Tolerance for pain

Bai jumped across the colony’s esplanade with Shadowgrass.

“Mom told me that you’re one of the main reasons I’m here.”

“She did?”

“Something about your grandfather and a war?”

“She remembered!  That’s great.  Yes, my grandfather was a soldier a long time, during the period many on Earth call World War II.  He was a radio operator.”

“Dad told me about those.  Specialists who were responsible for sending signals between groups of people because they didn’t have a love/hate relationship with the ISSA Net yet.”

“Hmm…hahaha.  True.  But my grandfather is famous back home in the Philippines.  He was the man who first contacted General MacArthur, an American soldier in charge of many troops.”

Shadowgrass nodded, mentally scanning the information about World War II as they skipped and hopped.  “So how does that account for me?”

“Oh, yeah, it doesn’t make sense, does it?  Well, you see, my grandfather was a strict soldier which led to my father’s interest in discipline but for a totally different reason.  You’ve probably never heard of ‘Star Trek,’ have you?”  She watched his eyes flicker slightly.  “Well, I guess you know about it now?”

“Yes, Bai.”

“My father fell in love with the TV show.  It was like having his grandfather and all of his grandfather’s friends and uncles live the life of space soldiers.  When I was old enough, he made me watch every episode of the original TV series, all the spinoffs such as ‘Next Generation,’ up to ‘Enterprise,’ and, of course, the films as they were released.  Inside of you is a little bit of Data with a little bit of Wesley Crusher and Jake Sisko.”

“Mom said you were able to infuse my genetic material with the propensity for personality traits of fictional characters.  How did you do it?”

Bai ran her gloved hand across her faceplate, intending to but unable to rub her eyes.  “Did Guin tell you I used to date Brannon Braga?”

“Huh-uh.”

“Yes.  He was the one who inspired me.  I hope I inspired him some, too.  His place in Melrose, not far from the film studios, was amazing.  I remember one party he had, it was a food bar from front to back.  You walked from his kitchen to the backyard, which opened onto an English garden, and then the pool…the pool…”  She stopped and looked up at the Martian sky.

“What is it, Bai?”

“He said he put me in one of his scripts.  I never asked him which one.”

Shadowgrass flipped a few times in the air, bounced up and down like a kangaroo and landed in a three-legged stance.  “Did he write about me?”

“No.  You are my creation.  I mean, it was me who gave your parents the idea to call you their son.”

Shadowgrass flipped up in the air and landed in a standard bipedal configuration.  “That’s what Mom said.  But I thought you might know something else.”

Bai heard a note of disappointment in Shadowgrass’ intonation of curiosity.

“Shadowgrass, you are a part of everyone’s life, don’t you know?  You are the culmination of our species’ achievements.  Do you know how many kids on Earth dream of being you, able to change out body parts on a whim, with superstrength and superspeed?”

“Yeah, but…”

Bai nodded.  She knew where Shadowgrass was taking his thoughts.  His mother, Guin, had been a competitive boxer from an early age, trained by her father, a former member of the U.S. Marines, with assistance from his military and boxing buddies.  Growing up on a farm, she had been kicked and stomped on by calves and cows, raising her pain tolerance above normal levels.  She had later become a ballerina before switching to a career in rocket science.

Shadowgrass wished he had his mother’s natural abilities, and didn’t have his enhanced abilities that made him so much more capable than his parents.

At age two, he had completed his space exploration vehicle.  When his parents were two, they were barely walking and talking.

That’s why Bai had asked to spend the afternoon with him.  He needed encouragement to take Martian society to places he couldn’t believe possible when he’ll look back in a few marsyears.

She couldn’t believe she was with him herself, remembering the nights decades earlier, alone with her thoughts when she was at her lowest, torn between her French lover and being near her children on the North American continent.

She wanted to teach Shadowgrass to embrace his emotional side and use the energy he generated to plant seeds in his thoughts that would sprout into giant oaks in no time.

She had done that for so many other people.  She knew she could get Shadowgrass to, too.

Sayeth the Bitter Road to Freedom

“This was a foreshadowing of things to come: UNRRA staff across Europe would soon find that refugees, especially when gathered in national groupings, tended to guard their autonomy jealously and to view relief workers as interfering do-gooders with insufficient respect for the struggles and sacrifices their peoples had made in the war.” Page 226

Choosing to be a nonchoosy beggar

“Who will go first?”  Lee heard the question as if the train engines rumbling past, playing hide-and-seek through the treed hedges at the edge of the grocery store carpark, had blasted the words with warning horns at the road crossing next to the neighbourhood recycling centre.

Word-by-word, phrase-by-prepositional-phrase, his thoughts followed in unison.

At what level of explanation did he need to understand the recent crossroad of decisions concerning a group of people intent on fighting each other over philosophical differences, yet another internal squabble that had little to do with Lee directly but much to do with his understanding of human suffering and politically-centred international commerce.

What of his species had been accomplished without military involvement?  What of his species had been sustained with military involvement?

What did the word “military” mean, exactly, another dictionary definition that barely had anything to do with complicated interaction between sets of states of energy that had convinced themselves they were separate from the universe, independently able to make their way above, across and under the earth?

For some, the ironic battle cry was “War is not the answer.”

For others, the rallying quote was “Evangelism is one beggar telling another where to find bread.” [Credited to D. T. Niles]

In this cultural rewind, forgotten from generation to generation, ad infinitum, of the popular (and not so popular) definitions of gender roles, what constituted the aggressive “testosterone” version of international aid and what constituted the sympathetic “estrogen” version?

In a situation like this, Lee was not confused.

He knew he depended on the whole species for answers that were never final, constantly re-evaluated and reworked as much as an individual’s set of states of energy fluctuated from moment to moment despite our willingness to give a set a name like Dick or Jane as if the name alone meant that a set of states of energy at seven years of age was in any way the same as the set at 70 years of age that collected more memories and changes in cell structures, organ health, etc.

The answers were not simple, Lee knew that.

He looked at his current set of friends, comparing them to friends from the past, friends he had met because of mandatory school attendance or by self-deception that having a job was mandatory to be a fully-responsible member of a hierarchical culture.

His personality determined the people with whom he connected best who changed his personality, thus changing the next types of people with whom he connected best — a cycle of change that did not complete a single revolution, leading to new loops that swooped in and out of each other like the drawing of a Celtic animal in a geometric pattern.

Lee looked back but he also looked forward.

What gave him hope?

Was it the moment his wife, Karen, finally told him, “Go on.  I know I’m slowing you down.  I’ll be all right.”, without lacing the words with guilt-inducing tones?

Did he call that a healing moment that gave both of them a freedom they had not willingly conceded due to a deep-seated uncertainty about the early days of their relationship, before they were married, when Lee dated many women at once, Karen often feeling ignored, he always focused on Karen as a stable part of his life who met much but not all of his gender-driven needs?

Hadn’t they survived the transition from platonic friends to trusting lovers without their relationship falling apart when they were tested later on by shocking deaths in the family and outside temptations including demanding work schedules that kept them apart for months at a time, halfway ’round the world, calling each other almost everyday, feeling guilty if they hadn’t, sharing every sordid details about their separate existence?

Trust and flexibility applied at macro levels, too, didn’t they?

What solution did his species find to resolve the military-based conflict between two groups of people in Syria?

How many medical discoveries were funded by governments that employed military-style bureaucracies?

How many social programs were initiated because of wartime conflict?

The only way to get two opponents together was to let them know they could.

“Who will go first?”  What did that mean — who would step forward first or who would be the first to die?

For Lee’s family and his subculture, the local issues at stake for Syrians seemed inconsequential.  Freedom from tyranny?  Access to better healthcare?  These were the same unanswered questions plaguing Americans: the cruel tyranny of international commerce that shone a blind eye toward un/underemployed Americans; healthcare costs spiraling upward out of control.

Lee’s subculture wanted its answers first before some small country full of people killing each other indiscriminately would seem worth unexplained government involvement, adding more military/international aid expenditures to the national debt accumulation.

How relieved Lee felt when Karen dropped the guilt complex from their relationship, aided by their recent friendships with Eoj, Bai and Guin, the latter at first a perceived threat to Karen and her marriage to Lee until she realised that Lee’s love for new friends willing to push Lee to become a better person did not diminish his longterm love for Karen, he ignoring her in the shortterm to become a closer friend for life.  Lee had not changed who he was before or after their marriage but Karen sometimes lost sight of the big picture.

The same could be said for international relationships.

The United States of America had often stepped up to be the responsible adult in the room, bullying its way into a crowded room full of countries with questionable agendas, bettering the world economy in the longterm.

History is an illusion but still useful for establishing goals that indicated consistent trends.

Syria was not a single person with simple needs.

Neither is freedom.

Listening to all sides of an argument takes patience and understanding that some people will be unhappy, no matter what, and others’ happiness will change for the better, relatively speaking, when asked to get involved improving the miserable life of people they may never to go know.

A part-time worker in a US retail store, living week-by-week, may just feel a little happier knowing that her country was able to help someone in worse shape even if both of them end up living week-by-week in the future.

How do we give people hope that international corporations competing for Syria’s marketplace potential is in their best interest?

Lee didn’t convince Karen that their separately and together going through a myriad of emotional uncertainty when Lee spent more time breaking down his personal space and getting rid of old thought patterns while practicing dance routines with Bai and Guin, spending hours alone with them, would strengthen their friendship that existed outside of labels like “marriage,” “husband,” “wife,” “military” and other arbitrary symbols imposed upon them by a subculture that grew and changed with them.

Karen had to see it for herself.

Sometimes, you don’t ask permission and you don’t ask for forgiveness, either — you let your actions speak for themselves when you choose to go first, knowing you’ve got the best interests of people in your thoughts through-and-through, even though circumstances will change people’s perception over time, good or bad in the short-term.

Integrity speaks for itself, not beholden to the whimsical interpretations of morals by subcultures distracted toward flavour-of-the-month scandals — it was right to help one group of people who called themselves Syrians with as much conviction as their opponents — sometimes we compete with bullets, sometimes we compete with love, and sometimes we compete for the best-looking PE ratio reflecting strong quarterly earnings and a growing stock price, public opinion and newspaper tests a forgotten afterthought, telling the people there’s a higher chance their fortunes will increase, a rising tide helping all of them, if we do something rather than sit by and watch, doing nothing to support a country’s defenseless citizens crying for help.

Guest post: a friend writes…

A Letter to Rep. Jared Polis: I Ask You For Courage
by Coleen

Signatories of the Geneva Protocol, courtesy of Wikimedia

This letter was sent to Rep. Polis on 31 August 2013.

Dear Sir:

I write in the hope that my words will not be unheeded, and that you will act as a representative of all your constituents.

At the next session of Congress, President Obama will request a vote from you and all representatives on the issue of military intervention in Syria. I urge you to support this intervention and to vote for authorization of force.

Like many around the world, I have watch the horror of the Syrian civil war unfold for two years. I remember weeping in Colorado in the Fall of 2011, watching livestream coverage of the shelling in the city of Homs. I watched the tens of thousands stream into the streets of Aleppo to demand their rights as free citizens. I watched in horror as the conflict spiraled and moved throughout the nation, even into Damascus.

And last week, I watched children dying from chemical weapons in Damascus.

There is no reasonable doubt that chemical warfare is currently being waged in Syria. There is no reasonable doubt that the Al-Assad regime is using these weapons against its own people. There is no reasonable doubt that the international community is bound by duty and by signature of the Geneva Protocol and the Chemical Weapons Conventions.

Sir, I write as one about to move from Colorado to the United Kingdom. That country’s parliament recently rejected the call to action in the face of such atrocity, and will not assume its normal position as our ally in military action. This situation has not happened since 1782. I know that the situation in Syria is complex, and that there are no clear-cut answers to the problems of intervening. I know that there are many in the United States and beyond who are calling any intervention illegal/immoral/some kind of conspiracy. Any military strike will bring strong opposition. Many compare this situation to the same in 2003. But Syria is not Iraq. Syria is not Libya. Syria is not Afghanistan.

I ask you for courage.

I lived in South Korea all of last year, and I was thankful daily for the international intervention that we call the Korean War. It cost thousands of lives, and there is evidence it was not always fought justly, but that fight was necessary. Millions were displaced, and millions more would have been if not for the brave actions of our own soldiers (my grandfather included) and those of our allies. My South Korean students are able to live in a free, democratic, and prosperous country only 60 years after the official cessation of hostilities. I have such hopes for Syria.

The people of Syria know that the world is watching. They know that the world has stood by and allowed more than two years of wholesale slaughter in their country. If we fail to act, they will never forget it. And those who seek to harm their own people will know that any agreements the international community holds are toothless, that the collective struggle for human rights can be derailed by selfish national interests.

In 2003, I wrote letters to my representatives. I begged them not to go to war in Iraq. I warned them of the future repercussions of an invasion. I am not pro-war, and I never have been. But a breach of international law requires action, or a dangerous precedent is set.

I ask you to vote “Yes” on a resolution that authorizes military force in Syria. Please contact me if you require any clarification.

Kindest Regards,
Coleen Monroe

Hold your hand up if you think Syrians are human beings, too…

…anyone?  Scared of losing important fuel sources from Russia come wintertime, are you, EU members and your neighbours?

That’s what I thought.

When it gets down to it, Damascus be damned, gassed, burned and bombed by its own people.

And you wonder why the concept of individual countries is another one of those quaint ideas we futurists laugh about?

Dragging the people along for a ride

Ever looked at our planet?

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Lots of blue with some greens, browns and whites thrown in for contrast, is’nt it?

What about the pyramids of little creatures who tend to bond into tribes?

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Imaginary pyramids that intersect, a few so much larger than the others that they dominate many, many pyramids all at once (freely use your imagination here).

They blend, in other words.

The people at the top of the pyramid are constantly communicating pyramid-to-pyramid by the blended actions and opinions of their minions mixed into multiple pyramid intersections.

We may say that Obama, Hollande, Cameron and Putin are not talking to each other but there’s plenty of communication between their organisations, officially outside the public view.

That is why Mars decided to eliminate the pyramids and implement a peer-to-peer network, a meshing of independent nodes having full access to competitive data to reduce communication issues.

We’ll get back to that history lesson later.  Let’s show you what used to happen on the old home planet, via a demonstration.  Case in point: the proposed international military action in the geographical region of Earth called Syria.

Decisions were made months in advance at lower echelon levels of the pyramids but official announcements are designed to make it look like decisions are made in realtime news.

Watch and learn!

Machine fun fodder

image

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Saw this Ford work truck at the home show yesterday.  A young man walked up to me and said it would make the perfect gangster/drug cartel “enforcement” vehicle — just mount a few machine guns and grenade launchers in place of storage boxes and you could mow down whole neighbourhoods in a fast driveby.  Maybe he’s has a heavy dose of Grand Theft Auto and Jason Statham films in his life?

Breaking News!

In a few minutes, the U.S. President and other world leaders will release a joint statement.

We got an advance copy of the statement but can only paraphrase what they are about to say until they have actually spoken directly to their citizens.

In essence, governments around the world are finally admitting that the creation of the NSA and similar secret/covert government agencies is actually to the benefit of the citizens and is not, as has been widely reported, a negative “spying” program.

Instead, the governments have been secretly recording all the words and actions of its citizens in order to preserve their personalities (via their behaviour (see B.F. Skinner’s research for further explanation of behaviour-based personality traits)) for future generations.

Want to know why you are the way you are?

With the NSA and its peers opening its archives to the public, you can now see and hear everything about your parents, guardians, friends, acquaintances and world events associated with your conception, gestation, birth and formative years.

TRUST YOUR GOVERNMENT!  GOVERNMENT WORKERS CARE ABOUT YOUR WELL-BEING, MAKING SURE YOU HAVE ACCESS TO ANY INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR LIFE THAT YOU MIGHT FAIL TO REMEMBER AT THE WRONG TIME WITHOUT THEIR HELP!

And now you can create the perfect avatar of yourself, using the NSA database to construct a virtual personality profile of yourself at any age, even projected into the future!

Long live the information technology revolution!

Reference Library

How many discharges to rock a solar-powered hula dancer does a capacitor have before its intended useful life has been depleted? How many heartbeats do you have left?

Let us imagine.

Let us put ourselves in the boots of a young, not fully-hardened, 21-year old military leader.

Further, let us put him in charge of French peacekeeper troops, part of KFOR, guarding a bridge over the Ibar River in Kosovska Mitrovica.

Racial tensions are hard to erase but familiarity with those whom you have been brainwashed to call the enemy can open one’s eyes to the fact that we are usually about the same.

In normal, peaceful military exercises, conflicting orders challenge many a field officer’s goals and objectives, often involving politics outside the officer’s circle of influence.

You needn’t stretch your imagination to comprehend the conflicts that crop up in the fog of war, when spot decisions while you and your troops in the line of fire are made under duress as you interpret the implied meaning of the only two orders you’ve received that directly contradict each other.

For instance, one order tells you to protect and defend your troops by maintaining peace while guarding a bridge that acts as a de facto border between two ethnic groups. The second order tells you to protect and defend the civilians against violence in your peacekeeping jurisdiction while maintaining peace and guarding the bridge.

The bridge itself is a nonpeaceful symbol to the locals — one group wants to prevent another group from using or crossing the bridge.

Let’s say two of your troops are injured — could be by rocks/bricks or by a sniper’s bullets, doesn’t matter because you simply know it violates your first order, which motivates you to take action.

Unfortunately, the action you initiate violates the second order because protecting and defending your troops from further injury requires attacking the civilians, many of them armed with rocks, bricks and in a few cases, armaments.

What if you had to order your troops to open fire on a sniper in a civilian’s business/residence?

How do you keep the peace when you’re required to protect everyone in your jurisdiction, including ethnic groups willing to die killing each other to regain old territory, causing chaos through roadblocks and random violence, your troops stuck in the middle by international/NATO/KFOR decree?

Ultimately, politics prevail.

Your orders are always going to conflict at some point in your career, military or private.

However, fail the newspaper test, especially on a world scale, and someone in the chain of command wants heads to roll, even if guillotines are no longer legal or effective.

Enter the court-martial.

Integrity is a curious behavioral trait.

If, in the course of your duties, you have acted not only to the best of your abilities but also followed the best course of actions based on limited information in the fog of war, have you not provided an unassailable defense of your character?

Unfortunately, life is not always about the fairness of your highest ethical actions, let alone your thoughts.

Fortunately, politics and the court of public opinion do not always prevail.

Years pass after you were found not guilty at the court-martial.

Life goes on, your military career having moved into noncombat situations, another civil military servant performing the duties that keep your government’s military units technologically proficient and up-to-date.

One small issue, though. You have to live with the decision you made that led to an mentally excruciating court-martial.

The casualties, the maiming and mental injuries that pile up during wartime can be justified for moral purposes.

What about the same during a peacekeeping mission?

And what if your morals and ethics are based on the viewpoint of a Bright — a humanist, naturalist or existentialist atheist?

In other words, as a Frenchman marching down a path heavily trodden by Sartre, should you concern yourself at all about your previous momentary selves that exist only in the perpetual fantasy of a storyline you keep repeating because you imagine that time exists because people want to know who you are and where you came from?

Do you develop complex computer algorithms based on the previous work of others or can you create genius out of nothingness?

History, as the saying goes, is a fable agreed upon, subject to interpretation as to tragedy, travesty or triumph.

Some races and ethnic groups will perpetuate their subcultural superiourity to the detriment of others, fully entrenched to protect their historic fables against outside influences.

If you are ordered to put yourself in harm’s way between two strongly opposed racial/ethnic groups, don’t expect to find an easy-to-obtain win-win situation.

The fallacy of history and politics may have been set up to trip you at every step.

All you can do is get back up, on your feet if you can, in a wheelchair if you have to, don’t look back and set your sights on your personally-satisfying longterm goals, influenced by a long line of momentary selves, temporary confluences of states of energy that constitute what you’ve been trained to see as self and others.

The universe is benign. The set of states of energy that imagines itself as you has a limited lifetime.

Take comfort in your impermanence.