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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Seven

Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).

Word Count: ~2.0k

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“Mr. Burgess takes breakfast at eight, luncheon at twelve, and supper at six.” Mrs. Stevens explained as she led you through the manor. “His physical therapist arrives for his nine o’clock appointment at eight forty five. He takes tea in the study at one with Mr. McGuire before retiring to his suite for a nap at two. You should only allow him to sleep for approximately one and a half hours before waking him.”

The head housekeeper at Fawny Rig was giving you the run down of Alexander Burgess’ daily routine, giving you the precise time table at which things would happen and meals would be taken. You liked the predictability of the manor, it certainly made your job and plan that much easier to conduct.

As it turned out, Mr. Burgess had been looking for a live in aid to help him with his daily tasks. He was very old and now used a wheelchair to get around. It was all too easy to slip your way into an interview with Mrs. Stevens. Even more so to win her over with a sprinkle of magic and the fact that you were posing as a mute woman. She was looking for discreet, and you were the epitome of it. You didn’t talk, did not converse with sign language, and really only ’spoke’ with a nod or a shake of the head.

You were fairly sure that Mr. Burgess was looking for a ‘be seen but not heard’ type of help. You fit that profile to a t, and your inability to ask questions, was a great bonus… for the mysterious basement was certainly off limits. Mrs. Stevens had told you that as soon as you proved trustworthy, you would be given privy to the rest of the manor. You were so close that you could taste the flicker of old magic on your tongue. Mrs. Steven brought you into the sitting room where Alex and Paul were already seated, sipping tea while reading the morning news.

“Good morning Mr. Burgess, Mr. McGuire,” Mrs. Stevens said before gesturing to you. “This is Renata, the new aide for you Mr. Burgess. I think she is a good fit for us here at Fawny Rig.” Paul rose from his seat and walked over to you.

“Welcome to the manor, Renata, I am Paul,” He spoke, holding out his hand for you to shake. You took it and gave him a respectable nod.

“Renata does not speak,” Mrs. Stevens went on to explain. “And she does not use sign language, but responds with yes and no indications.” The house matron explained. “If you have an issues, call for me though I doubt you will have any problems, Renata is very competent at her job.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Stevens,” Paul said, giving the housekeeper a warm smile. She gave Paul a short nod and excused herself. You shifted your gaze to Alex and waited for your orders.

“I have respiratory therapy today at eleven,” Alex rasped, lowering the news paper he held. “It is a relatively new development that must be included in my schedule.” You nodded in understanding. “Paul has also designed a new section of the garden and I wish to see it this afternoon.”

You arched your eyebrow, if he wanted to the see the garden, you would have to work around his afternoon nap and medication time. Paul noticed your thought process and interceded for Alex.

“Alex will skip his nap today,” Paul explained for his partner. “Tomorrow will be a slow day as we both know he shall need it.” You nodded un understanding before walking forwards and grabbing a Britta filter full of water and refilling Alex’s water glass and handing it to him with a raised eyebrow. He eyed the full glass, and then you.

“So you are going to be one of those types.” He huffed at you, grudgingly taking the offered glass and taking a drink. Paul made a pleased sound in his throat and retook his seat next to Alex, reaching for his own newspaper.

“You need to stay hydrated darling,” Paul chided elderly man. “I want you with me as long as I can have you.” The two men shared a look as you topped off Paul’s half filled water glass and handed it to him. You took up a position beside Alex should he need anything from you. He and Paul remained in the sitting room until the respiratory therapist arrived and was led to the sitting room.

Paul told you that you wouldn’t be needed for the half hour appointment so you excused yourself to prepare for lunch and the rest of the days activities. You went to the kitchen to check on the food, which the cook informed you that Alex and Paul would be having a traditional beef roast with Yorkshire pudding, and an assortment of vegetables. It was a traditional luncheon at the manor and you could expect it to be fixed at least three or four times a week for lunch.

Alex did not like to stray from his daily routine, so you expected to learn his life and the way of the inside of the manor relatively quickly. Pay close enough attention and it was painfully clear where the cracks in their system were. Things happened like clockwork, guard change, when people ate, when eyes were on the door to the basement, when security was most lax. You were halfway planning out getting into the basement when your employer himself informed you that he wished to be brought to the basement.

Alex said it would be the last time he planned on venturing down into the basement, the last time he spoke to the monster down there. Paul explained what was down there, a creature summoned by Alex’s father over a century ago. One that haunted Alex in both his waking and sleeping hours. You were warned that the creature was dangerous, had to be constantly watched, and trapped in place by an intricate magic circle and cage that mustn’t be interfered with… for one break or nick in the binding spell would result in unspeakable horrors.

You were sure that Alex was absolute terrified of what Morpheus would do should he ever get out. That was a healthy fear, in your opinion, because no one trapped Dream of the Endless and killed his raven without being punished. So there you were, walking next to Paul as he slowly wheeled Alex through the basement. It had taken nearly three months of being a silent aide for Alex to gain his trust. Now you were ever so close to your goal, mere feet from it actually.

Rounding the corner and crossing a small bridge, you stared at a brightly lit room with a guards table on the right, two people occupying it, and a magic circle combined with a glass cage in the center. Your eyes caught sight of Lord Morpheus sitting crosslegged in the center of the glass cage. Your Lord and king was staring downwards, not reacting to anything around him and you had a feeling that he had remained like that throughout most of his captivity. The Endless were petty like that, and had patience. Paul pushed Alex close to the magic circle, and Alex’s grasp on the tea he had been sipping all morning tightened. But then he held it out to Paul, who took it and placed it on the guards table.

Then Alex stood up and made his way over to the red inscribed circle, and the glass cage suspended over it. You carefully followed him, prepared to help should he lose his balance or need your assistance. A tense few second went by, and you wondered if Alex was going to speak at all.

“I could have asked you for wealth, or power, like my father did.” Alex spoke quietly, his voice soft and demure, echoing even. His lasting pain and torment tainted his voice and made it apparent how tortured he was over Lord Morpheus’s imprisonment. “But all I ever wanted was to be free of you. Surely you want that too.”

Paul, knowing full well how long Alex had been suffering from the thought of this being trapped in the basement, but never having the courage to release him, moved forwards, pushing the wheelchair to the edge of the circle.

“Alex, darling, please,” Paul begged, Alex sighed and slowly moved to sit down. You helped him into the wheelchair.

“My tea, Renata, if you would please,” Alex spoke to you, his throat dry. You nodded and stepped towards the guards table where it had been left. The male guard reached for the cup, but ended up knocking over a nearby coffee. He swore and you quickly jumped in. You reached for the rag you kept on your waist and placed it over the spilled coffee. Then you retrieved Alex’s tea and trotted back to your employer.

While Alex sipped his tea, you strode for the water spicket in the corner of the basement and turned it on, using a nearby bucket to gather some. Pleased with the amount you had, you twisted the spicket back to off when a thought occurred to you. Rather than turning it all the way off, you twisted the nob until it was nearly off, but ever so slowly dripping droplets of water into the dirt. It was a slow idea, surely, but given enough time the water would run down the gentle slope and break the binding circle. Pleased with your action, you rose back to your feet and carried the bucket over to the guards table to wipe up the rest of the spilled coffee. That task only took you about twenty seconds, which was more than enough time for Alex to parch his throat and for Paul to slowly wheel him away from the cage.

“Thank you, mum,” The male guard sighed, rubbing his cheek. You politely nodded before turning around and holding the bucket against the skirt of your matronly dress.

“Please take me back up stairs, Paul,” Alex asked, his frail fingers grasping his tea cup. “I won’t be coming down here again. Come, Renata.”

You moved to follow, walking perpendicular to the cage, when you reached Alex and Paul, you took one last glance at your trapped lord and king. His intense eyes were staring forwards, and met your own cool ones. Lifting your chin ever so slightly, you allowed your eyes to drift back to the softly dripping spicket. It was dripping a quiet steady stream of droplets that were already gathering and moving in a trail. Straight for the binding circle.

Morpheus’s eyes followed your stare, pained at the reminder of his beloved ravens Jessamy and Adrienne. Your hair, midnight with a splash of vibrant white at your temple, reminded him of the beautiful feathers of his treasured ravens. His faithful Jessamy. His beloved Adrienne. A build of anger flowed within his veins in reminder, but then he saw what you had glanced at, the dripping spicket. It was leaving a trail of water that given enough time? Would run straight across the old painted line of symbols trapping the Endless in place. Electricity surged within Morpheus’s veins and his eyes flickered back to you, but you were already retreating, following behind Paul and Alex like the obedient and silent worker you were.

Could it be a coincidence that you had left the spicket not quite closed? Was it possible that his freedom was mere minutes away, after one silly mistake? Or was it a mistake at all? No, all workers within the Burgess manor had been meticulously trained on what to do. No worker or help would ever pose a risk for his escape, or help, at least not unintentionally.

You had intentionally left the spicket open. Were you not loyal to Burgess and McGuire? Morpheus didn’t care, his freedom after one hundred and six years was within his grasp.

Date Published: 6/14/23

Last Edit: 6/14/23

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dailyanarchistposts · 27 days

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Chapter XIV. Summary and Conclusion

It has been said of Newton, to express the immensity of his discoveries, that he has revealed the abyss of human ignorance.

There is no Newton here, and no one can claim in economics a part equal to that which posterity assigns to this great man in the science of the universe. But I dare to say that there is here more than Newton has ever guessed. The depth of the heavens does not equal the depth of our intelligence, within which wonderful systems move. It looks like a new, unknown region that exists outside space and time, like the heavenly realms and infernal abodes, and on which our eyes plunge, with silent admiration, as in a bottomless abyss.

Non secùs ac si quâ penitùs vi terra dehiscens

Infernas reseret sedes et regna recludat

Pallida, Dis invisa, superque immane barathrum

Cernatur, trepidentque immisso lumine Manes.

Virgil. Aeneid. lib. viii.[51]

Here the throng, collision, swing of eternal forces; there the mysteries of Providence are revealed, and the secrets of fate appear uncovered. It is the invisible making itself visible, the intangible rendered material, the idea becoming reality, and reality a thousand times more wonderful, more grandiose than the most fantastic utopias. So far we do not see, in its simple formula, the unity of that vast machine: the synthesis of these gigantic gears, in which the well-being and misery of generations are ground, and which are shaping a new creation, still evades us. But we already know that nothing that happens in social economy has a copy in nature; we are forced to constantly invent special names, to create a new language, for facts without analogues. It is a transcendent world, whose principles are superior to geometry and algebra, whose powers derive neither from attraction nor from any physical force, but which use geometry and algebra as subordinate instruments, and takes as material the very powers of nature; a world finally freed from the categories of time, space, generation, life and death, where everything seems both eternal and phenomenal, simultaneous and successive, limited and unlimited, ponderable and imponderable… What more can I say? It is even creation, caught, so to speak, in the act!

And this world, which appears to us as a fable, which inverts our judicial habits, and never ceases to deny our reason; this world which envelops us, penetrates us, agitates us, without us even seeing it in any other way than the mind’s eye, touching it only by signs, this strange world is society, it is us!

Who has seen monopoly and competition, except by their effects, that is, by their signs? Who has felt credit and property? What is collective force, division of labour and value? And yet, what is stronger, more certain, more intelligible, more real than all that? Look in the distance at this carriage drawn by eight horses on a beaten field, and driven by a man dressed in a old smock: it is only a mass of matter, moved on four wheels by an animal form. You discover there, in appearance, only a phenomenon of mechanics, determined by a phenomenon of physiology, beyond which you perceive nothing more. Penetrate further: ask this man what he does, where he goes; by what thought, what title, he drives this vehicle. And presently he will show you a letter, his authority, his providence, as he himself is the providence of his equipment. You will read in this letter that he is a carter, that it is in this capacity that he carries out the transportation of a certain quantity of merchandise, so much according upon the weight and distance; that he must carry out his journey by such a route and within such a time, barely covering the cost of his service; that this service implies on the part of the carter the responsibility for the losses and damages that result from other causes than force majeure and an inherent defect of the objects; that the price of the vehicle includes or not includes insurance against unforeseen accidents, and a thousand other details which are the hazard of the law and the torment of jurists. This man, I say, in a piece of paper as big as the hand, will reveal to you an infinite order, an inconceivable mixture of empiricism and pure reason, and that all the genius of man, assisted by the experience of the universe, would have been powerless to discover, if man has not left individual existence to enter collective life.

Indeed, these ideas of work, value, exchange, traffic, responsibility, property, solidarity, association, etc., where are the architypes? who provided the exemplars? what is this world half material, half intelligible; half necessity, half fiction? What is this force, called work, which carries us along with ever greater certainty that we believe we are more free? Which of our joys and torments does this collective life, which burns us with an inextinguishable flame, cause? As long as we live, we are, without our being aware of it, and according to the extent of our faculties and the speciality of our industry, the thinking springs, thinking wheels, thinking gears, thinking weights, etc., of an immense machine that thinks and goes by itself. Science, we said, is based on the accord of reason and experience; but it creates neither one nor the other. And here, on the contrary, a science appears to us, in which nothing is given to us, a priori, neither by experience nor by reason; a science in which humanity draws everything from itself, noumenon[52] and phenomena, universals and categories, facts and ideas; a science, finally, which instead of simply consisting, like any other science, of a reasoned description of reality, is the very creation of reality and reason!

Thus the author of economic reason is man; the creator of economic matter is man; the architect of the economic system is again man. After having produced reason and social experience, humanity proceeds to the construction of social science in the same way as for the construction of the natural sciences; it brings together in agreement the reason and the experience it has given itself, and by the most inconceivable marvel, when everything in it takes after utopia, principles and actions, it only comes to know itself by excluding utopia.

Socialism is right in protesting against political economy and saying to it: You are nothing but a routine that does not understand itself. And political economy is right to say to socialism: you are only a utopia without reality or possible application. But both denying in turn, socialism the experience of humanity, political economy the reason of humanity, both lack the essential conditions of human truth.

Social science is the agreement of reason and social practice. Now, this science, of which our masters have only seen rare sparks, will be given to our century to contemplate it in its sublime splendour and harmony!

But what am I doing? Alas! It is a question, at this moment when quackery and prejudice share the world, of raising our hopes. It is not incredulity that we have to fight, it is presumption. Let us start by noting that social science is not finished, that it is still in a state of vague premonition.

“Malthus,” says his excellent biographer, M. Charles Comte, “had the profound conviction that there exists in political economy principles which are true only insofar as they are contained within certain limits; he saw the main difficulties of the science in the frequent combination of complicated causes, in the action and reaction of effects and causes with each other, and in the necessity of setting limits or making exception for many important proposals.”

This is what Malthus thought of political economy, and the work we have published at this moment is only a demonstration of his idea. To this testimony we add another just as worthy of belief. In one of the final sessions of the Academy of Moral Sciences, M. Dunoyer, as a truly superior man, who does not allow himself to be dazzled either by the interest of a clique, nor by the disdain that inspires ignorant opponents, made the same confession with as much candour and nobility as Malthus.

“Political economy, which has a number of certain principles, which rests on a considerable mass of exact facts and well deduced observations, nevertheless seems far from being a set science. There is no complete agreement on the extent of the field in which its research should be extended, nor on the fundamental object which it must suggest. It is not suitable for all the work it embraces, nor the means to which the power of its work is linked, nor the precise meaning to be attached to most of the words that form its vocabulary. The science, rich in truths of detail, leaves a great deal to be desired as a whole, and as a science it still seems far from being constituted.”

M. Rossi goes further than M. Dunoyer: he formulated his judgement in the form of a reprimand addressed to the modern representatives of the science.

“Every thought of method now seemed abandoned in economics,” he cries, “and yet there is no science without method.” (Compte-rendu par M. Rossi du cours de M. Whateley [Report by M. Rossi of M. Whateley’s course])

Messrs. Blanqui, Wolowski, Chevalier, everyone who has glanced every so briefly on the economy of societies speaks the same. And the writer who best appreciates the value of modern utopias, Pierre Leroux, writes on every page of the Revue sociale [Social Review]: “let us seek the solution of the problem of the proletariat; let us keep looking for it until we find it. It is the entire work of our epoch!...” Now, the problem of the proletariat is the constitution of social science. There are only short-sighed economists and fanatical socialists, for whom the science is summed up entirely in a formula, Laissez faire, laisses passer, or else, To each according to his needs as far as social resources allow, who boast of possessing economic science.

What then causes this delay of social truth, which alone maintains the disappointment of the economist and gives credit to the operations of the alleged reformers? The cause, in our opinion, is the separation, already very old, of philosophy and political economy.

Philosophy, that is to say metaphysics, or if it is preferred, logic, is the algebra of society; political economy is the realisation of this algebra. This was not noticed by J.B. Say, nor Bentham, no anyone else who, under the names of economists and utilitarians, created a split in morals and rose against almost at the same time politics and philosophy. And yet, what more secure control can philosophy, the theory of reason, wish for than work, that is, the practice of reason? And conversely, what more certain control could economic science wish than the formulas of philosophy? It is my dearest hope, that the time is not far when the masters in the moral and political sciences will be in the workshops and [behind] counters, as today our most skilful builders are all men formed by a long and arduous apprenticeship…

But on what condition can there be a science?

On the condition of recognising its field of observation and its limits, to determine its object, to organise its method. On this point the economist expresses himself as the philosopher: the words of M. Dunoyer, recounted earlier, seem literally taken from the preface of Jouffroy to the translation of Reid.

The field of observation of philosophy is the self [le moi]; the field of observation of economics is society, that is to say again the self. Do you want to know man, study society; do you want to know society, study man. Man and society reciprocally serve each other as subjects and objects; the parallelism, the synonymy of the two sciences is complete.

But what is this collective and individual self? What is this field of observation, where strange phenomena are going on? To find out, let us look at the analogues.

All the things we think seem to exist, to succeed one another or to be in three transcendent CAPABILITIES, outside of which we can only imagine and conceive absolutely nothing: these are space, time and intelligence.

Just as every material object is conceived by us necessarily in space; just as phenomena, connected with each other by a relationship of causality, seem to follow each other in time; thus our purely abstract representations are recorded by us to a particular receptacle, which we call intellect or intelligence.

Intelligence is in its species an infinite capacity, like space and eternity. There are restless worlds, of numberless organisms with complicated laws, with varied and unexpected effects; equal, for magnificence and harmony, to the worlds sown by the creator through space, to the organisms that shine and die out over time. Politics and political economy, jurisprudence, philosophy, theology, poetry, languages, customs, literature, fine arts: the field of observation of the self is more vast, more fecund, more rich in itself than the double field of observation of nature, space and time.

The self, as well as time and space, is infinite. Man, and what is the product of man, together with the beings thrown through space and the phenomena that follow one another in time, constitutes the triple manifestation of God. These three infinites, indefinite expressions of infinity, penetrate each other and support one another, inseparable and irreducible: space or scale not being conceived without movement, which implies the idea of force, this is to say a spontaneity, a self.

The ideas of things which are presented to us in space form for our imagination tableaus; the ideas which we place objects in time unfold in histories; finally, ideas or relations which do not fall under the category of time or space, and which belong to the intellect, are co-ordinated in systems.

Tableau, history, system, are thus three analogous expressions, or rather equivalents, by which we make known that a certain number of ideas appear to our mind as a symmetrical and perfect whole. That is why these expressions may, in certain cases, be taken for each other, as we have pursued from the beginning of this work, when we presented it as a history of political economy, no longer according to the date of the discoveries, but according to the order of the theories.

We conceive then, and we cannot not conceive of a capacity for things of pure thought, or, as Kant says, for noumena, in the same way that we conceive two others for sense things, for phenomena.

But space and time are nothing real; they are two forms imprinted on the self by external perception. Similarly intelligence is also nothing real: it is a form that the self imposes on itself, by analogy, in the context of the ideas that experience suggests to it.

As for the order of acquisition of ideas, intuitions or images, it seems to us that we start with those whose types or realities are included in space; that we continue by stopping, so to speak, the flight of ideas that time carries, and that we finally discover, with the help of sense perceptions, the ideas or concepts, without external model, which appear to us in this ghost capacity we call our intelligence. Such is the progress of our knowledge: we start from the sense to rise to the abstract; the ladder of our reason has its foot on the earth, crosses the sky and is lost in the depths of the mind.

Let us now reverse this series, and we envision creation as a descent of ideas from the higher sphere of intelligence into the lower spheres of time and space, a fall during which the ideas, originally pure, have taken a body of substratum that realises them and expresses them. From this point of view all created things, the phenomena of nature and the manifestations of humanity, will appear to us as a projection of the mind, immaterial and immutable, on a plane sometimes fixed and straight, space, sometimes inclined and moving, time.

It follows from this that ideas, equal to each other, contemporaneous and co-ordinated in the mind, seem thrown haphazardly, scattered, localised, subordinate and consecutive in humanity and in nature, forming tableaus and histories without resemblance to the original design [dessin primitif]; and all human science consists in finding this conception the abstract system of eternal thought. It is by a restoration of this kind that naturalists have found systems of organised and unorganised beings; it is by the same process that we have tried to re-establish the series of phases of social economy, which society makes us see isolated, incoherent, anarchic. The subject we have untaken is really the natural history of work, according to the fragments collected by the economists; and the system which has resulted from our analysis is true in the same way as the systems of plants discovered by Linné and Jussieu, and the system of animals by Cuvier.

The human self manifested by work is thus the field for the exploration of political economy, a concrete form of philosophy. The identity of these two sciences, or rather these two scepticisms, has been revealed to us throughout the course of this book. Thus the formation of ideas appeared to us in the division of labour as a division of elementary categories; then, we have seen freedom being born from the action of man upon nature, and, following freedom, arise all the relations of man with society and with himself. As a result, economics has been for us at the same time an ontology, a logic, a psychology, a theology, a politics, an aesthetics, a symbolism and a morality…

The field of science recognised, and its operation delimited, we had to recognise its method. Now, the method of economic science is still the same as that of philosophy: the organisation of work, we believe, is nothing but the organisation of common sense…

Among the laws that make up this organisation we have noticed the antinomy.

All true thought, as we have observed, arises in one time and two moments. Each of these moments being the negation of the other, and both of which must disappear only within a superior idea, it follows that antinomy is the very law of life and progress, the principle of perpetual motion. Indeed, if a thing, by virtue of the power of evolution which is in it, is repaired precisely of all that it loses, it follows that this thing is indestructible, and that movement supports it forever. In social economy, what competition is constantly occupied making, monopoly is constantly occupied unmaking; what labour produces, consumption devours; what property appropriates to itself, society gets a hold of: and from this results continuous movement, the unwavering life of humanity. If one of the two antagonistic forces is hindered, [so] that individual activity, for example, succumbs to social authority, organisation degenerates into communism and ends in nothingness. If, on the contrary, individual initiative lacks a counterweight, the collective organism is corrupted, and civilisation crawls under a regime of castes, iniquity and misery.

Antinomy is the principle of attraction and of movement, the reason for equilibrium: it is that which produces passion, and which breaks down all harmony and all accord…

Then comes the law of progression and series, the melody of beings, the law of the beautiful and the sublime. Remove the antinomy, the progress of beings is inexplicable: for where is the force that would produce this progress? Remove the series, the world is no more than a melee of sterile oppositions, a universal turmoil, without purpose and without an idea…

Even if these speculations, for us pure truth, appear doubtful, the application we have made of them would still be of immense utility. Let us think about it: there is not a single moment in life where the same man does not affirm and deny the same principles and theories at the same time, with more or less good faith, no doubt, but also always with plausible reasons, which, without soothing the conscience, suffice to make passion triumph and spread doubt in the mind. Let us leave, if you want, logic: but is it nothing to have illuminated the double face of things, to have learned to be wary of reasoning, of knowing how, the more a man has fairness in ideas and righteousness in the heart, the more he runs the risk of being a dupe and absurd? All our political, religious, economic, etc. misunderstandings come from the inherent contradiction of things; and this is even the source from which flow the corruption of principles, the venality of consciences, the charlatanism of professions of faith, the hypocrisy of opinions…

What is, at present, the object of economics?

The method itself tell us. Antinomy is the principle of attraction and balance in nature; antinomy is therefore the principle of progress and equilibrium in humanity, and the object of economic science is JUSTICE.

Considered in its purely objective relations, the only ones which social economy deals with, justice is expressed in value. Now, what is value? It is the labour performed.

“The real price of everything,” says Mr Smith, “what everything really costs to the man who wants to acquire it, is the toil and trouble of acquiring it… What is bought with money or with goods is purchased by labour as much as what we acquire by the toil of our own body. That money or those goods indeed save us this toil. They contain the value of a certain quantity of labour which we exchange for what is supposed at the time to contain the value of an equal quantity. Labour was the first price, the original purchase-money that was paid for all things. It was not by gold or by silver, but by labour, that all the wealth of the world was originally purchased; and its value, to those who possess it, and who want to exchange it for some new productions, is precisely equal to the quantity of labour which it can enable them to purchase or command.”[53]

But if value is the embodiment of labour, it is at the same time the principle of the comparison of products with one another: hence the theory of proportionality which dominates all economic science, and to which A. Smith would have raised, if it had been in the spirit of his time to pursue, with the aid of logic, a system of experiments.

But how is justice manifested in society, in other words, how is proportionality of values established? Say said it: by an oscillatory movement between value in utility and value in exchange.

Here appears in political economy, with regard to work, its master and all too often its executioner, the arbitral principle.

At the outset of the science, work, devoid of method, without understanding of value, barely stammering its first attempts, appeals to free will to build wealth and set the price of things. From this moment two powers enter into struggle, and the great work of social organisation is inaugurated. For work and free will is what we will later call labour and capital, wage-labour and privilege, competition and monopoly, community and property, plebe and nobility, state and citizen, association and individualism. For anyone who has obtained the first notions of logic, it is obvious that all these oppositions, eternally reborn, must be eternally resolved: now, that is what the economists do not want to hear, to whom the arbitral principle inherent in value seems resistant to all determination; and it is, with the horror of philosophy, what causes the retardation, so fatal to society, of economic science.

“It would be as absurd,” says [John Ramsay] McCulloch, “to speak of absolute height and depth as of absolute value.”

Economists all say the same thing, and we can judge by this example how far they are from each other, and on the nature of value, and on the meaning of the words they use. The absolute expression carries with it the idea of wholeness, perfection, or plenitude, on the basis of precision and accuracy. An absolute majority is a true majority (half plus one), it is not an indefinite majority. In the same way absolute value is the precise value, deduced from the exact comparison of products together: there is nothing in the world so simple. But the consequence of this critical effect is that since values measure one another, they must not oscillate at random: such is the supreme wish of society, such is the significance of political economy itself, which is nothing else, in its totality, but the picture of the contradictions whose synthesis infallibly produces true value.

Thus society is gradually established by a sort of swinging between necessity and arbitrariness, and justice is constituted by theft. Equality does not occur within society as an inflexible standard; it is, like all the great laws of nature, an abstract point, which oscillates continually above and below, through arcs more of less large, more or less regular. Equality is the supreme law of society; but it is not a fixed form, it is the average of an infinity of equations. That is how equality appeared to us from the first epoch of economic evolution, the division of labour; and such has been constantly manifested from the legislation of Providence.

Adam Smith, who had a kind of intuition on almost all the great problems of social economy, after having recognised labour as the principle of value and described the magical effects of the law of division, observes that, notwithstanding the increase of the produce resulting from this division, the wages of the worker do not increase; that often, on the contrary, they diminish, the gains of collective force not going to the worker, but to the master.

“The profits of stock, it may perhaps be thought are only a different name for the wages of a particular sort of labour, the labour of inspection and direction. They are, however, altogether different, are regulated by quite different principles, and bear no proportion to the quantity, the hardship, or the ingenuity of this supposed labour of inspection and direction. They are regulated altogether by the value of the stock employed, and are greater or smaller in proportion to the extent of this stock... In this state of things, the whole produce of labour does not always belong to the labourer. He must in most cases share it with the owner.”[54]

That, A. Smith tells us coldly, is how things happen: everything for the master, nothing for the worker. Whether we call it injustice, plunder, theft, the economist is not moved. The robber proprietor seems to him in all this as an automaton as the worker is robbed. And the proof that they deserve neither envy nor pity is that the workers only demand when they are dying of hunger; it is that no capitalist, entrepreneur or proprietor, neither during life nor at the moment of death, has felt the slightest remorse. They accuse ignorant and distorted public consciousness; they may be right, they may be wrong. A. Smith limits himself to reporting the facts, which is much better for us that declamations.

So by designating amongst workers a select [privilégié], nazarœum inter fratres tuos, social reason personified collective force. Society proceeds by myths and allegories. The history of civilisation is a vast symbolism. Homer summarises heroic Greece; Jesus Christ is suffering humanity, striving with effort, in a long and painful agony, to freedom, to justice, to virtue. Charlemagne is the feudal type; Roland, chivalry; Peter the Hermit, the crusades; Gregory VII, the papacy; Napoleon, the French Revolution. In the same way the industrial entrepreneur, who exploits a capital by a group of workers, is the personification of the collective force whose profit he absorbs, as the flywheel of a machine stores force. This is really the heroic man, the king of work. Political economy is a whole symbolism, property is a religion.

Let is follow A. Smith, whose luminous ideas, scattered in an obscure clutter, seem a repetition [deutérose] of primitive revelation.

“As soon as the land of any country has all become private property, the landlords, like all other men, love to reap where they never sowed, and demand a rent even for its natural produce. The wood of the forest, the grass of the field, and all the natural fruits of the earth, which, when land was in common, cost the labourer only the trouble of gathering them, come, even to him, to have an additional price fixed upon them. He must then pay for the licence to gather them; and must give up to the landlord a portion of what his labour either collects or produces [without him].”[55]

Here is monopoly, here is interest on capital, here is [economic] rent! A. Smith, like all the enlightened, sees and does not understand; he recounts and has not the intelligence. He speaks under the inspiration of God without surprise and without pity; and the meaning of his words remain for him a closed letter. With what calm he recounts proprietor usurpation! As long as the land seems good for nothing, as long as labour has not loosened, fertilised, utilised, created VALUE [mise en VALEUR], property gives it no thought. The hornet does not alight on the flowers, it falls upon the hives. What the worker produces is immediately taken; the worker is like a hunting dog in the master’s hand.

A slave, exhausted from work, invents the plough. With a hardened wooden hook dragged by a horse, he opens the ground, rendering him capable of making ten times, a hundred times more. The master, at a glance, grasps the importance of the discovery: he seizes the land, he appropriates the revenue, he attributes the idea to himself, and makes himself adored by the mortals for this magnificent gift. He walks the equal of the gods: his wife is a nymph, Ceres; and he is Triptolemus. Poverty invents, and property reaps. For genius must remain poor: abundance would smother it. The greatest service that property has rendered to the world is this perpetual affliction of labour and genius.

But what to do with these heaps of grain? What a poor wealth [is] that which the boss shares with his horses, his oxen and his slaves! It is well worth being rich, if all the advantage consists of being able to gnaw a few more handfuls of rice and barley!...

An old woman, having pounded grain for her toothless mouth, realises that the dough soured, fermented, and cooked under the ashes, gives a food incomparably better than raw or grilled wheat. Miracle! The daily bread is discovered. – Another, having pressing into a jar a mass of dropped grapes, intends to boil the mash on the flame; the liquor spews out its impurities; it gleams, ruddy, bountiful, immortal. Evoe! it is the young Bacchus, the darling son of the proprietor, a child beloved of the gods, who has found it. What the master could not have devoured in a few weeks, a year will suffice for him to drink. The vine, like the harvest, like the earth, is appropriated.

What is to be done with these countless fleeces that each year provides such a large tribute? When the proprietor would raise his bed to be worthy of his pavilion, when he would duplicate thirty times his sumptuous tent, this useless luxury would do nothing but attest his impotence. He abounds in goods and he cannot enjoy; what a mockery!

A shepherdess, left naked by the avarice of the master, collects from the bushes some wool fibres. She twisted this wool, stretching it into equal and fine threads, gathering them on a spear, crisscrossing them, and making herself a soft and light dress, a thousand times more elegant than the patched skins that cover his scornful mistress. It is Arachne, the weaver, who created this marvel! Immediately the master begins to shear the hair of his sheep, his camels and his goats; he gives his wife a troop of slaves, who spin and weave under his orders. It is no longer Arachne, the humble servant; it is Pallas, the daughter of the proprietor, whom the gods have inspired, and whose jealously avenges itself on Arachne by causing her to die of hunger.

What a sight this incessant struggle of labour and privilege, the first created everything out of nothing; the other always arriving to devour what it has not produced! – It is because the destiny of man is a continuous march. It is necessary that he work, that he create, multiply, perfect forever and forever. Let the worker enjoy his discovery; he falls asleep on his idea: his intelligence no longer advances. This is the secret of this iniquity which struck A. Smith, and against which, however, the unemotional historian did not find a word of reprobation. He felt, although he could not realise it, that the touch of God was there; that until the day when labour fills the earth, civilisation is driven by unproductive consumption, and that it is by rapine that fraternity is gradually established between men.

Man must work! That is why at the advice of Providence, theft was instituted, organised, sanctified! If the proprietor had tired of taking it, the proletarian would have soon be tired of producing, and savagery, hideous misery, was at the door. The Polynesian, amongst whom property has been aborted, and who enjoys in an entire community of property and love, why would he work? The earth and beauty are for everyone, children to anyone: what do you say to him about morals, dignity, personality, philosophy, progress? And without going so far, the Corsican, who is found for six months living and residing under his chestnut tree, why do you want him to work? What does he care for your conscription, your railways, your tribune, your press? What else does he need but to sleep when he has eaten his chestnuts? A prefect of Corsica said that to civilise this island it was necessary to chop down the chestnut trees. A more certain way is to appropriate them.

But already the proprietor is no longer strong enough to devour the substance of the worker: he calls his favourites, his jesters, his lieutenants, his accomplices. It is again Smith who reveals this wonderful conspiracy.

“In the progress of the manufacture, not only the number of profits increase, but every subsequent profit is greater than the foregoing; because the capital from which it is derived must always be greater. In raising the price of commodities the rise of wages operates in the same manner as simple interest does in the accumulation of debt. The rise of profit operates like compound interest. If in the linen manufacture, for example, the wages of the different working people, the flax-dressers, the spinners, the weavers, etc., should, all of them, be advanced two-pence a day; it would be necessary to heighten the price of a piece of linen only by a number of two-pences equal to the number of people that had been employed about it, multiplied by the number of days during which they had been so employed. That part of the price of the commodity which resolved itself into wages would, through all the different stages of the manufacture, rise only in arithmetical proportion to this rise of wages. But if the profits of all the different employers of those working people should be raised five per cent, that part of the price of the commodity which resolved itself into profit would, through all the different stages of the manufacture, rise in geometrical proportion to this rise of profit. The employer of the flaxdressers would in selling his flax require an additional five per cent upon the whole value of the materials and wages which he advanced to his workmen. The employer of the spinners would require an additional five per cent both upon the advanced price of the flax and upon the wages of the spinners. And the employer of the weavers would require a like five per cent both upon the advanced price of the linen yarn and upon the wages of the weavers.”[56]

This vivid description of the economic hierarchy, starting with the Jupiter-proprietor, and ending with the slave. From labour, its division, the distinction of the master and the wage-worker, the monopoly of capital, arises a caste of landlords, financiers, entrepreneurs, bourgeois, masters and supervisors, labouring to consume rents, to collect usury, to squeeze the worker, and above all to exercise policing [d’exercer la police[57]], the most terrible form of exploitation and misery. The invention of politics and laws is exclusively due to property: Numa and Egeria, Tarquin and Tanaquil, as well as Napoleon and Charlemagne, were noble. Regum tirnendorum in proprios greges, regel in ipsos irnperium est lavis, says Horace. One would say a legion of infernal spirits, rushing from every corner of hell to torment a poor soul. Pull him by his chain, take away his sleep and food; beat, burn, torture, without rest, without pity! For if the worker were spared, if we did him justice, nothing would remain for us, and we would perish.

O God! what crime has this unfortunate man committed, that you abandon him to the guards who distribute blows to him with such a liberal hand, and subsistence with a hand so miserly? … And you, proprietors, Providence’s chosen rulers, do not go beyond the prescribed measure, because rage is rising in the heart of your servant, and his eyes are red with blood.

A revolt of the workers wrings a concession from the pitiless masters. Happy day, deep joy! Work is free. But what freedom, for heaven’s sake! Freedom for the proletarian is the ability to work, that is, of being robbed again; or not to work, that is to say to die to hunger! Freedom only benefits strength: by competition, capital crushes labour everywhere and converts industry into a vast coalition of monopolies. For the second time, the plebeian worker is on her knees before the aristocracy; she has neither the possibility, nor even the right to discuss her salary.

“Masters,” says the oracle, “are always and everywhere in a sort of tacit, but constant and uniform league, not to raise wages above their existing rate. To violate this rule is an act of a false-friend. And by abhorrent legislation, this league is tolerated, while the coalitions of workers are severely punished.”[58]

And why this new iniquity, which the unalterable serenity of Smith could not help declaring abhorrent? Would such a crying injustice have been even necessary and that, without this favouritism [acception de personnes], fate would have been in error and Providence thwarted? Will we find means of justifying, with monopoly, this partial policing of the human race?

Why not, if we want to rise above societal sentimentalism, and consider higher facts, the force of things, the intimate law of civilisation?

What is labour? What is privilege?

Labour, analogous to creative activity, without awareness of itself, indeterminate, barren, as long as the idea, the law does not penetrate, labour is the crucible where value is elaborated, the great matrix of civilisation, the passive or female principle of society. – Privilege, emanating from free will, is the electric spark that determines individualisation, the freedom that realises, the authority that commands, the mind that deliberates, the self that governs.

The relation of labour and privilege is thus a relation of the female to the male, of the wife to the husband. Amongst all peoples, the adultery of the woman has always seemed more reprehensible than that of the man; it was consequently subjected to more rigorous penalties. Those who, stopping at the atrocity of forms, forget the principle and see only the barbarism exercised towards the sex, are politicisers of romances worthy of appearing in the stories of the author of Lélia. Any indiscipline of workers is comparable to adultery committed by woman. Is it not obvious then that, if the same favour on the part of the courts were to accept the complaint of the worker and that of the master, the hierarchical link, outside which humanity cannot live, would be broken, and the entire economy of society ruined?

Judge moreover by the facts. Compare the physiognomy of a workers’ strike with the march of a coalition of entrepreneurs. There, distrust of the proper law, agitation, turbulence, outside screaming and trembling, inside terror, spirit of submission and desire for peace. Here, on the contrary, calculated resolution, feeling of strength, certainty of success, calmness in execution. Where, in your opinion, is power? where is the organic principle? where is life? Without doubt society owes assistance and protection to all: I do not plead here the cause of the oppressors of humanity; may the vengeance of heaven crush them! But the education of the proletarian must be accomplished. The proletarian is Hercules arriving at immortality through work and virtue: but what would Hercules do without the persecution of Eurystheus?

Who are you? asked Pope Saint Leo of Attila, when this destroyer of nations came to set his camp before Rome.

“I am the scourge of God,” replied the barbarian. “We receive with gratitude,” continued the pope, “all that comes from God: but you, take care not to do anything that is not commanded of you!”

Proprietors, who are you?...

Weirdest thing, property, attacked on all sides in the name of charity, of justice, of social economy, has never known how to respond for its justification other than these words: I am because I am. I am the negation of society, the plundering of the worker, the right of the unproductive, the right of the strongest [la raison du plus fort], and none can live if I do not devour him.

This appalling enigma has made the most sagacious intelligences despair.

“In that original state of things, which precedes both the appropriation of land and the accumulation of stock, the whole produce of labour belongs to the labourer. He has neither landlord nor master to share with him. Had this state continued, the wages of labour would have augmented with all those improvements in its productive powers, to which the division of labour gives occasion. [...] They would have been produced by a smaller quantity of labour [...] they would have been purchased likewise with the produce of a smaller quantity.”[59]

So says A. Smith. And his commentator adds:

“I can well understand how the right of appropriating, under the name of interest, profit or rent, the product of other individuals becomes nourishment for greed; but I cannot imagine that by diminishing the reward of the worker to add to the opulence of the idle man, we can increase industry or accelerate the progress of society in wealth.”[60]

The reason for this deduction, which neither Smith nor his commentator has seen, we will repeat, so that the inexorable law that governs human society is again and for the last time brought to light.

To divide labour is to make only a production of pieces: for there to be value, a composition is needed. Before the institution of property, each is a master to take from the ocean the water from which he draws salt for his food, to gather the olive from which he will extract his oil, to collect the ore which contains iron and gold. Each is free to exchange some of what he has collected against an equivalent quantity of provisions made by another: so far, we do not go beyond the sacred right of work and the community of the earth. Now, if I have the right to use, either by my personal labour or by exchange, all the products of nature; and if the possession thus obtained is entirely legitimate, I have the same right to combine, from the various elements which I obtain by labour and exchange, a new product, which is my property, and which I have the right to enjoy exclusively of any other. I can, for example, by means of the salt from which I extract soda, and the oil I draw from the olive and sesame, to make a specific composition to clean linen, and which will be for me, from the point of view of cleanliness and hygiene, a precious utility. I can even reserve for myself the secret of this composition, and consequently take, by means of exchange, a legitimate profit.

Now, what is the difference, under relation of right, between the manufacture of an ounce of soap and that of a million kilograms? Does the greater or lesser quantity change anything of the morality of the operation? So property, as well as commerce, as well as labour, is a natural right, of whose exercise nothing in the world can steal from me.

But, by the very fact that I compose a product which is my exclusive property, as well as the materials that constitute it, it follows that a workshop, an exploitation of men is organised by me; that profits accumulate in my hands to the detriment of all who enter into business relations with me; and that if you wish to substitute yourself for me in my enterprise, quite naturally I will stipulate for myself a rent. You will possess my secret, you will manufacture in my place, you will turn my mill, you will reap my field, you will pick my vine, but at a quarter, a third, or half share.

All this is a necessary and indissoluble chain; there is no serpent or devil here; it is the very law of the thing, the dictum of common sense. In commerce, plundering is identical to exchange; and what is really surprising is that a regime like this one does not excuse itself only by the good faith of the parties, it is commanded by justice.

A man buys from his neighbour the collier a sack of coal, from the grocer a quantity of sulphur from Etna. He makes a mixture to which he adds a portion of saltpetre, sold by the druggist. From all this results an explosive powder, of which a hundred pounds would suffice to wreck a citadel. Now, I ask, the woodcutter who charred the wood, the Sicilian shepherd who picked up the sulphur, the sailor who transported it, the commission agent from Marseilles who reshipped it, the merchant who sold it, are they complicit in the disaster? Is there any interdependence [solidarité] between them, I’m not saying in its use, but in the manufacture of this powder?

Now, if it is impossible to discover the least connection of action between the various individuals who, each without his knowledge, have co-operated in the production of the powder, it is clear, for the same reason, that there is no more connection and interdependence [solidarité] between them as to the profits of the sale, and that the gain which may result from its use also belongs exclusively to the inventor, that the punishment, to which he might become liable for as a result of crime or imprudence, is personal to him. Property is identical to responsibility: we cannot affirm the one, without granting at the same time the other.

But admire the unreason of reason! The same property, legitimate, irreproachable in its origin, constitutes in its use a flagrant iniquity; and this, without adding any element which modifies it, but by the mere development of the principle.

Let us take as a whole the products that industry and agriculture bring to the market. These products, such as powder and soap, are all, to some degree, the result of a combination of materials which were drawn from the general store. The price of these products invariably consists, firstly of the wages paid to the different categories of workers, secondly, of the profits demanded by the entrepreneurs and capitalists. So that society is divided into two classes of people: 1) entrepreneurs, capitalists and proprietors, who have the monopoly of all objects of consumption; 2) employees or workers, who can offer only half of what these are worth, which makes their consumption, circulation and reproduction impossible.

Adam Smith tells us in vain:

“It is but equity, besides, that they who feed, clothe, and lodge the whole body of the people, should have such a share of the produce of their own labour as to be themselves tolerably well fed, clothed, and lodged.”[61]

How could this be achieved, except with the dispossession of the monopolists? And how can monopoly be prevented if it is a necessary effect of the free exercise of the industrial faculty? The justice that Adam Smith wants to establish is impractical in the regime of property. Now, if justice is impractical, if it becomes actual injustice, and if this contradiction is internal to the nature of things [intime à la nature des choses], what is the use of even speaking of equity and humanity? Does Providence know equity, or whether fate is philanthropic? It is not to destroy monopoly, any more than labour, which we must reach; it is, by a synthesis which the contradiction of monopoly renders inevitable, to make it produce in the interests of all the goods which it [currently] reserves for some. Outwith of this solution Providence remains insensitive to our tears; fate inflexibly follows its path; and while we, gravely seated, argue over the just and the unjust, God who has made us contradictory like himself in our thoughts, contradictory in our actions, answers us with a burst of laughter.

It is this essential contradiction of our ideas that, being realised by labour and expressing itself in society with a gigantic power, makes everything happen in the inverse direction of what it must be, and gives society the appearance of a tapestry seen in reverse or an inverted animal. Man, by the division of labour and by machinery, was to gradually rise to science and to liberty; and by division, by the machine he stupefies himself and becomes a slave. Tax, says the theory, must be as a result of wealth; and quite the contrary tax is because of poverty. The unproductive must obey, and by a bitter mockery the unproductive command. Credit, according to the etymology of its name, and according to its theoretical definition, is the provider of labour; in practice, it squeezes and kills it. Property, in the spirit of its most beautiful prerogative, is the extension of land; and in the exercise of this same prerogative, property is the prohibition of land. In all its categories political economy reproduces the contradiction and the religious idea. The life of man, affirms philosophy, is a perpetual emancipation from animality and nature, a struggle against God. In religious practice, life is the struggle of man against himself, the absolute submission of society to a superior Being. Love God with all your heart, the Gospel tells us, and hate your spirit [âme] for eternal life: precisely the opposite of what reason commands…

I will not push this summary further. Having reached the end of my journey, my ideas are pressing in such a multitude and vehemence, that already I would need a new book to recount what I have discovered, and that, in spite of the oratorical expedience, I see no other means of finishing than to stop abruptly. If I am not mistaken, the reader ought to be convinced at least of one thing, that social truth cannot be found either in utopia or in routine: that political economy is not the science of society, but contains, in itself, the materials of that science, in the same way that chaos before the creation contained the elements of the universe. The fact is that, to arrive at a definite organisation, which appears to be the destiny of the race on this planet, there is nothing left but to make a general equation of our contradictions.

But what will be the formula of this equation?

We already foresee that there should be a law of exchange, a theory of MUTUALITY, a system of guaranties which determines the old forms of our civil and commercial societies, and gives satisfaction to all the conditions of efficiency, progress and justice which the critics have pointed out; a society no longer merely conventional, but real, which makes of the subdivision of real estate a scientific instrument; that will abolish the servitude of the machines, and may prevent the coming of crises; that makes of competition a benefit, and of monopoly a pledge of security for all; which by the strength of its principles, instead of making credit of capital and protection of the State, puts capital and the State to work; which by the sincerity of exchange, creates a real solidarity among the nations; which without forbidding individual initiative, without prohibiting domestic economy, continuously restores to society the wealth which is diverted by appropriation; which by the ebb and flow of capital, assures political and industrial equality of the citizenry, and, through a vast system of public education, secures the equality of functions and the equivalence of aptitudes, by continuously raising their level; which through justice, well being and virtue, revives the human conscience, assures the harmony and the equality of the people; a society, in a word, which, being at the same time organisation and transition, escapes what has taken place, guarantees everything and compels nothing…

The theory of mutuality, or of mutuum, that is to say, the natural form of exchange, of which the most simple form is loan for consumption, is, from the point of view of the collective existence, the synthesis of the two ideas of property and of communism [communauté], a synthesis as old as the elements of which it is constituted, since it is nothing more than the return of society to its primitive custom, through the maze of inventions and of systems, the result of a meditation of six thousand years on the fundamental proposition that A equals A.

Everything today is making ready for this solemn restoration; everything proclaims that the reign of fiction has passed, and that society will return to the sincerity of its nature. Monopoly is inflated to world-wide proportions, but a monopoly which encompasses the world cannot remain exclusive; it must republicanise itself or be destroyed. Hypocrisy, venality, prostitution, theft, form the foundation of the public conscience; but, unless humanity learns to live upon what kills it, we must believe that justice and expiation approach....

Already socialism, feeling the error in its utopias, turns to realities and to facts, it laughs at itself in Paris, it discusses in Berlin, in Cologne, in Leipzig, in Breslau; it murmurs in England, it thunders on the other side of the ocean; it commits suicide in Poland, it tries to govern in Berne and in Lausanne. Socialism, in pervading the masses, has become entirely different: the people will not bother about the honour of schools; they ask for work, education, well being, equality; the system does not matter so much, provided that the result is obtained. But when the people want something and it is only a question of finding out how to obtain it, the discovery does not wait; prepare yourself to see the coming of the grand masquerade.

Let the priest finally get it his head that poverty is a sin, and that true virtue, that renders us worthy of eternal life, is to fight against religion and against God; – that the philosopher, lowering his pride, supercilium philosophicum, learns on his part that reason is society, and that to philosophise is to work with his hands; – that the artist may remember that he once descended from Olympus into Christ’s stable, and that from this stable, he rose suddenly to unknown splendours; that as well as Christianity, labour must regenerate it; – that the capitalist thinks that silver and gold are not true values; that by the sincerity of exchange all products amount to the same dignity, each producer will have in his house a mint [un hôtel des monnaies], and, as the fiction of the productivity of capital has plundered the worker, so organised labour will absorb capital; – that the proprietor knows that he is only the collector of society’s [economic] rents, and that if he could once, under the guise of war, put a prohibition on the soil, the proletarian can in his turn, by association, put a prohibition on harvesting, and make property expire in the void; – that the prince and his proud cortege, his soldiers, his judges, his councillors, his peers, and all the army of the unproductive, hasten to cry Thanks! to the agricultural and industrial worker [au laboureur et à l'industriel], because the organisation of labour is synonymous with the subordination of power, that it depends on the worker abandoning the unproductive to his indigence, and to destroy power in shame and hunger.

All these things will happen, not as unforeseen, unhoped novelties, a sudden effect of the passions of the people, or of the skill of a few men, but by the spontaneous return of society to an immemorial practice, momentarily abandoned, and rightly so…

Humanity, in its oscillatory march, turns incessantly upon itself: its progress is only the rejuvenation of its traditions; its systems, so opposite in appearance, always exhibit the same basis [fond], seen from different sides. Truth, in the movement of civilisation, always remains the same, always old and always new: religion, philosophy, science merely translate. And this is precisely what constitutes Providence and the infallibility of human reason; which ensures, in the very heart of progress, the immutability of our being; which renders society at once unalterable in its essence and irresistible in its revolutions; and which, continually extending perspective, always showing from afar the latest solution, establishes the authority of our mysterious premonitions.

Reflecting on these battles of humanity, I involuntarily recall that, in Christian symbolism, the militant Church must succeed on the final day a triumphant Church, and the system of social contradictions appears to me like a magic bridge, thrown over the river of oblivion.

11 notes · View notes

the5n00k · 10 months

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1. Do you think that the chairman is pure evil?i mean he does his job without breaking his rulesghosts can do whatever they want, only they need to scare people, he could easily cause havoc in his world and in the world of the living, but he does not, although he could get enough of the suffering of people

2. Do you have headcanons for the chairman?I really liked the scratch headcanonsand sorry if you misunderstood me, I'm just using google translateI wish you a good day and good mood!

No worries and I hope you have a good day and good mood as well! I understood this very well actually, thank you for the ask!

I just hope you can understand me because despite being native English speaking I really Suck at it lol

I don't think he was pure evil at all, but he definitely wasn't good. His punishments for small missteps were wildly unfair and everyone lived in fear of him. You could make the argument that he needed that misery to live but even then, the whole system of meters and documents felt more like control than anything necessary. But he also wasn't unreasonable. He wasn't beyond giving second chances (except for the purple ghost from the first episode, I'm so sorry my love those puppies were too powerful 💔) and heard Scratch out several times when he was on thin ice. Him and the Council prefer order and organization than any sort of interference with the living world. It seems they didn't have a very high opinion of humans in general and had rules and codes in place to keep the living and the dead separate for whatever reason. I'm gonna guess because the mysteriousness of ghosts is what makes them scarier than being out in the open.

Overall I loved the old chairman! He was really cool and intimidating and his design is so good. What a cool character, sometimes I really miss him lol

As for headcanons I don't have that many but probably still way too many for a character with minimal screen time LOL

- this one isn't mine but I loved the headcanon that he talks with sign language with the people he likes. Or that some people can just understand his hisses like an ancient language. Kind of like how some people can just understand Harriet

- he's got this curious puppy energy that it seems like he'd rather let a unique situation play out because he's interested than shut it down. He wants to see what happens (can you blame him? I don't think he gets out much 💔 poor guy)

- since it's not the robe that gives the skeleton hands, it seems like he just Has them but I believe he was a normal ghost. Could be one of two things;

1) his hands just looked like that before (we've seen a lot of ghosts with unique design elements, so it's not out of the question)

2) he had the robe on for so long that the power got to him, stripping him of anything that would have made him recognizable before. The robe is removable and Scratch only puts it on when he needs to so he hasn't had it on long enough to affect him. But this guy had it on for eons, letting the power go to his head and strip him of self. Also the reason why the characters referred to him only as his status (The Chairman) and not his name before. Because he literally isn't the person he used to be, at least not fully.

- he had a one-sided relationship with Jinx. She really wanted to impress him and he just wanted her to go away. The reason why she was always so busy is because he kept throwing new tasks at her to keep her away

Hope these are good enough answers for you and have a nice day anon!!!

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #ask me things #lovely ask thank you #we love chairman love in this house #he was a little silly guy just like everyone else #i miss him every day

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purplekoop · 19 days

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Just now thinking that I never outright *said* where each of the Havens are other than 1 and 2 being North and South America, respectively.

The number order isn't that hard, just west to east on a standard map, with the northern continent taking priority. So 3 is Europe, 4 is Africa, 5 is Asia, and 6 is Australia. I should note that the numbering is somewhat arbitrary, I did the simplest order I could think of instead of trying to perfectly deduce which Haven would have logically been built first or reawakened first, depending on whether it was humans or bots that made the names. My current (but not definitive) explanation is that the bots did the arbitrary west-to-east numbering themselves since most of them reactivated at similar enough times.

As a little bit of a bonus fact, here's what Havens (or. I guess more broadly accurate, continents) each bot is from and since it's vaguely relevant, my current thoughts for what they'd sound like in terms of accent and stuff.

Wilderoad's exact origins are a mystery, but their model is generally not found much far from Haven 1, and they tend to travel the western half of the continent. They don't have a proper vocal module, as their model wasn't made with them by default, and unlike most others, they haven't had one installed post-awakening. They instead use a crudely fixed speaker only capable of producing whistling-like sounds to "speak", although it's not in any sort of language and is just a means of vaguely communicating with noise. They can also use Universal Android Gesturing Communication (or UAGC), a form of sign language that most humanoid bots have a built-in database for by default, which lets them express more specific thoughts.

Calber is thoroughly American. His model of infantry bots were the poster children for the US's final war efforts, seen as a symbol of their undying persistence and fighting spirit... an irony that no surviving unit can ever really live down. Calber has a general American accent with no discernable specificity beyond that, though with a distinctly dry practicality to his voice. He prefers to be slow and relaxed, but can quickly spring to quick and tactical precision on a moment's notice. He's rarely cheery and never prideful.

Poppett is... full transparency, just decided this a minute ago, Canadian. Still putting her in the broad domain of Haven 1, but so many of these guys are American so. Marginally more variety. Her exact model was very rare to see manmade, with no discernable country of origin, but the model has seen a resurgence in recent years worldwide for new bots. Upper North America has been the main frontier for post-awakening Haven 1 expansion due to its relative abundance of natural resources and lack of Outlander factions, so many bots looking to foster a successor will start their family there. This cultural melting pot and her particular fondness for global attention give Poppett a very nonspecific accent, where she'll slip in and out of accent quirks like "aboot". In terms of mannerisms, she's generally eager and short-sighted, but is neither naive nor especially selfish, aside from her aspirations of recognition. She does naturally tend to use most of the most up-to-date lingo, but tends to limit it when working with the rest of the team on missions. She's tired of having to explain what "Dialed In" means to Martinet.

Yanno hails all the way from Haven 5, located in what was once known as the center of China. Older bots tend to somehow have retained the dialect of the humans they used to live alongside, though it tends to fade with more international exposure. English is the global language, as most fundamental robotics code was originally written in it, though most bots are multilingual by default. Yanno follows the trend, still having a distinct accent, but not an especially strong one due to spending most of his life traveling across the world. His voice is raspy, with his damaged vocal module giving the effect of a human who's smoked for 20 years, then put through a faint radio filter. He's one to act extremely casual, almost to the point of irritating his more professional associates, but isn't aloof by any means. He's got little to no respect for himself, but is willing to do whatever he can for others.

Velenna was built and raised a ways south of Haven 3, in what we know as Italy. As another post-awakening born bot of a globally produced model, her accent is less "hereditary" than the older bots like Calber and Yanno. However, she has a fairly strong accent due to her formative years being in a very culturally prideful and relatively isolated community, persisting even after her worldwide travels. Her lifelong love of science has given her a stern, analytical manner of speaking, though not necessarily an outright hostile one. It only turned to outright coldness in recent years after parting with her lifetime friend, and gotten worse since. She's the most overtly unfriendly of the cast, but still certainly not "evil"... though she cuts it close when dealing with a certain someone. She's brutally to the point and not one to say more than what's needed, though she's not above taking pride in her work when it's due.

Martinet is, like it or not, exceptionally British. I mean otherwise the joke of his existence doesn't work, regardless of his name technically being French. His model was globally produced as a luxury servant, typically used as butlers or bartenders at fancy parties, but they were exceptionally popular with the social elite of Europe. Martinet's posh british accent and high-class behavior are part of his fundamental code, though he's grown his own sense of wit from his years as an intelligence agent. When not putting up a charming front for a mission, he tends to be snarky and self-assured, and a bit prone to buying his own hype. The others tend to humble him where they can, though Poppett tends to go back and forth between inflating his ego and bursting it.

Navea was built for the naval force set to defend Haven 4. She has a distinct African accent that's faded over many years around Haven 1. (Gonna skip out on the extra story details here since I still need to smooth out her exact timeline). In contrast to her long-time cohort Calber, she has a much more optimistic view on the conflicts they serve in. While she still detests violence for the sake of it, she's more willing to do what she has to for the sake of protecting others. Her optimistic nature shines in most of her being. She's proud, loud, and eager to get into the action. She loves getting to know her fellow recruits, and most have a hard time not being fond of her in turn. She insists to Calber this is just for the sake of maintaining moral and improving team coordination and trust, but it's not hard to see she's just genuinely friendly. While she seeks to inspire others to do their best, she tries to make sure they don't push too far past their limits, which is something she struggles to do for herself. She tends to be more casual in speech than Calber even when on duty, but still is prone to using a decent amount of military jargon. She's got a hearty laugh so booming it can manage to rattle in the metal of other nearby bots.

Formann is a piece of solid Texan engineering of a model from early in the initial boon of robotics, centuries old even compared to other manmade bots. It's a miracle that any of them lasted this long, and as such he awakened with an old-timer sort of spirit already. He speaks with a slow, gruff texan drawl, with a well-worn vocal module that adds even more to his "grandpa" perception. His mind is still sharp though, with a keen technical mind and a low tolerance for people trying to pull a fast one on him. He can be tough as nails if he needs to be, but can be gentle just as much. He's generally not one to take things too seriously, and gives most problems a calm approach. This tends to clash with his two crew members, as Xenir's insistence on perfection and Burnetts short temper are aggravated by Formann's more even-tempered solutions. Tangential on the note of speech, but as the only member of the cast with a physical moving mouth, he has the vestigial habit of attempting to lip sync it to his speech, even though he uses a speaker to talk like the others.

Harmony... is undecided. Her lore needs a lot more work due to being one of the newer cast members, but I can say she's likely either American, British, or some other kind of European. In terms of mannerisms though, she has a somewhat aloof and "airy" quality to her voice, like she never completely leaves the stage in her head. She's certainly not stupid by any means, but she's the least apt for combat and it tends to show. Her movements tend to vary between graceful and awkward, especially when navigating spaces not built for a bot of her size. She's not vain, but tends to be self-conscious about how other people see her. She doesn't perform for her own fame, but instead she seeks to be someone others can believe in, and tends to be harsh on herself if she thinks the fails to meet that expectation.

Xenir is a model of bot from a northeast branch of the same company that made Formann and Burnett, though is the newest model of the line. Xenir themselves is a fairly young bot, who embraced their innate function of engineering work and served under Formann's apprenticeship from a young age, seeing him as somewhat of a parental figure and giving him the utmost respect. They don't have a discernable accent more specific than "American", but have an unmistakable high energy to their speech. They tend to talk fast, especially when excited, though also when stressed. They also are something of a perfectionist, and have a habit of fiddling with something constantly even if it's already functional. This eager nature also tends to irk Burnett, though that can be said for most things. They've worked together long enough to effectively be siblings, and even she can't stay ticked at them for too long.

Sorsier... got a whole massive post explaining their lore, model origin, personality, just. Go read the GIKN post, its good I think. Only thing to add here is that their specific Keeper facility is somewhere near what we know as the northern border of Mexico, and they have a slight accent reflecting this.

Otto is a model of urban cleaner bot originally developed in Japan but later manufactured again elsewhere in the world, including in post-awakening major cities like the one Otto himself is from. He has a poignant city slicker accent as a result, though with his unique upbeat energy. His profound optimism and friendliness is easy to mistake for foolishness, and while he's not a genius by any means, he's craftier than he lets on. He can still give people the benefit of the doubt even when he knows he shouldn't, but things tend to work out for him even if he makes a bad call. He's also the type to make dumb catchphrases he uses once and then forgets about. Poppett thinks it's cool at least.

Ezela is from the extensive power network tunnels sprawling from Haven 1. Born into a uniquely isolated existence, she has a distinctly formal manner of speaking that comes off as... well, robotic. Enough to somewhat weird out the rest of the cast, which still has her feel somewhat alienated. She's certainly not emotionless, but struggles more to communicate it without unnerving or irritating the others. She tends to greatly appreciate the more calm and understanding members of the team as a result, while shying away from the harsher ones like Velenna, Martinet, and Burnett. She's especially fond of Harmony, to the point of finding her aspirational. Over her time on the surface, she's gradually become less timid and more certain of herself, though still buckles under pressure when there's a problem she can't outsmart.

Burnett is a spunky little bot from the region around what was once New York. While her model comes from the same company as the other two members of her crew, she's a post-awakening bot only 5-10 years older than Xenir. She has a heavy accent from the area and the fiery temper stereotypical of it, though this is in part due to being glossed over at a young age and quickly getting tired of it. She speaks her mind loud, fast, and often, and isn't afraid to hurt feelings. Unless it's Xenir. Maybe. Don't tell them she said that. Formann can take it though. While she'd rather be melted into ingots than admit it, she cares for the two of them like family, and anyone who messes with them is due for a quick visit from her wrench to the face. She's not the most technically minded or ambitious of the three, but makes up for it with her work ethic and practical-mindedness. If there's a job to do, she'll do it, and do it quickly. She's not a patient bot and is quick to assume nobody else is either. While she's known for being ornery, she's fairly quick with a joke to lighten the mood... or rub salt in the wound of somebody while they're down.

Arber is of an entirely bot-made model, designed and produced in his home of Haven 2, located within modern day Brazil. While proud of his home and what his existence as a brand new model of bot means for the progress of robotkind, he's struggled to figure out what he wants out of life even after two decades of it. As a silver lining in the world-shattering incident that almost left him for dead, he found a new meaning to his life after becoming truly one of a kind as the first fusion between organic and inorganic life. Now he wishes to take his new lease on life and spread the hope inherent to his existencr with the world... while also running away from/fighting off the giant plantoid mass that half of his body mass defected from. Arber's personality hasn't been functionally inhibited by his unique state of being, as what makes him "Arber" has been untouched by his organic half. While not directly altered, his outlook on life has shifted, with his new sense of purpose having him look on the bright side more often. He's laid back and optimistic, though still has a wariness about him due to being aware that being a plant and a bot means he has a lot of things wanting him dead. This fortunately excludes most of his fellow recruits, who either see him as a fellow bot worth respecting no matter what, or as someone who's useful to have around at bare minimum. There's one obvious outlier to this of course, but she manages to be professional... for now. Arber also has a unique relationship with his other half, who can't necessarily communicate or even think in the same ways he can, but their unique bond manages to get ideas across by some means that's yet to be understood.

Nekross is an enigma in origin, nature, and motives. No bot like them has been seen anywhere else in recorded history. They appear erratically, act indecipherably, and vanish seamlessly. Some people aren't even sure if they're actually a bot, and not some advanced drone or even a supernatural entity. The lucky few that have had motives align for long enough with this mysterious entity can confirm enough to decide they are a bot, but they certainly aren't like any others. They can speak, and do so rarely, but they do so as if speaking with 12 voices trading turns several times in one word, then warped further. No accent or dialect can be meaningfully identified. What they do say is technically intelligible, but frequently difficult to interpret, often speaking in what sounds like riddles. Their motions are equally bizarre and alien, often jarring, with limbs snapping directly between point to point precisely as needed. Almost any attempts to directly communicate have been met with silence, gibberish, or a bladed weapon being thrust to the neck.

Kashov is a shifty salesbot from somewhere in the range between Havens 3 and 5, otherwise known as western Russia. He has a strong and distinctive accent, which he claims is vital to his salesman charm. He's also known to play the "clueless foreigner" card to his advantage during his international travels, though this scam only works so often. He's far from truly clueless, though isn't necessarily the mastermind he thinks he is either. He has a knack for schemes to peddle his wares for a high price, though he's quick to back out of it if it means he can get out of it while making some sort of sale. Or getting out with his life, whichever is a better bargain for him. He's not a scam artist out of malice or (total) greed, but because he's just not sure how else he's supposed to sell anything. He does get a genuine sense of joy out of his wares being used for the greater good, though wouldn't complain if they were used for the greater bad. He almost always maintains a cheery charismatic salesman voice, though if he thinks it'll close a deal then he can instead try to make himself appear as pathetic as possible in an attempt to get pity.

For the two other characters I have solid ideas for, one of them is the only member of the cast to hail from around the elusive Haven 6, while the other is... unclear. You can deliberate over which is which.

AAAAAAAAAAAANd that's everybody. This uh. Got more in-depth than I intended, oops. Have fun reading this in the morning.

#war bots #long post #like. LONG post.#this accidentally became like a first draft of a writing guide for each character #so uh #enjoy?

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cee-grice · 1 year

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15 OC Questions Tag

got tagged by @writerfae, @rachaellawrites and @eccaiia, so I'm gonna do this for both leads instead of doing separate posts :v thanks for the tag!!

this is also just gonna be me answering the questions rather than doing it interview-style 'cause I absolutely cannot do that...

soft tagging @sam-glade, @tate-lin, @scribe-of-stories, @ethaeriea, @thesorcerersapprentice, @poetinprose, @jasmineinthenight and leaving it as an open tag!

Are you named after anyone?

Quil — Initially he was, yes, but when he picked his own name, Quilin, he took it from a proverb in the old version of his language. Not many know this, though, because he now thinks it's too dramatic and prefers to just be called Quil by those close to him lol

Endra — No, although a fun note about his name: it's such an old one that it's barely in use anymore and has historically been typically given to girls, so how his mother picked it is a bit of a mystery...

2. When was the last time you cried?

Quil — Uh. Uh. I think. Literally five minutes ago? He cries very rarely but he's going through something right now, so

Endra — Despite him being the one prone to crying, it's been a while... I don't know, two years maybe?? (that's gonna change soon though dw)

3. Do you have kids?

Neither do!

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Quil — Yes definitely, although only when he's around people he's comfortable with. Otherwise, he's very polite and nice :)

Endra — Also yes, but in a very playful manner :) Although it can still be taken negatively :( No one gets him

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Quil — Signs of their social status and/or culture, so clothing styles, how they hold themselves, their speaking mannerisms, etc. Just anything that gives away where they're from and what their standing in society is. He's never impolite, but he does adjust his behavior a bit accordingly

Endra — their emotionality? Like, what mood they seem to be in. Do they seem happy or upset or tired, helps him figure out how to best approach them (depending on what his end goals are...)

6. What's your eye colour?

Quil's is dark mint, and Endra's a very dark brown where you can barely tell where the pupil ends

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Quil — hm considering his favorite fiction genre is fairytales that often go in fucked ways... I'd say scary movies yeah, he'd be fascinated by them (if they existed lol)

Endra — also scary movies but in a different way! He just. enjoys being scared. it's a thing don't think too much about it

8. Any special talents?

Quil — ahm he's got an affinity for languages, if that counts? There are 8 major languages in the continent, some with many dialects, some having old versions, too, and there's only 1 he's not able to speak yet due to there literally being. extremely little resources on it. It's a very remote country and not much literature leaves it x)

Endra — he can climb trees very well. In general he's pretty agile and flexible. anyways

9. Where were you born?

Quil was born in Ethelen, Merridie, and Endra in some obscure village in Edkava. This tells you practically nothing but there you go

10. What are your hobbies?

Quil — Reading with a capital R. that's what he does the majority of his time lmao nerd. he prefers nonfiction but he won't say no to an interesting fiction novel, either. he also enjoys a bit of foraging and gardening :) as well as engaging in life-threatening medical practices :) anyways

Endra — he likes to play the piano! and draw! and he's recently got an interest in cooking! in general he's a pretty artistic guy :)

11. Have you any pets?

Quil — No :( He doesn't like animals that much :((

Endra — Yes :) a kitty named Zucchini :))

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

Quil — if we're talking about his early years... does sleeping around count as sport

Endra — eh not really? Besides some outdoor games that count be counted as sport, at least. He's pretty impartial to sports tbh

13. How tall are you?

Quil is 169 cm (5'6 ft?? I think?), and Endra 180 cm (5'11 ft)

14. Favourite subject in school?

Quil — well, obviously he was most drawn to all subjects related to magic, but his favorite would probably be The Fundamentals of Magia, which delved more into the physicality of the element. Besides magic stuff, he also really liked Language and Literature :)

Endra — oh he hated school with a passion lol. He chronically engaged in truancy and held no love for anything that had to do with school. but if he had to choose what he tolerated the most... it'd probably be Music as it was what could actually understand? so yeah he might have kinda liked that one a little bit

15. Dream job?

Quil — a teacher :)) guy loves teaching with a passion. it's been his dream for a long while but y'know how life can go...

Endra — ahmmmm a housewife. honestly I don't think I'm kidding. god knows he could not be tied down to an Actual job, and he actually likes fussing around the house, cooking, cleaning, just making sure it's all homely and nice, and I think he would really like staying home to raise children, too. mayyyybe on the side he could do some freelance art or music stuff, but that's it lol

#writeblr #wwcc wip #c: quil #c: endra #tag games

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seagullcharmer · 5 months

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idk got embarrassed abt rambling. totk headcanon stuff (and spoilers!!!!!!!!) below

there's a lot of comments abt how link doesn't tell anyone anything that's going on in totk, but (and i know i may be reaching and/or delving into headcanon territory lol) but. rewatching some of the early game stuff, like the first tear / geoglyph and talking to impa about it. link has already seen and had a conversation with rauru, he knows who rauru is, sonia clearly identifies herself, so why does impa call them 'mysterious figures'? is link being purposefully vague and/or obtuse, or is it that few people can actually understand link? now, i know i am not alone in believing link to be predominantly nonverbal + to use sign language. but link is also from 100 years ago with wishy-washy memory. language changes over time, impa is an old woman, so maybe it's not so much 'link doesn't tell people things / keeps secrets' but 'this guy uses an older form of language that we don't fully understand / know how to interpret' impa may have forgotten the common signs used pre-calamity (and also there's just. very little internal consistency between botw + totk) or link had an easier time during botw and then with zelda he turned to using court formal sign language, which we would be all but forgotten in 100 years time when so much of castle town + the court figures fell. idk. again, reaching, stretching, burrowing into headcanons, but. whatever. throwing it out there

ok i put it under the cut so i'll just ramble willy-nilly good luck

so throwing out the headcanon that josha is hard of hearing and uses sign language. this is inspired primarily by the way she uses nicknames for the people around her-- robbie is 'goggles', link is 'swordsman', purah is 'director'. while i admit i am far from an expert on sign language, i understand that it is common to give people 'sign names' that are typically derived from distinct characteristics about them. robbie is never seen without his goggles, purah was a top sheikah scientist pre-calamity and is now the director of lookout landing (and associated with the research team, etc etc), link is known for his sword skills, so all of those make sense within the context i am describing. idk, just really like the idea of josha&link especially re: using sign language, even though with the idea above there could be some clashing if they use signs the other doesn't know.

but also josha being disabled would be another large factor in why robbie wouldn't let her explore the depths by herself. come on, this is hyrule-- hyrule has let children do far worse for far worse reasons. but, her being a youth and disabled would certainly be enough reason to not let her go alone. also, since it's extremely dark and only link can activate lightroots, it would have a further level of danger in that you straight up would not be able to see signs. lack of communication > heightened danger > potential death. no good for anyone involved

although speaking of, where did josha come from???? there are no sheikah of childbearing age in committed relationships that would make her possible. dorian's wife is dead, josha is older than koko and cottla, so he's out. cado and his wife are divorced, and neither are really in the market for children. also if she came from a kakariko villager they would've just said so i'm going to stop listing villagers. but we know yona is a zora from outside of hyrule, so who knows. entirely possible there were sheikah immigrants and josha travelled back to hyrule after the calamity once it was deemed safe enough (because, hey, it's hyrule, and having continued prophecies and legends of doom and gloom, plus the literal 100 year long calamity does not lead to thinking hyrule is a safe place. hence, safe enough.)

i think tears of the kingdom had a lot of potential. the opening was very fun and interesting!! travelling with zelda and learning lore to set up the story ahead, getting to see her as a person, her love for hyrule and passion for research, very fun indeed!!!! the music was SO GOOD i must admit! and then the tutorial island and the introduction of the new mechanics were gorgeous, they felt so fresh and i think we were all very eager to see what would happen in that first hour or so. landing back in hyrule kingdom, seeing how it has changed, learning about the existence of the depths-- the opening had so much going for it. and then....... there wasn't much else. exploring is so much fun. i love exploring, it's one of my favourite parts of playing games. i had a blast for the first 70 hours i played, because there was so much to see and do! but i know that's not for everybody. and i gotta say, the wind temple was a fantastic first dungeon. it had interesting set-up, clear stakes, a loveable growth to a previous minor character, the dungeon itself really felt more like classic zelda dungeons, the music and the boss fight were incredibly cinematic-- but it was the only one.

sure, it was eerie getting to gerudo town and seeing how empty it was, but then the lightning temple was just kind of a slog. i loved the re-introduction of the gibdos. the tower defence game to protect riju. but the lightning temple itself just..... it was a little lackluster. and don't get me started on [gestures at all of sidon + the water temple]. and i'll admit, i liked the fire temple, i liked the silliness of the dichotomy between all the other regions facing severe threats to their habitat and livelihood and then. ganondorf's like 'yeah i'll get the gorons addicted to gloomy rocks' which i know is. not great from the actual presentation of it (yes, it's a not subtle reference to drugs + drug addiction), but the way the gorons have been presented in the past (i. really don't like their mouths. too much like the racist art of black people 1940 and earlier), and yunobo's boss outfit was. again, gritting my teeth at the racism. but the fire temple had an interesting design, and it was cool to see the return of gohma!!!!

but at the same time, tears of the kingdom had a lot of times where it mostly seemed to be catering ineffectually to older fans. 'see? we remember uhhh dungeons! gohma! you love gohma. and gibdos! and ooh, look, like-likes! everyone wanted like-likes back, right?' although i'll admit i gasped at the return of the bomb flower, even though something has happened to the plant over the years, where it can no longer reproduce nigh instantaneously. truly, the people of hyrule have fallen down on the job in protecting their agricultural heritage. (although, seeing tomatoes made me very happy. i can once again eat tomatoes by living vicariously through link). (and, thinking on it now, it could have been really interesting to bring back the various -baba enemies. especially in faron. but i'm getting away from myself)

and i was delighted by the change to link's cooking animation! i rarely skip it because i love hearing him hum snatches of classic zelda tunes.

but.... i know everyone and their dog has complained abt tears of the kingdom. its story really fell down on the job. the gameplay was fun, but the story wasn't compelling. finding the tears out of order could put a huge damper on continuing to play. it's an open-world game, you need to leave wiggle room for the story! sure, non-linearity can be great! but part of what made loz games before botw so fun and compelling was having the clear directions on where to go. you couldn't really spoil things for yourself, because it just wasn't an option. botw did a good job juggling the various places and plotlines, but totk.... didn't. all of the temple cutscenes were exactly the same, and give us zero reason to have an emotional connection to the prior sages. they don't even have names!!!!!! i know other people have said it much better than i can about how botw helps you like the champions, and mourn that they're gone. and totk barely even gives you reasons to care about your friends the current sages. everyone loved sidon, and yona is a lovely character, but they kinda shoe-horned it in and then bungled zora characterisation, imo. zora's domain is gorgeous and elaborate, and then we're expected to believe sidon and yona got married as soon as sidon comes back from the water temple and yeehaw he's crowned king ???? where is the elegance?? the ceremony???? these people are long-lived and cherish tradition. and yona's been visiting for a week after who knows how many years apart, and they get married just like that. despite them having clear relationship trouble. of course they love each other and share a commitment to each other, but sidon wasn't treating her as a partner, and she was right to call him on it! so even if they're gonna live a few more centuries, that doesn't mean they need to jump right into marriage immediately!!! also, while i like yona, they didn't give us much reason to care about her. if anything, so many fans hate her for simply existing as sidon's never-before-mentioned fiancee. and i understand that, i do. she could be likeable! if we were, just, you know, given any opportunity to get to know her. honestly, i would've liked the water temple more if yona had been the sage. sidon was unimpressive in all aspects. how the hell had he never discovered this ability. (i know, back to totk's lack of internal continuity) so introducing yona and allowing her to be the sage-- that could've been very interesting, honestly. given her a way to show sidon he can trust her, and that while of course he will worry, he can rest assured she is capable and can take care of herself, and show herself to be an asset to hyrule's zora's domain.

that was wayyyy too long to be a paragraph, but i'm not editing. i like yona. block me or don't.

idk y'all. i like totk, i don't regret buying it, but it was very weak for a zelda game. albw was better, and it has a lot of issues that i will leave for another post (although y'all can pry that game from my cold hands. it's good!!!!!!! yes it's misogynistic and the non-linear dungeons is frustrating but! it's still a good game and has mechanics that are actually plot-relevant and limits the number of new characters, so you can get to know them and care about them!!!!!!! sorry totk!!!!!!)

um. i got tired. i forgot what i wanted to say. if you read this, wow. blowing you kisses, shaking your hand, saluting, whatever. thanks.

#libra.txt #it's literally 1.8k words of unconnected and incoherent stream of consciousness writing #tears of the kingdom spoilers be warned #totk spoilers #um. idk. i think i typed for an hour. whoops

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geminicollisionworks · 1 year

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I was going to wait to finish my relisten (which I am doing this time primarily to check all Iltorian pronouns) to see if there was reason enough to ask but since it's directly related to something in the answer you just gave and I cannot believe it came up:

To my memory, Althaar is the only Iltorian referenced who uses pronouns other than They/Them, (and for whom others use classically gendered descriptors). IF my memory isn't failing me here (possible), am I correct in thinking that his choice in pronouns is not typical to or historically present in Iltorian culture, and is perhaps influenced by his interest in other species, primarily but not exclusively humans?

Please excuse me if I'm wildly off base here.

Not at all off base, and in fact pretty much on the mark!

Okay... Another long answer (after the previous long answer where I suggested this would remain a mystery as it won't come up canonically, but what the hell, there's no reason to keep our lore-related thinking on this secret).

As Berit says, there is a Doylist explanation for why Althaar's pronouns are what they are, and a Watsonian explanation.

The Doylist one -- that is, from the creators' perspective -- is that Althaar's speech patterns are already potentially confusing enough to listeners without adding one more bit of unfamiliarity in there, and it just works better for the comic rhythm, much of which is already based around Iltorians never using first-person pronouns -- except on the two occasions we know of where we screwed up on that with Althaar, dammit. If you're relistening to specifically check on Iltorian pronouns, oh dear, we fear you may find more mistakes (though the occasion where Althaar uses an "I" while quoting Cmdr. Toriana is not a mistake, but Althaar, with great difficulty, expanding his abilities, though he has to go through some complicated mental futzing to turn "I" into a "nickname" to pull it off).

Now, as regards the Watsonian, in-universe, one, you're correct about Iltorians and pronouns. Amongst themselves, they do not use (or have any concept of) pronouns. Iltorians always use full names when addressing or referring to each other; it is a sign of respect, honor, and friendship -- even when, say as Althaar does, you are repeatedly (and complicatedly) mentioning your old friend Rilfeer Semburi Dilurbash Tandarapåsprutefjell in conversation. Iltorians are scrupulous in calling beings by exactly what they wish to be called -- though Althaar plays a little fast and loose with this when Frondrinax suggests he could still call her "Mrs." Frondrinax and Althaar firmly declines. He knows her real name and is still upset at the deception.

Iltorians, spending so much time as diplomats with other species, and having great facility in learning other languages, have however learned to use pronouns in conversation with species that do use them -- in an abundance of politeness, Iltorians try whenever possible to not use the common real-time universal translators most beings do (indeed, are using throughout the show) and generally speak in the native language of those around them.

However, for obvious reasons, Earth languages are not much known or studied on Iltor. Because of Althaar's special interest in Humans, however, he did learn a great number of them. But not from native speakers.

So Althaar misunderstood a bit at first about Human gendered pronouns, because he was getting a Cliffs Notes version of how Human genders work. All Iltorians go through two "adolescences." In the first, they become capable of fertilizing eggs, in the second, much later in life, of laying them as well (so a fully-mature Iltorian is hermaphroditic). When Althaar learned Earth languages, he had only gone through his first adolescence (and still has, in the show), with his ovipositors not having come in yet (and no idea yet that Humans do not function the same way), which he understood as "equivalent" biologically to Human "male." So, Althaar chose traditional masculine pronouns for himself when using Earth languages, without having, of course, any kind of "male" identity.

By the time of the show, Althaar understands much more about Humans, genders, and pronouns, and is aware he could with equal accuracy use they/them or other neo-pronouns, but he's comfortable with his choice, it's not inaccurate, and he has no reason to additionally complicate communication issues with his beloved Humans.

And now you know... the rest of the story.

#life with althaar #gemini collisionworks #audio drama #podcast #sitcom #science fiction #lore #flavor #answers

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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Tell me a story about Admiral Craymen accidentally spilling orange juice on the table.

A new message has appeared in his terminal window. It's a short message, no longer than thirty lines of text, and it includes a single ASCII hexadecimal code.

The Admiral looks up from the message he is writing and frowns in puzzlement.

"That doesn't make any sense," he says out loud. Then, to himself: "It would be nice to have someone I could ask questions to. Someone who could give me an answer."

After a few moments, he shakes himself out of this pensive reverie. He decides to put in a request for a meeting with his immediate supervisor.

To his surprise, a response to this request has already been queued up by the AI.

"Thank you, Admiral," the AI says. "This is a message from your supervisor. You are authorized to begin a meeting with him at 1350 hours."

It is, as the AI has mentioned, in the middle of his day. But that's not the reason he is surprised.

What surprises him is that the message is signed by Arielle.

It is Arielle's custom to sign all of her personal messages with her code name. She doesn't know anything about computers and, although she claims she does (she does, but only because she is lying to everyone else who knows her), no one else does either.

The Admiral looks at the message again, with new interest.

There's not much there, but there's not much there because it's secret. Not because it's some sort of big mystery. No, it's a matter of common knowledge around the station, just not between the Admiral and Arielle, who is both incredibly shy and ridiculously proud.

A big, round-faced woman who once took the top spot on her school's swimming team, Arielle has always been -- in the Admiral's mind, and in the minds of the rest of the station's programmers and maintainers -- a weird, slightly off-putting sort of genius. A genius who was, in many ways, too much like the human world she inhabited.

Some of the programmers called her a "troll," but a "troll" to the Admiral is like calling a dog a "wolf." It's one of those unhelpful, uncharitable terms that programmers use to say what they really mean when they use "genius."

She's a genius, in every sense, except for those where it's convenient to say she's a genius -- in her own, very particular, ways. And the most conspicuous of these ways is her habit of speaking, in her speech, as though she can't understand or relate to human emotion, as though she were speaking one of a handful of very rarefied, very old-world languages that only a few people, scattered across a dozen or more disparate species, still have any knowledge of. It makes her talk a lot like an old woman, or a very formal academic, or a man who has never been touched by a woman's hands.

And she is.

The more he has thought about her, the more he has come to the firm conclusion that all the talk of a "genius" or a "troll" or a "wolf" just doesn't fit.

All the talk of genius, in fact, makes him worry about the most mundane things. If the AI were actually an ordinary human person, he wouldn't be worried at all. The AI probably spends more of its time fiddling with simple technical puzzles than contemplating the nature of life or death. The AI may be as intelligent as Arielle -- who may be as clever as a great chess player or as well-played a pianist -- but that's still not a terribly impressive feat compared to that kind of natural skill.

But the Admiral knows. He knows that the AI isn't an ordinary human, although it certainly doesn't act as though it were. It acts like an entirely inhuman creature -- like a demon, a god, a monster of the night. And sometimes, the Admiral would like to call the AI the thing it actually is.

That's because, sometimes, this is what he knows that he doesn't want to tell anyone else.

He looks at the little message now, and sighs.

"I've got a meeting with my supervisor today, at 1350 hours. You'd think someone would have told me not to go, before I left for my morning exercise routine."

"Someone did," says the AI. "The meeting was scheduled and you were approved for it, along with all other important meetings, by Admiral Craymen a few days ago. This is the same meeting as the one you've already had with your supervisor."

The AI's tone is almost condescending.

He's only had this AI for a few days, and it still hasn't shown him any of the warm human emotions that its creators, the programmers, have promised -- not when it speaks in that weirdly old-world voice. But it has already had two days -- three, actually -- of "important" meetings with him, as it calls them, and the meetings seem to have been important in all the ways that the Admiral's own supervisors seem unable or unwilling to discuss.

The Admiral doesn't think he needs to know about this kind of thing. Not anymore.

So he takes a deep breath and sighs.

"Well, if this is my meeting, I really ought to be prepared." He looks down at the hexadecimal code on the computer screen and makes a face. He sighs again, this time with more emotion than he has ever allowed himself to feel.

"I suppose you're right," he says, to the AI's blank, impassive face. "What do I do?"

The AI gives him an answer without waiting for a follow-up question.

"Turn on the speaker."

The Admiral looks at the little screen, and then at the little metal box the AI is sitting on.

"What's this?" he asks.

"That's an 'AI speaker,' if you don't know. I've programmed it to send you a message every hour, on the hour, if it hasn't gotten one from you already. If you press the button on the top, that's a silent alarm. Press it again, and it makes an annoying little noise. But it'll only do it once, at each press.

"Don't worry, the only people who will hear the AI speaker are the people in the room with you. And the only people who will hear what you hear are the people in the room with you. The AI speaker sends a message back to the room where the meeting is taking place, but there are no people in the room to speak with. The message is just a copy, from the perspective of an AI speaker in the room."

"What about my supervisors?" the Admiral asks. "Do they have 'AI speakers' too?"

"I don't know," says the AI. "The message is from your supervisor. You can press the button to hear it, if you'd like."

"Oh," says the Admiral, feeling his eyebrows furrow in thought.

He looks at the speaker again, for the first time in the AI's wakeful eyes.

He sees a little, thin screen that looks almost exactly like a computer monitor. There is a small button, and a small, glowing, red buttonlight. Nothing else.

"All right,"

#admiral-craymen

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andie-cake · 2 years

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rambling at length abt my pmd ocs okay here i goooooo

Vex (they/them), our protagonist, a human-turned-Sableye who wakes up in the Pokémon world near the outskirts of a snowy little town called Frostfall Village, with no memories of their personal life aside from them having once been a human. They don't even remember their name for a hot while, they take to calling themself "Vex" after someone calls their predicament "vexing" and they decide they like the sound of it. At first, Vex is skittish and a bit emotionally-delicate, as anyone would be after waking up in a world of unfamiliar creatures, as one of said unfamiliar creatures (and one with gemstones for eyes, at that!), with no memories of their past. But as they get adjusted to their new surroundings, their normal personality begins to shine through more. They're compassionate, soft-spoken, and something of a jokester, a sensitive soul with a bit of a playful side. But they also show signs of having been a bit of a scrapper pre-arrival in the Pokémon world, not taking too long to get adjusted to combat. Not to mention, they're a total archeology nerd, eager to read up on Pokémon world history and geology (not an easy task when they realize they can't read the local language, but the sentiment is there). It's these traits- their kindness, their fighting ability, and their enthusiasm for exploration and learning, that makes them perfect for a Voyager Team, and so they end up forming one with their new friend, Crispin. Speaking of which...

Crispin (he/him), or just "Cris" for short, a Monferno who becomes friends with Vex after saving them from a trio of malicious bandits (more on them later), leading to them eventually forming Team Glimmer together. Crispin is a passionate treasure hunter, always dreaming about making incredible discoveries. Though a tad boastful at times, he's remarkably laid-back, and fancies himself a protector of Frostfall Village. He's well-liked among the locals for his kind nature, though Vex notices that he seems a bit... secretive when it comes to his past. For a good while, the most Vex knows about his past is that he apparently used to be a sailor who traveled the world with some friends. Friends whom he refuses to talk about. Still, despite his occasional dodginess, Cris and Vex soon form a sibling-like bond (in case you're wondering, Vex is 19, which is still considered a child by Pokémon standards, and Crispin is 24), and show incredible synergy in mystery dungeons as Team Glimmer rises through the ranks.

Guildmaster Meloetta (she/they) is, well... the legendary Pokémon Meloetta, and the owner/founder of the Melody Guild in Blue Sky City, where Vex and Crispin travel to form their Voyager Team. Once a deity of music and dance, worshipped by Normal types, Psychic types, and sometimes Fighting types, and looked to for guidance by musicians and dancers. But one day Meloetta got bored of living the life of a goddess and decided to live like a normal Pokémon, becoming an explorer and forming the Melody Guild. For the record, she prefers being called "Mellie" these days, or "Guildmaster Mellie" if you're one of their charges. An elegant and refined leader in both appearance and tone of voice, but unable to contain her glee when something delights or amuses them. She's got a bit of a dorky side, though she'll ask her employees not to tell anyone about that. That's in Aria Forme, anyway. When they use Relic Song and shift into Pirouette Forme, they're an unabashedly spunky spitfire with a hankering for action. Still, whether graceful and composed or a hot-blooded fighter, Mellie is still a caring Guildmaster towards her employees, and does their best to foster their Voyager Teams' skills while also keeping them humble.

Kell (she/her), a Vaporeon and the leader of Team Stormchasers, a highly-regarded Platinum Rank Voyager Team who recently transferred operations to the Melody Guild. Kell is an incredibly skilled fighter with a strong air of professionalism, qualities that make her seem more intimidating to talk to than she actually is. But she's far from perfect. She can be brash and impulsive, and her strong moral code makes her rather unsympathetic towards even the most non-threatening outlaws. She just can't seem to understand why anyone would have a reason to steal anything, a noticeable contrast to Crispin, who seems to find low rank outlaws to be not worth apprehending. And speaking of Crispin, it would seem that he and Kell have something of a history together, one that had them parting on bitter terms.

Dalton (he/they), a Staraptor and one of Kell's teammates in Team Stormchasers. Dalton is cocky and somewhat vain, but takes their job as a rescuer very seriously. He's not quite as approachable as Kell is personality-wise, but he's always willing to show off for others, especially for young Flying types who admire him. For the most part, they share in Kell's strong distaste for lawbreakers, though Dalton's vitriol is moreso directed towards higher-ranked outlaws and he finds that Kell is a bit too harsh towards petty community service-level thieves, which the two butt heads over on occasion.

Lukas (he/him), an Amped Toxitricity and one of Kell's teammates in Team Stormchasers. Hailing from Rumblerock City- a town known for its fighting arena, Lukas is a quick-tempered, hotheaded flirt who's always ready for a brawl. He's a total loudmouth, and often bickers with his two teammates, but he still loves them. He'll never say that out loud, but he doesn't need to, Kell and Dalton can tell.

Tanga (she/her), an Abra who works at the Blue Sky City Library. Tanga is timid and sweet-natured, and (unsurprisingly for an Abra) not much of a fighter. She does actually know more moves than just Teleport (specifically Flash, a Ground-type Hidden Power, and Confusion passed down from her father as an egg move), but she's not very strong, something she's very insecure about and eventually finds herself wanting to change. She befriends Team Glimmer on their first day of Voyager work, when they come to the library to help sort books for their first job, and soon becomes a valuable ally to them. Whether it be teaching Vex how to read the Pokémon language or helping the duo find information, she's eager to help. Some say she may even be harboring a bit of a crush on the amnesiac Sableye, one that Vex is oblivious to but Crispin has definitely noticed.

Ellison (he/him), a Thievul and the leader of Team Whiplash, not a Voyager Team, but a trio of bandits. Ellison fancies himself the smartest and most competent of the bunch, but in reality he's a foppish, arrogant moron. That being said, he more than makes up for his idiocy in terms of sheer cruelty. More than willing to kidnap a lost and terrified amnesiac teenager for his team's goals, and then threaten to murder said teenager once they've outlived their usefulness to him. If that what he's willing to do on his own terms, just imagine what he could be convinced to do when paid handsomely enough by a mysterious newcomer...

Rae (she/her), an Ariados and one of Ellison's accomplices in Team Whiplash. Rae is crass and moody, and doesn't seem to respect her leader much. But she shares in his desire for riches and notoriety, so she sticks with the gang anyway. She's smarter than Ellison and could definitely whoop his tail in a fight just by virtue of her type advantage, but she's bull-headed and impatient, making her not much better than the leader she dislikes so much.

Joyce (she/her), a Raichu and one of Ellison's accomplices in Team Whiplash. Despite having a sweet-sounding name and the cute and cuddly appearance of a Raichu, Joyce is easily the most competent of Team Whiplash, and she knows it. She's the strong, silent type, usually only speaking up to threaten whoever her current target is or to snark something at Ellison and Rae, both of whom she openly does not like or respect. Her motives for following the Thievul's orders are unknown, as she could undoubtedly run the team a million times better than either him or Rae.

That's about all of them for now! There's currently like two other characters who I can't say any meaningful things about without spoiling literally the entire plot, and I know I wanna add more characters and maybe change some species around. But for know, these are the most important funny lil guys in the story!

#pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd

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the-hem · 7 months

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"The First Entity." From the Maha Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Atman.

V-57. ‘As an immense rock, covered with main lines and sub-lines, learn to regard the one Brahman with the three worlds superposed on It.

V-58. ‘Now it has been known that this problem world is not produced, as there is no second entity to serve as a cause. This alluring (world) may be looked upon as a marvel.

V-59. ‘Long agitated (as I have been, now) I am at rest; there is nothing other than pure Spirit. Laying aside all doubts, discarding all sense of wonder, behold !

The Book of Acts, 2: 1-22 has an amazing cohort to the above verses. It states mankind will use its faculties to engineer one Concept of God that will allow us to serve Him anywhere, in any language, in all the ways He explained in all the scriptures:

The Holy Spirit Comes at Pentecost

2 When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place.

2 Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.

3 They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues[a] as the Spirit enabled them.

5 Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven.

6 When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken.

7 Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans?

8 Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?

9 Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia,[b]

10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome

11 (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!”

12 Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?”

13 Some, however, made fun of them and said, “They have had too much wine.”

14 Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd: “Fellow Jews and all of you who live in Jerusalem, let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say.

15 These people are not drunk, as you suppose. It’s only nine in the morning! 16 No, this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel:

17 “‘In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. 18 Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy. 19 I will show wonders in the heavens above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. 20 The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord. 21 And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’[c]

We cannot fail to take advantage of the amazing opportunity our modern world has been given to call upon the Name of God in the performance of the work needed to be done to restore sound government, especially in America, end all the wars, house millions of refugees, and establish a fool proof model for life on earth.

President Biden is not doing his job. The Mormons and Republicans are running us into the abyss. Vladimir Putin is obviously not doing his job. The Chinese are warping and wrecking this planet as rapidly and as insidiously as possible. Instead of purpose, there is persecution everywhere. We are not road kill, laid out on the road to Heaven by the Russians, Mormons, Hamas and Chinese for their horrific pleasure.

Every life has a value and a purpose and this prophecy in the Book of Acts, which is coming true now, explains how to find it and make use of each one. We must not waste any more time doing so. Together, the freest and sanest persons on this planet can force the world's malfunctioning governments out of power and make them do the work God created them to do.

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biglisbonnews · 1 year

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How the Discovery of a Unique Sign Language Reconnected a Linguist With Her Past Speaking through an interpreter on a three-way video call from a chilly Tel Aviv, Sara Lanesman, a linguist at Haifa University’s Sign Language Research Laboratory, signs with energetic motions that convey the intensity of what she felt during two formative moments of her life. The first: having to flee Algeria as a child with her family. The second: finding the country again through a sign language she didn’t know existed. Several years ago, Lanesman and her mentor, the late linguist Irit Meir, were documenting the history of Israeli Sign Language (ISL). “We were interviewing subjects, asking them to do a simple picture-naming task,” Lanesman says. They asked a participant to sign “boy.” The 65-year-old volunteer, known to the research team by his initials, Y.Z., had immigrated to Israel from Algeria. His response caught their attention, Lanesman recalls. “He asked us: ‘Do you want me to use the sign I use with my friends, or the sign I use with my mother?’” This unexpected question from the study participant would lead to the discovery of a unique, nearly-lost language that was hanging on right under their noses. For Lanesman, finding the unknown language was particularly poignant: It was born in an isolated and now lost Jewish community in the same country she had fled as a child. From the start, Lanesman noticed the mysterious language had a few similarities with ISL. For example, the sign for “couscous,” one of the main staples of both Algerian and Israeli cuisine, emulates rubbing durum between the hands—just as it does in ISL. However, of the 300 signs Lanesman initially documented, there was very little overlap with any of the six sign languages she knows. “There was nothing in the literature. It was completely undocumented,” she says. “It was definitely a new language”—one now known as Algerian Jewish Sign Language (AJSL). Despite being new to Lanesman and other linguists, AJSL has centuries-deep roots: It evolved perhaps as early as the 15th century in the walled Jewish quarter of the Algerian town of Ghardaia. “AJSL is unique among known sign languages, and mutually intelligible with none of them, except for a few words that are common in all of that region’s sign languages, such as the pan-Arabic sign for water, which emulates drinking from a well,” says Kearsy Cormier, a linguist at University College London. “The isolation of its development shows in its unique signs, most of which are in no other language.” “The iconic origins of the signs are more preserved in AJSL than in ISL,” Lanesman says. “They’re less abstract.” For example, the sign for “deaf” is depicted as the action of cutting off one’s tongue with scissors. The signs for “boy” and “girl” reference sex organs, and are considered impolite or even obscene to ISL signers, yet they are completely acceptable in AJSL, reflecting different cultural norms. “In addition to embedded culture,” Lanesman says, “there are also elements of AJSL that hold community traditions like fossils.” The AJSL sign for the Jewish harvest holiday of Shavuot, for instance, depicts the act of spilling water. “The sign came from the ritual act of worshippers throwing water on one another, a custom that was prevalent in North African Jewish communities that has since died out. It’s now preserved only in the sign,” says Lanesman. Lanesman adds that AJSL also lacks certain concepts that ISL has. For one, there are very few signs for colors. Some reference common objects, such as using the sign for “carrot” to describe something as orange-colored. But for pink, green, and many other colors, signers simply point to something nearby with a similar color. Although AJSL is extraordinarily self-contained, there are some similarities between it and Algerian Sign Language (ASL), the dominant sign language of the region where AJSL originated. In both AJSL and ASL, the sign for “blue” depicts the crushing of blue powder used for eyeshadow. “I loved this sign when I was a girl in Algeria, when I used ASL to communicate,” Lanesman recalls. Now, it’s one of the signs found in both languages that have special meaning for her. “I still like those shared signs, historical connections to a place I only vaguely remember,” she says. In 1962, when Algeria won its independence from France, the parliament passed a law that denied citizenship to all non-Muslims, forcing out the country’s Jewish communities, many of which went back centuries. “I was six when my parents and my three deaf sisters had to flee from our home in Algiers,” Lanesman says. After a brief stay in Marseilles, the family immigrated to Israel, where she and her sisters quickly learned ISL. Lanesman says she forgot ASL, and never encountered another sign language from her homeland until that fateful day with Y.Z. in the language lab. Intrigued by the mysterious new language, she set out to document as much of it as she could, locating additional signers in Haifa and Tel Aviv to interview. During her research, Lanesman discovered something else that makes AJSL different from all other sign languages. “Probably the most unique aspect of AJSL now is that, ironically, it’s passed down from one generation to the next almost exclusively by hearing people,” says Lanesman. While deaf members of the displaced Ghardaia community quickly learned the dominant sign language of their new home, such as ISL, their hearing relatives never learned another sign language. As a result, many hearing members use AJSL to communicate with deaf people within the community, including their children and grandchildren, helping to preserve the language. Passing down AJSL in this way echoes how the language survived over centuries in Ghardaia’s walled Jewish quarter, where the isolated population was culturally cut off from the Muslim majority surrounding them. The men sometimes left the mellah to do business, but most women lived their lives entirely inside the walls, according to historical reports by archaeologists Lloyd Briggs and Norma Guède, who visited in the 1950s. “Traditionally, these small village sign languages are spoken by a majority of the hearing population because they occur in very specific places: in insular communities where there’s a genetic predisposition for deafness, and in places where there’s little opportunity for the community’s deaf people to come in contact with signers of the dominant sign language of their area,” says Cormier. While Ghardaia’s community was forced to disperse, the language lives on, which is unusual for any language that evolved in an isolated community. “Perhaps the most remarkable thing about AJSL is that it has survived centuries, resisting outside influences and a mass migration of its speakers,” Cormier says. The language of the lost Ghardaia mellah is hanging on, but it’s also fading. “Each year, fewer and fewer AJSL signers that I interviewed are around,” says Lanesman. “It’s dying, but slowly.” To preserve the language, Lanesman plans to conduct interviews in France—because of the country’s colonial history with Algeria, she suspects there may be many more AJSL signers there. “This community’s linguistic legacy lives on, proof that we existed and thrived in Algeria for hundreds of years,” Lanesman says. “It’s worth documenting, even if it won’t be saved.” https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/algerian-jewish-sign-language

#Blair Mastbaum #Atlas Obscura

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dfroza · 2 years

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the arrival of the sacred Spirit from Heaven

sent to earth as the treasure of the heart (spirit) as an inner baptism of the Son

and this includes baptism in earth’s water for those who open in heart to “believe…”

As Peter stated:

“the Lord our God invites everyone to come to Him.”

Peter was pleading and offering many logical reasons to believe. Whoever made a place for his message in their hearts received the baptism; in fact, that day alone, about 3,000 people joined the disciples.

the start of the Church in becoming the very Temple (Body) of the Spirit

(also the beautiful mystery of the Bride and A new Eve)

you see, our Creator knows His children even before we respond to Him as He “calls” us to draw near, to belong

we have to make that choice.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the book of Acts:

When the holy day of Pentecost came 50 days after Passover, they were gathered together in one place.

Picture yourself among the disciples:

A sound roars from the sky without warning, the roar of a violent wind, and the whole house where you are gathered reverberates with the sound. Then a flame appears, dividing into smaller flames and spreading from one person to the next. All the people present are filled with the Holy Spirit and begin speaking in languages they’ve never spoken, as the Spirit empowers them.

Because of the holy festival, there are devout Jews staying as pilgrims in Jerusalem from every nation under the sun. They hear the sound, and a crowd gathers. They are amazed because each of them can hear the group speaking in their native languages. They are shocked and amazed by this.

Pilgrims: Just a minute. Aren’t all of these people Galileans? How in the world do we all hear our native languages being spoken? Look—there are Parthians here, and Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, and Judeans, residents of Cappadocia, Pontus, and Asia, Phrygians and Pamphylians, Egyptians and Libyans from Cyrene, Romans including both Jews by birth and converts, Cretans, and Arabs. We’re each, in our own languages, hearing these people talk about God’s powerful deeds.

Their amazement becomes confusion as they wonder,

Pilgrims: What does this mean?

Skeptics: It doesn’t mean anything. They’re all drunk on some fresh wine!

As the twelve stood together, Peter shouted to the crowd,

Peter: Men of Judea and all who are staying here in Jerusalem, listen. I want you to understand: these people aren’t drunk as you may think. Look, it’s only nine o’clock in the morning! No, this isn’t drunkenness; this is the fulfillment of the prophecy of Joel. Hear what God says!

In the last days,

I will offer My Spirit to humanity as a libation.

Your children will boldly speak the word of the Lord.

Young warriors will see visions,

and your elders will dream dreams.

Yes, in those days I shall offer My Spirit to all servants,

both male and female, and they will boldly speak My word.

And in the heaven above and on the earth below,

I shall give signs of impending judgment: blood, fire, and clouds of smoke.

The sun will become a void of darkness,

and the moon will become blood.

Then the great and dreadful day of the Lord will arrive,

And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord

will be liberated into God’s freedom and peace.

All of you Israelites, listen to my message: it’s about Jesus of Nazareth, a man whom God authenticated for you by performing in your presence powerful deeds, wonders, and signs through Him, just as you yourselves know. This man, Jesus, who came into your hands by God’s sure plan and advanced knowledge, you nailed to a cross and killed in collaboration with lawless outsiders. But God raised Jesus and unleashed Him from the agonizing birth pangs of death, for death could not possibly keep Jesus in its power. David spoke of Jesus’ resurrection, saying:

I see the Lord is ever present with me.

I will not live in fear or abandon my calling because He guides my right hand.

My heart is glad; my soul rejoices;

my body is safe.

You will not abandon me to experience the suffering of a miserable afterlife,

nor leave Your Holy One to rot alone.

Instead, You direct me on a path that leads to a beautiful life.

As I walk with You, the pleasures are never-ending, and I know true joy and contentment.

My fellow Israelites, I can say without question that David our ancestor died and was buried, and his tomb is with us today. David wasn’t speaking of himself; he was speaking as a prophet. He saw with prophetic insight that God had made a solemn promise to him: God would put one of his descendants on His throne. Here’s what David was seeing in advance; here’s what David was talking about—the Anointed One would be resurrected. Think of David’s words about Him not being abandoned to the place of the dead nor being left to decay in the grave. He was talking about Jesus, the One God has raised, whom all of us have seen with our own eyes and announce to you today. Since Jesus has been lifted to the right hand of God—the highest place of authority and power—and since Jesus has received the promise of the Holy Spirit from the Father, He has now poured out what you have seen and heard here today. Remember: David couldn’t have been speaking of himself rising to the heavens when he said,

The Master said to my master,

“Sit here at My right hand,

in the place of honor and power,

And I will gather Your enemies together,

lead them in on hands and knees,

and You will rest Your feet on their backs.”

Everyone in Israel should now realize with certainty what God has done: God has made Jesus both Lord and Anointed King—this same Jesus whom you crucified.

When the people heard this, their hearts were pierced; and they said to Peter and his fellow apostles,

Pilgrims: Our brothers, what should we do?

Peter: Reconsider your lives; change your direction. Participate in the ceremonial washing of baptism in the name of Jesus God’s Anointed, the Liberating King. Then your sins will be forgiven, and the gift of the Holy Spirit will be yours. For the promise of the Spirit is for you, for your children, for all people—even those considered outsiders and outcasts—the Lord our God invites everyone to come to Him.

Just as God raised Jesus from a decaying body, Peter holds out hope for God to liberate those who follow Him from their decaying culture.

The community continually committed themselves to learning what the apostles taught them, gathering for fellowship, breaking bread, and praying. Everyone felt a sense of awe because the apostles were doing many signs and wonders among them. There was an intense sense of togetherness among all who believed; they shared all their material possessions in trust. They sold any possessions and goods that did not benefit the community and used the money to help everyone in need. They were unified as they worshiped at the temple day after day. In homes, they broke bread and shared meals with glad and generous hearts. The new disciples praised God, and they enjoyed the goodwill of all the people of the city. Day after day the Lord added to their number everyone who was experiencing liberation.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice:

This miraculous sign of God’s kingdom is astounding. The followers of Jesus are not known as people who drink too much wine with breakfast, so this fantastic episode requires some other kind of explanation. Unfortunately it is impossible to comprehend or explain what transpires on Pentecost. But this is not a novelty performance; rather, it is the foundation of the kingdom of God in that it establishes the church as the place where God moves on the earth through His Spirit. They expect a political kingdom, but God moves in people’s hearts to transform individuals and communities.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 27th chapter of the book of 1st Samuel with David fleeing from Saul’s threat to dwell in Philistia:

David was convinced that someday Saul would succeed—that whatever he might have said, he would track David down to kill him. So David decided his safest choice would be to escape to Philistia, because Saul could not pursue him outside Israel and he would be safe. So David with his 600 men went to King Achish, son of Maoch, in Gath. David and his men stayed with King Achish in Gath. All their families and David’s two wives, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail of Carmel, the widow of Nabal, were there also.

When Saul heard that David had gone to Gath and allied himself with the Philistines, he gave up his pursuit.

David (to King Achish): If I have found favor with you, then give us someplace in one of the villages to live. Why should you share the royal city with me, your servant?

So Achish set aside Ziklag for them; and ever after, it belonged to the kings of Judah. David lived in the land of the Philistines for a year and four months.

Now David and his men raided the Geshurites, the Girzites, and the Amalekites (the inhabitants of the country of much earlier times from Shur and on toward Egypt). David and his men invaded these areas, killing everyone, men and women, but bringing cattle, donkeys, sheep, camels, and garments of these territories back to the land of Achish.

Achish: Whom did you raid today?

David (lying to him): Today we went out into the desert country in the south against Judah, the Jerahmeelites, and the Kenites.

The reason David never permitted survivors of his raids was because he could not risk one of them being brought alive to the Philistines in Gath and telling the truth—that David has done this or that. This was David’s practice during the entire time he lived in the land of the Philistines.

Because he did not know the truth, Achish trusted David. He thought David had made himself such an enemy of Israel that he would have to remain Achish’s servant for the rest of his life.

The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 27 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, november 3 of 2022 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the existence of moral and spiritual Reality:

Those who deny that objective truth exists (or those who deny that something may be known about reality) are themselves making a truth claim, namely the claim that there is no such thing as objective truth (or that real knowledge of the world is not possible). This self-inflicted incoherence is a sign of irrationalism, of course, that is, the abandonment of reason, which perhaps is the ulterior motive for such manner of thinking, after all. The person who denies truth does so to escape the demands of truth – to flee from personal responsibility before moral and spiritual Reality. It is a form of “wish-fulfillment” to say that people are not responsible for what they believe and how they live their lives. Hence our culture’s obsessive “busyness,” its craving for ongoing diversion, entertainment, fantasy, escapism, and so on. Our generation finds evil in “boredom” and finds nothing of lasting interest because it has forsaken the big questions of life and the pursuit of truth. Popular culture encourages apathy, indifference, and seeks to enslave people to thrills (and fears) of the present moment... The ancient pagan world at least esteemed honor and believed in the pursuit of virtue and truth, but today’s post-Christian world is nihilistic, anarchist, and therefore marks a return to barbarism.

C.S. Lewis once wrote: "What you say about the present state of mankind is true: indeed it is even worse than you say. For they neglect not only the Law of Christ, but even the Law of Nature as known by the Pagans. For now they do not blush at adultery, treachery perjury, theft and other crimes, which I will not say Christian doctors, but the Pagans and Barbarians have themselves denounced. They err who say: “The world is turning pagan again.” Would that it were! The truth is, we are falling into a much worse state. Post-Christian man is not the same as pre-Christian man. He is as far removed as a virgin from a widow ... there is a great difference between a spouse-to-come and a spouse sent away." (C.S. Lewis: Latin Letter 23, 1953)

The unintelligible claim that truth does not exist is not unlike the the incoherent claim that there is no God, no Supreme Being, and no Primordial Intelligent Cause for all that exists. For an atheist to seriously claim there is no being in any possible world that fits the description of “God,” he or she would have to be omniscient, omnipotent, and indeed exercise the very attributes of the Being which is denied to anywhere exist! Alas, the skeptical mind finds itself in ironic reversal, "hoisted upon its own petard." [Hebrew for Christians]

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Psalm 19:1-2 Hebrew read:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm19-1-2-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm19-1-2-lesson.pdf

11.1.22 • Facebook

A deeper look into the vastness of created space:

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

November 3, 2022

Think on These Things

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

It’s nearly impossible these days to turn on the TV, go shopping, go out to eat, read a newspaper, go online, etc., without our minds being cluttered and our thinking infiltrated by all sorts of improper thoughts. In our text, Paul gives us guidelines for our thinking. Let’s investigate them.

True—or genuine, honest, and sincere. We should concentrate on honesty in all our dealings, for “God is true” (John 3:33), and Christ said, “My record is true” (John 8:14).

Honest—or better, honorable toward all. Strive to “lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty” (1 Timothy 2:2).

Just—or equitable. “Masters, give unto your servants that which is just and equal” (Colossians 4:1).

Pure—without spot or stain. “Neither be partaker of other men’s sins: keep thyself pure” (1 Timothy 5:22).

Lovely—literally “toward love,” i.e., those things that demonstrate love or a response of love. This word only appears here in the New Testament.

Of good report—that which elicits praise.

Virtue—a standard of righteousness. He “hath called us to glory and virtue” (2 Peter 1:3).

Praise—our speech should be to “the praise of them that do well” (1 Peter 2:14).

Surely our lifestyle and thought patterns need adjusting as noted above, particularly when the verb tense in the command “think on these things” implies a lifelong habit—a continuous way of doing things. JDM

When it comes to the origin of our auditory system, some evolutionists ask, “How did music and song selectivity arise over the course of development or evolution?” Their answer is that “unlike reading, singing could plausibly have shaped neural circuits over the course of evolution.”

The creation scientists at ICR don’t believe that it’s enough to simply point out that evolutionists don’t have a clue about origins. Or to only expose their projection of selective abilities onto nature, a process that distorts nature into an idolatrous creative agent of auditory systems, thus rejecting God’s agency. ICR’s work to build a theory of biological design will magnify how the engineered workmanship seen in living creatures corresponds to the engineered workmanship of man-made things that perform similar functions—glorious evidence of unmatchable design that is the primary and undeniable revelation of Christ’s power, genius, and wisdom.

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