Rest in peace, Bobimus.

On Saturday morning, I held our dear rat in my hands while Jeremy busily cleaned out his cage. I didn’t know then it would be for the last time. He ate a peanut, his favorite snack, and then nestled down into my Orange Bowl sweatshirt. A short time later, he fell asleep against my palms while we waited together for Jeremy to finish.

For Bob, the rest of the day was spent arranging his fresh rags around his cage in just the way he wanted. He covered his food-bowl with one, in the way we lovingly remark as his “lazy-stashing” technique. The other two, he pulled into his purple house and fluffed, pulled and fluffed again and again, until the entire house floor was covered with comfortable, clean bedding. He left a small opening at the top of his house door, to peer out on us as we unpacked the living room whenever his curiosity arose. This was his routine.

At one point last night, Bob grew tired and slowly made his way back to his house for the last time. He curled up in a ball as he liked to do, shut his eyes and laid down for rest.

Bob was three and a half.

I'm sorry it's a little depressing for a welcome back post. I've missed you guys and there will be more (uplifting news) to come.

Nyquil and Christmas Lists

Sniffle, Sniffle

---

I’m sick today. Just with generic sore throat, sniffle crud, and overall being miserable. I've gotten nothing accomplished, trying to sleep and accumulating a pile of Kleenex balls on the end table near my couch. Eeew... You’ll have to forgive me for a sloppy post: I’m on serious drugs.

But I did knock out my Christmas wish list, so Sheri: you’ve been asking and it’s here. Yay! Please don’t feel the need to clear the sucker out all on your own; if my Christmas is solely comprised of the new Batman on BluRay, I’ll be ecstatic. :)

No more Ads :)

---

I’ve also permanently ditched Google Adsense from this blog that earned me a whopping $13 in two years. Not even enough to receive a first check. I’m replacing it with just Paypal. That way, if I get a generous-feeling reader every now and then browsing Blogger, at least I can get myself a cup of coffee at Starbucks. No minimum payout there.

Mmmm. I love coffee.

Check out my nifty new buttons on the side-bar ----------------------->

New Series Coming Thursdays on Thia Loves the Summer

---

I'm tired of whining about how much I miss writing. So, I'm jumping back on the horse. Here's my plan: I’m tabulating a small collection of stories I’ve written over the past 18 months or so. As an experiment, I’m going to post them here kind of like a regular series, called: Unnatural Tales, I think.

I’ve picked Thursdays as a regular posting time. I’ll do this for eight weeks and we’ll see how popular it is with ya’ll. If you like it: I’ll keep it up. If not, I’ll likely scrap it in lieu of a Sci Fi soap opera idea I’ve been tossing around for a few weeks.

I’m pretty excited about picking up writing again. I hope I’m not over-committing the amount of time I’ll need to dedicate to do it well. I’m pretty soaked up with work and studying these days.

Anyway, look for a first installment tomorrow night.

Zero progress today on MS certification exam studying today. Ugh, I hate being sick. I'm going back to bed. See you guys tomorrow.

Love ya,
-T.

Gambling Anyone? Say it ain't so!

Hmmm... Gambling is too stressful...

I'm the kind of girl that can't bring myself to drop a dollar in a slot machine. Nope, can't do it. Even though I've been to Reno and Vegas a handful of times. Something about losing my hard-earned money in a few seconds of lunacy elicits my gag reflex.

And then I found CentSports (thanks, Jeremy!). A site that lets me spend other people's money... for free. Say it ain't so! That would be a dream come true to oh so stingy but wildly competitive individuals like myself. But it's true!

So if you want to play me, I hope to see you there!

http://www.centsports.com/?opcode=300548

This is how it works. CentSports funds itself through a network of advertisers, not you. So, every person starts with 10 cents to bet on any college or professional sports outcome (I lost 4 cents on Louisville today, dang it!). If you're good, and make it to $10, you're a rock star and are eligible to cash out your earnings, for yep... real money.

If you lose everything... you get to start over at 10 cents (with again no cost to you).

So, I'm not so hot yet. But I believe I can get there with some risk-free practice! And I'm also completely addicted to messaging my friends to mercilessly mock their losses (just kidding!).

Let the games begin. YAAAYYY!!

Love,
T.

P.S. Thanks Nikki, for sending me and J more pics from the wedding. Otherwise I wouldn't have this gem from the Bachelorette Party. Ah, memories :)

Bachelorette Party Originally uploaded by Linux Chick.

YouTube Impersonation #2

Hopefully, this is a last post about this issue. I've been asked how it's going.

Unfortunately, not well. BeautyIsMe911 hasn't responded to requests to remove my images from her site. And, she continues to receive death threats for her trolling, even though she knows her user base still largely believes she is me.

Here's a message I sent to her inbox this evening. Additionally, I am looking for volunteers who can be added to a witness list on my behalf. If you have witnessed this user's impersonation attempts first hand or have been otherwise victimized by this user, please consider providing me with your contact information (just an E-mail address for now) and a short description of what you have seen.

You can send this information to me privately at my YT account: http://www.youtube.com/user/thiamichelle. I *will not* share this information with anyone beyond my legal counsel, if I choose to take action.

Thanks so much!
-T.

The following is an actual letter sent to BeautyIsMe911 today

Hello,

This is a courtesy mail to alert you that you are illegally using my digital property without permission and failure to respond may result in legal action against the user in possession of the YouTube account: BeautyIsMe911.

I realize that this is the third time you have been contacted by me requesting the removal of my digital property from your site, but I have recently received legal advice that it would be advantageous to my claim if I can produce as evidence that you have been clearly notified that I have not consented to your use of my property. You have deleted my messages to this effect, so I will retain a copy of this message having been sent to your user account November 30, 2008 and will post a copy of it to my personal blog.

Copyright of photographic digital property constitutes the following:

Copyright is secured automatically when the work is created, and a work is “created” when it is fixed in a copy or phonorecord for the first time. No publication or registration or other action in the Copyright Office is required to secure copyright.

Section 106 of the 1976 Copyright Act generally gives the owner of copyright the exclusive right to do and to authorize others to do the following:

• To reproduce the work

More information about this crime can be read at: www.copyright.gov

The property in question is my image I am showing as evidence originally posted to my personal Flickr account in July 14, 2005:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/linux_chick/26043311/in/set-72157594174429869/

This image was illegally used by your YouTube account BeautyIsMe911 from October 2008 and is still in use today.

Further more, if you are using this account to attempt to gain revenue by intentionally leading others to believe you are the individual advertised in your site images, it is fraudulent act. I am citing the following textual examples as evidence that you are knowingly leading users to believe you are the woman captured in the stolen digital property in question.

Screenshots from your website and messages:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/linux_chick/3072716785/in/set-72157609184983826/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/linux_chick/3032863915/in/set-72157609184983826/

Also as evidence that you are intentionally leading user to believe you are the individual as advertised in your website, you have deleted all textual comments that have attempted to correctly alert your users that you are not the person in any of the images on your YouTube website.

I’ve received counsel that advised me to do the following immediately:
1) Clearly request removal of my digital property from your site in a manner that can be produced as evidence, and
2) To begin tabulating a list of witnesses on my behalf

I will begin over the upcoming weeks tabulating this list. To date, I have two volunteers that I have added to my complaint.

This letter can be considered an official notice, that unless this matter is rectified promptly, legal action may be taken against you.

Thank you for your time.

YouTube Impersonation

YouTube Impersonation Originally uploaded by Linux Chick.

Recognize that girl? Yep, that's because it's me. Only it isn't.

A good samaritan recognized me on Flickr and tracked me down to Facebook to let me know that a woman(?) claiming to be "Amaya" had stolen my images in hopes to bump her own traffic and was harassing other YouTubers, making racist comments and overall sucking at life (Thanks, Diana for your diligence in finding me!).

Is your head spinning, yet? Mine was.

Apparently, the user claims to be somewhat of a hair expert and enjoys calling out other users for "fashion faux pas." One of her primary victims, Ateyaa, sent me a sweet note to let me know that she hopes I sort this out, since people now know who I am and believe me to be a "mean person."

I can see that I've also received some messages on my Flicker account. So now, I'm irritated that I feel I need to write this post to defend myself. In case it isn't obvious by this point, here it is:

I am not BeautyIsMe911, and I don't know who is. The profile pic is indeed my image, but it was stolen and used without my knowledge or permission. I'm not a part of the hurtful and ignorant nonsense spewed by this user and am doing everything in my power to wrap up the matter quickly.

I've reported the user to YT, posted on her videos and even J has demanded her removal of my stolen images. Fortunately for me, from what I've read today, it looks like YT takes copyright issues fairly seriously. We'll have to wait and see.

And as much as I hate to send my traffic her way, I'm eager that together we can pressure her to do the right thing before YT takes action.

Lame!

http://www.youtube.com/user/BeautyIsMe911

Amaya, if you're reading this: do the right thing. It's time to own up.

The End of Our Pregnancy

LC
Originally uploaded by Linux Chick.

Warning:

---

First thing’s first. I’m sorry for spending so long away, only to return with this downer of a post. I regret that it will be anything but uplifting, so I apologize and invite you to NOT read any further.

After I wrote this, I debated about whether I should even post it. But, I found other women’s stories so comforting, even if they were just venting that I decided to throw it on here for the world to judge. Who knows? Maybe someone will come across it Googling and hopefully walk away feeling a little less alone.

So, here’s what I wrote. It’s unedited, so be warned…

Yesterday

---

Yesterday, I wondered if I should be writing all this down. That if things did not work out like we hoped things would, if I would look back on yesterday’s moment and somehow be envious.

The thought was ridiculous at the time, I was so rapt with worry about the future of our unborn that any news (yes, even the most terrible of news) would have been a relief. Anything else I may have felt, I can’t remember now.

Today, I wish I could write all the things that yesterday I couldn’t bear to. But, I’m unable to grasp anymore the optimism that I used to cling onto: that everything might work out okay and the baby might somehow make it through this pregnancy.

The Miscarriage

---

I knew it was all ending, and soon. I sat on the toilet with the balls of my feet and palms of my hands against the tile floor. I was sweating and I wondered if I was going to throw up. There was pain. And with the pinching, everything in my body betrayed me and worked to expel our precious little one.

When it was over, I gripped the shower curtain beside me and sobbed. 

Suspecting this would happen for nearly two weeks, didn’t really help. Knowing that 20% of all pregnancies end this way didn’t help. I was devastated.

I couldn’t speak. Crumpled on the floor, it took me almost an hour to tell J what happened.

Today

---

Aside from the bleeding, nothing in particular is different about today. An hour ago, I washed my face and looking in the mirror, I started to put on my make up. The routine should’ve felt more familiar than it did. It's after all just another day, but I was surprised that with all that had happened, I appeared totally unchanged.

But everything had changed.  I looked down at my flat tummy, knowing it would never grow and grew angry.  I wanted to yell at it: 'What's so wrong with you that you couldn't keep the baby!?  You look fine!  You're not sick!'

It’s utterly impossible not to feel that you’ve failed in some terrible and very fundamental way.

I must’ve aged a thousand years today.

-T.

Do Democrats Have Too Much Pride?

Obama vs. Hillary
Originally uploaded by Manuel Valencia.

See how happy they look? Why can't we learn the value of good comradeship like these two? *sigh*

Democrats are... Defectors?

---

Now, I'm a Democrat and am probably going to catch all kinds of crap for this.

Let me begin with saying that I'm a Hillary supporter. Yep, I felt the sting last Tuesday when I watched her campaign chances all but dwindle down to zero. I'm still donating on my recurring campaign automated schedule and I'm behind her as long as she's in it (and today, it sounds like she is definitely in it to stay). But, I'm not in complete denial that pending a miracle, she's about done.

Okay, fine. So, it sucks... but we don't always get what we want. When/if she’s counted out, I'll give myself a couple weeks to sulk, then I'll start buying Obama buttons.

A significant number of us seem to disagree. I felt a wave of genuine nausea last Tuesday at a polling statistic touted by MSNBC. Only 48% of Indiana and North Carolina Hillary supporters would support Obama in the election should she lose. Less than half?!

If Obama wins, nationally, 28% of Hillary supporters will vote... McCain?! Obama supporters are a little better at 19%.

Today, that number is up to almost 50%, with only 34% of West Virginian Hillary supporters willing to support Obama in the national election should he win the nomination.

What’s the deal? This is beyond Obama's image getting muddied over Hillary throwing a little dirt.

And it’s bigger than a demographic.

I am so tired of hearing that Hillary supporters are uneducated racists. I’m a college graduate, twenty-something minority female engineer. I’m sure that Hillary has a few bigots in her clan, probably as many sexists that have flocked to Obama. But I digress.

It's a Simple Question of Policy, Right?

---

When it comes down to policy, it’s a struggle to find any two serious candidate contenders more aligned than Hillary and Barack.

We’re saying (and by we, I mean Democrats), that after our self-professed general political alignment with the Democratic ideals, if we lose Hillary, we’d opt to prolong/send more the war and make Bush’s tax cuts for the wealthy permanent?!

Either, we haven’t been paying close attention to what Hillary plans to do in the White House, or something else is going on.

I’m going with door #2… and I think it’s pride.

We Need to Swallow It Down

---

We can all take a lesson from Alanis on this one. Why? Because we absolutely can lose this Presidential election if we don't get it together.

Some of us have been very invested in the campaigns and have listened to all the speeches. We think Obama is just great, (really, we think he's a nice guy). But we just aren’t convinced he would make as strong of a President compared with Hillary. Over time, that perception of him as “motivational,” “great” and all-round nice guy has become tainted. It’s probably not even Obama’s fault.

It’s the same reaction that happens when we see an evangelist on the street corner holding up a sign reading: “Jesus loves you.” Even fellow Christians cringe and cross the street.

See, no one likes to be preached to (in fact, by now, you're probably already growing sick of my rant), and there are a lot of Obama (and yes, I know, Hillary) zealots out there touting their candidate as the holy messiah to save us from all things unhappy.

I've felt it, too.

But, at the end of the day, I hope I can take a deep breath and realize that it’s the reason this dang nomination is dragging out so long: it’s hard for us to choose between two strong candidates.

And, our country needs a Democrat to clean up our current mess/disaster that Republicans seem to be in denial about. If Hillary doesn’t make it, Obama can and will be an excellent choice. The nominee is going to need our support.

So, if it’s pride (and I think it is), how do we fix it by November?

Comments? Leave them below.

On to other stuff...

I Was Dugg, Yay!

---

It's not a significant accomplishment compared with any serious blogger (I got a whopping 10 and 4 for two articles here). And it'll probably never happen again, but I was excited enough to add the Digg widgets to my blog.

So, now, I can be more easily mocked when I all my subsequent post diggs sit at zero :)

Donate, today to HillaryClinton.com

How to Survive a Zombie Invasion: A Practical Guide

In case of zombies....
Originally uploaded by Drunken Monkey.

It's a Zombie Invasion! What do I do?!

---

Have no fear. If the undead begin to rise and reak havok on civilization as you know it, this trusty guide will safely navigate your survival.

I watch a lot of zombie movies. It's my dad's fault. He used to sit down with me from the age of six to view any run of the mill slasher I wanted. I loved it. I saw all the Nightmare on Elm Streets (multiple times in fact – these were my favorites). I grew up on Jason, Halloween, Night of the Living Dead, you name it. So, over time, I've come to consider myself somewhat of a horror amateur connoisseur.

In my experience, there are some practical actions we can take to avoid death should a zombie invasion occur that typically go unexamined on film. It's no accident – employing these rules will allow humans to win... and that's simply not as entertaining.

What is a zombie?

---

In order to successfully survive a zombie invasion, we have to be sure we've correctly identified what a zombie is. Not to be confused with vampires, zombies are an undead threat to us in daylight and nighttime. These reanimated corpses were previously living humans (or animal, see Resident Evil Zombie Dogs), that have died, and though dead, are now walking among and attacking the living.

Note that this definition excludes “zombies” in films like 28 Days/Weeks Later. Apologies to all the fans (I like the franchise, too), but although they contain a virus/cannibalistic component, they are not technically zombie films since the infected are not undead and are subject to starvation, death and other natural elements as normal individuals are. My survival “rules” only work given the standard characteristics of true zombies.

Survival in 3 Steps

---

Surviving a zombie invasion requires careful mastering of three items in order of priority: 1) Environment, 2) Body armor, and 3) Weaponry.

Environment

---

You cannot run forever, and zombies never sleep. They are forever walking around in hopes of stumbling across a member of the living to devour. So, it is vitally important to quickly identify a secure location to live and sleep.

Go upstairs and destroy the stairwell. Zombies cannot climb or swim. Apparently, this requires higher brain function than zombies have. Luckily, we can do both. So unless you can quickly identify a castle with a mote, I'd pick a second plus story apartment. Then, either destroy the stairwell, or you have to permanently block the door. From here on out, you will be scaling the building to climb in or out of your residence of choice. No zombie will be able to follow you.

Apartments are more desirable to houses, because they usually have crawl spaces that connect to other apartments. So, not only do you have to jump up to get in them, but they can give you a quick way out that the undead cannot follow if you need it.

Climb your way to safety.

Body Armor

---

I have yet to see this discussed in a zombie film, and to me the is the most surprising omission. One constant across all films: it will be very bad for you if you are bitten by a zombie.

The details tend to vary, but you are infected with zombie blood and one of two things will happen: 1) your wound will get infected because zombies have very poor hygiene and you will eventually die (and become a zombie), or 2) the zombie blood is lethal and so you will quickly die and, well... become a zombie.

You will eventually have to venture outside for supplies/human companionship/sheer boredom, and any exposed flesh will be ripe for a surprise zombie attack. For this, you will need to find the nearest military base or abandoned soldier's home and steal an army combat uniform plus boots.

Lucky for you, zombies really only have one weapon – their teeth. They will never pick up a gun, rock or other weapon. In fact, in most films, zombies are not intelligent enough to operate door turn handles. They are deadly when they surprise you, and when they swarm you in large numbers. The ACU protects you from both. It's not penetrable by human teeth (but you must protect your neck and face!), and is light enough to allow you to get up and run to avoid a potential attacking clan.

If you can't find an ACU, use what you have. Wear jeans, even bubblewrap is better than nothing! Why some individuals venture outside in a zombie situation in shorts and a tank top is beyond me. Sounds like a candidate for Darwin Awards.

Cover up exposed flesh.

Weaponry

---

Eventually, you will need to kill a zombie. Zombies can only “die” through blunt trauma to the head or decapitation. You cannot break their necks, burn them alive, or otherwise injure them. Zombies do not feel pain.

Guns are great, but you will eventually run out of bullets. Murphy's law instructs you this will happen at precisely the wrong moment. The key lies in being prepared with a variety of weapons.

Guns will help you for paving a way through a mob. You only need to shoot a clear path – then run for cover. Fresh meat and zombie mobs tend to attract more zombies.

Baseball bats are a fantastic choice. They are quick and pretty clean, minimal risk of zombie infection.

Knives and stabbing weapons are usually a mistake. They allow the undead too close, within biting range. But if you must, I would recommend attaching the stabbing weapon to a plastic broom or some other durable stick. The key here is to keep the zombie face as far away from the body as possible.

Remember that face offs with zombies always end up bad for the human. If all the above fails and your zombie has come within arms reach, don't panic. You simply have to maneuver yourself behind the zombie. Then, grab your foe by the back of the neck (you know, like the snake handlers on Animal Planet). Now you have control of your zombie and are free to bash his(/her?) head against the nearest wall or suitable solid object of choice.

With any luck, you are entangled with the pre-2001 flavor of zombie, which are extremely slow. In this case, out-maneuvering your opponent should be a snap.

And remember – aim for the head. :)

I hope you have enjoyed this little survival manual. I'm open to critique and further thoughts. Leave them below.

We're so *Class-y-cal*

A Night with Mozart

---

Last night, Jeremy and I got all pretty and went to the Sacramento Choral Society's Requiem by Mozart. He was required to go for a Music Appreciation course he has, but I decided to come along for fun. See how pretty we are?

I always seem to appreciate art more when there is a local focus. Reading the program, I learned that all of the members of this orchestra and choir were professional musicians currently living in the Sacramento area. The pieces performed after the intermission weren't even Mozart, but requiems from grammy-nominated USC professor Morten Lauridsen's Lux Aeterna, written in 1997. I'm not sure if this local composer theme is a regular thing with this group, but for me, it worked.

After the concert, I overheard an elderly couple remark that, "The first half was wonderful, but the second was absolutely magnificent," apparently none the wiser that a second composer had been slipped into the program at all. What a compliment for Lauridsen.

The choir received a deserved standing ovation.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful Mother's Day!

It's the Anniversary!

Alicia Keys in a Red Dress
Originally uploaded by bigdmia

It's our two-year anniversary and Jeremy did freaking awesome. Well, okay our anniversary is in a few weeks. But there's a reason we're doing it early.

I was greeted Thursday afternoon by a dozen roses, an appropriately mushy card, and two tickets to Alicia Keys this Sunday night. What a surprise -- I'm pretty much on Cloud 9, but I'll stop here.

Don't want to make the ladies jealous :)

Other Stuff

---

I love this apartment complex, community, and blah blah - but the management could use some work.

Yesterday, I received a bright green "Illegally Parked" notice stuck on my car window. And when I say "stuck," I mean the break-out-your-paint-scrapers, peel away in millimeter-diameter strip fragments for twenty minutes while hurling explicatives kind of stuck. The guy (or girl) had to have broken out a blow dryer to make that sucker bake against the glass in the few hours the notice had been there. That, or paper adhesive backing is now secured with super glue.

I was pretty hot.

Apparently, I'm "illegally parked," for leaving my complex registered vehicle in my one parking spot allotted to me in my lease. Reason? My car "hasn't moved" -- the only comment on the notice. Wow.

So, sue me. Lately, I carpool.

What really gets me is, every day I pass all kinds of cars illegally parked in the driving areas of my complex. Occasionally, they are blocking other residents in. Occasionally, they are blocking me in. But management here is very proactive. Yay! For this, we all get generic nasty-grams from management telling us that if residents don't begin using designated parking, management reserves the right to hold garage inspections.

Garage inspections? Why not tow them?

I think I understand, the idea here is that some residents are packing their garages full of their crap and use two outdoor parking spaces, instead of their lease allotted one.

Nothing ever comes of the threats. And anyway, how are residents supposed to use their garages when we're always worrying about being blocked in?

Apparently, this is okay, so long as we routinely move our cars from one illegal spot to another.

Yep. Tow the legally-parked residents and we'll free up the space for the folks parking in the middle of the driving areas. Then, everybody wins!

Meh, I think I may be jaded that there are still tiny bits of that notice maybe forever stuck to my poor Neon window.

Battlestar Galactica Predictions

The Last Supper
Originally uploaded by kidddrunkadelic14.

I'm venting today a little about a topic that I'm frankly sick of thinking about. Apologies in advance for pulling you into my deluded psyche. Here we go.

So, who is the fifth and final cylon?

For going on three weeks now, I've been convinced that it's Anastasia Dualla. (That's right, Dee. I said it!)

So, why Dee...

---

My rationale was three-fold:

Point One: Gender
The fifth is probably female. This keeps what I like to call our “5-7-12” theme consistent. Thematic numbers seem to be extremely important to the BSG series writers. We have the concept of twelve colonies, twelve humanoid cylon models, twelve human archetypes and further designation of the “Significant Seven” and the “Final Five.” If the fifth cylon is female, we have a cylon group of seven males and five females.

Not exactly iron-clad proof, but a fair point, I think nonetheless.

Point Two: Gasp. “You... forgive me, I had no idea.”
D'Anna Briers is surprised and apologetic towards one of the Five that are revealed to her in the Opera House. It's clearly a clue for us, but the last time Briers had significant contact with humans was back in season two; we really need to think back. Honestly, myself, I'm split between this being a clue for Sam Anders (whom she tried to kill before a Six shot her) or for Anastasia Dualla, whom she consistently dismissed condescendingly during the Galactica tour in “Final Cut.”

Point Three: “Adama is a cylon.”
Here's the clincher for me. These are the famous last words of Leoben before Roslin throws him out the airlock. We also have significant indication that Leoben's entire objective aboard Galactica was to relay that very message to Roslin, even stalling stalling his own execution through lies, voluntarily enduring torture the face of for the chance to tell her. He leaves it up to her to deduce which Adama he means, though I don't think she could even be sure at this point.

She (and I admittedly, at first) assumes Leoben is referring to Admiral Adama (hereafter referred to as William). After he passes his cylon test, she rejects the theory as a divisive lie and begins the even more intimate partnership/relationship with the man that continues today. We have no indication she thinks of his revelation again... but I'm not so sure I agree with her assessment.

So, let's look at our "Adama" options: William, his children, and don't forget Dualla (since Lee and Dualla have since married).

The Admiral: William being a cylon is a long-shot without taking into account the “Last Supper” photo-argument, given Boomer's programming to shoot the man. We know that the Significant Seven do not program themselves, nor do they know who programmed them. But since we're aware of at least eleven of the twelve cylon models are programmable, and if the raiders even refuse to engage one of the Final Five, I have a hard time buying Boomer being programmed to shoot one.

Zac & Lee: I don't even want to discuss any of William's kids. Lee is excluded in the "Last Supper" photo. But, if Zac Adama is a cylon member of the Final Five... I'll quit watching the show. It's beyond reasonable plausibility to me that one of the main characters on the show can have a child, raise him and have no idea he's a planted cylon. I have no idea what kind of complicated-conspiracy/hospital-room-switched-at-birth scenerio would have to ensue to make this work... and I don't want to. It sucks.

Dee: So, if Leoben is being truthful: we get more early development of Leoben's character as uniquely prophetic, foretelling Dualla and Lee Adama's marriage, and yet another hit for Dualla. Nice.

So, I went along my merry way under this assumption until I saw Razor.

And Why I'm Unsure Now

---

Now, I generally don't buy into the over-analysis that seems to take part on some of these topics. I know what you're thinking - and yes, some analyses are much much worse :) Remember, the meticulous examination “Last Supper” promo picture. Clearly, the show producers are trying to relay a fair amount of symbolism through the image, but like the cylon model to astrological sign mapping, we viewers can occasionally read more into these symbols than what was intended by the writers.

Ronald Moore admitted over a year ago, for example, that the numbering of the cylons, with the exception of Six, was entirely random. But you'll still find cyberspace littered with charts and diagrams matching the various models by job function or personality types to their perceived astrological match.

That said, something the old hybrid imparted in Razor reminded me of an obvious omission in the now famous BSG promo image. I'll only highlight one point; I think you'll find it not too much of a stretch.

The old hybrid elaborates about the fifth:

“At last, they’ve come for me. I feel their lives, their destinies spilling out before me. The denial of the one true path, played out on a world not their own, will end soon enough. Soon there will be four, glorious in awakening, struggling with the knowledge of their true selves. The pain of revelation bringing new clarity and in the midst of confusion, he will find her. Enemies brought together by impossible longing. Enemies now joined as one. The way forward at once unthinkable, yet inevitable. And the fifth, still in shadow, will claw toward the light, hungering for redemption that will only come in the howl of terrible suffering. I can see them all. The seven, now six, self-described machines who believe themselves without sin. But in time, it is sin that will consume them. They will know enmity, bitterness, the wrenching agony of one splintering into many. And then, they will join the promised land, gathered on the wings of an angel. Not an end, but a beginning.
Kara Thrace will lead the human race to its end. She is the herald of the apocalypse, the harbinger of death. They must not follow her. “

Remember Moore's admission/media slip that the “missing” individual at the table is the fifth cylon. Given the placement of the twelve present in the photo, we can infer that the missing individual would correspond to Judas in DaVinci's original piece. I mention it, because the characterization of a regretful Judas-like character being the fifth seems consistent with the hybrid's revelation.

So, Dualla? Hungering for redemption? Now I'm confused. Besides Baltar, who is excluded by the photo, I'm drawing a blank on who would harbor this amount of regret and guilt. Shrug. Maybe Dualla's heated argument with her father affected her more than I gave her credit for.

Or... maybe it's not Dee at all and I'm back to square one. Grrr...

To be sure, I guess I'll have to wait until Kara and her new crew reactivate the Three. In the meantime, feel free to leave your own hypothesis/thoughts.

Open Questions after the “Faith” Episode Last Night:

---

1.Why did Boomer's blood “activate” the hybrid for Kara Thrace? What's the significance here?

2. What happens to Baltar's Virtual Six now that the NC Six is really dead?

Hello from California

Hair cut - Side view
Originally uploaded by linux_chick.

The hiatus is over

---

My mother-in-law brought to my attention this morning that if Jeremy and I are not going to call family in Kansas often, I better at least be posting updates to my blog before she "sends out the calvary."

My apologies for not staying in better touch. I promise I'll do better, and this is my first stab at it :)

Haircut!

---

Yesterday, I cut my hair shorter than it's been since I was six years old. Above, you'll see some pics I took this morning of it. My hairdresser, Mackenzie, even remarked how much hair was on the floor, and continued cutting away. I wanted the back to be pretty short, and then angle longer by the face. I brought in a picture of Rhona Mitra in Doomsday. Mackenzie opted to go more conservative, and I can't say I'm sad. It seems to fit pretty well.

I'm sure Dad will hate it. Your thoughts?

I can has a cheezburger?

---

Jeremy bought a standing mixer yesterday. Yet another piece of evidence, that his newest cooking hobby/fixation/obsession isn't going away any time soon. And that's pretty much awesome. Over the past several months, I've been "forced" to try out his kitchen experiments, including: chicken teriyaki, lamb vindaloo, beer burgers, and grilled shrimp. Today, he'll add baking goods and pastries to the list. Life is sure rough, out here :) I'll need to keep an eye on my waistline!

Writing Update...

---

I've been writing on Chromosome Black, but haven't pushed anything up here yet. I've also started a new story I'd like to write in tandem. It's inspired by a creepy dream I had a few months back that involved a distant future Earth that is nearly completely aquatic. Civilizations of people had been built along the ocean floor in large plastic domes that mimicked the old surface ecosystems of the past and people rely on these structures for their safety. I don't want to give away too much, now. I hope you enjoy reading when I push it up.

I'm off to do some homework. I'd love to read about life in Ks. Leave a comment.

--Thia

A Lil Clip from Today's Campaign and Taking Part in Hillary's Gaining Momentum

Hillary is a fighter

---

Hillary is a fighter. It's why we like her; she has gained our trust in her as our dedicated advocate. She has done this through a lifetime of diligently fighting for causes she has committed herself to with the kind of unrelenting passion that makes many of us wonder where she draws her inspiration and caffeine pills.

Now it's our turn

---

In the same way we count on her to consistently fight for our us in the Oval Office, we now have the unique and welcomed opportunity to return the favor. ( Yay! :) We won't let you down, Hillary!)

Hillary's campaign fund-raising goals have been met and greatly exceeded since Super-Tuesday. She's received from 90K+ donors for a total of > $9 million, but still needs our help to take back the edge over Obama's ever-rising popularity and funding.

Join with me in submitting a monthly contribution to Hillary's campaign.

Here's a li'l random clip I liked from a speech Hillary made today...

Why Thia is for Hillary

I'm convinced in my mind that Hillary is the right candidate for the Presidency of the United States.

It's time for change on women's issues.

---

That picture up there is of me. From a person from African-American heritage *and* a woman, I will put before you my opinion from experience that our country has progressed much (*much*) further in our battles with racism than discrimination based on gender. I'm not saying racism is gone; that there is admittedly some work that needs to be done here. I can say that I believe we have much more pressing battle to fight.

Let's not mistake the urgency of the moment. Hillary makes our country face our own sexism. Oh, it's there; and it's very unpopular to mention. We live in a time when women who argue for equal pay are seen as radicals and sexist rhetoric is accepted as mainstream.

My husband put it well yesterday when he commented on his experience reading political blogs and comments. He observed not a single person called Barack Obama the infamous n-* word. No, how could they? They would be censored off respectable message boards in an instant and labeled a racist.

On the other hand, it's difficult to find a forum absent of the b-* word referring to Hillary.

... And we're used to it. It's almost a subconscious acceptance that ambitious, aggressive women will be hated among their peers and counterparts. I wish I could have the piece of mind to believe that the criticism Hillary draws is even 50% due to her perceived political unworthiness, rather than our overall discomfort with seeing a woman pursuing a role of public leadership.

I can think of nothing better to address this than to elect not only the best candidate, but an intelligent, capable and effective woman to the White House office.

I did my research

---

Almost top to bottom, I agree with Hillary's political stances. From the environment, to the war, to education and health care she is absolutely spot on. In fact, for all that Hillary stands superior to Obama, he has only one worthy of her rebuttal: he has admitedly more charisma. This quality is an admirable one, and admitedly has value. But it's not enough for me to overlook the qualifications in which he doesn't measure up. Obama can put together a very inspirational speech, but I'm underwhelmed with my confidence he can do the kind of hard-lifting it will take in the next administration to get things done.

In a nutshell

---

It's time for change. America doesn't need just any woman President. In fact, I think it's reasonable to assert that the first one will need to be exceptional. No, I believe instead that it's time for the *right* woman President - and that nominee is here. It's time for Hillary.

Please donate to Hillary's campaign by clicking here.

Jayhawk Status Update

Top 5 in the Nation

---

It's official: we're #4 in BCS and #5 in AP.

New fans

---

Here's an article on why Mangino should run up the score on Nebraska, given the opportunity.

And, this guy has to be the coolest hippie ever. I thought I saw him in the Baylor game briefly on TV and wondered who he was. Leave it to Emily Jones to find out for me. He calls himself White Owl.




New foes :)

---

Dan Cornhusker-fan on Kansas before the game
Andy Cornhusker burns his jersey after beating "lowly" Kansas.

This is why I love Kansas Football

I never thought I'd see it. A blued-out, sold-out Memorial Stadium with blood-thirsty eyes anxious for the next notch in our undefeated belt secured against long-time thorn in our side Nebraska. And our boys delivered with a 76-39 massacre.

Do you think if Nebraska fans were aware it would be Kansas breaking their record for most-allowed points in a game, they would have bothered to come out at all? It somehow feels like oh-so-sweet justice.

If you've been a fan of Mangino for long, or since 2002, like many of us, the atmosphere feels almost cathartic. You've suffered along the incessant, unending f/phat coach jokes, overrated chants ("Hey, Bennett! We're not impressed either!"), and frankly local media over-shadowing each Fall on account our wonderful basketball program. We've exchanged all this for talk of coach of the year, national double-takes at Reesing and outraged K-State and Mizzou fans appealing together to Nebraska for a win because they can't stand to watch us be undefeated anymore. If we're acting like we haven't been here before... well, it's because we haven't.

So, what's our new rank?

---

In a few hours we'll know for sure, but with Boston College dropping down, and Arizona St at least a spot, it seems #6 at least. But, I digress...

Post-Game Chatter

---

Back to business. Aside from a couple of strange decisions by Reesing, offense looked near flawless. We scored on nearly every drive and enjoyed great success on the passing with 0 turnovers.

A quick question for the O: why aren't we playing Quigley more? He looked the first-stringer part to me when we brought him in at the end of the Baylor game to earn us a touchdown and a solid drive just yards short of it right off the bench. If anyone has some info on this guy, I'd be interested.

And on the Defense: OK - what happened? Even if we attribute the early 14 points scored in the first minutes of the first quarter to feeling out the mysterious Ganz on QB, our ineffectiveness on D seemed uncharacteristic. Don't get me wrong, I'm a *fan* of our defensive coordinator, but something was out-of-sync. This was the same team who was critical in earning us the win against A&M. Yesterday, Talib was beaten for 2 touchdowns? We blew covering Purify without explanation.. twice?

I'm optimistic we'll take this week as a learning experience: our D is great, but not invincible. And really, I'm grateful we have a well-balanced team capable of covering for each other when asked and dangerous when we're not asked. It was an incredible effort and I hope the team is proud! We can't wait for Oklahoma State.

Rock Chalk!
-T.

So, What Happens to Callahan if We Win Again This Saturday?

I promise I'll get back to my story shortly (this week!), but I just want to get some things off my chest.

Jayhawks vs. Cornhuskers

---

OK, the inescapable truth is that we're taking on Nebraska again on Saturday in Lincoln. I say inescapable, not because I'm dreading it. More so, because our college message boards are S-A-T-U-R-A-T-E-D with posts about the upcoming game. You'd think this is because our loyal Jayhawks are just as excited as a little teddy bear about the upcoming rematch. Well... wrong again.

Our KU ATHLETIC BOARDS are seething with... Cornhuskers? Check it out for yourself. I'm not kidding. And they've been there in noticable numbers since Monday.

Jeremy has been roaring up a storm from our computer room every evening before bed reading Nebraska commenters on our boards. It kind of makes you want to mention: you guys are all aware that we're not playing until the weekend, right?

Note to the Cornhuskers: Maybe it's time to accept this. Last year, we beat you. I mean, we CRUSHED you. And this doesn't make you bad people... it's really going to be OK. And you're going to get a chance to redeem yourselves.

OK, but seriously: I think this may be a bitter pill for the Cornhuskers. Because our northern neighbors will have to come to terms with one of two things ->

1. Nebraska will have to admit that KU has a decent and improving football program these days, and they lost, fair and square to the better team.

- OR -

2. KU still sucks... and thus, Nebraska has devolved into a program that sucks worse than we do.

And before you recant me, I already know:
Chelsea Cornhusker says to linux_chick(me):

"But, but... we were rebuilding last year. B-because the West Coast offense. And-and we beat Troy last week. So, we're almost back to winning National Championships like in the '90s... because we beat TROY!

DA*@#$*@@!! WE BEAT TROY!!"

Linux_chick to Chelsea Cornhusker:

I know this is killing you. It's going to be OK, Chelsea.

Now I'll sign off on a more serious note: Good luck to you, Nebraska. I know I'm looking forward to Saturday :)

Love,
-T.

Chapter Four: Darkers

“Mother, where do the Darkers come from?” Marta asked as she assisted Veppa setting out dinnerware.

“Sweetheart, you learn all about where the Darkers come from in Nurturement.” Sweetheart had been a term from the ancient times her mother had passed down to her. Veppa had promised to pass it on.

“No, Ma,” Sardin retorted, flipping on the media switch. “Nurturement teaches us where the Darkers are. They're up in the atmosphere, just out of reach. Marta wants to know where they came from, their history.”

Marta, seeming to understand that she had been mocked, stuck out her tongue in protest.

“Little one, what causes this curiosity?” Veppa asked.

“They want us to kill them, right?” Marta asked.

Veppa paused, turning from the cooking food. “By Highness! No.”

“If I go to the Academy, I would study how to kill them,” Marta pushed.

“Why do you think that?”

“The questions, on the pre-aptitude,” Sardin cut in. As if reading each other's thoughts, Sardin and Marta made eye contact before Sardin continued. “It's the patterns in the questions: given a small piece, how can we solve a large problem, or finding weaknesses in unbalanced situations to ensure victory when you're at a disadvantage.”

Veppa wasn't sure why she was surprised anymore at either of the twins's responses. Their eight-year-old analytical minds were growing at an astonishing rate. And now, they were interpreting the methods of tests as training. They had turned the questions themselves back against the interrogators in hopes of understanding what the Institution was searching for. Veppa had little doubt either of her daughters would pass Delta examinations.

“Well, remember that there is a military mirror of the our class system."

Sardin, losing interest, returned to images of war flowing from the media. “We know, we know. There's Legislation Alpha, Beta, Delta, Bedouin, Taper, Common and there's Military Alpha, Beta, Delta, Bedouin, Taper, Common.”

“I'm saying that they may be testing you for military leadership. Bit I believe that if our legislative leadership is good, there won't be a need for war.”

Marta glanced to her sister, but didn't follow. “Go ahead, Mother. I'm listening. Tell me about the Darkers.”

Veppa began setting the drinks. “Well, they were just like us.”

“Human?” Marta's eyes grew wide.

By Highness, what were these children being taught in Nurturement?

“Yes, human. They are human... kind of.”

“That's amazing.”

“Before the era of Genetic Identification we live in today, there was the era of Breeding. We had just interpreted our DNA and society as a whole decided to identify genetic traits preferable for specific societal roles. These roles were identified and then eventually bred for.”

“Mother, that's aweful,” Marta protested.

“No! It's boring!” Sardin eavesdropped.

“Remember, this was before the Institution,” Veppa continued. “At that time, it was believed that the framers of a global Government needed to be highly intelligent if our planet could ever realize world peace. So, the world's most intelligent individuals were bred, genetically altered and over time, developed into a new people.”

“We bred the Darkers?” Marta was fascinated.

“Well, Sweetheart, they were all volunteers. The breeders and the bred together believed they were doing a public service.”

Sardin re-entered the conversation. “So, what happened?”

Veppa shrugged. “It failed.”

“The Darkers failed?” Marta asked.

“Yes. No, well yes and no.” Veppa faltered. “The Darkers emerged as the intellectual elite. That worked. They continued the breeding work on their own and applied genetic alterations to themselves. Future generations became astronomically intelligent, telepathic, telekinetic, increasing in abilities at an exponential rate.”

“So, how did it fail?” Marta pressed on.

“They didn't act as the rest of the governed initially expected. One day, the Darkers left. They just vanished into the sky. They didn't govern, they didn't say why. Every few years they attack us.”

“Why?” Marta asked, puzzled.

Veppa was out of information. “No one knows. That is quite the mystery.”

“So, the Institution rose out of the governed,” Marta resolved.

“Yes. Genetic breeding halted, at least on the surface and below—who knows what the Darkers are doing? The governed began searching the naturally born for advanced capacities of ethical reasoning. The pursuit of highly evolved Morality replaced the pursuit of intelligence for the framers of the Institution.”

“Why do we call them Darkers?” Sardin asked.

Veppa applied the final touches to dinner. “The genetic alterations modified their appearances. They were human-like, but grew taller, elongated features. They stopped growing body hair of any kind and skin pigmentation was almost always near pitch black in color.”

Sardin shrugged. “I don't mind if we're supposed to kill them. I hope we do. I hate them.”

Veppa accepted defeat. “Many people do.”

Marta finished the last of the dinner placements and after some thought, returned to Veppa's side. She placed a small hand on Veppa's wrist. “Mother,” she spoke softly. “If you want me to perform badly on my Delta examinations, I will.”

Veppa pulled back, a little afraid. Could it be that Marta was capable, and at such a young age? Even so, how could she know Veppa was doing the same? It wasn't possible.

“I love you, Mother,” Marta whispered. “And if you ask me to do anything, I will do it for you.”

Chapter Three: A Briefing with On High

Max could see Hardton was riddled with anger as Veppa closed the door behind her and returned to the conveyor.

“What is the meaning of this? It's outrageous!” Hardton fired.

Max could tell Hardton was an easy pick for his position. His stature alone proved highly intimidating. He displayed above-average intelligence, even for a Taper and clearly was quickly brought to remedial action under circumstances of concern. Unfortunately, he was also obviously in love with Veppa Wallers. This fact, Max guessed, had caused Hardton to overlook growing morale issues erupting within his shipping department.

“Let me remind you that I was invited here by you-” Max started.

“To investigate substance trafficking Not to eat alive one of my best employees who is not even a suspect here.” Hardton cut in.

Max was growing more impressed with the Taper. “My apologies,” Max bowed. “It's important that I understand how your department is managing to catch nearly all smuggling before they reach port.”

“Are you quite finished?” Hardton pressed.

“Of course. I'll deliver my assessment to you in the morning.” It wasn't a lie. Max had, in fact, finished his assessment.

An automated alert bong filtered through the room. “Emergency transmission from the Transport bay.”

“Continue,” Hardton seated himself.

“Hardy? It's Markus.”

“Go ahead.”

“We've got a problem with transport four,” Markus
reported.

Obviously frustrated, Hardton massaged a temple. “Highness! Again?”

“One of the tanks is saturated with Substance Q.”

“You caught it before shipment?”

“Just barely,” Markus added.

“That, at least is a relief. Ready the tank for the Authorities. I will be down directly.” Hardton ended the transmission and directed and agitated glare to Max.

“I can see you have a day. I'll leave you to it,” Max bowed and exited.

“I'll look forward to your report,” Hardton called out sarcastically.

Max smirked as he was leaving. A Taper, growing precocious with a Bedouoin he himself had contracted. Under different circumstances, Max believed he and Hardton would have been friends. It was regrettable that this was near impossible now. Especially given the man's apparent love for Veppa, the Common. No, Max resolved that it was far more likely that Hardton would need neutralization before any advance was made to Veppa... if it came to that. And Max believed it would.

As Max exited the compound, he activated his headset and took a few deep breaths before speaking. It's one thing to interrogate a Common, a Taper, even. But his findings this time were to be directly reported to On High, not an Alpha or Beta, but the leader of the Institution and the Global Government himself. Most would never learn his name, let alone hear his voice or speak to him.

“Oh High, I've completed my analysis,” Max reported.

“Nice work. What's your status, Sir?”

The humility of On High surprised Max. “I believe competitive Commons have regrettably been employed in the same sector, leading to discontent.”

“Please, continue.”

“My findings are that Commons possessing similar competitive genetic traits have become adverse to one another for limited duty praises. The strife has lead to pursuits in illegal activity in disillusioned hope of attaining a skill superior to others in the sector.”

“And this continues, even when illegal efforts are frustrated,” asked On High.

“Yes. Given the genetic analysis of the guilty Commons, I believe the frustrated attempts may have only intensified the determination of future efforts, On High.”

“Interesting analysis, Sir.”

Max waved his embedded ID chip in the base of his forearm over his transport sensor until the doors unlocked. Max buckled his lap belt before entering the destination and giving the order to drive. “With all due respect, On High, they are only Commons.”

“Did you find anything else of interest?”

“As you suspected, Veppa Wallers may be a problem,” Max admitted.

“How smart is she?”

Max was surprised. He could not answer how On High might have assumed Max was concerned with her intelligence. Of all the attributes of concern in the aptitudes: Integrity, Physical Endurance, Intuition, Management... Intelligence is not even primary. The governed had long since given up defeating the Darkers through intelligence. Max answered, “Intelligent enough to fake the aptitude tests.”

“You're certain she's faked low scores?”

“My intuition leads me to believe that she can not only pass intelligence problems, but can infer how many to solve correctly so that her scores repeatedly result in Common – Average,” Max responded.

“How much of the intelligence aptitude can she pass?”

“I would say, On High,” Max cleared his throat. “All of them.”

“Incredible.”

“On High, if I may ask a question of you,” Max knew
this was highly inappropriate, but resolved that the success of his investigation rested on his resolving of a simple dilemma.

“You may, Sir.”

“I had believed, as all of us are trained, that the
Methods are unbeatable. My findings, then seem incorrect?”

“Do you believe your findings to be incorrect?”

“No,” Max responded honestly.

“Then, what do you need from me?”

Max continued, “If I knew of a flaw, it may help.”

“I know of none.”

“Then my findings are impossible. I only mean, how can I hold that the Methods are sound, and my hypothesis is accurate?”

“But you do this everyday.”

“No, On High. I admonish logic in my investigations and honesty, int-”

“Why do you, a Bedouin, established in knowledge and integrity, secure yourself when traveling by transport?” On High responded with a question of his own.

“Because it feels safer,” Max conceded.

“Even though,” Oh High continued. “Now that all transportation devices are automated, there have been no traffic accidents for centuries.”

“Yes,” Max understood the train of thought and already regretted asking his question.

”It could be pointed out, that it is even impractical to elect security belts, as they cost you some time when traveling from place to place.”

“Of course.”

“Although, you are perfectly free to use them if you wish.”

“I apologize, On High.”

“It could be argued, then, that you yourself hold some mistrust for our present day systems, the Methods, Sir,” On High accused.

Max recognized this had quickly become a disaster. Max had a choice to make: blaspheme the Institution or disobey On High by refusal to answer. For a member of the Authorities, this was no choice at all. Max incriminated himself, “That would be a fair assessment, On High.”

On High paused a moment and laughed. “This mistrust is precisely why you were selected for this mission. Good work, Sir.”

On High was gone.

Chapter Two: Veppa

Veppa Wallers eyed her terminal carefully before activating her headset. She hated giving bad news.

“Greetings. Transport and Shipping, thank you.”

“Make it quick,” the voice engaged.

“Greetings, Markus. It's Veppa.”

“I'm en-route, hurry up.”

“Apologies, Markus. I think we're going to have a problem with this shipment,” Veppa waited until the termination of terminal-tapping on the other end indicated that Markus was finished pulling up his report.

“V. I'm staring at the details right now. It's all cleared.”

“I know,” Veppa admitted. “I looked at it too, but you really should check all the tanks in transport four.”

Markus was annoyed, “We'll miss deadline.”

“I understand. It's your call, but I'm certain,” Veppa asserted. She knew it was the third stop this cycle. The regular persistence of shipment schedule issues would start to weigh on vendors soon.

“How do you know this?” Markus asked.

Veppa always blushed when she had to explain herself. “It's the weight. Transport four looks light to me, maybe .5% lighter than the others. Check the hoses for a leak, or else one of the tanks may be sabotaged again.”

Markus yelled over the transport bay, “You heard her, transport four. Mark them all again and check the weight this time!”

“Thanks, Markus.”

“Well, you're never wrong,” Markus sighed and ended transmission.

Veppa lowered her headset and caught the sight of Elsa Clark making her way to Veppa's desk. Elsa was Veppa's long-time best friend. Elsa had in fact, gotten Veppa her job as Quality Assurance managerial specialist at Neutronic Atmospheric Transport, even though Veppa was only a Common. They had grown up together on one of the old-fashioned surface rurals and when Veppa's mother died, she had moved in with Elsa's family. Veppa ultimately received tutoring at Elsa's class level, Taper-minor. Now, Elsa was making her way with a purpose to Veppa's desk, carrying a myriad of food and drinks.

“My Highness!” Elsa cursed. “Did you see the media today?”

“Uh, no,” Veppa admitted.

“Here, take this,” Elsa dropped the pieces of nourishment on Veppa's desk and began furiously tapping at Veppa's terminal.

“Greetings, Elsa. Please help yourself,” Veppa offered sarcastically.

“Oh, stuff your face, I got you a rice muffin: your favorite.”

“Actually, I hate the muffins, it's the rice scones I like,” Veppa corrected, examining Elsa's drink options.

“Pss. You know, I can never remember what you like best. You're always changing your mind.”

It wasn't true. Veppa hadn't changed her mind since Nurturement, but then Elsa did have trouble remembering. Veppa gave up the argument when Elsa succeeded setting the terminal to media mode.

Veppa offered Elsa one of the earpieces from her headset as sounds and images of tragedy bombarded through the feed. 5,000 were dead. An entire Quadrant destroyed overnight.

“Isn't it awful?” Elsa spoke over the broadcast. “It's another Darker attack. The second this cycle, must be some kind of record.”

Veppa pulled the earpiece from her ear. “Why do they always assume it's the Darkers?”

“Veppa!” Elsa hushed, quickly eying if anyone had heard. “Who else would it be? Who else could do something like this?”

Veppa shrugged.

“These are dangerous times, you know, Veppa. It's not like when you and I were kids,” With that, Elsa took a bite of her scone.

“Elsa,” Veppa spoke cautiously. “I've noticed your nail-polish lately.”

“Oh?” Elsa was playing dumb, Veppa knew. The Authorities were really starting to crack down on Substance Q abuses and it was conventionally known that consumers hoping to hide their habits had begun injecting at the fingertips and coloring their nails dark in concealing efforts.

Fine, Veppa thought, I'll come right out and ask. But she instead opted the safer approach. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect. Speaking of kids,” Elsa changed the subject. “Are you, Seevan and yours still coming out to watch Raffball tonight?”

To be fair, Veppa wasn't sure. “You know, I reminded Seevan this morning, but he had to work.”

“You know I hate going alone,” Elsa complained.

Veppa conceded that she would do her best to make it.

An automated lockdown alert chimed on. Veppa startled, as always. The friendly feminine voice did little to calm her. “V. Wallers. Please discontinue all productivity and report to managerial services directly.”

“For the love of Highness!” Veppa cursed. “Can't I go just one cycle without getting on level?”

Elsa laughed. “You're just lucky Hardton likes you.”

“Yes, it's obviously doing me so much good,” Veppa responded sarcastically. “Well, my conveyor is here.”

Hardton was unusually sensitive, kind, for a high-ranking Taper. Appointed managing Chair of Neutronic Atmospheric Transport for innate genetic ability and high aptitude scores managing large projects with high attention to detail, he found himself both respected and coveted by even fellow Tapers. Veppa knew a softer side to Hardton. She had always been a source of fogginess in his world of order. He'd taken a chance, hiring a Common, and he never took chances. And then there was the affair.

No. Veppa waved Elsa away as she stepped on the conveyor and resolved to push all memories of her past with Hardton out of her mind. This was about business. He hadn't called for her in that way for over a year and all parties involved would do well to forget the event. Veppa decided to do her best to do just that.

Within moments, Veppa had arrived at Hardton'
s office. He was standing in his usual dignified manner, but with his back to the door. Veppa cleared her throat as she entered the office.

“Wallers,” Hardton's greeting was uncharacteristically distant. Veppa understood when she cleared the door.

They weren't alone. In the opposite corner sat a man clothed in red. Veppa had never seen a member from the Authorities in person, but assumed the mysterious figure fit the description.

“Is something wrong?” Veppa asked, alarmed.

“No, no,” the man stood and bowed. “Veppa, my name is Max. I'm from the Authorities. I've been asked to observe this question and answer session today for several members of the Q&A staff.”

Veppa shot Hardton a confusing look, “I'm not sure I-”

“Please, Veppa,” Max continued. “You're not in any trouble. I'm only here to observe.”

Veppa swallowed hard. His response sounded unlikely, but she knew members of the Authorities were bound to truth. Such members were genetically tested for traits of integrity and honesty, perseverance, specifically. Any testimony against individuals of the governed, like herself, help up by members of the Authorities were regarded as evidential truth and convictable. In fact, convictions and criminal investigations were the only mechanisms under which Veppa had ever heard of the Authorities's involvement.

She nodded politely and Max sat.

“Wallers, your department is experiencing high levels of efficiency,” Hardton's voice trailed.

“Sir?” Veppa didn't understand. Hardton invited a member of the Authorities to give her professional praise?

“Your immediate supervisor thinks highly of you, Wallers. She seems to attribute a large portion of your department's success to you.”

“Sir, I'm glad my management is pleased with my performance,” Veppa grew agitated. Was there going to be a criminal accusation or not?

“Your aptitude tests, Veppa,” Max stood and cut in. “Seem to contradict your level of success with your duties. Please excuse the frankness.”

“Am I completely lost to something? Since when is scoring badly on aptitude tests a crime? Isn't that kind of the point: for the Methods to place people where they belong?”

“You wouldn't be,” Max paused, but spoke pointedly. “... performing under your abilities, would you?”

“Of course not. That's impossible anyway. The Methods are proven,” Veppa regurgitated.

“Veppa, please don't fight,” Hardton pleaded.

Max smiled invitingly and paced to the opposite wall. “Veppa, I'd like for you to submit to a full-genetic scan.”

“Out of the question,” Veppa snorted.

“It is, of course, voluntary—for now,” Max conceded.

“And if I refuse?” Veppa challenged.

“Nothing. Your cooperation is only... appreciated,” Max smiled again.

“I refuse. May I return to my duties now?”

Hardton directed a grunt of annoyance to Veppa.

“Of course,” Max bowed. “By the way, my congratulations to your children.”

“Congratulations?” Veppa softened.

“To Marta and Sardin,” Max explained. “They are both staged for Delta testing at the Philosophical Academy. I apologize. I thought both parents were informed this afternoon.”

Veppa's heart sank. Her only children, her two twins would soon be tested for Delta admission. She should have been elated. It was the highest honor handed down from the Institution to the governed. Ethical training was reserved for individuals of the highest genetic quality, the highest aptitude scores; the Philosophical Academy was training for future leaders of the governed. Occasionally a Delta may retain a high-ranking political office. But no one really heard from the Alphas or Betas after examinations. These lucky individuals were dispatched to a life of rigorous training, study and ultimately became the decision makers, responsible for legislative endeavors that promote global peace. They seemed frozen in time, regarded as Saints by the governed. It seemed no way to live, in Veppa's opinion.

“I'm sure I was alerted. Thank you. My terminal is on lockdown,” Veppa responded respectfully.

“Of course it is. If I could ask one final question of you, Veppa,” Max started.

“I'm bound by law to answer anything you ask,” Veppa answered.

“Let me assure you that your cooperation is appreciated. My question is this,” Max cleared his throat. “Why do your daughters and yourself still retain your birth name when Seevan Noble is genetically proven to be their father.”

Veppa coughed beaten and lowered her head. “It's perfectly legal in this modern era of Genetic Information to retain one's birth name.”

“Of course,” Max returned to Veppa's side and placed a palm warmly against her shoulder. “I reiterate. You've done nothing wrong. Still, the break from tradition is notable to my investigation.”

Veppa inhaled deeply. “Marta and Sardin were born when I was 16. I was not yet engaged to Seevan Noble, though it is true that they were born to him. I had also promised my mother I would retain her name after marriage.”

Max raised his eyebrows as if to express genuine interest. Veppa knew her answer sounded Common, getting pregnant so young, demonstrating loyalty to family over Institutional tradition. She didn't care. She was disgusted that members of the Authorities would demand such personal information from here while not attributing any accusation of misconduct against her.

“I think that will be all today, Wallers,” Hardton cut in. “Please return to your duties.”

Veppa fought back tears, turning her face hot. She nodded in submission and allowed the conveyor to deliver her back to her station. Her headset was already buzzing when she arrived.

“Veppa? It's Elsa. Were you just interrogated by the Authorities?!”

Veppa expelled bottled up stress to her friend. “I don't know what that was.”

“What did they say?” Elsa flabbergasted.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing.” Veppa punched in her conveyor release code.

The feminine voice chimed: “Thank you, V. Wallers. Please resume productivity.”

Veppa mocked the voice as her terminal transitioned from lockdown. She noticed that she had no waiting messages.

“Nothing? They must've said something,” Elsa pressed.

“They asked me about my aptitude scores and some bits about Marta and Sardin.”

“You weren't accused?”

“No, I'm back at work, aren't I?” Veppa seethed.

“Thank Highness for that.” Elsa's voice sobered. “Things are changing around here. Nothing is the same anymore.”

Veppa thumbed her rice muffin before taking a bite. She knew Elsa was right.