained and processed by the human brain as the body ages."

27 March - Scientists report that life-forms from Earth survived 18 months living in outer space outside the International Space Station (ISS), as part of the BIOMEX studies related to the EXPOSE-R2 mission, suggesting that life could survive, theoretically, on the planet Mars.

Chinese scientists report inserting the human brain-related MCPH1 gene into laboratory rhesus monkeys, resulting in the transgenic monkeys performing better and answering faster on "short-term memory tests involving matching colors and shapes", compared to control non-transgenic monkeys, according to the researchers.[

29 March – Paleontologists describe a site called Tanis, in North Dakota's Hell Creek Formation, containing animal and plant fossils dated to 65.76 million years BCE. These remains are embedded with tiny rock and glass fragments that fell from the sky in the minutes and hours following the Chicxulub impact. The deposits also show evidence of having been swamped with water, caused by thesubsequent megatsunamis.

1 April - Scientists at ETH Zurich report the creation of the world's first bacterial genome, named Caulobacter ethensis-2.0, made entirely by a computer, although a related viable form of C. ethensis-2.0 does not yet exist.

10 April – Scientists from the Event Horizon Telescope project announce the first-ever image of a black hole, located 54 million light years away in the centre of the M87 galaxy.

10 April - Scientists find a way to view reactions in "dark states" of molecules, i.e. those states that are normally inaccessible.

12 April – NASA reports medical results, from an Astronaut Twin Study, where one astronaut twin spent a year in space on the International Space Station, while the other twin spent the year on Earth, which demonstrated several long-lasting changes, including those related to alterations in DNA and cognition, when one twin was compared with the other.

16 April – Scientists report, for the first time, the use of the CRISPR technology to edit human genes to treat cancer patients with whom standard treatments were not successful.

17 April – After a long search, astronomers report the detection of helium hydride, a primordial molecule thought to have been formed about 100,000 years after the Big Bang, for the first time in outer space in NGC 7027.

23 April – NASA reports that the Mars InSight lander detected its first Marsquake on the planet Mars.

25 April – Astronomers report further substantial discrepancies, depending on the measurement method used, in determining the Hubble constant, suggesting a realm of physics currently not well understood in explaining the workings of the universe.

29 April – Scientists, working with the Hubble Space Telescope, confirmed the detection of the large and complex ionized molecules of buckminsterfullerene (C60) (also known as "buckyballs") in the interstellar medium spaces between the stars.

30 April – Biologists report that the very large medusavirus, or a relative, may have been responsible, at least in part, for the evolutionary emergence of complex eukaryotic cells from simpler prokaroytic cells

3 May – The UK's National Nuclear Laboratory (NNL) and University of Leicester report the first generation of usable electricity from americium, which could lead to the development of "space batteries" that power missions for up to 400 years.

6 May - In its first report since 2005, the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES) warns that biodiversity loss is "accelerating", with over a million species now threatened with extinction; the decline of the natural living world is "unprecedented" and largely a result of human actions.

Researchers at Columbia University report a new desalination method for hypersaline brines, known as "temperature swing solvent extraction (TSSE)", which is low-cost and efficient.

8 May – A British teenager, Isabelle Holdaway, 17, is reported to be the first patient to receive a genetically modified phage therapy to treat a drug-resistant infection.

11 May – Atmospheric CO2, as measured by the Mauna Loa Observatory, Hawaii, reaches 415 parts per million (ppm), the highest level for 2.5 million years.] During the late Pliocene, sea levels were up to 20 m higher, and the global climate was 3 °C hotter.

14 May - Researchers at Macquarie University report that plastic pollution is harming the growth, photosynthesis and oxygen production of Prochlorococcus, the ocean's most abundant photosynthetic bacteria, responsible for 10% of oxygen breathed by humans.

15 May - Researchers, in a milestone effort, report the creation of a new synthetic (possibly artificial) form of viable life, a variant of the bacteria Escherichia coli, by reducing the natural number of 64 codons in the bacterial genome to 59 codons instead, in order to encode 20 amino acids

21 May – Researchers at McMaster University report the discovery of a new and more efficient method of storing vaccines in temperatures of up to 40 °C for weeks at a time.

22 May - Scientists report the discovery of a fossilized fungus, named Ourasphaira giraldae, in the Canadian Arctic, that may have grown on land a billion years ago, well before plants were living on land.

27 May – The last male Sumatran rhinoceros in Malaysia is reported to have died, leaving only one female in the country.

3 June – Researchers report that the purportedly first-ever germline genetically edited humans, the twin babies Lulu and Nana, by Chinese scientist He Jiankui, may have been mutated in a way that shortens life expectancy.

10 June - A study by researchers from the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, identifies nearly 600 plants that have disappeared since the Industrial Revolution – more than twice the number of birds, mammals and amphibians combined – with extinctions now occurring 500 times faster than the natural background rate

11 June - Researchers at the University of Colorado Boulder demonstrate "nanobio-hybrid" organisms capable of using airborne carbon dioxide and nitrogen to produce a variety of eco-friendly plastics and fuels.

12 June - The discovery of cold quasars is announced at the 234th meeting of the American Astronomical Society.

19 June – Researchers at Carnegie Mellon University demonstrate the first noninvasive mind-controlled robotic arm

20 June – Researchers at Lancaster University describe a new electronic memory device that combines the properties of both DRAM and flash, while recording or deleting data using hundreds of times less energy.

21 June – Scientists release the video appearance, for the second time, and for the very first time in waters of the United States, of a giant squid in its deepwater habitat.

28 June - Astronomers report the detection of a star, named HD 139139 (EPIC 249706694), that dims in brightness in an apparent random, and currently unexplainable, way.

29 June – Scientists report that all 16 GB of Wikipedia have been encoded into synthetic DNA.

3 July - Researchers identify more than a 1 million square kilometres (0.39 million square miles) of lost tropical rainforest across the Americas, Africa and Southeast Asia, with a high potential for restoration.

10 July – Anthropologists report the discovery of 210,000 year old remains of a Homo sapiens and 170,000 year old remains of a Neanderthal in Apidima Cave in southern Greece, over 150,000 years older than previous H. sapiens finds in Europe.

11 July - Carnegie Mellon University reports an artificial intelligence program, developed in collaboration with Facebook AI, which is able to defeat leading professionals in six-player no-limit Texas hold'em poker.

12 July – Physicists report, for the first time, capturing an image of quantum entanglement.

15 July - Astronomers report that non-repeating Fast Radio Bursts (FRB)s may not be one-off events, but actually FRB repeaters with repeat events that have gone undetected and, further, that FRBs may be formed by events that have not yet been seen or considered.

A paper is released in the journal Nature Astronomy in which researchers from Harvard University, the University of Edinburgh and NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) detail how silica aerogel could be used to block radiation, obtain water and permit photosynthesis to occur to make Mars more hospitable for human survival.

22 July - Biochemists and geochemist from Earth-Life Science Institute (ELSI), Tokyo and the National University of Malaysia, Bangi report the discovery of simple organic molecules (hydroxy acids) that can assemble themselves into possible protocells under conditions similar to those of the early Earth.

5 August - Scientists report that a capsule containing tardigrades in cryptobiotic state (as well as a laser-etched copy of Wikipedia in glass) may have survived the April 2019 crash landing on the Moon of Beresheet, a failed Israeli lunar lander.

Engineers at the University of Buffalo reveal a new device able to cool parts of buildings by up to 11 °C (20 °F), without consuming electricity. The system uses an inexpensive polymer/aluminum film at the bottom of a solar "shelter", which absorbs heat from the air inside the box and transmits that energy back into outer space.

6 August – Scientists at the University of Leeds create a new form of gold just two atoms thick, measured at 0.47 nanometres. In addition to being the thinnest unsupported gold ever produced, it functions 10 times more efficiently as a catalytic substrate than larger gold nanoparticles.

7 August – Biologists report the discovery of the fossil remains of a first-of-its-kind extinct giant parrot named The Hercules parrot (or Heracles inexpectatus) in New Zealand. The parrot is thought to have stood up to 1 m (3 ft 3 in) tall and weighed approximately 7 kg (15 lb).

8 August - Researchers at Harvard report the creation of "cyborg organoids", which consist of 3D organoids grown from stem cells, with embedded sensors to measure activity in the developmental process.

9 August - Scientists report the isolation and culture of Lokiarchaea, a microorganism that may help explain the emergence of complex eukarotic (nucleated) cells from simpler bacteria-like cells

15 August - Chemists report the formation, for the first time, of an 18-atom cyclocarbon of pure carbon; such chemical structures may be useful as molecular-sized electronic components.

19 August - The first computer chip to exceed one trillion transistors, known as the Wafer Scale Engine, is announced by Cerebras Systems in collaboration with Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC).

23 August - Austrian and Chinese scientists report the first teleportation of three-dimensional quantum states, or "qutrits", which are more complex than two-dimensional qubits.

26 August – Astronomers report that newly discovered long-term pattern of absorbance and albedo changes in the atmosphere of the planet Venus are caused by "unknown absorbers", which may be microorganisms high up in the atmosphere of the planet.

Scientists report the discovery of a new distinctive light wave, named a Dyakonov-Voigt wave, that results from a particular manipulation of crystals, that was first suggested in equations developed by physicist James Clerk Maxwell in the middle 1800s

30 August - Scientists in China report a way of regrowing the complex structure of tooth enamel, using calcium phosphate ion clusters as a precursor layer.

2 September – Insilico Medicine reports the creation, via artificial intelligence, of six novel inhibitors of the DDR1 gene, a kinase target implicated in fibrosis and other diseases. The system, known as Generative Tensorial Reinforcement Learning (GENTRL), designed the new compounds in 21 days, with a lead candidate tested and showing positive results in mice.

6 September - Mathematicians report, after a 65-year search (since 1954), the solution to the last integer left below 100 (i.e., "42") expressed as the sum of three cubes.

A team of physicists report that the supposed discrepancy in the proton radius between electronic and muonic hydrogen does not exist, settling the proton radius puzzle.

10 September – Scientists report the computerized determination, based on 260 CT scans, of a virtual skull shape of the last common human ancestor to modern humans, and suggests that the human ancestor arose through a merging of populations in East and South Africa, between 260,000 and 350,000 years ago.

11 September - Researchers at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology demonstrate the first artificial hand for amputees that merges user and robotic control, a concept in neuroprosthetics known as shared control.

Google reports the creation of a deep learning system, trained on 50,000 different diagnoses, able to detect 26 skin conditions as accurately as dermatologists.

16 September: The most massive neutron star ever discovered, with 2.17 solar masses placing it on the boundary of the theoretical maximum.

16 September - Biochemists report that "RNA-DNA chimeras" (complex mixtures of RNA molecules and DNA molecules) may be a more effective way of producing precursor life biochemicals, than the more linear approaches (with pure RNA and pure DNA molecules) used earlier

Scientists at the Mayo Clinic report the first successful use of senolytics, a new class of drug with potential anti-aging benefits, to remove senescent cells from human patients with a kidney disease.

In a study published in PNAS, researchers at MIT detail a new emission free method of cement production, a major contributor to climate change.

17 September – A small clinical trial, announced by U.S. company NeuroEM Therapeutics, shows reversal of cognitive impairment in Alzheimer's disease patients after just two months of treatment using a wearable head device. Electromagnetic waves emitted by the device appear to penetrate the brain to break up amyloid-beta and tau deposits.

25 September - The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) releases its Special Report on the Ocean and Cryosphere in a Changing Climate. This includes a revised projection for sea level rise, upwards by 10 cm to 1.1 metres by 2100.

The Amery Ice Shelf in Antarctica produces its largest iceberg in more than 50 years, with a chunk called D28 being calved off that is 1,636 sq km in area and weighs an estimated 315 billion tonnes.

30 September – By combining doses of lithium, trametinib and rapamycin into a single treatment, researchers extend the lifespan of fruit flies (Drosophila) by 48%.

8 October: Researchers find human cartilage repair mechanism which may allow entire limbs to regenerate.

1 October - Scientists at the University of California, San Diego describe how a protein named Dsup (Damage suppression protein) binds to chromatin, which protects the cells of tardigrades and may explain the animals' tremendous resilience.

Physicists report a way of determining the state of Schrödinger's cat before observing it.

15 October – OpenAI demonstrates a pair of neural networks trained to solve a Rubik's Cube with a highly dexterous, human-like robotic hand.

16 October – Researchers at Harvard Medical School identify a link between neural activity and human longevity. Neural excitation is linked to shorter life, while suppression of overactivity appears to extend lifespan.

22 October – Scientists report further evidence supporting the Younger Dryas impact hypothesis that the extinction of ice-age animals may have been caused by a disintegrating asteroid or comet impact and/or airburst about 12,800 years ago.

23 October – Google announces that its 53-qubit 'Sycamore' processor has achieved quantum supremacy, performing a specific task in 200 seconds that would take the world's best supercomputers 10,000 years to complete. However, the claim is disputed by some IBM researchers.

25 October – A new carbon capture system is described by MIT, which can work on the gas at almost any concentration, using electrodes combined with carbon nanotubes.

28 October - A study published in Nature identifies Botswana as the birthplace of anatomically modern humans, based on genetic studies, around 200,000 BCE.

30 October – A large-scale study by researchers in Germany finds that insect populations declined by one-third between 2008 and 2017.

31 October – Researchers at the KTH Royal Institute of Technology, Sweden, develop a new film that is applied to solar cells, which combines nanocrystals and microlenses to capture infrared light. This can increase the solar energy conversion efficiency by 10 percent or more.

1 November – Researchers at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute demonstrate a way to 3D print living skin, complete with blood vessels, which could be used for more natural and accurate grafts.

4 November – Scientists confirm that, on 5 November 2018, the Voyager 2 probe had officially reached the interstellar medium (ISM), a region of outer space beyond the influence of the Solar System, and has now joined the Voyager 1 probe which had reached the ISM earlier in 2012.

6 November – Scientists at the University of Rochester demonstrate a new technique for creating superhydrophobic metals that float on water, using femtosecond laser bursts to "etch" the surfaces and trap air.

8 November - Computer experts at Kaspersky Lab report the detection of a very advanced and insidious backdoor malware APT named Titanium, that was developed by PLATINUM, a cybercrime collective.

13 November - Researchers report that astronauts experienced serious blood flow and clot problems while onboard the International Space Station, based on a six month study of 11 healthy astronauts. The results may influence long-term spaceflight, including a mission to the planet Mars, according to the researchers.

Scientists in Japan use single-cell RNA analysis to find that supercentenarians have an excess of cytotoxic CD4 T-cells, a type of immune cell.

15 November – The discovery and interpretation of 143 new Nazca geoglyphs is announced by researchers from Yamagata University.

Scientists report detecting, for the first time, sugar molecules, including ribose, in meteorites, suggesting that chemical processes on asteroids can produce some fundamentally essential bio-ingredients important to life, and supporting the notion of an RNA world prior to a DNA-based origin of life on Earth, and possibly, as well, the notion of panspermia.

Researchers at the University of Notre Dame develop a new method for lifelong learning in artificial neural networks, which entails the use of a ferroelectric ternary content-addressable memory component. Their study, featured in Nature Electronics, aims to replicate the human brain's ability to learn from only a few examples, adapting to new tasks based on past experiences.

23 November – The last known Sumatran rhinoceros in Malaysia passes on.

25 November - IPv4 address exhaustion: The RIPE NCC, which is the official regional Internet registry (RIR) for Europe, officially announces that it has run out of IPv4 Addresses.

The World Meteorological Organization reports that levels of heat-trapping greenhouse gases in the atmosphere reached another new record high of 407.8 parts per million in 2018,[453] with "no sign of a slowdown, let alone a decline."

26 November - Researchers report, based on an international study of 27 countries, that caring for families is the main motivator for people worldwide

27 November - Researchers report the discovery of Caveasphaera. a multicellular organism found in 609-million-year-old rocks, that is not easily defined as an animal or non-animal, which may be related to one of the earliest instances of animal evolution.

2 December - Researchers from Tel Aviv University describe how a molecule known as PJ34 triggers the self-destruction of pancreatic cancer cells, which were reduced by up to 90% in mouse models.

3 December – Researchers from the University of Bath report the creation of artificial neurons that reproduce the electrical properties of biological neurons onto semiconductor chips.

4 December – Astronomers publish the first evidence of a giant planet orbiting a white dwarf, WDJ0914+1914, suggesting that planets in our own Solar System may survive the death of our Sun in the distant future

5 December – Researchers at the California Academy of Sciences report the discovery of 71 new plant and animal species, which includes 17 fish, 15 geckos, 8 flower plants, 6 sea slugs, 5 arachnids, 4 eels, 3 ants, 3 skinks, 2 skates, 2 wasps, 2 mosses, 2 corals and 2 lizards.

9 December - Scientists in China create pigs with monkey DNA; thus creating an animal hybrid with genetic material from two different species.

Intel reveals a first-of-its-kind cryogenic control chip – code-named "Horse Ridge" – for control of multiple quantum bits (qubits) and scaling of larger quantum computer systems.

10 December - Ford, in a joint research project with Microsoft, reveals a "quantum-inspired" algorithm able to cut traffic by 73% and shorten commuting times by 8% in a simulation of 5,000 cars.

11 December – Scientists report the discovery of cave art in central Indonesia that is estimated to be at least 43,900 years old, and noted that the finding was “the oldest pictorial record of storytelling and the earliest figurative artwork in the world”.

18 December - Scientists report that Homo erectus, a species of extinct archaic humans, may have survived to nearly 100,000 years ago, much longer than thought previously.

30 December – Chinese authorities announce that He Jiankui, the scientist who claimed to have created the world's first genetically edited human babies, had been sentenced to three years in prison and fined 3 million yuan (US$430,000) for his genetic research efforts

and more on wikipedia

#2019 #science #physics #biology #computer #astronomy #technology

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

Text

A beautiful late April day, seventy-two years after slavery ended in the United States. Claude Anderson parks his car on the side of Holbrook Street in Danville. On the porch of number 513, he rearranges the notepads under his arm. Releasing his breath in a rush of decision, he steps up to the door of the handmade house and knocks.

Danville is on the western edge of the Virginia Piedmont. Back in 1865, it had been the last capital of the Confederacy. Or so Jefferson Davis had proclaimed on April 3, after he fled Richmond. Davis stayed a week, but then he had to keep running. The blue-coated soldiers of the Army of the Potomac were hot on his trail. When they got to Danville, they didn’t find the fugitive rebel. But they did discover hundreds of Union prisoners of war locked in the tobacco warehouses downtown. The bluecoats, rescuers and rescued, formed up and paraded through town. Pouring into the streets around them, dancing and singing, came thousands of African Americans. They had been prisoners for far longer.

In the decades after the jubilee year of 1865, Danville, like many other southern villages, had become a cotton factory town. Anderson, an African-American master’s student from Hampton University, would not have been able to work at the segregated mill. But the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a bureau of the federal government created by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal, would hire him. To put people back to work after they had lost their jobs in the Great Depression, the WPA organized thousands of projects, hiring construction workers to build schools and artists to paint murals. And many writers and students were hired to interview older Americans—like Lorenzo Ivy, the man painfully shuffling across the pine board floor to answer Anderson’s knock.

Anderson had found Ivy’s name in the Hampton University archives, two hundred miles east of Danville. Back in 1850, when Lorenzo had been born in Danville, there was neither a university nor a city called Hampton—just an American fort named after a slaveholder president. Fortress Monroe stood on Old Point Comfort, a narrow triangle of land that divided the Chesapeake Bay from the James River. Long before the fort was built, in April 1607, the Susan Constant had sailed past the point with a boatload of English settlers. Anchoring a few miles upriver, they had founded Jamestown, the first perma- nent English-speaking settlement in North America. Twelve years later, the crews of two storm-damaged English privateers also passed, seeking shelter and a place to sell the twenty-odd enslaved Africans (captured from a Portuguese slaver) lying shackled in their holds.

After that first 1619 shipload, some 100,000 more enslaved Africans would sail upriver past Old Point Comfort. Lying in chains in the holds of slave ships, they could not see the land until they were brought up on deck to be sold. After the legal Atlantic slave trade to the United States ended in 1807, hundreds of thousands more enslaved people passed the point. Now they were going the other way, boarding ships at Richmond, the biggest eastern center of the internal slave trade, to go by sea to the Mississippi Valley.

By the time a dark night came in late May 1861, the moon had waxed and waned three thousand times over slavery in the South. To protect slavery, Virginia had just seceded from the United States, choosing a side at last after six months of indecision in the wake of South Carolina’s rude exit from the Union. Fortress Monroe, built to protect the James River from ocean-borne invaders, became the Union’s last toehold in eastern Virginia. Rebel troops entrenched themselves athwart the fort’s landward approaches. Local planters, including one Charles Mallory, detailed enslaved men to build berms to shelter the besiegers’ cannon. But late this night, Union sentries on the fort’s seaward side saw a small skiff emerging slowly from the darkness. Frank Baker and Townshend rowed with muffled oars. Sheppard Mallory held the tiller. They were setting themselves free.

A few days later, Charles Mallory showed up at the gates of the Union fort. He demanded that the commanding federal officer, Benjamin Butler, return his property. Butler, a politician from Massachusetts, was an incompetent battlefield commander, but a clever lawyer. He replied that if the men were Mallory’s property, and he was using them to wage war against the US government, then logically the men were therefore contraband of war.

Those first three “contrabands” struck a crack in slavery’s centuries-old wall. Over the next four years, hundreds of thousands more enslaved people widened the crack into a gaping breach by escaping to Union lines. Their movement weakened the Confederate war effort and made it easier for the United States and its president to avow mass emancipation as a tool of war. Eventually the Union Army began to welcome formerly enslaved men into its ranks, turning refugee camps into recruiting stations—and those African-American soldiers would make the difference between victory and defeat for the North, which by late 1863 was exhausted and uncertain.

After the war, Union officer Samuel Armstrong organized literacy programs that had sprung up in the refugee camp at Old Point Comfort to form Hampton Institute. In 1875, Lorenzo Ivy traveled down to study there, on the ground zero of African-American history. At Hampton, he acquired an education that enabled him to return to Danville as a trained schoolteacher. He educated generations of African-American children. He built the house on Holbrook Street with his own Hampton-trained hands, and there he sheltered his father, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nieces and nephews. In April 1937, Ivy opened the door he’d made with hands and saw and plane, and it swung clear for Claude Anderson without rubbing the frame.1

Anderson’s notepads, however, were accumulating evidence of two very different stories of the American past—halves that did not fit together neatly. And he was about to hear more. Somewhere in the midst of the notepads was a typed list of questions supplied by the WPA. Questions often reveal the desired answer. By the 1930s, most white Americans had been demanding for decades that they hear only a sanitized version of the past into which Lorenzo Ivy had been born. This might seem strange. In the middle of the nineteenth century, white Americans had gone to war with each other over the future of slavery in their country, and slavery had lost. Indeed, for a few years after 1865, many white northerners celebrated emancipation as one of their collective triumphs. Yet whites’ belief in the emancipation made permanent by the Thirteenth Amendment, much less in the race-neutral citizenship that the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments had written into the Constitution, was never that deep. Many northerners had only supported Benjamin Butler and Abraham Lincoln’s moves against slavery because they hated the arrogance of slaveholders like Charles Mallory. And after 1876, northern allies abandoned southern black voters.

Within half a century after Butler sent Charles Mallory away from Fortress Monroe empty-handed, the children of white Union and Confederate soldiers united against African-American political and civil equality. This compact of white supremacy enabled southern whites to impose Jim Crow segregation on public space, disfranchise African-American citizens by barring them from the polls, and use the lynch-mob noose to enforce black compliance. White Americans imposed increased white supremacy outside the South, too. In non-Confederate states, many restaurants wouldn’t serve black customers. Stores and factories refused to hire African Americans. Hundreds of midwestern communities forcibly evicted African-American residents and became “sundown towns” (“Don’t let the sun set on you in this town”). Most whites, meanwhile, believed that science proved that there were biologically distinct human races, and that Europeans were members of the superior one. Anglo-Americans even believed that they were distinct from and superior to the Jews from Russia, Italians, Greeks, Slavs, and others who flooded Ellis Island and changed the culture of northern urban centers.

By the early twentieth century, America’s first generation of professional historians were justifying the exclusions of Jim Crow and disfranchisement by telling a story about the nation’s past of slavery and civil war that seemed to confirm, for many white Americans, that white supremacy was just and necessary. Above all, the historians of a reunified white nation insisted that slavery was a premodern institution that was not committed to profit-seeking. In so doing, historians were to some extent only repeating pre–Civil War debates: abolitionists had depicted slavery not only as a psychopathic realm of whipping, rape, and family separation, but also as a flawed economic system that was inherently less efficient than the free-labor capitalism developing in the North. Proslavery writers disagreed about the psychopathy, but by the 1850s they agreed that enslavers were first and foremost not profit-seekers. For them, planters were caring masters who considered their slaves to be inferior family members. So although anti- and proslavery conclusions about slavery’s morality were different, their premises about slavery-as-a-business-model matched. Both agreed that slavery was inherently unprofitable. It was an old, static system that belonged to an earlier time. Slave labor was inefficient to begin with, slave productivity did not increase to keep pace with industrialization, and enslavers did not act like modern profit-seeking businessmen. As a system, slavery had never adapted or changed to thrive in the new industrial economy—let alone to play a premier role as a driver of economic expansion—and had been little more than a drag on the explosive growth that had built the modern United States. In fact, during the Civil War, northerners were so convinced of these points that they believed that shifting from slave labor to free labor would dramatically increase cotton productivity.

It didn’t. But even though the data of declining productivity over the ensuing three score and ten years suggested that slavery might have been the most efficient way to produce the world’s most important crop, no one let empirical tests change their minds. Instead, historians of Woodrow Wilson’s generation imprinted the stamp of academic research on the idea that slavery was separate from the great economic and social transformations of the Western world during the nineteenth century. After all, it did not rely upon ever-more efficient machine labor. Its unprofitable economic structures supposedly produced antique social arrangements, and the industrializing, urbanizing world looked back toward them with contempt—or, increasingly, nostalgia. Many whites, now proclaiming that science proved that people of African descent were intellectually inferior and congenitally prone to criminal behavior, looked wistfully to a past when African Americans had been governed with whips and chains. Granted, slavery as an economic system was not modern, they said, and had neither changed to adapt to the modern economy nor contributed to economic expansion. But to an openly racist historical profession—and a white history-reading, history-thinking public obsessed with all kinds of race control—the white South’s desire to white-wash slavery in the past, and maintain segregation now and forever, served the purpose of validating control over supposedly premodern, semi-savage black people.

Such stories about slavery shaped the questions Claude Anderson was to ask in the 1930s, because you could find openly racist versions of it baked into the recipe of every American textbook. You could find it in popular novels, politicians’ speeches, plantation-nostalgia advertising, and even the first blockbuster American film: Birth of a Nation. As president, Woodrow Wilson—a southern-born history professor— called this paean to white supremacy “history written with lightning,” and screened it at the White House. Such ideas became soaked into the way America publicly depicted slavery. Even many of those who believed that they rejected overt racism depicted the era before emancipation as a plantation idyll of happy slaves and paternalist masters. Abolitionists were snakes in the garden, responsible for a Civil War in which hundreds of thousands of white people died. Maybe the end of slavery had to come for the South to achieve economic modernity, but it didn’t have to come that way, they said.

The way that Americans remember slavery has changed dramatically since then. In tandem with widespread desegregation of public spaces and the assertion of black cultural power in the years between World War II and the

1990s came a new understanding of the experience of slavery. No longer did academic historians describe slavery as a school in which patient masters and mistresses trained irresponsible savages for futures of perpetual servitude.

Slavery’s denial of rights now prefigured Jim Crow, while enslaved people’s resistance predicted the collective self-assertion that developed into first the civil rights movement and later, Black Power.

But perhaps the changes were not so great as they seemed on the surface. The focus on showing African Americans as assertive rebels, for instance, implied an uncomfortable corollary. If one should be impressed by those who rebelled, because they resisted, one should not be proud of those who did not. And there were very few rebellions in the history of slavery in the United States. Some scholars tried to backfill against this quandary by arguing that all African Americans together created a culture of resistance, especially in slave quarters and other spaces outside of white observation. Yet the insistence that assertive resistance undermined enslavers’ power, and a focus on the development of an independent black culture, led some to believe that enslaved people actually managed to prevent whites from successfully exploiting their labor. This idea, in turn, created a quasi-symmetry with post– Civil War plantation memoirs that portrayed gentle masters, who maintained slavery as a nonprofit endeavor aimed at civilizing Africans.

Thus, even after historians of the civil rights, Black Power, and multicultural eras rewrote segregationists’ stories about gentlemen and belles and grateful darkies, historians were still telling the half that has ever been told. For some fundamental assumptions about the history of slavery and the history of the United States remain strangely unchanged. The first major assumption is that, as an economic system—a way of producing and trading commodities—American slavery was fundamentally different from the rest of the modern economy and separate from it. Stories about industrialization emphasize white immigrants and clever inventors, but they leave out cotton fields and slave labor. This perspective implies not only that slavery didn’t change, but that slavery and enslaved African Americans had little long-term influence on the rise of the United States during the nineteenth century, a period in which the nation went from being a minor European trading partner to becoming the world’s largest economy—one of the central stories of American history.

The second major assumption is that slavery in the United States was fundamentally in contradiction with the political and economic systems of the liberal republic, and that inevitably that contradiction would be resolved in favor of the free-labor North. Sooner or later, slavery would have ended by the operation of historical forces; thus, slavery is a story without suspense. And a story with a predetermined outcome isn’t a story at all.

Third, the worst thing about slavery as an experience, one is told, was that it denied enslaved African Americans the liberal rights and liberal subjectivity of modern citizens. It did those things as a matter of course, and as injustice, that denial ranks with the greatest in modern history. But slavery also killed people, in large numbers. From those who survived, it stole everything. Yet the massive and cruel engineering required to rip a million people from their homes, brutally drive them to new, disease-ridden places, and make them live in terror and hunger as they continually built and rebuilt a commodity-generating empire—this vanished in the story of a slavery that was supposedly focused primarily not on producing profit but on maintaining its status as a quasi-feudal elite, or producing modern ideas about race in order to maintain white unity and elite power. And once the violence of slavery was minimized, another voice could whisper, saying that African Americans, both before and after emancipation, were denied the rights of citizens because they would not fight for them.

All these assumptions lead to still more implications, ones that shape attitudes, identities, and debates about policy. If slavery was outside of US history, for instance—if indeed it was a drag and not a rocket booster to American economic growth—then slavery was not implicated in US growth, success, power, and wealth. Therefore none of the massive quantities of wealth and treasure piled by that economic growth is owed to African Americans. Ideas about slavery’s history determine the ways in which Americans hope to resolve the long contradiction between the claims of the United States to be a nation of freedom and opportunity, on the one hand, and, on the other, the unfreedom, the unequal treatment, and the opportunity denied that for most of American history have been the reality faced by people of African descent. Surely, if the worst thing about slavery was that it denied African Americans the liberal rights of the citizen, one must merely offer them the title of citizen—even elect one of them president—to make amends. Then the issue will be put to rest forever.

Slavery’s story gets told in ways that reinforce all these assumptions. Textbooks segregate twenty-five decades of enslavement into one chapter, painting a static picture. Millions of people each year visit plantation homes where guides blather on about furniture and silverware. As sites, such homes hide the real purpose of these places, which was to make African Americans toil under the hot sun for the profit of the rest of the world. All this is the “symbolic annihilation” of enslaved people, as two scholars of those weird places put it.2 Meanwhile, at other points we tell slavery’s story by heaping praise on those who escaped it through flight or death in rebellion, leaving the listener to wonder if those who didn’t flee or die somehow “accepted” slavery. And everyone who teaches about slavery knows a little dirty secret that reveals historians’ collective failure: many African-American students struggle with a sense of shame that most of their ancestors could not escape the suffering they experienced.

The truth can set us free, if we can find the right questions. But back in the little house in Danville, Anderson was reading from a list of leading ones, designed by white officials—some well-meaning, some not so well-meaning. He surely felt how the gravity of the questions pulled him toward the planet of plantation nostalgia. “Did slaves mind being called ‘nigger’?” “What did slaves call master or mistress?” “Have you been happier in slavery or free?” “Was the mansion house pretty?” Escaping from chains is very difficult, however, so Anderson dutifully asked the prescribed questions and poised his pencil to take notes.

Ivy listened politely. He sat still. Then he began to speak: “My mother’s master was named William Tunstall. He was a mean man. There was only one good thing he did, and I don’t reckon he intended to do that. He sold our family to my father’s master George H. Gilman.”

Perhaps the wind blowing through the window changed as a cloud moved across the spring sun: “Old Tunstall caught the ‘cotton fever.’ There was a fever going round, leastways it was like a fever. Everyone was dying to get down south and grow cotton to sell. So old Tunstall separated families right and left. He took two of my aunts and left their husbands up here, and he separated altogether seven husbands and wives. One woman had twelve children. Yessir. Took ‘em all down south with him to Georgia and Alabama.”

Pervasive separations. Tears carving lines on faces. Lorenzo remembered his relief at dodging the worst, but he also remembered knowing that it was just a lucky break. Next time it could’ve been his mother. No white person was reliable, because money drove their decisions. No, this wasn’t the story the books told.

So Anderson moved to the next question. Did Ivy know if any slaves had been sold here? Now, perhaps, the room grew darker.

For more than a century, white people in the United States had been singling out slave traders as an exception: unscrupulous lower-class outsiders who pried apart paternalist bonds. Scapegoaters had a noble precedent. In his first draft of the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson tried to blame King George III for using the Atlantic slave trade to impose slavery on the colonies. In historians’ tellings, the 1808 abolition of the Atlantic trade brought stability to slavery, ringing in the “Old South,” as it has been called since before the Civil War. Of course, one might wonder how something that was brand new, created after a revolution, and growing more rapidly than any other commodity-producing economy in history before then could be considered “old.” But never mind. Historians depicted slave trading after 1808 as irrelevant to what slavery was in the “Old South,” and to how America as a whole was shaped. America’s modernization was about entrepreneurs, creativity, invention, markets, movement, and change. Slavery was not about any of these things—not about slave trading, or moving people away from everyone they knew in order to make them make cotton. Therefore, modern America and slavery had nothing to do with each other.

But Ivy spilled out a rush of very different words. “They sold slaves here and everywhere. I’ve seen droves of Negroes brought in here on foot going South to be sold. Each one of them had an old tow sack on his back with everything he’s got in it. Over the hills they came in lines reaching as far as the eye can see. They walked in double lines chained together by twos. They walk ‘em here to the railroad and shipped ’em south like cattle.”

Then Lorenzo Ivy said this: “Truly, son, the half has never been told.”

To this, day, it still has not. For the other half is the story of how slavery changed and moved and grew over time: Lorenzo Ivy’s time, and that of his parents and grandparents. In the span of a single lifetime after the 1780s, the South grew from a narrow coastal strip of worn-out plantations to a sub-continental empire. Entrepreneurial enslavers moved more than 1 million enslaved people, by force, from the communities that survivors of the slave trade from Africa had built in the South and in the West to vast territories that were seized—also by force—from their Native American inhabitants. From

1783 at the end of the American Revolution to 1861, the number of slaves in the United States increased five times over, and all this expansion produced a powerful nation. For white enslavers were able to force enslaved African-American migrants to pick cotton faster and more efficiently than free people. Their practices rapidly transformed the southern states into the dominant force in the global cotton market, and cotton was the world’s most widely traded commodity at the time, as it was the key raw material during the first century of the industrial revolution. The returns from cotton monopoly powered the modernization of the rest of the American economy, and by the time of the Civil War, the United States had become the second nation to undergo large-scale industrialization. In fact, slavery’s expansion shaped every crucial aspect of the economy and politics of the new nation—not only increasing its power and size, but also, eventually, dividing US politics, differentiating regional identities and interests, and helping to make civil war possible.

The idea that the commodification and suffering and forced labor of African Americans is what made the United States powerful and rich is not an idea that people necessarily are happy to hear. Yet it is the truth. And that truth was the half of the story that survived mostly in the custodianship of those who survived slavery’s expansion—whether they had been taken over the hill, or left behind. Forced migration had shaped their lives, and also had shaped what they thought about their lives and the wider history in which they were enmeshed. Even as they struggled to stay alive in the midst of disruption, they created ways to talk about this half untold. But what survivors experienced, analyzed, and named was a slavery that didn’t fit the comfortable boxes into which other Americans have been trying to fit it ever since it ended.

I read Lorenzo Ivy’s words, and they left me uneasy. I sensed that the true narrative had been left out of history—not only American history in general, but even the history of slavery. I began to look actively for the other half of the story, the one about how slavery constantly grew, changed, and reshaped the modern world. Of how it was both modernizing and modern, and what that meant for the people who lived through its incredible expansion. Once I began to look, I discovered that the traces of the other half were everywhere. The debris of cotton fevers that infected white entrepreneurs and separated man and woman, parent and child, right and left, dusted every set of pre–Civil War letters, newspapers, and court documents. Most of all, the half not told ran like a layer of iridium left by a dinosaur-killing asteroid through every piece of testimony that ex-slaves, such as Lorenzo Ivy, left on the historical record: thousands of stanzas of an epic of forced separations, violence, and new kinds of labor.

For a long time I wasn’t sure how to tell the story of this muscular, dynamic process in a single book. The most difficult challenge was simply the fact that the expansion of slavery in many ways shaped the story of everything in the pre–Civil War United States. Enslavers’ surviving papers showed calculations of returns from slave sales and purchases as well as the costs of establishing new slave labor camps in the cotton states. Newspapers dripped with speculations in land and people and the commodities they produced; dramatic changes in how people made money and how much they made; and the dramatic violence that accompanied these practices. The accounts of northern merchants and bankers and factory owners showed that they invested in slavery, bought from and sold to slaveholders, and took slices of profit out of slavery’s expansion. Scholars and students talked about politics as a battle about states’ rights or republican principles, but viewed in a different light the fights can be seen as a struggle between regions about how the rewards of slavery’s expansion would be allocated and whether that expansion could continue.

The story seemed too big to fit into one framework. Even Ivy had no idea how to count the chained lines he saw going southwest toward the mountains on the horizon and the vast open spaces beyond. From the 1790s to the 1860s, enslavers moved 1 million people from the old slave states to the new. They went from making no cotton to speak of in 1790 to making almost 2 billion pounds of it in 1860. Stretching out beyond the slave South, the story encompassed not only Washington politicians and voters across the United States but also Connecticut factories, London banks, opium addicts in China, and consumers in East Africa. And could one book do Lorenzo Ivy’s insight justice? It would have to avoid the old platitudes, such as the easy temptation to tell the story as a collection of topics—here a chapter on slave resistance, there one on women and slavery, and so on. That kind of abstraction cuts the beating heart out of the story. For the half untold was a narrative, a process of movement and change and suspense. Things happened because of what had been done before them—and what people chose to do in response.

No, this had to be a story, and one couldn’t tell it solely from the perspective of powerful actors. True, politicians and planters and bankers shaped policies, the movement of people, and the growing and selling of cotton, and even remade the land itself. But when one takes Lorenzo Ivy’s words as a starting point, the whole history of the United States comes walking over the hill behind a line of people in chains. Changes that reshaped the entire world began on the auction block where enslaved migrants stood or in the frontier cotton fields where they toiled. Their individual drama was a struggle to survive. Their reward was to endure a brutal transition to new ways of labor that made them reinvent themselves every day. Enslaved people’s creativity enabled their survival, but, stolen from them in the form of ever-growing cotton productivity, their creativity also expanded the slaveholding South at an unprecedented rate. Enslaved African Americans built the modern United States, and indeed the entire modern world, in ways both obvious and hidden.

One day I found a metaphor that helped. It came from the great African-American author Ralph Ellison. You might know his novel Invisible Man. But in the 1950s, Ellison also produced incredible essays. In one of them he wrote, “On the moral level I propose we view the whole of American life as a drama enacted on the body of a Negro giant who, lying trussed up like Gulliver, forms the stage and the scene upon which and within which the action unfolds.”3

The image fit the story that Ivy’s words raised above the watery surface of buried years. The only problem was that Ellison’s image implied a stationary giant. In the old myth, the stationary, quintessentially unchanging plantation was the site and the story of African-American life from the seventeenth century to the twentieth. But Lorenzo Ivy had described a world in motion. After the American Revolution—which seemed at the time to portend slavery’s imminent demise—a metastatic transformation and growth of slavery’s giant body had begun instead. From the exploitation, commodification, and torture of enslaved people’s bodies, enslavers and other free people gained new kinds of modern power. The sweat and blood of the growing system, a network of individuals and families and labor camps that grew bigger with each passing year, fueled massive economic change. Enslaved people, meanwhile, transported and tortured, had to find ways to survive, resist, or endure. And over time the question of their freedom or bondage came to occupy the center of US politics.

This trussed-up giant, stretched out on the rack of America’s torture zone, actually grew, like a person passing through ordeals to new maturity. I have divided the chapters of this book with Ellison’s imagined giant in mind, a structure that has allowed the story to take as its center point the experience of enslaved African Americans themselves. Before we pass through the door that Lorenzo Ivy opened, here are the chapters’ names. The first is “Feet,” for the story begins with unfree movement on paths to enslaved frontiers that were laid down between the end of the American Revolution in 1783 and the early 1800s. “Heads” is the title of the second chapter, which covers America’s acquisition of the key points of the Mississippi Valley by violence, a gain that also consolidated the enslavers’ hold on the frontier. Then come the “Right Hand” and the “Left Hand” (Chapters 3 and 4). They reveal the inner secrets of enslavers’ power, secrets which made the entire world of white people wealthy.

“Tongues” (Chapter 5) and “Breath” (Chapter 6) follow. They describe how, by the mid-1820s, enslavers had not only found ways to silence the tongues of their critics, but had built a system of slave trading that served as expansion’s lungs. Most forms of resistance were impossible to carry out successfully. So a question hung in the air. Would the spirit in the tied-down body die, leaving enslaved people to live on like undead zombies serving their captors? Or would the body live, and rise? Every transported soul, finding his or her old life killed off, faced this question on the individual level as well: whether to work with fellow captives or scrabble against them in a quest for individualistic subsistence. Enslaved African Americans chose many things. But perhaps most importantly, they chose survival, and true survival in such circumstances required solidarity. Solidarity allowed them to see their common experience, to light their own way by building a critique of enslavers’ power that was an alternative story about what things were and what they meant.

This story draws on thousands of personal narratives like the one that Lorenzo Ivy told Claude Anderson. Slavery has existed in many societies, but no other population of formerly enslaved people has been able to record the testimonies of its members like those who survived slavery in the United States. The narratives began with those who escaped slavery’s expansion in the nineteenth century as fugitives. Over one hundred of those survivors published their autobiographies during the nineteenth century. As time went on, such memoirs found a market, in no small part because escapees from southern captivity were changing the minds of some of the northern whites about what the expansion of slavery meant for them. Then, during the 1930s, people like Claude Anderson conducted about 2,300 interviews with the ex-slaves who had lived into that decade. Because the interviews often allowed old people to tell about the things they had seen for themselves and the things they heard from their elders in the years before the Civil War, they take us back into the world of explanation and storytelling that grew up around fires and on porches and between cotton rows. No one autobiography or interview is pure and objective as an account of all that the history books left untold. But read them all, and each one adds to a more detailed, clearer picture of the whole. One story fills in gaps left by another, allowing one to read between the lines.4

Understanding something of what it felt like to suffer, and what it cost to endure that suffering, is crucial to understanding the course of US history. For what enslaved people made together—new ties to each other, new ways of understanding their world—had the potential to help them survive in mind and body. And ultimately, their spirit and their speaking would enable them to call new allies into being in the form of an abolitionist movement that helped to destabilize the mighty enslavers who held millions captive. But the road on which enslaved people were being driven was long. It led through the hell described by “Seed” (Chapter 7), which tells of the horrific near-decade from 1829 to 1837. In these years entrepreneurs ran wild on slavery’s frontier. Their acts created the political and economic dynamics that carried enslavers to their greatest height of power. Facing challenges from other white men who wanted to assert their masculine equality through political democracy, clever entrepreneurs found ways to leverage not just that desire, but other desires as well. With the creation of innovative financial tools, more and more of the Western world was able to invest directly in slavery’s expansion. Such creativity multiplied the incredible productivity and profitability of enslaved people’s labor and allowed enslavers to turn bodies into commodities with which they changed the financial history of the Western world.

Enslavers, along with common white voters, investors, and the enslaved, made the 1830s the hinge of US history. On one side lay the world of the industrial revolution and the initial innovations that launched the modern world. On the other lay modern America. For in 1837, enslavers’ exuberant success led to a massive economic crash. This self-inflicted devastation, covered in Chapter 8, “Blood,” posed new challenges to slaveholders’ power, led to human destruction for the enslaved, and created confusion and discord in white families. When southern political actors tried to use war with Mexico to restart their expansion, they encountered new opposition on the part of increasingly assertive northerners. As Chapter 9, “Backs,” explains, by the 1840s the North had built a complex, industrialized economy on the backs of enslaved people and their highly profitable cotton labor. Yet, although all northern whites had benefited from the deepened exploitation of enslaved people, many northern whites were now willing to use politics to oppose further expansions of slavery. The words that the survivors of slavery’s expansion had carried out from the belly of the nation’s hungriest beast had, in fact, become important tools for galvanizing that opposition.

Of course, in return for the benefits they received from slavery’s expansion, plenty of northerners were still willing to enable enslavers’ disproportionate power. With the help of such allies, as “Arms” (Chapter 10) details, slavery continued to expand in the decade after the Compromise of 1850. For now, however, it had to do so within potentially closed borders. That is why southern whites now launched an aggressive campaign of advocacy, insisting on policies and constitutional interpretations that would commit the entire United States to the further geographic expansion of slavery. The entire country would become slavery’s next frontier. And as they pressed, they generated greater resistance, pushed too hard, and tried to make their allies submit—like slaves, the allies complained. And that is how, at last, whites came to take up arms against each other.

Yet even as southern whites seceded, claiming that they would set up an independent nation, shelling Fort Sumter, and provoking the Union’s president, Abraham Lincoln, to call out 100,000 militia, many white Americans wanted to keep the stakes of this dispute as limited as possible. A majority of northern Unionists opposed emancipation. Perhaps white Americans’ battles with each other were, on one level, not driven by a contest over ideals, but over the best way to keep the stream of cotton and financial revenues flowing: keep slavery within its current borders, or allow it to consume still more geographic frontiers. But the growing roar of cannon promised others a chance to force a more dramatic decision: slavery forever, or nevermore. So it was that as Frank Baker, Townshend, and Sheppard Mallory crept across the dark James River waters that had washed so many hulls bearing human bodies, the future stood poised, uncertain between alternative paths. Yet those three men carried something powerful: the same half of the story that Lorenzo Ivy could tell. All they had learned from it would help to push the future onto a path that led to freedom. Their story can do so for us as well. To hear it, we must stand as Lorenzo Ivy had stood as a boy in Danville—watching the chained lines going over the hills, or as Frank Baker and others had stood, watching the ships going down the James from the Richmond docks, bound for the Mississippi. Then turn and go with the marching feet, and listen for the breath of the half that has never been told.

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roncheg · 3 years

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I've been thinking lately about that one (and only) time in my life when i really was free and unafraid.

I was about 18, a first year student on a field practice at the MSU biological station on White sea.

There were NO people around except for my fellow students and professors, who either was working at sea/in a lab or drinking/partying in our dorms, or on the beaches near the station. There were no signal; rumor had it, only on top of that one pine tree you could catch maybe one bar? Some were boasting that they even managed to talk with their parents for a MINUTE!

i used to spend all of my free time in the woods around the station. And let me tell you, those forests were VAST, and you could never really get lost- you just need to go downhill to reach the sea and then go left or right depending on sun position to end up at the biostation. The woods were mostly devoid of big predators - there were sightings of a mama-bear with two cubs, but i just went wandering in an opposite difection of the sighting site..

So, no people or animals that could hurt you (you learn fast to ignore armies of mosquitos and gnats))), no chance of getting lost, no way to hurt yourself in the woods if you are carefull enough, food and shelter are provided if you get home in time, and there was a library to entertain oneself in the evening)))

And it was a late summer just outside of the polar circle- so, white nights- an endless daylight/twilight cycle only.

That's my idea of a paradise, irreproducible as it is.

#down the memory lane #nostalgia #woods #pine trees #ah my youth:')

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nicklloydnow · 3 years

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“Absent a perfect harmony of all interests, conflicts regarding scarce resources can only be avoided if all scarce resources are assigned as private, exclusive property to some specified individual. Only then can I act independently, with my own things, from you, with your own things, without you and me coming into conflict.

But who owns what scarce resource as his private property and who does not? First: Each person owns his physical body that only he and no one else controls directly (I can control your body only in-directly, by first directly controlling my body, and vice versa) and that only he directly controls also in particular when discussing and arguing the question at hand. Otherwise, if body-ownership were assigned to some indirect body-controller, conflict would become unavoidable as the direct body-controller cannot give up his direct control over his body as long as he is alive; and in particular, otherwise it would be impossible that any two persons, as the contenders in any property dispute, could ever argue and debate the question whose will is to prevail, since arguing and debating presupposes that both, the proponent and the opponent, have exclusive control over their respective bodies and so come to the correct judgment on their own, without a fight (in a conflict-free form of interaction).

And second, as for scarce resources that can be controlled only indirectly (that must be appropriated with our own nature-given, i.e., un-appropriated, body): Exclusive control (property) is acquired by and assigned to that person, who appropriated the resource in question first or who acquired it through voluntary (conflict-free) exchange from its previous owner. For only the first appropriator of a resource (and all later owners connected to him through a chain of voluntary exchanges) can possibly acquire and gain control over it without conflict, i.e., peacefully. Otherwise, if exclusive control is assigned instead to latecomers, conflict is not avoided but contrary to the very purpose of norms made unavoidable and permanent.

Let me emphasize that I consider this theory as essentially irrefutable, as a priori true. In my estimation this theory represents one of the greatest – if not the greatest – achievement of social thought. It formulates and codifies the immutable ground rules for all people, everywhere, who wish to live together in peace.

(...)

The difference between the Right and the Left, as Paul Gottfried has often noted, is a fundamental disagreement concerning an empirical question. The Right recognizes, as a matter of fact, the existence of individual human differences and diversities and accepts them as natural, whereas the Left denies the existence of such differences and diversities or tries to explain them away and in any case regards them as something unnatural that must be rectified to establish a natural state of human equality.

The Right recognizes the existence of individual human differences not just with regard to the physical location and make-up of the human environment and of the individual human body (its height, strength, weight, age, gender, skin- hair- or eye-color, facial features, etc., etc.). More importantly, the Right also recognizes the existence of differences in the mental make-up of people, i.e., in their cognitive abilities, talents, psychological dispositions, and motivations. It recognizes the existence of bright and dull, smart and dumb, short- and far-sighted, busy and lazy, aggressive and peaceful, docile and inventive, impulsive and patient, scrupulous and careless people, etc., etc.. The Right recognizes that these mental differences, resulting from the interaction of the physical environment and the physical human body, are the results of both environmental and physiological and biological factors. The Right further recognizes that people are tied together (or separated) both physically in geographical space and emotionally by blood (biological commonalities and relationships), by language and religion, as well as by customs and traditions. Moreover, the Right not merely recognizes the existence of these differences and diversities. It realizes also that the outcome of input-differences will again be different and result in people with much or little property, in rich and poor, and in people of high or low social status, rank, influence or authority. And it accepts these different outcomes of different inputs as normal and natural.

The Left on the other hand is convinced of the fundamental equality of man, that all men are “created equal.” It does not deny the patently obvious, of course: that there are environmental and physiological differences, i.e., that some people live in the mountains and others on the seaside, or that some men are tall and others short, some white and others black, some male and others female, etc.. But the Left does deny the existence of mental differences or, insofar as these are too apparent to be entirely denied, it tries to explain them away as “accidental.” That is, the Left either explains such differences as solely environmentally determined, such that a change in environmental circumstances (moving a person from the mountains to the seaside and vice versa, for instance, or giving each person identical pre- and post-natal attention) would produce an equal outcome, and it denies that these differences are caused (also) by some – comparatively intractable – biological factors. Or else, in those cases where it cannot be denied that biological factors play a causal role in determining success or failure in life (money and fame), such as when a 5 foot tall man cannot win an Olympic gold medal in the 100 meter dash or a fat and ugly girl cannot become Miss Universe, the Left considers these differences as pure luck and the resulting outcome of individual success or failure as undeserved. In any case, whether caused by advantageous or disadvantageous environmental circumstances or biological attributes, all observable individual human differences are to be equalized. And where this cannot be done literally, as we cannot move mountains and seas or make a tall man short or a black man white, the Left insists that the undeservedly “lucky” must compensate the “unlucky” so that every person will be accorded an “equal station in life,” in correspondence with the natural equality of all men.

As for the Right, the answer is an emphatic “yes.” Every libertarian only vaguely familiar with social reality will have no difficulty acknowledging the fundamental truth of the Rightist world-view. He can, and in light of the empirical evidence indeed must agree with the Right’s empirical claim regarding the fundamental not only physical but also mental in-equality of man; and he can in particular also agree with the Right’s normative claim of “laissez faire,” i.e., that this natural human inequality will inevitably result also in un-equal outcomes and that nothing can or should be done about this.

There is only one important caveat, however. While the Right may accept all human inequalities, whether of starting-points or of outcomes, as natural, the libertarian would insist that only those inequalities are natural and should not be interfered with that have come into existence by following the ground-rules of peaceful human interaction mentioned at the beginning. Inequalities that are the result of violations of these rules, however, do require corrective action and should be eliminated. And moreover, the libertarian would insist that, as a matter of empirical fact, there exist quite a few among the innumerable observable human inequalities that are the result of such rule-violations, such as rich men who owe their fortune not to hard work, foresight, entrepreneurial talent or else a voluntary gift or inheritance, but to robbery, fraud or state-granted monopolistic privilege. The corrective action required in such cases, however, is not motivated by egalitarianism but by a desire for restitution: he (and only he), who can show that he has been robbed, defrauded or legally disadvantaged should be made whole again by those (and only those) who have committed these crimes against him and his property, including also cases where restitution would result in an even greater inequality (as when a poor man had defrauded and owed restitution to a rich one).

On the other hand: As for the Left, the answer is an equally emphatic “no.” The empirical claim of the Left, that there exist no significant mental differences between individuals and, by implication, between various groups of people, and that what appear to be such differences are due solely to environmental factors and would disappear if only the environment were equalized is contradicted by all everyday-life experience and mountains of empirical social research. Men are not and cannot be made equal, and whatever one tries in this regard, inequalities will always re-emerge. However, it is in particular the implied normative claim and activist agenda of the Left that makes it incompatible with libertarianism. The leftist goal of equalizing everyone or equalizing everyone’s “station in life” is incompatible with private property, whether in one’s body or in external things. Instead of peaceful cooperation, it brings about unending conflict and leads to the decidedly un-egalitarian establishment of a permanent ruling-class lording it over the rest of the people as their “material” to be equalized. “Since,” as Murray Rothbard has formulated it, “no two people are uniform or ‘equal’ in any sense in nature, or in the outcomes of a voluntary society, to bring about and maintain such equality necessarily requires the permanent imposition of a power elite armed with devastating coercive power.”

(...)

First off: Why should anyone be particularly nice to anyone else – apart from respecting ones’ respective private property rights in certain specified physical means (goods)? To be nice is a deliberate action and takes an effort, like all actions do. There are opportunity costs. The same effort could also be put to other effects. Indeed, many if not most of our activities are conducted alone and in silence, without any direct interaction with others, as when we prepare our meal, drive our car, or read and write. Time devoted to ‘niceness to others’ is time lost to do other, possibly more worthwhile things. Moreover, niceness must be warranted. Why should I be nice to people who are nasty to me? Niceness must be deserved. Indiscriminating niceness diminishes and ultimately extinguishes the distinction between meritorious and faulty conduct. Too much niceness will be given to undeserving people and too little to deserving ones and the overall level of nastiness will consequently rise and public life become increasingly unpleasant.

Moreover, there are also genuinely evil people doing real evil things to real private property owners, most importantly the ruling elites in charge of the State-apparatus, as every libertarian would have to admit. One surely has no obligation to be nice to them! And yet, in rewarding the vast majority of ‘victims’ with extra love, care and attention, one accomplishes precisely this: less time and effort is devoted to exhibiting nasty behavior toward those actually most deserving of it. The power of the State will not be weakened by universal ‘niceness,’ then, but strengthened.

(...)

In order to reach total control over each individual person, the State must pursue a divide et impera policy. It must weaken, undermine and ultimately destroy all other, rival centers of social authority. Most importantly, it must weaken the traditional, patriarchic family household, and especially the independently wealthy family household, as autonomous decision-making centers by sowing and legislating conflicts between wives and husbands, children and parents, women and men, rich and poor. As well, all hierarchical orders and ranks of social authority, all exclusive associations, and all personal loyalties and attachments – be it to a particular family, community, ethnicity, tribe, nation, race, language, religion, custom or tradition – except the attachment to a given State qua citizen-subject and passport holder, must be weakened and ultimately destroyed.

(...)

You cannot be a consistent left-libertarian, because the left-libertarian doctrine, even if unintended, promotes Statist, i.e., un-libertarian, ends. From this, many libertarians have drawn the conclusion that libertarianism is neither Left nor Right. That it is just “thin” libertarianism. I do not accept this conclusion. Nor, apparently, did Murray Rothbard, when he ended the initially presented quote saying: “but psychologically, sociologically, and in practice, it simply doesn’t work that way.” Indeed, I consider myself a right-libertarian – or, if that may sound more appealing, a realistic or commonsensical libertarian – and a consistent one at that.

True enough, the libertarian doctrine is a purely aprioristic and deductive theory and as such does not say or imply anything about the rival claims of the Right and the Left regarding the existence, the extent and the causes of human inequalities. That is an empirical question. But on this question the Left happens to be largely unrealistic, wrong and devoid of any common sense, whereas the Right is realistic and essentially correct and sensible. There can be consequently nothing wrong with applying a correct aprioristic theory of how peaceful human cooperation is possible to a realistic, i.e., fundamentally rightist, description of the world. For only based on correct empirical assumptions about man is it possible to arrive at a correct assessment as regards the practical implementation and the sustainability of a libertarian social order.

Realistically, then, a right-libertarian does not only recognize that physical and mental abilities are unequally distributed among the various individuals within each society and that accordingly each society will be characterized by countless inequalities, by social stratification and a multitude of rank orders of achievement and authority. He also recognizes that such abilities are unequally distributed among the many different societies coexisting on the globe and that consequently also the world-as-a-whole will be characterized by regional and local inequalities, disparities, stratification and rank orders. As for individuals, so are also not all societies equal and on a par with each other. He notices further that among these unequally distributed abilities, both within any given society and between different societies, is also the mental ability of recognizing the requirements and the benefits of peaceful cooperation. And he notices that the conduct of the various regional or local States and their respective power elites that have emerged from different societies can serve as a good indicator for the various degrees of deviation from the recognition of libertarian principles in such societies.”

#hans hermann hoppe #hoppe #libertarianism #libertarian #liberty #property #right #left #rothbard #konkin #agorism #conservatism #conservative

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skyflicker · 4 years

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black coffee, no sugar (amasai week day two)

written for @amasaiweek2020, hosted by @toxicisnotapineapple and @storyflight! this is worse than the one yesterday i’m sorry i think i lost my touch lol,,, but i had to write this in a day so... anyways this is in the same universe as sea glass, and i really hope you guys enjoy it and all even if it’s not that good?

this also turned out much, much longer that i thought it would, and also got,,, way too angsty it was supposed to be fluffy but nevermind i suck at that :) enjoy!

Rantaro isn’t a stranger to hospitals.

True, he’s not really the type of child to get hurt every other day- he has a knack for dealing with dangerous situations, and almost never gets injured, but some of his sisters are rather careless especially when they get passionate (Riku, especially, is prone to a lot of accidents, with how she bounces everywhere with such spirited bursts of fire), and he often finds himself there to support them.

But rarely does he find himself in such a bad spot that he has to visit the hospital. He isn’t even really hurt physically- he’d only hit his head a little, but the police had insisted on taking him here to get checked over by the doctor.

The hospital is such a blinding alabaster that Rantaro flinches every time he blinks. It’s so quiet, too, so silent that he can hear clearly every buzz and tremble of the air conditioner. It feels creepy, in a way, and it’s even more obvious being completely alone here in this room. He feels the shivers running down his spine as he waits for the doctor to return.

He’s never been alone in the hospital before, not without at least one member of his family with him. After all, he has one biological mother, three other stepmothers, and twelve sisters, although admittedly most are missing, but no matter what had happened, there would always be at least one person by his side. It’s not that he doesn’t like the silence, he loves being alone, but at a time like this, he would give anything for any of his sisters to be here for him.

(He still misses them every day: each and every of them was so special to him, the brightest stars in his night, the brightest blossoms in his gardens. He remembers every detail of each of the nine girls that have gone missing so vividly, as if it were burnt and imprinted onto his eyelids- Amaka’s fierce protectivity when things went wrong, Hanako’s vibrant liveliness when she was passionate, Ena’s composed calmness that always soothed him easily, Naoko’s energetic laughter when she led her sisters in activities, Akari’s wide smile that she constantly wore on her face, Rina’s tender, seamless care towards everyone she met, Yuki’s quiet thoughtfulness and curiosity towards everything she saw, Inori’s soft touch as her arms wrapped around Rantaro, Minori’s sweet innocence towards everyone… he misses them all dearly.)

But it’s not something he could control. His father nearly killed a child, after all. They told him, after the interrogation and taking Rantaro’s testimony in this small room, that he could see his sisters and mothers again when the doctor had finished examining him and had given him a pass. After the numerous tests the medical team had run on him, they’d all disappeared, leaving Rantaro here alone, with the images of the boy (probably around his age, give or take a few months, which isn’t really saying much since Rantaro himself is only twelve and a half, but still. Rantaro has this thing, where he can’t help but feel a brotherly attachment to people younger than him) hit by the car, his father’s car, and he can’t help but feel the fear growing like crystal spikes in a chemical solution, in his heart, and feel the ice run down his spine.

It’s just like there’s a ghost just behind him, berating him for not stopping his father in time, that it’s partly his fault, and truth be told, Rantaro knows that really well. The car was only driving along that road because they’d only just lost Amaka in Liechtenstein, and she was the one sister Rantaro could rely on and truly lean on for support when he couldn’t say anything to the others out of guilt for making them worry (maybe because she’s only a few months younger, and he feels less guilt for piling his burdens onto her?), and Rantaro had been really crushed over her loss, and his father had offered to take him along for a business outing to cheer him up, maybe just a little. His father had had to take a detour because of this, and this had happened as a result.

He wonders if the boy is alright. Rantaro still feels like he’s back in time, sitting shotgun in his father’s limo, staring at the unconscious body sprawled across the pavement. He feels as if the moment had frozen, and he was still there, watching his father freeze and do nothing. He feels himself move on instinct, grabbing his backpack, which fortunately still held first aid materials from his previous trip, harshly unlocking the door and kicking it open. It’s as if his body is on autopilot as he runs over to the boy’s side, ignoring the crimson colour flooding out and staining the pavement, like an infant’s grubby fingers spreading finger paint all over their canvas, running like rivers sliding through the slits between the tiny grey stones that padded the road so uniformly, like the life slipping out of the boy through the blood away from him.

The sanguine bleeds everywhere, weaving between the boy’s fingers and matting his midnight-coloured hair. In the twilight, the boy’s silhouette is coated with a sheen of warm muted periwinkle, rimmed in golden light from the sun that’s almost completely set, and it would be such a beautiful sight if not for the fact that Rantaro knows the boy can and will die if he doesn’t hurry. Rantaro kneels, not caring that the sticky liquid is soaking through his jeans, or that the stones are rough and brushes harshly against his knees, and takes the boy’s hand. It’s soft and his wrist is so small, he’s reminded of his sisters, but he brushes that thought away and takes his pulse. He sighs in complete relief as he detects one, and he lets one of his hands hover over the boy to find the wound, as he rummages through his bag to find his phone and call the ambulance.

All this, though, is stopped, as his hand flits over his nose and feels the weak breathing. He’s so shocked and concerned all of a sudden that he nearly drops the phone in the middle of giving the address. He hastily finishes the call, and immediately goes to measure the breathing. It’s so weak, and he puts his hand on the boy’s lungs, immediately finding the huge wound spanning from his lungs to his upper torso. It’s probably deep, too. Rantaro can feel the fear and worry spike in his chest, he barely knows this kid but he doesn’t want him to die. He feels the suffocating helplessness, he doesn’t know what to do, and he desperately wants to help but he can’t and that seems like the greatest punishment of all, worse than dying himself- watching an innocent bystander, a mere child, die by his mistake, having innocent blood on his hands. With no other choice left, he inhales, and leans down to try applying CPR-

He opens his eyes as he screams until his throat is dry and parched, and it feels raw and exposed, but nothing can tear the images off his mind. He gasps and gasps for breath, as if the guilt formed a rope and was strangling him as he was off in his reverie, rubbing his eyes as they focus, and he’s still in the overwhelmingly bright hospital room, has been all along, and the pavement stained with cardinal is gone, in the past. He screams, and screams, but no one comes, and he only feels worse that he did.

He inhales, and he realizes that he’s been crying, the tears streaming past his cheeks. He doesn’t even know if the kid is alive, let alone alright.

He hears the door slam open, and the light blue curtains (which were even more unsettlingly bright than the walls, if that was even possible- it’s like those kinds of blue that brightens white even more, like freshly fallen snow) were grabbed and pushed open with urgency. It’s the nurse who came to take his tests- Mikan Tsumiki-san, Rantaro remembers from previously looking at her name tag. She breathes deeply in complete relief when she sees Rantaro safe and unhurt, and her lavender eyes are so round and filled with fear that Rantaro instantly feels bad for alerting and scaring her.

“A-Amami-kun!” she exclaims, obviously shaken. “Are you alright? Y- you look-” she cuts herself off, and Rantaro realizes he must look really distraught, with tear tracks over his face and wide eyes full of distress. He nods, forcing a smile on his face, swiping at his face in an attempt to destroy all evidence of him crying.

The young nurse hands him a tissue wordlessly- she must’ve had a lot of experience with people like this, and he murmurs his thanks as he cleans his face. “Dr. Kamakura’s f-finished with your tests,” Mikan says, stuttering as she fumbles with the records she holds in her hand, “you’re clear and free to leave now. Your two sisters are waiting outside?”

“Two?” Rantaro asks in surprise immediately, faltering as Mikan seems to get nervous, “No, it’s okay, you probably didn’t count wrongly, maybe one’s just too busy to come around…”

He doesn’t blame them, either. He didn’t expect any of them to show up, close as he is with all of them, seeing as they’ve just lost another sibling- Sora’s own biological sister, no less- so he’s already pleasantly surprised. He smiles faintly at Mikan out of politeness, nods along as she talks him through all the procedures, tells him his father is at the police station.

“Tsumiki-san?” he asks when she’s finished. “How’s the other boy? The one my father hit?”

The nurse looks rather surprised, “ Saihara-kun? H- he’s okay! The surgery was successful, and since he’s only eleven, and a child’s body has a quicker rate of mending itself, he’ll recover pretty soon! He’s still here for now, though, will be for the next month or so.”

Rantaro feels the relief spreading through his body. “That’s great,” he whispers. He thanks Mikan again before leaving, and soon enough he finds himself down the corridor to the main waiting lobby. The walls are painted a muted ivory, which soothes Rantaro’s eyes a little, despite still being white, and the wooden floorboards are a gorgeous light beige. It’s very clean, like one would expect in a hospital, but it’s still so.... Empty. Maybe people don’t really come along this side of the building, but Rantaro still finds it mildly unnerving.

He reaches the end of the hallway, and pushes open the door. His gaze immediately spots Riku, who sits quietly (what a contrast to her normal bubbly attitude) in one of the sofas in the corner of the lobby. He’s suddenly hit with a pang of emotion, as the image of a young girl, looking identical to Riku in every way except for her long hair when Riku keeps hers short, sitting in the exact same spot, quietly sitting still, but her cerulean eyes hold nothing but worry and concern and fear. He’s unable to stop a tear from rolling down his cheek as in his mind, five-year-old Rina does the same, her tiny hands trembling as they’re clasped on her knees. The image of her, her gorgeous azure eyes earnest and kind with the world in them, her long golden blonde hair like strands of sunlight woven into silk, pulled into her braid that Rantaro did for her every morning, her tiny feet tapping the air (she’s not tall enough for her feet to reach the ground) restlessly out of worry- he cannot unsee the young girl in her twin, even though they’re complete opposites. Where Riku is lively and spirited, Rina is quiet, but she had more kindness and sympathy in her tiny finger than most people had, like how Riku has more energy and laughter in hers than probably the whole world does. (except for maybe Naoko- that girl did nothing but laugh.)

Every time Riku had gotten into an accident, Rina had been there waiting for her without fail. The two were inseparable, two halves that complete each other perfectly, and they loved each other so much. It had completely broken Riku a year ago when Rina went missing in New Zealand that Riku had stopped being so reckless and while Rantaro was glad his sister didn’t get hurt so much anymore, it was disheartening and distressing to watch her of all people so utterly void of life.

He pushes the thought away, puts on his mask of smiles again, and heads towards his sisters. Shiori sits next to Riku, with her arm around the younger girl, whispering comforting things into her ear. Her light brown hair cascaded in curls down her back and draped over Riku’s shoulder, and her attention was completely focused on Riku.

It’s Riku who spots him first, squealing and leaping to her feet, bouncing over to wrap her arms around Rantaro, “Rantaro! We were worried sick! Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

He laughs, “I’m alright, Riku, Shiori. Don’t worry.” It feels so good to have the comfort of his sisters with him. They’re his lifeline, his whole world, no matter what.

Shiori offers him a smile. “I’m glad. Sora was asleep when we received the news, which is why she isn’t here, but if she could I’m sure she’d be here without a single second of hesitation.” Rantaro realizes as his stomach sinks that Shiori has picked up on his distress and probably deduced why. Despite being only nine, Shiori is intuitive. Really intuitive. She’s clever, and picks up on emotions as easily as one completes the math question one plus one. It’s also why, despite being a middle child, she still has such a large presence in the house- Shiori simply cannot help but help everyone at every chance she gets, a trait she passed onto her younger biological sister, Inori.

He grimaces slightly, and pushes away the thought of his second youngest sister. He can’t help but constantly think of his sisters, whenever he sees anything that might be remotely related to them. It’s something that constantly haunts him, a failure that he’s forced to live with. If only I hadn’t lost them at all…

Shoot. He completely forgot about Shiori, and he looks at her, dismayed, only to see her narrowing her eyes at him. She’s definitely caught on, considering that he confided in her more than once over this issue. (he’s not the type to keep things from his sisters, even though he tries not to stress them out as much as he can.) She walks closer, and hugs him once Riku releases him, whispering in his ear, “Rina and Inori would be relieved if they were here too. It’s not your fault,” before she pulls away and picks up RIku. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“You two go first,” Rantaro says, and his voice cracks as he thinks of the boy, hurting and aching as he sleeps. He feels the guilt drop into his stomach as he realizes that he’s happy and relieved while the boy is hurting because of him. “There’s something I have to check. Shiori, take care of Riku?”

Understanding flashes across Shiori’s face. “Alright. See you in the morning?” she searches his face, asking for an unspoken promise.

He nods. “See you in the morning.” Non-verbally, he promises his sister that he’ll come back, he’ll always come back.

He watches them leave until the shadows they leave behind are gone, then turns and runs to the counter urgently, “excuse me? May I ask where, uh,” he tries to recall the name Mikan told him, “Sa- Saihara-kun? I think? Is staying?”

The nurse at the counter looks mildly surprised, but after a brief explanation, Rantaro’s being led down countless corridors of white, to what probably is another side of the building. They reach a door, and the nurse pushes it open. He follows her out into the cool night air, the breeze immediately nestling into his hair and tousling it. In the night, the bright full moon hangs in the sky, glowing, and he wonders if his other sisters are also looking at the same night sky, looking up at the moon, across the world.

He didn’t realize it was so late- that explains why there weren’t any people at all. The wind whistles in the air, winding around him, gentle and yet cold and sharp. It reminds him of Hanako and Ena, lost at the same time. They were lost unto the dark night, the cold and unforgiving, cruel span of darkness that covered half of the earth each night, and covered Rantaro’s whole world that one cold night in China. He wonders if they’re alright, if they’re adjusting to living in a communist country, a place where freedom is restricted and locked away in an unbreakable iron cell that will never see the light of day, a place with the life squeezed and pushed out of it, every single day dull and unmotivated.

He’s led across the hospital gardens, into another wing of the hospital (apparently, it’s much bigger than he expected or anticipated it to be), and up a couple of floors. FInally, he’s led to a waiting room outside a single-patient hospital room. The waiting room is small, with a single sofa and a small coffee table, and the wall connected to the corridor is made of transparent glass.

“Visiting hours are over,” the nurse says, “but i can let you have a glimpse of him before you leave.” she goes to open the door, but Rantaro stops her, smiling politely when he looks at her. He’s not so rude to just leave, not when this child is injured because of him.

“It’s okay, thank you,” he tells the nurse, “I’ll just stay here until I’m allowed in.”

The nurse tries to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t budge, and soon the nurse gives up and slips out of the door. She comes back after a few minutes, though, and she wordlessly puts down a cup of hot chocolate and a few biscuits, smiles at him, and leaves again after Rantaro thanks her profusely.

Rantaro sits down on the sofa, and opens his backpack to bring out a couple of books- he has a habit of always carrying around a few in case things happen and he’s left with time to spare. He opens one, and he begins to read, immersed in his books until morning.

He doesn’t even know it’s morning until he hears the door open again. He looks up, expecting to find a nurse, or maybe a doctor, but instead, he’s met with a boy his age, purple-haired with deep indigo eyes, and a girl behind him with long obsidian hair braided and falling to her waist, with vivid sanguine eyes. His eyes widen at the same time theirs do as he recognizes the girl.

“Maki,” he exclaims at the same time the girl says his name. Surprise fills him- he hadn’t seen his childhood friend since his sisters- specifically, Akari- first started going missing and they’d moved away, but when he was much younger and had all his sisters with him, Yuki liked going to the orphanage next door and helping out there, playing with the children her age. It was there he met Maki, the only girl his age there, and they became close friends almost instantly. They’d completely lost contact when Rantaro moved, though.

The boy looks between them, bewildered, “Harumaki, you know this boy?”

Maki sighs, and nods, launching into a short explanation, then introducing the boy as “an idiot, Kaito Momota”, and the boy, Kaito, interjects, claiming to be the ‘Luminary of the Stars’. Maki doesn’t seem to be amused by this, and glares at him as her cheeks redden, but Rantaro can tell even after all these years that there’s no malice behind her ruby eyes.

Rantaro, though, is rather amused, “Rantaro Amami,” he introduces himself, extending a hand that Kaito takes and shakes without hesitation. “I stayed here overnight so I could apologize. For, uh. My father ran over that guy inside with his car.”

Maki stares at him. “Your father. The extremely rich guy. Ran over him.” she points at the door to the hospital room.

He sheepishly nods. “Yea. And I, uh, may or may not have felt guilty, so I stayed here.” he feels vaguely uncomfortable with both Kaito (who Maki obviously likes) and Maki herself staring at him, but he knows he deserves it.

At last, Maki walks forward, and slaps him hard. “That one,” she says, “is for Shuichi. My friend whom your father ran over.” Rantaro stays still, not saying anything even if his left cheek stings and hurts, because he knows he deserves it, when he caused so much pain and worry.

She backhands him across the face again, and this time he sees the reluctance in her face, the concern her eyes are so full of, and he knows that for the emotionless facade she puts up, she’s genuinely really worried for her friend and him. “And that’s because you’re being stupid,” she whispers, and Rantaro feels as if he’s about to cry, again, because he’s missed Maki so much and he’s touched, that she still cares for him after all those years. Proud, that she’s finally expressing herself more openly. The old Maki would’ve been too scared to even show the slightest bit of emotion, so anxious and scared of being hated by the world. As an orphan, Maki’s always carried around the knowledge that even her own parents don’t want her, that she’s so unlikeable that she deserves to be alone and abandoned in the dark, and she was always too scared to befriend the others in the orphanage. Rantaro was her first friend, and she must have felt very hurt when the boy had moved so suddenly without warning.

He feels guilty, guilty for leaving Maki alone to furl up and cry all alone, but he feels so much pride, with the way she’s finally comfortable in her own skin, that she’s made friends with other kids their age. He smiles at her despite how his cheeks are stinging badly with eyes brimming with tears as Maki steps back, and she smiles back at him. “Visiting hours started,” she says finally, “you really should check the time, you idiot. It’s half past nine in the morning.”

Rantaro laughs, “thanks for the reminder.” he turns to push the door open, but steps back, looking at Kaito and Maki. “You should go in first. He doesn’t know me, after all.”

Maki nods, and Kaito practically breaks the door down as it bursts open and he races in, followed by the girl, and Rantaro last.

The room the boy is staying in is bright, but not lit by artificial lighting- early morning sunlight shines in through a large window on the other side of the room. Glass fractures the light into a thousand different rays, coating the room in an almost ethereal glow. There’s a tree right outside the window, and Rantaro can see a few sparrows resting on the branches. It reminds him of Minori, his youngest sister, who’d loved animals and nature, but she especially loved sparrows, loved how they were small but so adorable, and yearned to spread her wings and take flight like they did.

The room itself is clean and mostly empty, creating a spacious feeling as one enters. A cupboard lies to the side of the hospital bed, and there’s a movable desk in front of the boy, who’s sitting up when they arrive. His face brightens as he greets his two friends with a strained smile- probably due to the stitches and the pain, Rantaro thinks, and feels the guilt in his heart weighing it down again.

He notices with a start that the boy is actually really pretty. Rantaro normally identifies as asexual, no sexual attraction, be he can’t not admit that with his long eyelashes and curious green-grey eyes, the boy is adorable, and he finds his eyes widening and that he can’t take his eyes off the boy.

The boy’s face goes on alert mode when he sees Rantaro, though. “Ah, who are you? Why are you here?” he seems so scared, so shy, that Rantaro immediately feels the guilt double.

Rantaro hesitates, but he introduces himself. “I’m Rantaro Amami. I’m here because, well- my father kind of ran over you. With his car. I’m here to apologize and see if you’re alright.” he wishes with all his might that he’d forgive him, for causing so much misery. So much pain.

It’s the boy’s turn to widen his eyes, and he almost drops the cup he’s holding. “Wait, you- you’re the one the doctor talked about? You gave me CPR, right?” all traces of his former shyness is gone as he stares, shocked, at Rantaro.

Kaito and Maki’s gazes immediately snap to Rantaro, and he reddens under all the attention he’s being given. “Y- yes, but I did what I thought I should do, it’s my fault it happened, I hope you aren’t hurt that bad-”

Maki cuts him off, scoffing, but she wears a small smile on her face, “Don’t be an idiot, Taro,” she says, and Rantaro smiles at the use of the childhood nickname, “it isn’t your fault and you know it. Your father was the one who ran over Shuichi. It was an accident.” she shrugs. “Those happen all the time. It’s really nothing to feel guilty about.” She turns to Shuichi. “This idiot stayed here without sleeping all night, because he wanted to apologize.”

The boy nods feverently, shock still evident in his eyes. “You saved my life,” he adds. “The doctor told me if you hadn’t saved me and bandaged my wounds to stop the bleeding in time I would’ve bled to death. Maki’s right, don’t apologize.”

Rantaro smiles faintly at him. “How can I make it up to you, though? Can I, like, get you a drink or something, at least?”

The boy’s eyes light up at once, and Rantaro finds himself smiling wider, genuinely. “Could you get me a coffee, please? Black coffee, no sugar.”

Kaito laughs as Rantaro looks at the boy, surprised. “Coffee? Right after your surgery?”

The boy suddenly seems very defensive, “Researches show it’s actually beneficial? It can shake off the woozy aftereffects of whatever drugs administered, boost my alertness, help with constipatio-”

“Right,” Rantaro laughs fully for the first time since the accident, “got it. Why such… bitter coffee, though?”

It’s Kaito that answers this time, a grin hanging on his face, “Shuichi only drinks bitter coffee. My sidekick can’t stand things that are too sweet!” The boy nods in agreement, and Rantaro’s heart warms.

Before he leaves to get the coffee, though, he turns back and asks, “oh, and before I go, your name…”

The boy smiles, “It’s Shuichi Saihara.”

The name stays with Rantaro as he runs to get the coffee from a nearby local coffee shop he really likes. A lovely name for a lovely boy. The smile Rantaro gets from Shuichi as he hands him the lukewarm coffee, still out of breath, is stunning and to Rantaro, it’s so sweet and beautiful that it’s warmer than any sunlight the sun can give, and prettier than even the most gorgeous nature phenomenon. He goes on to visit Shuichi every day, staying for hours and hours on end, bringing a black coffee sans sugar with him every time, and the smile Shuichi gives him every time makes his day. They grow closer, and closer, and by the time the other boy is released from the hospital, they’ve become best friends.

On the last day of Shuichi staying in the hospital, he hands Shuichi the usual coffee, and Shuichi’s smile sends butterflies into his stomach and a blush to his cheeks. Shuichi grabs his hand as he says thank you, and the other boy’s hand is so cold and small, but Rantaro feels as though everything is right in the world, and for the first time ever since his sisters went missing he feels genuinely happy.

When Shuichi’s released, he takes him to the coffee shop in person, and Shuichi’s curious eyes eagerly explore every detail of the warm cozy building. The series of actions lights up his world, and Rantaro smiles, and he doesn’t miss the grateful one on Shuichi’s face- sweet as the sugar he hates so much.

(it’s only when Rantaro is gone, and Kaede unknowingly passes him for the first time a black coffee without sugar from the same shop that she got for him on her way back from work, that Shuichi thinks back on all this, and cries.)

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa fanfiction #amasai #amasai week 2020 #i'm really really sorry i tried #silveryyyy's fanfiction

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drtenebrisxii · 3 years

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Lost Traveler - Chapter 8 - Prudence

(more chapters here: deviantart.com/arcadian123/art/Lost-Traveler-8-Story-Prudence-863333735 )

The meditation chambers were empty rooms that were completely white. they were also possessed by an empathetic spirit. This meant that the room would take different forms, show different images and provide different sounds and other items to help the one inside to focus and meditate. For Flare, it became an exact replica of her bedroom at her palace, with a sunset visible through her window and the sound of the mutterings of the many conversations that took place in there… nostalgia immediately hit her and she cried silently for a few minutes before she could regain control of her feelings and could start to meditate.

She alway knew that being a heroine would not be easy, but she expected that she’d always knew what the right course of action was: Go and beat the bad guys as quickly as possible, the longer one takes, the more damage they can make. Now she has like 4 guys telling her that that’s not the right thing to do, two are powerful wizards, the other two are scientific “geniuses”. And all of them say the same thing: let’s get the help of bigger and slower authorities to minimize chances of failure. Prudence. Her Mother wouldn’t like that very much, but then again, she was the highest authority of the Sky Kingdom, so she could do whatever she wanted. Her Father would have told her… probably, something similar to what those 4 said. Her father was the one that requested her to forget her dreams and do her duties as a princess since sacrificing her dreams of adventuring for the betterment of the kingdom would be the really heroic thing to do and was the most prudent course of action.

-Why is Prudence needed in this situation, though?- she wondered out loud- All I need to do is go there and destroy the evil clone… undoing all the stuff she’d done in my place. Is not that hard!-. Why were they all doing this? Why were they trying so hard to stop her from solving things directly? Were they so confident in her failure without their help? That annoyed her. How dare them. And especially Nyepu! He had seen first hand what she could do! yeah, he had to help her a little but she could slaughter an army of savage Daemons all by herself! How is he not confident that she could just defeat a damn copy of herself?!

She huffed in annoyance at her thoughts, that damn Celio making her promise stupid things. She shouldn’t have allowed that guy to intimidate her… well, ok, she is not disrespecting a venerable Necromancer, he is the kind of guy that can just go and put her soul out of her body if he so wishes… which means that he can help her solve things quickly!

-He talked about a shadow coming, though… well, maybe we could just beat that shadow to it instead of waiting...- She sighed in frustration. She already gave them her word. -I’ll wait… I just… need to focus and then put things in perspective to those four idiots… I don’t know why they all think I’ll fail, I don’t know why they are being so careful about this, but they need to know that we all do things differently- she sighed again, trying to relax and control her feelings. Her thoughts had led her to the truth: the guys didn’t trust in her skills, they were being very prudent with her for this, obviously… wait, that meant that her fathers were like that with her mother because they didn’t trust her skills?! No… that couldn’t be, The Queen would never allow anyone question her capabilities, not even her lovers, but, on the other side, they were her helpers, so of course she had to hear them out. Still, she was the Queen, so she could ignore their advice and suggestions to go on with her own choices… yeah, no one questions the Queen, she, in her great majesty and wisdom, can hear others out but would always be the one taking the choices... -I’ll put those four in their place- she would do that after getting a better hold of her emotions, indignation and frustration were still high in her being.

Nyepu was not a happy dragon.

Just as Giorgio had anticipated, the Admin was very annoyed with this whole ordeal. The equipment Nyepu required for the tests was expensive, therefore, there were not many devices available and bringing them to the Temple of the Holy Darkness meant that a lot of projects would be delayed. The Dragon researcher had to weather a lot of angry looks and annoyed glares, he also had to give many an explanation and apology. And of course, traverse the damn dessert. Again. Twice.

-Meow… you guys really needed a lot of stuff…- would comment Amcel as the researchers and some extra helpers they brought with them put all the stuff together. Amcel and a few of his students would look from a distance, almost as if...

-Just so you know, scientific equipment rarely explodes… and we are all professionals here, don’t worry about anything- comments the dragon as he was testing one of his biological devices. They had taken a fraction of the Temple’s Hall to install their equipment.

-I can’t believe we are doing this here… this is stupid- comments Giorgio, while checking the computer they just finished installing- we could have started with the tests sooner but nooooo, we had to worry about some random shadow…- many of the students shudered or flinched at the mention of the shadow.

-Look on the bright side, with so many wizards, at least one should be able to help us quicken things…- comments the dragon.

-if you need to accelerate a process, we can do it, but you’d need to give us precise indications- comments the felyxin Adeptus, sounding very civil. - Master Celio wants us to collaborate for the wellbeing of Lady Flare, the sooner we help her the least time for her to develop crazy ideas- Nyepu would sigh at that as he went to help with the installation of another device that looked like a shower.

-I doubt so, she is a heroine and a good girl… Celio made her promise something and she will keep her word- comments him. Giorgio would approach to the same device and help as well with some connections.

-Wow… now I’m feeling jellous… since when do you have such a high image of her?- asks him with a blush and an annoyed look. Nyepu and Amcel chuckled and Giorgio pouts.

-I do have you in high regards as well, Giorgio, you are just annoying- says the dragon with a grin before focusing on making some other connections in the device.

-I-idiot…- says Giorgio, crossing his arms and blushing more.

-I agree with Nyepu, you don’t need to know her for long to know she is someone with strong values- says Ancelm as his students begin to leave to do their own things.-Why are you helping her, though? Still under the influence of the blood magic?- the feline grins and Giorgio gives the Adeptus a look before looking at Nyepu. The dragon was still working, close to finish with his part of the work and finally start the tests when he says:

-This is Giorgio’s fault- said him simply.

-NO IT IS NOT!- yelled Giorgio and Ancelm laughed. - I didn’t brought that stupid bird with me! and who was the PSYCHO who decided to pursue her despite the FUCKING SAVAGE DAEMONS!?- Ancelm laughed even more, Nyepu chuckled a little as well.

-I’d say someone lost his fear to those monsters after his little adventure in the ocean…- says Ancelm and Nyepu rolls his eyes.

-I should have brought you with me, wizard…- the dragon finishes checking the device and sighs - Well, I think that we are ready to go…-

-You hadn’t answered my question: why are you doing this? what do you gain?- presses Ancelm.

-A little reputation and probably a nice business partner in the Sky Kingdom- says Giorgio.- and well, Nyepu’s heart finally warmed up for someone so I’m protecting that- said him, giving a sly look to Nyepu, the dragon just huffed with a slight blush in his white face, Ancelm snickered.

-Shut up...-he said before clearing his throat -but yes, that’s why we are helping her, she doesn’t deserve to be sent to the Sky Kingdom to die without knowing what’s going on, and since we can get some extra benefits in the process, all the better- he shrugs, he then remembers something, a strange and warm thought he had yesterday, right after he discovered the incredibly crazy aspect of Flare’s lack of love life. Every female estirge, at certain age, gets this impulse of getting boyfriends for love, affection, support and sexual intercourse… it was in her blood, and yet, she had managed to fight this impulse to pursue her dream of heroism… not unlike how he constantly fights the call of the sea, or has this lack of heroic or altruistic blood his kin seems to have and be renowned for… “I thought we were unique” but he hadn’t reflected much on that at all recently, mainly because of other urgencies. “Maybe I just thought that under her influence” that idea, though, saddened him and that ultimately bothered the draconic researcher. -Just bring her and let’s get done with this- said him and Ancelm raised a brow before nodding.

-You want some tea and cookies as well, sir?- asked Ancelm jokingly, starting to wander towards the meditation rooms.

-I know you are joking, but… if you do have tea, it would be appreciated- said the dragon,as he, Giorgio and the others took their stations in their improvised scientific cell.

Flare was having a rather unusual experience. Seeing her blood out of her body felt weird for some reason, maybe because she’d seldom seen it? Also, it definitely was making her hungry as well. Her hunger was only aimed at Nyepu, though. For some reason, the taste of the dragon scientist’s blood was the only thing she was craving right now. “Must be that… bullshit of the blood magic… or my damn biology...” thought her, annoyed at how just seeing at his blue eyes was making her feel flustered. Also, being pierced by a needle was also a funny experience, as in, it didn’t hurt, on the contrary, it felt strangely nice. Yep, all these new experiences made her forget that she was going to “put those four in their place”.

-We have all the blood we needed to run our tests… now, with the help of the wizards, we should have the results in a few hours- announced Nyepu before taking a sip from a cup of tea, seemingly ignoring the way she kept looking at him. “I can control it, I don’t need his damn blood… also… he’d most probably deny it, no matter what” -If you are feeling hungry, you may take some of my blood- he offered looking at her and Flare almost falls in surprise, quickly regaining her flying, Giorgio made a face and Ancelm grinned.

-I… I’m ok! - declared her trying to sound offended by the offering and Nyepu shrugged.

-I recommend you at least have some fruit to recover your energies- said him -tha…ngh!- She couldn’t help herself and pierced his arm with her beak “What am I doing?” thought her as she drank his blood.

-s-sorry…- she said quietly, the gem in her neck sending the message to the dragon as she sucked his delicious blood - I… was hungrier than I expected- Nyepu shook his head.

-I understand- the princess noticed him looking at Amcel, who immediately nodded.

-Fascinating- she felt the aura of the feline, that feel of quietness- It is happening…-

-What is happening? - asked her confused after forcing herself to stop… if it were for her, she’d drink even more, but she didn’t want to abuse.

-The Blood magic- said the felixin and she frowned - Your aura is enveloping his, is fascinating since, as you say, I don’t feel emotions from you making it happen, it just happens automatically… that’s impressive and something I’ve hadn’t seen before- Seems that the scientists weren’t the only ones making experiments, she gave an accusing look to Nyepu who just smiled and said:

-I was going to offer you just fruits to recover, but he came up with the idea of making a little experiment… since I’m conscious of what’s going on now, this will help me to train in fighting external influences- said him and she huffed annoyed.

-So I’m just an experiment to you two?!-

-No one said that, lady Flare, we are just… getting as much done with as possible- explains Ancelm - not to mention that this is a great time for you to train on your blood magic-

-NO!- declared her angrily, but Ancelm raised his hands placatingly as the scientists began to work.

-I mean, in getting a hold of it, madame! I won’t insist on you learning to influence others but, maybe you could learn how to… not to?- he offered quickly and this did grab her attention- As I told you, your Aura quickly enveloped Nyepu’s the instant you drank his blood… maybe you can… learn how to dispel it?-

-I’d appreciate that if you did- commented Nyepu, working on injecting some stuff into her blood samples- and I’m sure you’d feel better knowing you can control your own power better-

-You can’t tell how I’d feel over anything- declared her and he shrugged. She couldn’t deny he had a point, though. Considering how delicious was the dragon’s blood, the idea of never sucking blood to not influence others magically sounded… depressing. She sighed and looked at Ancelm - I guess you are right, Adeptus- Ancelm seemed to relax and smiled.

-I’m glad you agree, lady Flare! Let’s begin, then!-

-Look it on the brighter side, miss Flare, now you and Nyepu have something in common: both are test subjects!- would comment Giorgio giving the dragon and bird a toothy grin, both returned him an annoyed glare.

It was clear that while Flare was a master in combat magic, she just sucked at controlling her aura. She knew the basics and knew them very well, that’s why she could start a clash of wills with Ancelm back in the day they met, but that was, actually, the limit of her control of Aura. After a few broken vials, one harmed estirge adjudant and more than a few uncomfortable pictures, Ancelm had to stop with his tests with Flare so Nyepu could get a hold of his emotions and continue working on the tests… and on convincing Giorgio to erase the pictures. The dragon had never thought that having his emotions being influenced, would be so nasty, or how little he’d be able to control himself even knowing he was being controlled… In the short span of Ancelm’s experiments, Flare, in her attempts to NOT influence him, managed to make the dragon feel sad for her, angry at the idea of her being made fun of, then sad for failing her, then happier and eager to do anything she asked, then so angry he just had to punch one of his workers. Giorgio would take lot’s of pictures with his Aux and laugh so hard at the last one that he ruined one of their experiments. Yeah, the two of them were the epitome of professionalism. He did managed to control himself enough to not murder everyone in the room with his bio-canon so he considered that a win, though.

-I’m very sorry- would say Flare, looking tired, slightly dizzy and very embarrassed as she sat on Nyepu’s shoulder, drinking more of his blood, they had taken more of her own to replace the lost samples.

-Is ok… experiments rarely go well in the first try- he replies still evening his breath, using the tentacles of his back to keep working.

-This day ended up being more interesting than I expected, hehe!- said Giorgi in a very good mood.

-Shut up- would say Flare and Nyepu at the same time.

-And now you are doing that?! Oh by the Gods! Just marry already- said Giorgio annoyed. They just glared at him. Ancelm on the other hand had a thoughtful look in his eyes. After Flare was done drinking she just stood on Nyrpus shoulder for a little longer, staring at nothingness with a blank expression in her face, she must be tired. Nyepu decided to work as soon as possible, all while thinking that he’d need more anti influence training.

After that, time went on. Ancelm would lead a small team of wizards to help accelerate things, Flare would end up falling asleep on him and then be gently laid on a working table. Apparently, se was more tired than even her expected. The researching team would begin to get their first results. And the more results they get, the more worried Nyepu and Giorgio felt. Ancelm would notice this right away but didn’t comment since he really didn’t know what they were seeing in the results. Three hours later, Flare awakens, yawning quietly and chirping a little, and just in time for the scientists to finish their last analysis on the last result.

-Rise and shine, Lady Flare- would say Ancelm with a smile - I hope your little nap had been reinvigorating. Nyepu was beginning to think that the guy was being a little too gentlemanly.

-Greetings…- she said yawning again, her eyes were still closed, then she shook her body, puffing up her red feathers before seemingly waking up entirely, opening her pretty sky blue eyes. Nyepu felt a slight blush in his face at that thought, she did have pretty eyes. -Are you guys done with your tests?- right to business, as expected of the impatient princess.

-We have very weird news - said Nyepu, giving now a look to Giorgio who nodded at him, then back to Flare and Ancelm, both of whom looked intrigue, her even tilting her head in curiosity:

-Weird news?- asks her.

-yes… we hadn’t found any trace of the known cloning and aging methods in you… but… your body’s age is… illogical…-This grabbed the complete attention of the two magicians.

-Please elaborate- said Ancelm. Nyepu sighed.

-Flare’s body seems to be missing a year- he says. Silence.

-Missing a year? how…- she was saying but Giorgio interrupted her:

-Considering your birth date, your body should have a specific age… and yet, it does not, your body’s age is one year younger than it should-

-And while usually that would mean that you are the clone, here comes the really weird part… there is no doubt that you were born in the date of your birth, but it’s like… the last year didn’t affected your body in the slightest…- says Nyepu looking bewildered.

-This usually means that we messed up, but, I can assure you we didn’t… since, we checked everything like thrice- explains Giorgio, looking as bewildered as the dragon.

-What could that mean?- asks Ancelm, but Nyepu and Flare looked at each other’s eyes. She had basically been gone for a whole year, that’s what they discovered after checking the news yesterday, at least, that had been their suspicion, back then. Was this the confirmation they needed?

-That means, that someone had kept princess Flare in a stasis of sorts, keeping her even from aging, for a whole year- explains Giorgio- that or she rejuvenated herself somehow-

An hour later, they were having a very late lunch at the Temple’s food court. Nyepu and Giorgio finished their report and sent it to Argenta. Ancelm and Flare stood with them, mainly to keep company. The little princess had forgotten completely what she wanted to say to the guys in face of the news: so it was true, she had been gone for a whole year but… how? where? by whom?! Neither Nyepu nor Giorgio could think of a technology capable of rejuvenating someone’s body like that, at least, not without leaving some trace, and stasis technology capable of stopping age like that was non-existant, at most, it would make processes slow a lot but not outright stop it. Ancelm thought that it was very hard and impractical for a wizard, or a team of them, to cast a stasis spell for a whole year. Had they needed to learn aspects of her personality, there were easier ways to do so. And while the guys tried to think in how could this be possible, Flare was more worried about other things.

“A whole year. That usurper had been with my family for a whole year, and had married a lot of people that she’d never even consider marrying… What else had the clone been doing in all that time? How is it possible that no one had noticed that the clone was not the real Flare in such a long time?!” thought her in increasing despair.

Intent on what have been the clone up to for so long, she started to investigate old news, Ancelm quickly joined her and the researchers helped her after finishing their report… so there they were, eating while facing the maddening reality of what the news had for them:

-None of this makes sense- comments Ancelm.- If what the scientists say is true, someone had taken the incredibly hard effort of keeping you away for a whole year for a copy of you to replace you and do… nothing- said the felixin Adeptus, checking old news regarding the sky Kingdom while idly eating some synth-beef.

-She got married and in general had only been behaving like a normal princess... - comments Giorgio, also reading old news while eating mashed potatoes with fried fish.

-You can sort of see some political strategies but… well… that’s it… - comments Nyepu, eating fried rice with a mix of fried seafood and algae.

Flare couldn’t deny that she was impressed with how quickly these guys processed information. Of course, she was a trained princess, she could see political ploys, and would understand easily how the imposter’s weddings had strengthened the influence of her mother on the city-states of the Sky Kingdom, all while making their governors feel like they were the ones gaining power. Also, a whole rebellion was avoided by one of said marriages. “Is like… everything was just fine, but… but why?” Wasn’t it supposed to all be a huge and hellish chaos? isn’t that the point of making evil clones? Why was everything sounding so… ok?

Suddenly her urgency to go ‘save’ her kingdom seemed a lot more silly. Her copy not only was doing a lot of good, she was following her mother’s wishes perfectly and everything seemed to be fine in general… Of course, this was what she gathered with a quick research of less than an hour, but it was undeniable that all the news had to say about her usurper seemed to be good things. She agreed with Ancelm: this made no sense.

-The only thing I can think…- said her suddenly, stopping from sucking juices from fruits, as the trio of males looked at her- is that I’m not the only one being replaced… maybe… maybe they are replacing everyone slowly? get the power of my kingdom for… for some… for evil generic reasons...- even her felt stupid saying that.

-Is… a possibility- says Nyepu, shrugging, he didn’t had the heart to tell her his own theory- honestly, at this point, anything could be happening there- says the dragon.

-But… a whole year of that? sounds unlikely, absurd, even- says Ancelm, then shakes his head -I think we really did good in take this with caution-

-I agree- Giorgio nods - this is very definitely a very weird situation, with the help of Argenta and, what the Church of Darkness can provide, we should be able to uncover whatever is going on-

-I wanted… to suggest to go and face this quickly- says her suddenly, remembering what she had thought in the meditation chamber - go beat the shadow of the prophecy before they could come to bother us but… but this is… this doesn’t make sense…- had she gone to her kingdom right now, and challenge her copy, she’d probably just been thrown to jail or executed in place… a whole year of memories that she doesn’t have, a whole year of working together and doing good for the kingdom… no one would dare to doubt that the usurper was the real deal, and most probably, a very loved one at that. It wouldn’t matter if she was the real princess… the usurper had a year of advantage over her. -if it weren’t for the tests... would my parents have recognized me? would have seen in me their real daughter when they had one for a whole year that was so… so... perfect?- There was a deep silence after she said that. Nyepu immediately understood what she meant, since she’d told him about her conflicts with her mother. Ancelm was a very clever wizard and figured something along those lines. Giorgio didn’t understand, but noticed the mood and decided to keep going towards a more posstive note.

-The clone needs to be tested as well- comments the goat researcher, grabbing the attention of Flare- no matter what, every clone leaves some trail, the most common being the age or some chemical agents in their blood… it has to be a clone created by technological methods since a magical one would require an aetheric flux that your family would have detected immediately… as soon as she takes the same tests and she is proven to be younger than you, your parents won’t have a choice but to accept you as their daughter- the goat researcher smiles at her softly. Flare nods at him with a little smile.

-That’s true… I guess… you guys were right on this of… making tests…- says her feeling like it wasn’t very easy to say that. Thankfully for her, the geneticists only nodded and smiled.- but how long will it take before Argenta decides to help us?- Suddenly, Nyepu received a message in his Aux and checked it, his eyes opened widely at what was

-Apparently, only a few minutes… Argenta wants to hold a meeting with us and the Adeptus Primus- explains him and Flare opens her beak in surprise “That… that was fast!”.

-I’ll get him right away- said Ancelm, closing his eyes for a moment. It wouldn’t take much before the Lich descents to them, passing through the ceiling and floating at the side of Ancelm.

-Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you are feeling better and your meditation had been mind opening, lady Flare- says Celio.

-Good afternoon, Adeptus Primos Celio, it… was- she did get ideas, but the recent discoveries changed things. Suddenly, Nyepu’s Aux projected a very silly and big image of an emote face.

-Heeeeello, everyone!! how are my dear citizen and one wanted criminal today? () - greeted the Goddess of Science, Technology, Truth and the Day with a synthetic female voice. “Argenta had always had a terrible sense of humor… and her face is disappointing” words of Flare’s master that rang in her head as she flinched at being called a wanted criminal, she had to agree with the comment on her face, though… seriously? just an emote?!.

-Greetings, Argenta- said Nyepu drily- We need you to convince the other princess to go through the tests… is the only way to determine that the Flare with us is the real one and the other is a clone created for unknown reasons… unless, you can tell us something we don’t know about what had been going on in the Sky Kingdom-

-You guys are forgetting to thank me for being so fast, giving you lot part of my time and for having been keeping in secret the location of the Flare with you (¬u¬) - Nyepu and Giorgio rolled their eyes.

-Thanks- said suddenly Flare, grabbing everyone’s attention- thanks for your time, and quick response, and for keeping my location a secret, Lady Argenta- said her, bowing to the technological goddess.

-AWWW!!! (^^) you are such a cute little birb! unlike my scientists... (¬_¬) you guys could learn to be a lot more grateful and sweet like miss Flare (uwu) - the felixin mages chuckled while Giorgio and Nyepu just huffed in annoyance, even Flare couldn’t help but crack a smile. -anyway! (owo) you guys had certainly discovered an anomaly ( >:T) the results of your tests tell me so: no traces of known cloning methods and a very strange age test result… there is no technology or magic capable of doing that: a WHOLE year of rejuvenation is just absurd… (:/) And, well, I’ve noticed slight changes in the court of the Royal Kingdom (u_u) -

-What do you mean?- asks Flare, suddenly having a horrible feeling.

-Nothing very particular, but, honestly, they seem a little too perfect, if you ask me…() I’m good at making psychological profiles of people uwu the royal family was perfect in its imperfection... (:3) but… (o_o) they began to be a little too perfect… (>_>) while that’s usually a good thing (._.) they were not the only ones (DX) The Sky Kingdom has grown in power considerably, the people from the court becoming a little more efficient and capable in general, of course, is not a big improvement, but is noticeable since, to me, seems a little too sudden and focalized (u_u) I’ve been proud of them, but the test results, and the attitude of Queen Mistana to try and solve this in secret had worried me (>:T) I’ll demand her daughter to take the tests… but I need you two to go do it (:3) - says her looking at the geneticists.

-Ahm… why don’t you ask that from members of the Machine Cult of the Sky Kingdom?- asks Giorgio- we have work here, going to there would be problematic-

-I have the suspicion that the Queen has a strong influence even between my own clergy in that city, so is a possibility the tests results will be compromised (=_= ) … I want to minimize risks… (X_X) take your equipment there and make the tests… (uwu) and just to be sure, I’ll send two other groups of my geneticists with Guard escorts from other cities to run the same tests… (ouo) if everyone has the same results, than it would be a given that there were no mistakes (uwu) and we’d be closer to uncover the truth… (>_>) - Giorgio and Nyepu exchanged an intrigued look.

-Maybe the other teams can meet here first so they can run their tests- suggest Celio - unless you expect the Queen to suspect a complot of sorts-

-She definitely will (-_-) -

-I agree with her there… my mother can be very distrustful, especially from things that are too convenient or too inconvenient- adds Flare.

-That’s why I’m suggesting to do everything in front of her, with different teams of experts, so there are no suspicions, she can bring any scientific team of her choice to verify the proceedings, as well (uwu) i’d also require the assistance of your wizards, Adeptus Primus (x3)-

-I’d be more than happy to offer my assistance in running the tests and providing magical support in case things turn out… problematic- says the felixin lich.

-Perfect! prepare yourselves!! () I should have an answer from Queen Mistana by tomorrow, so be ready to depart to the Sky Kingdom’s capital city! (X3) - Nyepu and Giorgio would sigh while Ancelm and Celio nod, Flare couldn’t believe it: she finally was going home. And with the support of Argenta and the Church of the Holy Darkness! She looked at the guys “their prudence… made this happen...”.

Later that day, night was falling. Ancelm and Celio went to the meditation chambers to try and enter in contact with the Dark God to seek guidance and make sure if Flare was the one in their prophecies. Nyepu and Giorgio had been busy packing up and talking with the Administrator of their research facility, there was a lot of yelling involved and Argenta had to interfere. And Flare? She had been exploring the Temple to take her mind off things. She had gotten what she wanted: she was going home to finally unravel this mystery and saved her people… but, the clone hadn’t done anything but good for her people. She probably did a way better job than her as a princess… so… was it worth it? “Truth is good on its own… that’s what a heroine would say… but a princess would admit that sometimes, is necessary to keep a few secrets and hold a few lies… for the greater good… and that’s also… heroic?” Flare would sigh. She had transformed into her Battle Form: she was way bigger than usual, her wings had become arms, and her figure was more anthropomorthic and slender… she did so because she always trains in this form at least a once a day but, she couldn’t bear herself to train when there was so much in her head, as such, she was in the training room, looking blankly at nothing in particular.

-You don’t look very happy- said a familiar voice, Flare almost jumped as she quickly turned to face the big white dragon who was entering to the training room, levitating.

-Nyepu… what are you doing here?-

-I came to check on you- he said simply, she felt a little disappointed he wasn’t walking on his legs… she shook her head to bury those silly thoughts - We are done with packaging our devices, so is happening, we are going to your kingdom- he says, smiling a bit, apparently, trying to sound nice. His pretty voice was still slightly cool but there was the sincere intention there, and there was an honesty in his smile she really liked and made her feel… something, she wasn’t sure what it was but she liked it and felt herself smiling a little as well.

-Yeah...soon, we’ll solve this mystery… is just…well...- she began to say looking thoughtful again.

Nyepu couldn’t believe he was here. While working on putting everything on crates and arranging for transportation of his devices, he couldn’t stop thinking in her: she had look shaken after discovering the clone had basically been being a “perfect princess” and just felt that she’d need some company, even if it was his. “Is this… blood magic influencing me? well, even if it is, I don’t care...”.

He was a bit surprised when he saw her transformed in her combat form again and the memories of their rather hectic encounter came back to his mind: she had been strong, bold, confident, energetic… she looked the most alive back he’d seen her then: fighting head-on abominations that made him empty his bowels in fear. He hadn’t gotten a great look at her in the frenzy of fighting and running for his life, but, now that he got a better look at her? She is…

-I don’t know…- she says finally, snapping him out of his thoughts, he immediately scratched his muzzle so she didn’t notice he was blushing. -None of this makes sense and I’m worried… I’m worried me going there will only cause more harm than good-

-How so?- he asks.

-I’ve been thinking: my clone apparently… is the Flare my mother had always wanted… so… if I go… I… I may ruin everything- her face looked more haunted now -all those marriages would be nulled and impose on me… and I won’t… I’m not sure I’m up to take for husbands…not to mention that, for a whole year, the people of my kingdom had developed an idea of how is ‘Princess Flare’ and… will I have to act like she did? Would I have to be the fake one? Will I...- but she stopped as Nyepu put a hand on her shoulder, well, more like half his hand since even in her bigger form he was still way bigger. She looked at him and he returned her a soft expression.

-Is going to be ok- he’d say -It will take a while but people will accept you for who you are… and I’m sure that some arrangement can be made so you don’t have to...you know, deal with four unknown guys at the same time… also, I’ll help you, somehow… I know you are a capable and strong girl- he smiles at her leaning closer to her- The princess that can murder hordes of Savage daemons can take a marriage… especially with some help- he adds trying to smile more. She looks at his eyes with her pretty sky blue ones, her golden beak slightly opened and stays like that for what seem ages. For a moment there, Nyepu felt he spoke out place but then she suddenly hugs him and he feels his face getting hotter before hug her awkwardly… not only because she was smaller, but also because he wasn’t sure if he should… and yet…

-You helped me today as you promised… we are going to my homeland… as you said… I… I can trust that you will be with me… thanks…- said her.

-Y-you are welcomed- he said, not sure what else to say.

He still wasn’t sure how much of this was the blood magic and how much was himself, but he felt that this was the best thing to do for the princess. For another unique soul.

She wasn’t sure if he was acting on his own or under the influence of her powers, but a part of her felt he was being genuine and she couldn’t feel happier. She wasn’t alone in this mess.

And while they were like this, hugging each other. The entrance to the Training Room suddenly disappeared...

#onirica #fantasy #scifi #dragon #avian #bird #literature #story #chapter 8

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earthstory · 5 years

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Antarctica – Biological, Geopolitical, Spiritual

If any place on this precious planet earth belongs to everyone and to no one, it is Antarctica, the white continent. We invert the world to examine it and become inverted ourselves. We converge upon it with every line of longitude, encircling it with our high latitudes, test it with our science, and find—in turn—that it tests us. It tests not just our science but also our conscience, our poetry, our art, our ignorance and our assumptions. It contrasts our finest technologies against a single epiphany, a simple adaptation: a seal in the sea or a mother penguin and chick on the ice who call amid a cacophony of 10,000 other penguins, their voices all the same to us, and yet find each other.

The coldest, windiest, driest, and highest of seven continents is at once fertile and sterile, wet and dry, inviting and inhospitable. It waits at the bottom of the world, locked in cold storage; demanding new sensibilities if we are to understand it, appreciate it, protect it. It is not empty. Rather, it is full of those things we tend to think of as emptiness: a featureless fetch of ice, a wind-tossed sea, a “peopleless” coast, a nameless shore. Wilderness is not a political designation here; it’s an essential truth.

Antarctica is biological and is defined by the Antarctic Convergence, “…perhaps the longest and most important biological barrier on Earth, as formidable as any mountain range or desert, “ writes biologist David G. Campbell in 'The Crystal Desert'. The convergence encircles the continent and delineates a sudden and significant sea temperature gradient that arrests the dispersion of birds, fish, squid, krill, and—the most important - algae. In warmer waters north of the convergence, the sea rich with single-celled algae called coccolithophrorids; south of the convergence, diatoms. As the relative abundance of these algae species shifts, so does the population of every animal up the food chain that directly and indirectly depends upon them for food, from the thumb-sized krill to the largest animals on earth, blue whales.

Antarctic is geopolitical. As addressed in a document called Antarctica Treaty, it contains all lands and seas below 60°S latitude — roughly 10% of the earth’s surface. First signed by 12 nations in December 1959, the treaty places all territorial claims in abeyance and specifies that the continent “shall continue forever to be used exclusively for peaceful purposes.” It prohibits the deployment and detonation of nuclear devices and the disposal of nuclear waste, making it the world’s first nuclear-free zone and in May 1994 the International Whaling Commission designated all marine waters below 40°S latitude as an 11-million-square-mile whale sanctuary. Despite this, there is now research stations that now punctuate this once pristine world that fly their flags on a continent untouched by man 100 or so years ago. Although some stations were built at the cost of evicting local residents —penguins and seals—research has brought discoveries as significant as the ozone hole, underscoring the truth that humans (along with natural variations) have created serious problems for Antarctica and must now mitigate, if not eliminate them.

Antarctica is spiritual. When asked why he returned there again and again to bitter cold and uncertain survival, Frank Wild, who was second-in-command of Ernest Shackleton’s famed Endurance expedition of 1914-17, said he couldn’t escape the “little voice.” Like light passing through a prism, a person who goes to Antarctica is changed. “A man doesn’t begin to attain wisdom until he recognizes that he is no longer indispensable,” wrote Richard Byrd, while camped alone in the Antarctic. So as we move forward, humbled but yet powerful, we move forward with the fate of penguins and the earth in our hands.

~ JM

Photo Credit: http://www.australiangeographic.com.au/news/2010/05/antarctica-at-risk-from-flood-of-people

More Information:

Antarctic Convergence: http://www.antarctica.gov.au/about-antarctica/environment/geography/antarctic-convergence The Crystal Desert: http://www.amazon.com/The-Crystal-Desert-Summers-Antarctica/dp/0618219218 Coccolithophrorids: http://home.physics.wisc.edu/gilbert/coccolithophorid.htm Antarctic Treaty: http://www.ats.aq/e/ats.htm The Trans-Antarctic Expedition 1914-1917:http://www.south-pole.com/p0000098.htm Ozone Watch: http://ozonewatch.gsfc.nasa.gov/

#antarctica #science #geology #history #spiritual #desert #glacier #ice #byrd #the earth story #block #oz

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rebelcourtesan · 4 years

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Sneak Peek at an Upcoming Chapter for In His Green Light

Bridget asks Keith for a favor. . . Note: Has not been edited or put through Grammarly. It was easier to get the address than Keith would have thought. The man didn’t have many friends and it only took buying a round of drinks for patrons to divulge where he was holed up. The hover car flowed across the sea of roaming citi lights as ads flashed brightly across the windshield.

Bridget had called him hours ago for his help.

“I heard you were on the planet and . . .dammit, I wouldn’t bother you with this, but I don’t know who else to turn to.”

He had connections and skills that not many others had. In this situation, he was exactly what she needed and when she explained what was happening, he needed no further convincing to help. He was on the next shuttle across the planet to the city and met up with Sam and Eric.

They had managed to track the target to an urban district, but the city’s districts were huge and overpopulated, housing nearly a 500,000 population. It was looking for a grain of salt in a bucket of sand.

Sam and Eric met him at the station and filled him on the details of their search. The target is an ex-fighter pilot of the defunct Galra Empire who had fallen on hard times with drinking, gambling, and debt. A common sight of Galra who still clung to the tenets of the eons old Empire. Not many are willing to adapt to change. What brought this one under Bridget’s scrutiny is that he married a widow with two small half-Galra children.

“There is something I do not understand,” the smooth cultured voice of the passenger seat’s occupant spoke up, cutting through the ambiance of the dark and bright city.

Keith glanced towards the clone, Sam, with an inquisitive raised eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“If they are not his children, then why does he claim them? He abused and starved them ever since he paired with their mother. Why not hand them over to Bridget after his mate’s passing?” Sam asked, solemn green eyes. Not the sickly neon green of his original eye color, but a warm jade color that stood out against his snow white face. His hair was colored to an rich auburn that made his eyes almost glow.

Keith had wondered if the clone had chosen those colors to match Bridget or was it part of his forming personality. Chewing his lower lip, Keith experienced the discomfort when he had to explain the Galra inclinations. He was only half Galra, but it was a part of him that he had embraced and had come to terms with, warts and all.

“Galra aren’t pragmatic when it comes to their pride,” Keith explained. “Since he married their mother and she’s the weaker partner, he sees everything that was hers as his now. Ever since the Galra Empire fell, there’s been a lot like him trying to carve out his own turf through crime or gangs. Since he’s not strong enough to take territory, he did it through familial ties. The mother was desperate to find a mate that could support her and her children so she married him and he saw her as a means to make himself feel powerful.”

“That’s . . .quite toxic,” Sam put it eloquently.

“Yeah, but there’s millions like him. Without the old Empire keeping them in line or giving them something to aspire to, they don’t know what to do with themselves,” Keith said with a tired sigh. There were still pockets of Galra Imperialism that refused to surrender to the Coalition and harassed trade routes and colonies. “So what’s the story with the kids? How is Bridget involved?”

It’s been years since he last saw Bridget. It hadn’t been a good parting and he was very surprised when she asked him for help.

“Bridget was speaking at a shelter for ex-slaves and victims of abuse when she met Risa, the children’s mother,” Sam explained as the bright lights rolled across his face, making his green eyes glow like emeralds. “A few months ago, Risa fled to the shelter when her husband became violent. He broke her arm when she stopped him from beating one of the children. Bridget befriended her and tried to help her.”

“Let me guess,” Keith said, having seen this many times during the years he spent in foster care. “She went back to him.”

“Yes. She said it was the Galra way for the strong to rule the weak,” Sam replied.

“Even though the sonuvbitch was hurting her kids?” Keith said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, what happened to her? Since she’s dead, does that mean . . .?”

“No, he didn’t murder Risa if that’s what you’re thinking,” Sam shook his head. “She died of a lung disease that went undiagnosed. Unfortunately, she died before she had a chance to sign over custody of the children to Bridget’s organisation.”

“Organisation? What?” It would seem that Bridget left out some details during their exchange. Was she hiding something?

“It’s a humanitarian aid for orphans and abused children,” Sam said, ignorant of Keith’s suspicions. “Particularly half-Galra or hybrids who aren’t accepted by Galra or other races.”

Even during the Empire’s strongest years, children of mixed blood was despised and shunned by their Galra parents, most of which were accidents of liaisons, rape, and sexual slavery. There were very few Galra accepted into the Galra ranks, but only after they had proven themselves well in combat and came from a respected Galra parent. The others weren’t so lucky and with the hatred of former masters still strong among the freed people, these poor souls weren’t openly embraced by their other parents’ people. Even years after the fall of the Empire, half-Galra were harassed and refused entry at jobs and schools. The only safe places for them is Earth and Etheria since both planets weren’t steeped in history of Galra conquest and slavery.

“What about the father? He’s not in the picture?” Keith asked.

“No, but Risa wouldn’t speak of him. We tried to learn of his identity so we can build a case to get the children away from their step-father, but we haven’t had much luck.”

As they drew close to the massive wing of apartments buildings, with tiny rooms crammed in tight knit rows, Keith located an open parking spot near their destination. He took a route that took them the long way around and out of view. It was possible they weren’t expected, but his training had ingrained him in to always err on the side of caution.

“Let me get this straight. Are we kidnapping these kids?” Keith asked, almost incredulous.

“Technically, but it’s not illegal,” Sam explained, hand tightening on the handle above his head as the car took a sudden descent. “No one has custody of the children since the mother died without a will or signing custody over to anyone. And since the step-father is not the biological father, he has no claim over them either. This planet’s law enforcement will not stop us from taking them, but they won’t help us either.”

“There’s no CPS . . .I mean, Child Protective Services?”

“There is, but’s a very broken and overly burdened system so many children fall through the cracks,” Sam said, seemingly relieved when the car coasted along the pavement, closer to the ground. “It’s the reason why Bridget came to this planet. She brings children of mixed Galra heritage to safe orphanages where they can grow up without the prejudices of the other races.”

As the car landed in an assigned spot, Keith powered off the car and thought for a minute. “Bridget’s organization . . .is it the Right to Love group?”

Sam met his gaze with a solid gaze of emeralds. “I cannot say.”

“Hey, I’m on your side. I’m helping you save these kids,” Keith pointed out.

“That is true,” Sam conceded. “However, it does not grant you to know everything.”

Keith couldn’t fault Sam with being so guarded. The Right to Love had been targeted with death threats and more than one radical group declaring they would burn it to the ground with all the evil children of Galra blood inside. How did Bridget set it all up? The last time he had seen her had been in a mental hospital suffering from clinical depression and dissociation disorder.

#In his Green Light #voltron #She Ra #Crossover #fanfiction

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

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Kong: Skull Island- Bombs

Pairing: Reg Slivko x Irene Brown

James Conrad x Irene Brown (brother-sister relatioship)

Jack Chapman x Irene Brown (brother-sister relationship)

Summary: They fly into the island and drop seismic charges, but all does not go as planned. At all.

Warnings: panic attack, cursing, crashes, etc (also bombs obvi)

Word Count: 2438

“We did ask to arm those helicopters. Shouldn’t they know why?” I heard Houston speak to Randa as they loaded their things onto the helicopter.

I yanked on James’s wrist, pointing to my ear and then them.

“Why? And raise an alarm? Purely precaution, Brooks.” Randa hit his arm before walking ahead.

James looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. Why would they arm the helicopters? He shook his head, pulling on my arm.

“I don’t think I want you to come.” He whispered.

I shook my head, gripping the strap of the crossbow my father had given me when I was a child. “You aren’t going out there on your own, I already told you.”

He sighed.

“Look. I’ve got you taking care of me, Mason probably will too, and now I’ve definitely got Slivko watching my back.”

He chuckled. “I saw. That was quite a kiss for a girl who ‘doesn’t do soldiers’ don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I’m a goner. But if you die in there, I die in there. Deal?”

“No. If you die in there, I die in there. But if I die in there, you make it out alive, marry Slivko, kick everyone’s arses and take the money. Okay?” He clasped a hand on my shoulder.

My throat seemed to close off for a second, so I shut my mouth and I nodded. That was the least likely scenario. Chances are I would die out there, but James was practically a survivalist, so he would be fine.

“Irene.” Jack broke from his stride next to the Colonel, his demeanor softening.

“What’s up?” I asked as James subtly pulled me closer to him, hand still on my shoulder.

“We need a biological expert to direct us on dropping the explosives. Miss San needs to be with Mr. Randa and Mr. Brooks. Will you come with us?” He put air quotes around ‘biological expert’ before gesturing to his helicopter.

My eyes widened and I looked at James, who has stiffened significantly. His eyes were trained on Jack, a horrifying fire in them. Jack cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to one side. I shrugged James’s hand off. He looked down to me, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, I’ll go.” I nodded to Jack.

He nodded politely before taking a few steps back, giving us space.

“You’re seventeen.” James tugged my arm back.

“I know. I’ll be fine. We’ll land and then I’ll stay with you. But I can’t exactly say no.” I scoffed.

James breathed hard, shakily. I softened, grabbing at his hand.

“Jay. I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me. It’s fifty or so miles out there. I’ll tell them where they should drop the bombs. Jack’ll land me, Reg will land you and Mason. The four of us will stick together. Okay?”

He bit at his lip before nodding. He sighed.

“Fine. Fine. You’ll be fine.” He mumbled, more as a reassurance for himself than me.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay.” I patted his arm.

“Here, I’ll take your bow so you can talk to Slivko.” He held his hand out for it as I tugged it off.

I pushed myself into his arms for a hug. He chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Everything’s gonna be alright.” He whispered with a soft tone.

I smiled in agreement before heading off to meet Reg. He didn’t notice as he shut his record player and shoved it into the back of his helicopter.

“Hey.”

He turned around with a grin on his face. “Hey doll.”

I smiled and took his outstretched hand.

“You riding with Chapman?” He twirled me around, pulling my back to his front and wrapping his arms around my waist.

I nodded, leaning my head back against his shoulder. He sighed, dropping his head against my neck. His breath tickled my skin. We stayed like that for a moment before he kissed my jaw, pulling away. I sighed at the loss of warmth as he turned me around, hand guiding my waist.

“I’ve gotta move, or Packard will be on my ass.” He smiled gently.

I grabbed his face between my hands and pulled him down to meet my height, “Be careful. Okay?”

He smiled again, taking my hands in his and kissing each of them. “I’ve done stuff like this a million times before. I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

He grinned, ghosting his lips over mine.

“You be careful. Alright?”

I smiled. “I’ll be fine. I was practically raised in the Amazon, and I know Jack would do anything to protect me.”

“The Amazon?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve gotta tell me all about that.”

I grinned as I saw Packard approaching. I pressed a kiss to Reg’s lips.

“I will, I promise. But later.” I smiled.

He winked as I turned to leave. Jack smiled at me, holding out a hand. I took it and walked with him to the helicopter.

“He’s a good kid.” Jack said nonchalantly.

I shrugged. “He’s cute.”

Jack laughed and shoved me lightly.

“Alright. Get in.” He motioned, helping me up.

I settled into the seat and strapped myself in as he climbed into the front. Jack tossed me back a pair of headphones, and I slipped them on with shaky fingers. The helicopters started up and the commands came over the speakers. The noise was too much for my brain to remain attentive to. I glanced at the helicopter next to me. Mason leaned into my frame of sight and waved. James shot me a calming smile. I forced a smile back before placing my foot in the middle of my crossbow. I didn’t want it to fall out, and I needed something to focus on.

I was anxious. Incredibly anxious. I didn’t like the idea of explosives in the first place, especially since we had no idea what was on this island. But James and I could use the money, and there was at least a sixty percent chance that we would be perfectly safe.

The helicopter took off, and the thunder from the island’s storm rumbled in my ears. I looked over at the soldiers stationed on either side of me. One of them had his gun ready and the other had a pile of boxes on hand. Probably the bombs. I ran my hands over my neck, feeling my pulse become erratic. It felt like my artery would pop out from under my skin at any minute.

Jack peeked at me from the corner of his eye. “You doing alright kiddo?”

I snapped my head up, forcing another smile.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He gave a curt nod before diverting his attention back to piloting. I saw Mason leaning out of their helicopter, camera in hand. The helicopter began to shake harder as we got closer to the storm. My leg began to bounce up and down. I wish I could’ve ridden with James. Maybe even held his hand. I never wanted to do anything like this again.

I braced myself, gripping the sides of my seat and stiffening my legs as alarms went off and lightning cracked by us. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and shut my eyes. If I had been religious, I would have prayed.

I begged my brain to calm down instead. I could hear Jack grunting as the helicopter rocked violently, but all the sound was muffled. I opened my eyes, but my vision was spotty. I felt sick, and my head was filled with the lightest form of air possible. My leg bounced harder as I realized that I was having a panic attack.

I could hear Packard talking about Icarus through the headset, and I wished I could’ve heard Reg instead. I wondered how he handled stuff like this. I felt like I was going to die; I couldn’t imagine doing this a million times.

“But the exhilaration was too great. So he flew higher and higher until the sun melted his wings … and he fell into the sea. But the United States Army is not an irresponsible father-”

I felt myself choke. I needed James. I needed to calm down. I was going to hurt myself if I couldn’t calm down.

“... So they gave us wings of white, hot, coal rolled, Pennsylvania steel! Guaranteed not to melt.”

My chest clenched.

And then we broke through.

The fog seemed to melt away as we flew by it. I was shaking, and it felt like each cell in my body was vibrating. I timed my breathing, wishing there was something alcoholic to take a whiff of.

One of the first times I had a panic attack around James, he opened my father’s prized bottle of whiskey and asked me to smell it. It helped snap me back to reality.

The sun shone bright, and the island below was beautiful. Smaller pieces of land sprinkled in the water below us, which looked as blue as the sky. Lush, green jungles covered what seemed to be every inch of land. My breath hitched again, but this time from the wonders of nature.

“Oh hey, that’s pretty, huh?” Jack’s voice came through the headset.

I only laughed, looking out again. Packard issued orders, and we began to get lower. I watched the trees blend together as we passed by. It reminded me of the place where I had been raised. Of the Amazon, where I had lived for the first few years of my life.

A large group of seagulls flew past us. I looked out to see if I could see James. He caught my eye and smiled softly. It was reassuring beyond belief. One the helicopters began to play music, but I didn’t recognize it. I was too awestruck to care. Packard gave the order to split up, and I watched as three of the four people I cared about flew in a different direction.

I looked down at the animals. I couldn’t see specifics, but there were a few herds of what looked like deer. Their brown heads popped up when they heard the helicopters, and they ran.

“Ready for seismic charges.” Nieves’s voice came through the headset.

I felt my heart drop again.

“Irene.” Jack broke my thoughts. “You just tell us when.”

“Okay.” I breathed out, shaking once more.

I looked down. The animals had cleared out, and it was one part of a large, empty field.

“Now.” My voice came firmer than I had thought it would.

I watched the bomb drop down, cringing when it exploded. There was probably animals down there I hadn’t seen. Smaller ones for sure. I wiped it from my mind, hearing someone cheer. I could only imagine the faces James and Mason were making at each other right now. None of us thought bombs were the best idea.

We passed a grove of smaller trees, by the edge of the river. I sighed. They had at least six bombs.

“Again.” I ordered.

It fell into the trees. There were definitely animals we were killing.

“Hey Randa, you’re not gonna believe this.” Houston spoke, and it came through. “The bedrock? It’s practically hollow.”

I wrinkled my nose and Jack stole a glance back at me, a questioning look on his face. I shrugged. I gave the order to drop the explosives a few more times, guilt washing over me with each.

“Incoming!!” The shout came through.

I looked around. A helicopter went down. I felt my chest tighten. Screams began to pour out, and my head flipped back and forth, trying to find whatever the threat was. I heard the crash of another helicopter. Packard yelled over, shouting out which helicopters had come down.

Shouts came through again, but this time they were ones of surprise. I leaned into the helicopter to look through the window.

“Holy shit.” I mumbled.

“Is that a monkey?” Jack’s voice sounded so far away.

An ape. Easily a hundred feet tall. Standing there, silhouette against the sun. He had brought down the helicopters. This was his home. We had bombed it. He was angry. The soldiers kept talking, voices frantic.

“Somebody talk to me, man.” I heard Reg’s distressed voice.

My mind spun as I tried to think of something to tell him, calm him, reassure him. Nothing came. I took in a shuddering breath. I watched the ape clench his fist. Packard shouted orders. I lowered my head and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

We were going to die.

“Fox leader to Fox group. Fire at will!” Packard yelled.

“No!” I shouted back.

“Excuse me?” Came his reply, above the sound of gunfire.

“Shooting him won’t help! You’re just gonna make him angrier!” My voice was frantic and I felt as if I were choking.

“What the hell is that?” Cole’s voice.

“I don’t know!” Mills.

Shots fired. The ape roared. I cried. He punched a helicopter. It exploded. He pounded his chest and roared again. Nothing felt real. I wished James were next to me.

“Pull out now! Pull out!” I could hear James yelling, but it was more muffled than the rest.

“I don’t take orders from you!” Reg yelled back.

I thumped my head against the headrest. Goddammit. Another helicopter went down. Randa shouted over the radio. Our helicopter jolted, and an immense pressure felt like it came down on us. The ape roared again. Alarms began to go off, and we spun out of control.

“Fox six, we’ve got nominal control.” Jack announced. “We are going down.”

I felt my heart crush itself to nothing. We were going to die. James and I were wrong. Nothing was alright. I could’ve sworn I heard Slivko say my name before I pulled the headset off. I didn’t want to die with other people screaming in my ears.

“Irene!” Jack yelled, and suddenly he was next to me.

I met his eyes, horrified. His eyes softened and he reached for me, pulling me into his chest.

“Jack, I don’t wanna die!” I whimpered, sobbing.

He shushed me, rubbing circles onto my back. This is how I was going to die. Come to think of it, it could be worse.

“Ira, you need to hold on. Okay?” He spoke directly into my ear.

I popped up and nodded. He gripped my arm tightly, hooking his other arm around the seat he had just been in. I ducked my head again, making a conscious effort to breathe. We hit trees. My bow had made its way up to my knee. The metal surrounding us seemed to crumple like paper.

The world went dark.

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vivimetalliun · 4 years

Text

Não é computação gráfica: essa criatura marinha multicolorida é real

Imagens de anjo-do-mar (Clione limacina) registradas pelo biólogo marinho e fotógrafo, Alexander Semenov, chamam atenção pelas características particulares desse molusco. O biólogo especializado em invertebrados é chefe da equipe de mergulhadores da White Sea Biological Station da Universidade Estadual de Moscou.

Semenov diz ter interesse especial na macrofotografia em ambiente natural,…

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wearejapanese · 5 years

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By Jon Letman (https://fluxhawaii.com/the-scourge-of-oura-bay/)

It’s a blistering hot day when Japanese Coast Guard officers pack into a dozen black Zodiac inflatable boats, determined to deter yet another wave of protestors. The enforcers are dressed in all-black dive gear with black facemasks, sunglasses, and helmets. Cameras mounted on their shoulders record protesters floating in kayaks alongside small motorboats flying rainbow peace flags over Okinawa’s Oura Bay. After a tense hour, the protesters rally. Some paddle their kayaks over the orange buoys that act as a barrier, while others swim beneath it, racing toward a four-legged platform used for sea floor construction. The Coast Guard quickly surrounds and apprehends the protestors, hauling them back to the shore.

The floating orange buoys at Oura Bay mark one of three places in the sparsely populated district of Henoko, where these forces have been facing off regularly since 2004. This clash is centered on the fact that the buoys form the exclusion barrier where a new U.S. military base, the Futenma Replacement Facility, is slated to be built in order to relocate an existing base, the Marine Corps Air Station at Futenma, which has been in service since 1945. The move towards re-militarizing Oura Bay has returned to Japanese and American foreign policy agendas as tensions continue to rise among Asian countries over territorial claims on the South China Sea.

After World War II, the United States entered into an occupation of Japan, leading to the independence of the country under specific conditions. One of those conditions was that the U.S. military continue its rule of Okinawa—the archipelago of islands south of mainland Japan—which kept the main Japanese islands largely free of U.S. military presence. A 1960 treaty upheld that division, confirming the U.S. occupation of Okinawa and its use of bases elsewhere in the country. Because of this agreement, Okinawa is home to nearly 75 percent of all U.S. bases (there are 32 bases on the island) and about half the troops in Japan—this despite the fact that Okinawa accounts for less than 1 percent of Japanese territory. To put this into perspective, Okinawa Island is almost 20 percent smaller than Kaua‘i, yet the island is home to nearly 1.4 million people. To the north and south of the Henoko-Oura area are the Central and Northern Training Areas, which occupy more than 37,000 acres, including training grounds for urban and jungle warfare and 59 military landing zones.

Like Hawai‘i, Okinawa is a tropical archipelago endowed with rich biodiversity and an indigenous population deeply connected to the land. Along Oura Bay’s shoreline, legions of tiny blue soldier crabs march across the mud, black-naped terns nest, and stark white egrets search for food. Silky grey mudskippers, a critically endangered species, and more than 2,000 species of mollusk rely on these same tidal flats for their survival. Oura Bay is also home to at least 10 species of sea grass that attract dugong, a large, lumpy marine mammal similar to a manatee that has been red-listed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature as “vulnerable.” Sensitive to noise, it appears that the dugong may have already left the bustling area.

A variety of flora and fauna thrives in, and may disappear from, the area—a region which includes fringing coral reefs, mangrove swamps, mud flats, estuaries, and a rugged shoreline dotted with rocky outcrops and white coral sand beaches. “It’s just stunning,” says marine biologist Katherine Muzik, who lived in Okinawa for 11 years and dove extensively throughout the Okinawan archipelago. “The bay is on par with the best marine environments in Indonesia and the Great Barrier Reef,” she says. Muzik notes the more than 400 species of coral, a thousand species of fish, and 110 species of sea slugs present in the bay, explaining that “there’s nothing left like it in the entire [Okinawan] archipelago, which means there’s nothing left like it in all of Japan.”

At Cape Henoko, which juts into the bay, 21 million cubic meters of sand and soil are scheduled to be dumped in order to reclaim land for a new base. Environmentalists argue that this act would destroy the ecosystem. Henoko’s depths, which reach almost 200 feet, are one of the distinctive qualities that give the locale such biodiversity. Millions of tons of sand would alter the bay’s currents, which, in turn, would affect the amount of sunlight that penetrates the water, drastically altering its clarity and imperiling what Muzik calls “soaring cathedrals of blue coral.”

A dive team called Snack Snufkin has taken up the responsibility of documenting the rich marine life of the bay through its website ourawan.com, as well as informational brochures, photo exhibitions, and a new educational book. Botanist and diver Kenta Watanabe, a member of the dive team, says the group wants to use its scientific findings to educate the public on the uniqueness of the bay. “It provides many good habitats for various species,” Watanabe says. “The diversity of topography supports the diversity of marine creatures. We’ve found this place is very special.”

These divers aren’t the only people concerned over the Henoko plan. In 2013, the Ecological Society of Japan sent a letter to the Japanese Ministers of Defense and Environment requesting that the survey work for Henoko be stopped. Last year, 19 Japanese scientific organizations also signed a joint petition calling for the conservation of Oura Bay’s significantly high biological diversity. Polls consistently show the Henoko plan—with its proposed multiple helipads, 892-foot military-grade docking facilities, fuel and ammunition depots, and 5,900-foot V-shaped dual runways—is fiercely opposed by the majority of Okinawans.

The U.S. military says base opponents are in the minority, and insists that the American bases are vital to regional stability and the “common defense of Japan.” Speaking at Futenma air base, a Marine spokesman stressed the military’s role in providing humanitarian aid and disaster relief in places like the Philippines, Nepal, and elsewhere. Thousands of Japanese and Okinawans are also either employed by the U.S. military or work in fields that rely on its presence, including employment that ranges from working as private security guards to pouring concrete, providing heavy equipment, and installing and maintaining miles of fences that surround military sites.

Others in Okinawa welcome the U.S. presence for fear of China or North Korea, although many reject this stance, pointing rather to a centuries-long history when Okinawa had peaceful and prosperous relations with China during the period prior to Japan absorbing what was then the independent Ryukyu kingdom in the 1870s. Also, many Okinawans draw attention to the fact that the Chinese are already in Okinawa—doing business and supporting the tourism sector.

From an island perspective, this foreign military occupation is something with which many in Hawai‘i can relate. Our islands are home to one of the world’s largest Okinawan diaspora communities, and share long-established and cultural ties with Okinawa. It’s natural that the two island peoples have an affinity for and understanding of one another. In July 2015, Okinawa and Hawai‘i celebrated 30 years of sister-state relations. Okinawa is a place where the land and sea coexist in a fragile balance, one that is constantly challenged by external forces. We in Hawai‘i have seen this struggle play out within places of similar ecological fragility, like Mākua Valley, Kaho‘olawe, Pōhakuloa, and Ke Awalau o Pu‘uloa, which was transformed from the “breadbasket of O‘ahu,” a place of aquatic abundance, into what we all know it as today: Pearl Harbor. Like these sites, Oura Bay now finds itself similarly perched upon the edge of an uncertain future.

#Okinawa #Oura Bay #Protest #Hawaii #US Military #United States #Japan

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