#the fact that even Doctor Who has got so backward looking doesn't help

[escapaldi]

So… I followed you a long time ago, and then I left tumblr. I can’t remember if we interacted much back then, but since you’re also active here I have to ask: what did you think about the specials as a Capaldi fan?

Hello! I know I've seen your name around before, so welcome back! Even when I wasn't posting on this blog specifically, I was still on tumblr posting fic and stuff, so even though there is a gap I've always been here.

Now, as far as the 60th anniversary specials: I haven't watched them and don't plan to for a long time. A long-winded and salty rant by me is under the cut.

To be honest, I haven't felt the need to watch any new Doctor Who since Capaldi and Moffat both left because it all sounded like boring and cringey fan fiction (derogatory) I wasn't really jiving with. If that makes sense? Then RTD came back on as a showrunner and I was severely disappointed because it felt like such a step backwards. Plus that Tennant was going to be in it? No thanks.

Like... I get that to a lot of people, his return makes these specials "feel like Doctor Who again". I've seen that statement a lot from both randos and people I know. Which, fine, whatever, I'm not begrudging people for it, but for a lot of folks saying that, the statement includes a bunch of the show that doesn't feel like Doctor Who to me. I came in w/s5 because of a series of events that turned me off to the show early on. I was nearly sixteen when s1 premiered in the UK. That should have stuck me in the prime demographic to not only love s1-4, but have a sort of nostalgia filter over it to help facilitate excitement over the 60th specials. Well, there's some problems with that.

I can't stand Rose Tyler and any reference to her as something positive makes me cringe. Doctor/Rose in any form makes me viscerally nope out of anything. She was not as likeable as people lead others to believe.

I've been Pavloved into disliking Tennant due to the oversaturation of his interpretation of the Doctor in the series and the fandom as a whole, despite the fact he's just meh. The Doctor is not his best role and in general he doesn't do it for me in the looks department, especially as the Doctor. Which, it's fine if you like watching him (I'm sure Georgia loves watching him and she is a very good sport about a lot of shit) and I know my DW experience has been enhanced by watching the pretty but I am a demographic outlier lol.

What I did see of s1-4 before I got into s5 was Rose being an idiot, getting a deeply unsettling feeling over Jack Harkness, being pissed off for Martha and Mickey and livid about Donna, being irritated by the Master and the angsty space Jesus shite, and thinking Ten and Donna would make a good couple actually.

Oh yeah, and very specifically I'm mad because I watched The End of Time Part 2, like, almost soon as I could, and knew immediately that Martha/Mickey was Pair the Spares Race Edition even though at that point I hadn't watched all of s1-4 and for all I knew they hit it off in an unseen-by-me episode for a reason that wasn't getting drunk over their mid-tier white exes hooking up. Like, I clocked that shit back in 2009. There was a lot of shit I was not clocking in 2009, but I caught onto that, which should be an embarrassment.

...and, like, I'm on the internet, so I've seen spoilers. It's difficult to not see spoilers. Some of the spoilers I love to see hello Fifteen's THIGHS we love us a good slutty Doctor and I do have one UK-based friend specifically whom I've talked to at length about the specials. My fiancé also has been watching this entire time w/o stopping since 2005 (bc he caught it all as it premiered here in the US and at least he got to watch s1 Billie Piper; I fault him for nothing), so he's been giving me updates on what's going on as well. He is a good man who has done saintly things like drive me across three state lines to meet Peter Capaldi at a Doctor Who convention, so... he's generally trustworthy, but also a lot more forgiving than I am. But he was also the one who broke to me the news about Rose Noble because he knew I'd get upset that she's not Donna Jr. So I've got some good fonts of information. They tell me that I'd like the second and third more than the first, that we've just got some extra Ten-Donna adventures, and that generally everything's stepped up a bit from Thirteen.

...but to me, a step up from Thirteen is still not a step towards where we need to go.

You can't go from Eleven and Twelve, an ancient eldritch god trapped in a body with the grace of a baby giraffe and a legit punk who punches diamond walls for his wife and racists for his daughter, respectively, to a Tory apologist who never really got a scary "I am the Doctor and you're stuck here with me now what a shame :)" moment like Nine through Twelve got and think that "a step up" from that is going to catch me. I'm not enticed by the prospect of another Ten-Donna adventure done by the man whose writing and showrunning kept me away from Doctor Who for so long. I. could. not. care. less. There is literally no nostalgia filter making this okay to me. I cannot see what other people see.

I don't want to be an anti, I don't want to be a NMD, but they keep pushing my fucking hand and now I'm sitting here having not watched new episodes of what is literally one of my favorite shows since before the pandemic, watching from an arm's length as it sort of caves in around itself, going and absolutely pissing away their chances at having a really cool, massive-multi-Doctor bonanza like no other. You could have twelve Doctors. TWELVE DOCTORS. Eleven if our most venerable just kinda taps out like nah I'm done unless you give me Bill's job from the Three Doctors special. Like, the fuck, y'all. That got whizzed right down the fucking leg. Did they even try? Did they get rebuffed? Whose decision was the 60th specials? Do they even like Doctor Who? Or are they part of the set that thought that Tennant's Doctor would never be topped?

So... yeah... that's the gist of it. I'm sure it's gonna take being sat down for a marathon by Mr. Nehs before I get into Doctor Who again, which is honestly sad. The BBC has hated this show and been visibly trying to run it into the ground since they decided to make the divisive decision of casting Matt Smith (which worked out great in the long run but having been on the internet at the time as that announcement I can assure you it was not received well) and now they've got Mouse Bucks and some straight-up boring as sin seasons/series under their belts and idk what in the hell's coming for us now.

#replies #dielittlehero #sorry I kind of went off it's not your fault #a scary thing to consider is that by the time the 70th and 75th anniversaries roll around I might have kids old enough to watch #and not just watch but APPRECIATE as well #that's a terrifying thought considering everything #I'm not gonna tag w/fandom to keep it out of searches but yeah #and I swear to fucking God if they try to do a UNIT spinoff like they did to Torchwood I am going to SCREAM bc Torchwood is trash #I'm only vaguely 'in' the fandom rn and i feel freer for it tbh

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 10 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.5 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (09)

Next part (10)->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Candle Lights

Keanu is driving back home after your third antenatal class. You enjoy them, but most of the things they say you already know. But it's not their fault you and Keanu do a lot of reading and research, and your doctors keep you updated. But you want to keep going.

“I'm thinking about a cesarian.” You tell Keanu, both hands cupping your bump.

“What?” He glances at you, and his face makes you giggle. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Why?” You ask, stretching your arm to touch the back of his neck.

“Because labor is something natural. Your body knows what to do.”

“Yeah, it just hurts like a bitch.” You snap back, playing with his hair.

“I know.” He sighs. “It's your call. You're the one delivering the baby.”

“I'm not sure yet. But we still have time.” You're currently in the middle of week 18. You feel more comfortable, and you have more energy now. The bump already shows depending on what you wear, but there's still a long way to go. “And we need to talk names, by the way.”

“I thought we decided on Clarissa or Henry.”

“Yeah, but we gotta be one hundred percent sure. Are you one hundred percent sure?”

“Now that you're talking about it, no.” Keanu giggles, a hand coming to lay on your thigh. “What were the other options?”

“Sophie, Nicole, Ethan, and Liam.” You recite them, looking at the landscape outside your window.

“They're all great. But... Liam. I like Liam. Or Sophie.” He takes a turn left, entering the condo.

“I like them too.” It's always like this. Whenever you bring this up, you just can't decide. “Maybe it'll get easier once we know the sex. Because we're clueless so far.”

“Do you want one of those parties where the sex is revealed?”

“No. It's not like I'd know the guests so...” Pushing this thought back before it starts bothering you, you sigh. “Let's just keep it between us. The rest of the world will find out eventually, but let it happen when it happens.”

“Alright.” As he slows down and stops to wait for the garage door to open, you see Mrs. Jackson walking to her front door. She spots you and waves. You immediately remember the amazing brownies she makes, and you suddenly need it.

“I'll go say hi.” You tell Keanu before leaning for a kiss and stepping out of the car.

Mrs. Jackson is a kind old lady who lives with her husband in the house on the left. When she sees you coming her way she stops, smiling. “Hello, (Y/N). Good morning.” Her long white hair is being blown by the wind, and she keeps it off her face with a hand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jackson. How are you today?” Smiling, you hug her.

“You can call me Anne, child, it's alright.” She immediately touches your belly. “And how is this tiny little human? Are you eating well, honey? Exercising?” She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head at your house. “Is your husband taking good care of you?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Giggling, and blushing a little, you nod. “I have weekly appointments with my nutritionist, Keanu and I take a walk every morning around the neighborhood and he's being absolutely amazing.” You say with a sigh, your heart beating a little faster just at the mention of him.

“Are you falling for him?” With both hands on her hip, Mrs. Jackson inquires, a funny expression on her face. She knows about the accident since she has become a friend of yours.

“I am.” You mutter, biting your lip.

“That's true, genuine love, sweetie. Even after forgetting him, you're falling for him all over again.” She has a teasing look on her face that makes you blush even more.

“Yeah, I guess you can say that. In the beginning, I really thought we'd end up divorced.”

“Honey, you don't know the way Keanu looks at you.” She shakes her head no, taking your arms and pulling you to a seat on the steps that lead to her porch. “When you came for dinner earlier this week, I could see it clearly. He looks at you like you're his whole world.” Running a hand through your hair, you look down. “That man loves you with all his heart, I have no doubt.” She puts an arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah...” You mutter, a low chuckle leaving your lips. “Oh, sorry for yesterday's noise. We're changing a few things in the house for the baby and also working on the decoration. Since we just moved and everything is happening at the same time...”

Anne furrows her eyebrows a little, tilting her head to the side. “Honey, Keanu has been living here for a little more than a year before you came. It was a surprise to me as it was for everyone to find he was married.”

Mimicking her expression, you start thinking, counting. Keanu said you came here only a few weeks before the accident. “Well... We were keeping it a secret. He's a public figure so the goal was to keep the marriage private for as long as we could. But the accident happened.” The words come out slow, as you try to understand what she means by that. A year... It can't be.

“I don't blame you for doing that.” Squeezing your shoulders a little, she smiles. “People can be very intrusive with celebrities.”

“Keanu's fans are great. We bumped into some on our way to the Walmart a while ago. And Ke was kind, as always.”

“That man is a rarity.”

“He is.” Smiling, you look at her, remembering about your current craving. “Oh, do you think you can make some of those chocolate brownies?” You ask, pouting a little. “I hate to give you trouble but I really want them.”

“Don't worry, child.” Anne giggles, taking your hand in hers. “I'm retired for way too many years and I enjoy having something to do.”

“Thank you!” Pulling her into a hug, you place a kiss on her cheek. “I gotta go now.” Pushing yourself up, you jump to the sidewalk. “Important talking about this little one's name.”

“Won't you tell me the options?”

“Nope!” Winking at her, you start walking backward. “It's going to be a surprise.” With another wave, you turn around and head home.

Keanu is in the kitchen, starting with the preparations for dinner. Homemade pizza night, and he's just starting to make the dough. Moving to seat on the kitchen island, you're just about to ask how you can help when what Anne said comes back. That was certainly weird, but you don't think Keanu would lie to you like that. “Ke...” You make a small pause when he looks at you over his shoulder. “Mrs. Jackson said you were living here for like a year. But you told me we came to New York a few weeks before the accident.”

He stops, both his hands dirty with flour. There's something in his face you can't read, as Keanu avoids looking at you. “We bought the house about a year ago. I used to come and spend a day or two because of work, but we only actually moved when you found a good job here.” He speaks slow, only lifting his eyes when he's done speaking. You work with social services, and he said that your job is secure for when you're able to go back.

“Got it.” You mutter, furrowing your eyebrows a little. “Are you alright?” Getting up, you walk over him. Once you're close, he has no choice but stares into your eyes. Wrapping your arms around his midsection, you tiptoe to kiss him.

“I'm great.” When you step away, Keanu touches your nose in a quick motion, getting it dirt with flour.

“I can't believe you did that.” You giggle, stretching your arm to shove your fingers inside the bowl before showing them to your husband. “If you don't apologize, sir, I'll paint all this pretty face of yours.”

“Is it a threat?” Keanu inquires, raising an eyebrow.

“It's a promise.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles before cupping your face with both hands, getting your cheeks and jaw covered in flour.

“You're playing with fire!” You shout, running your fingers through your face before reaching for the bowl and taking a handful of flour that you succeed to half throw it at him, with half of it falling on the sink. He holds your dirty hand, some parts of his hair all white. “You're messing with the wrong pregnant lady, babe.”

“I surrender.” He says in between giggles, hands raised. “I'm completely at your mercy.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you only grunt before washing your hands. “Let me help you.” You say as you grab the dishcloth, damping it before starting to clean Keanu's face.

“No. Let me do this for you. Just sit there looking beautiful.” Once you're done with his face, you clean yourself the best you can.

“Only if I get to see you around the kitchen looking handsome.” Sassing back, you leave the dishcloth on the sink and head back to your place at the kitchen island. You love helping him, but you decided to let him do his thing this time.

By nightfall, the pizzas are in the oven. All three of them, despite knowing you won't eat that much. But one is for Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, and the other two will probably cover up all meals for a while. That if Keanu doesn't bug you with eating super healthy on every single meal. The brownies arrive too, and you thank Anne a lot as you bite one of them.

The only thing to ruin the night, well, that got close to, was that the sudden violent wind caused a blackout. You were eating at the kitchen table when it happened, and Keanu left to check if there was anything he could do. There isn't, but he did find some candles and the pizza night became a lot more romantic instantly.

Right now, already satisfied after two slices only, you admire his face in the different lighting, his hand holding yours over the table.

“We should go out. Like a date.” He suggests, and it makes your smile grow wider. “If that's alright with you.”

“Of course it is. We're married.” Shrugging your shoulders, you notice the subtle change on his face. You never get it, it's a mystery. “Ke, what's wrong?” It's not the first time it happens, but even though you're getting to know him, learning to read his expressions, this one is still difficult.

“Nothing, beautiful. It's nothing.” He assures you in a low voice. “Do you wanna head upstairs? A shower lit by candles must be quite an adventure.”

He always does that. He says it's nothing and changes the subject... But you guess it's alright. Maybe Keanu remembers the accident. The wife he lost that day. Or maybe something you shared before that's completely gone for you. “Great.”

“You can go first. I'll clean this up.”

“Leave the dishes to me. I can do them tomorrow.” You say as you walk past him, a hand on his shoulder. “You already made dinner for us.”

“Alright.” He agrees and you smile before going upstairs.

Showering with nothing but candles to light up the bathroom is weird, and you almost slipped. And that you'll never tell Keanu or else who knows what he'll do. But it was different. Once you're done, you leave the bathroom loosening the bun you had your hair in, letting it down. “Your turn with the medieval style shower.”

“I didn't know they had bathrooms like this back then.” Keanu snaps at you, smirking.

“You couldn't just go with it, could you?” Rolling your eyes, you walk over the slide glass door that leads to the balcony, just to watch as the wind still rushes through.

“Absolutely not.” It's the last thing you hear before the door closes.

With your eyes on the street down there, you hope this wind won't bring anyone trouble by tomorrow. At least the news said the weather will get better in a couple of days.

After some minutes watching the threes bending under the weight of the wind, you walk back to the bed, sitting on the edge. This place is feeling more like home as the days go by, and you're falling back into the life you once had. And it's good. Despite all the medicine you still take, the endless appointments, and a very, very overprotective husband, everything is good. More than that, actually. It does bring you relief to know you were this happy before. That you weren't alone, that you somehow managed to find someone so amazing. You know it was probably difficult in the beginning, with him being a public figure, and so many years older, but look where you are now. It was worth it. It ended up in the best way possible. And you couldn't ask for anything else.

“Lost in thoughts?” His voice startles you, as he comes from the bathroom.

“A little.” Getting on your knees on the bed, you cross it until you're face to face with him. Well, he's still taller, but you don't mind. You like it a lot, actually. Smiling you wrap your arms around his neck. “But they were good thoughts.”

“That's good to know.” He whispers, and you can't resist the proximity, so you just kiss him.

It was supposed to be just a quick thing, soft and sweet, but it soon becomes too needy. You shouldn't be this needy, and you don't know where it comes from. But it doesn't take much until you're awkwardly wrapping your legs around his waist, but the sudden change of balance makes you fall back on the bed, giggling through the kiss. But you don't mind. You don't want this to stop.

But you sigh when Keanu pulls away, opening your eyes to look at him, his eyes barely lit by the two candles, one on each nightstand. “What?” You ask, your voice a little weak, you're not sure why.

“If we keep this going...” His voice fades, and you feel when he removes some of his weight from you. He wasn't crushing you, but you were feeling all of his body. “...I don't think we'll be interrupted this time.”

You get what he means. There won't be calls this time, nothing too put a stop to whatever is going to happen. But you don't care. He's your husband, and you're falling for him. You want this. “I don't want it to be interrupted, Ke.” You tell him, thanking the darkness because you're sure you never blushed this much.

“Are you sure you want this?” A thunder almost clouds his voice, but you manage to hear it.

It's kind that he still wants to know how you feel. Keanu doesn't push you, he never has. It suddenly snaps that you love him, that this is right. “I'm sure.” You whisper back, eyes closing again when Keanu leans in for another kiss.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #imagine keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x you #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick #john wick x reader

[d-targaryenshoe]

By Chance • Jackson Avery

Requested?: @lorenakaspersen ❤️

Summary: Y/N and Jackson have a kid together but when heartache gets too hard, then worse things happen

Warnings: surgery

Word Count: 1538

Letting go of someone you love with all your hear is hard sometimes, very hard. Knowing that you will no longer be the person they wake up next to. Or who they laugh with at the dumbest things.

The fact having a son together doesn't make it any easier. Not easier because you can't ask anything without being akward. Or thinking about the moments you have been through together.

Your son was the most important thing in your life. He was the reason you kept going and kept smiling.

But right now, you were walking in the rain. Hoping everything would turn back to normal, and the biggest impossibilities would turn possible. Just for this once.

Standing on the sidewalk, you were looking at a couple across the street, sitting next to each other, hands intertwined and live dripping of the both of them.

A sad smile was formed on your lips before a couple of tears decided to make their way up into your eyes, telling you that breaking wasn't a bad thing. It meant healing.

Watching down the street, car lights and shop lights where filling your sight, knowing that beautiful things still existed. You just had to find them and sometimes it just happened.

Throwing your handbag on the ground, you released a scream, being frustrated how your life had turned out. A single mother who was still in love with the father of your son.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Turning around a male around his 30's frowned at your face as he noticed the tears. "Can i help you?"

You released a sarcastic laugh, clapping your hands. "I'm a single mother who has a son and left his father because she knew he didn't want a kid, now he has a new girlfriend, a badass firefighter, no I'm not okay."

The man opened up his mouth to say something but instead he closed it, trying to process your rambling. "I should go."

"Yeah, you should!" Now you saw a couple people staring at you from a distance, which made you slightly walk backwards.

"Ma'am watch where you're going!" Before you could listen to the person yelling, you turned and saw two white headlights blinding your sight before you felt a hard blow on yourself.

As a person called an ambulance within a few minutes a siren was heard and people started to make a small crowd, curious to see what had happened.

The back double doors opened as the small black female walked out, known as Miranda Bailey followed by Meredith Grey.

"What happened?" Miranda demanded as she slightly glared at the people who were just staring at the scene. "Anyone gonna tell me?"

"Bailey, look at this!" Meredith motioned for the female to walk over, wanting to show her colleague something important.

Taking a hold of your hand, the blonde woman showed your ring finger, a silver ring placed on it. More to say, a ring that meant more to you than anyone could know.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Grey, look for any open wounds, she'll need surgery, Avery can't know." The woman was close to losing her cool as you were one of the persons she was the most protective of.

"The side of her stomach is swelled, probably a bleeding spleen, we need to transfer her." Meredith spoke up, pulling your shirt back down, looking at you with pursed lips.

"Gurney!" Taking a hold of the gurney Bailey and Meredith placed you down, rolling you into the ambulance, closing both of the doors.

"How am I suppose to not say anything to Jackson, he deserves to know, you know he does?" The blonde female stated, watching Bailey shake her head in denial.

"He's screwing a hot firefighter over Y/N damn Y/L/N, he doesn't, Grey." Miranda snapped when crossing her arms in anger. "He really doesn't."

Meredith frowned in deep thoughts, knowing somewhere she was right. But yet she felt bad, knowing she had to keep this to herself.

He cared somewhere although Vic wasn't what you were. She was pushy, you did everything on a low tempo. She was work addicted, you made time.

"Get up, we're here." Miranda spoke softly, taking a hold of the gurney at the end of the gurney, rolling you slowly out.

"Let's get you into surgery." Meredith mumbled, trying to give herself some courage, to not say anything and to save you.

"You got her?" The dark woman questioned, placing a hand on Meredith's shoulder, wanting to be sure the blonde could handle it. "I can scrub in too?"

"NO, I mean no, I want to do this alone." She replied, staring down at you as she started rolling you down the O.R.

Vic wasn't you. Not a little bit. Sure he felt okay with her but not like with you. Something about it was different.

"So, school went nice, huh?" Victoria smiled, squatting down to your son's fight, ruffling his curls as he smiled as well.

"Yes! Why are you always around my daddy?" Your son had this personality of always asking what his mind was saying, sometimes it satisfied you.

"Oh Well, uhm-" Vic had a small problem with answering these questions that came out of nowhere, maybe because she knew she wasn't you.

Taking in the sight in front of her, she noticed Jackson walking up to her with a confused expression. "Miles? Weren't you staying with your mom, today?"

"No! Vic surprised me at school and she picked me up!" The boy explained with a toothy smile at his dad, while Vic just pursed her lips.

"Y/N was supposed to pick him up, why did you do that?" Jackson asked, getting to start frustrated at her. "She's his mom."

"Why are mad? I wanted you to have some more time with him?" The curly haired woman argued, pointing at the small boy that was holding his dad's hand.

"You move in without asking, Y/N ignores me in here because of you, and now you pick up my son without asking me? I don't want a relationship like that, Vic." The blue eyed man rambled, shoving past the woman, holding his son's hand before a beeping sound went off.

"What's that, daddy?" Your son's voice sounded a little bit confused, staring up at Jackson.

"Aunt Mer is calling me, come on." Jackson bend down, picking up your son as he started walking towards the O.R.

"Aunt Mer!" As your son noticed Meredith standing out of the O.R. Her blonde locks were hidden behind the scrub cap.

"Hey buddy." Meredith smiled, wrapping her arms around the small boy, releasing him after a few second, taking a deep breath, looking at Jackson with nerves.

"What? Something wrong?" Jackson snorted, placing his hand in the pockets of his coat, staring at the blonde woman. "Mer?"

"It's Y/N. The person I just performed surgery on? It was Y/N." This was the moment Meredith Grey slightly broke down, tears flowed down on her cheeks. "She was in a car accident, I wasn't supposed to tell you."

Jackson shook his head at her, walking towards the wall and leaning his head on it. Watching his son being confused as he bent down.

"Where's mommy?" The little boy gazed up at Meredith and then back to Jackson. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"Yes! She's asleep, but I stopped the little bleeding so now she'll need to rest, but you can see her." Meredith explained, watching both of the persons in front of her, not knowing what to do herself.

"Can i stay with you here? While dad goes to see mom? I'm scared." The boy asked, wrapping his small hand around Mer's.

"Sure, I don't have surgery anytime soon, come on." Meredith softly spoke, walking towards the waiting room, placing a hand on Jackson's shoulder, giving him a nod. "Go and see her, I got him."

Giving her a nod back. The blue eyed surgeon slightly pushed the door of the room open, taking in a breath as he saw you laying.

You were looking out of the window. Doctors and patients passing. Wishing you were out there instead of in this bed.

"I heard." Jackson spoke up, closing the door, as you kept looking out of the window.

"You know, I still care about you and I shouldn't. Because you're happy and I'm good on my own." You spoke, turning your head at him, squinting your eyes.

"I'm not happy, I broke up with Vic." The sentence left his mouth and your heart stopped for a moment. "She's not you, I don't have the special moments with her like I had with you. And my mom won't shut up about you, April even hates me because I was with Vic."

"Oh." That was the word that left your mouth, fiddling with a loose thread from your blanket. "I'm sorry, I guess?"

"No I am, I'm sorry for not being there, for not fighting for what we had, for moving on so fast, for everything." Jackson said, looking you in the eyes, not knowing what else to say. "When you're healed, we can maybe go to Joe's?"

"When I'm healed." You replied, pulling up the corners of your mouth.

#greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #greys #jackson avery imagine #jackson avery imagines #jackson avery x reader #request open

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Football”

Forgive me in advance for my complete lack of knowledge on the subject. I am not entirely sure if that works for me since Sunny doesn't know anything about it either, but I tried, for the sake of you who suggested it.

But be warned, I tried to look up a few things, but couldn’t even understand the explanations lol. Have fun, Hope it is at least entertaining even if it isn’t accurate. 

Sunny lifted her head to the Earth’s Sun allowing the warmth to seep into her skin. Despite what Krill said, Earth was very nice, and it didn’t have so much ash in the air as her planet did. It was nice, and bright, and warm. It smelled nice too, mostly from the brightly colored flowers that made her mouth water. Adam looked at her a little funny every time she turned to quickly snack on one as she walked by, but she didn’t mind. It almost surprised her that the human didn’t eat them since they seemed to eat everything else.

Granted, she hadn’t taken to these walks simply to eat the earth flowers, but because she thought it would be good for Adam. It had been a month or two since the prison fiasco on Noctopolis, and he was slowly returning to himself. She had been reading up on the proper way to help a human heal mentally and determined that he needed sunlight, friends and something to do, so walks with her and Krill were the best option. Plus it had the added bonus of being something Krill liked, which was a miracle since, when it came to earth he often didn’t like anything.

They turned onto a road shaded under tall over-arching trees. To their right, the ground behind the trees was manicured grass with a playground covered in tiny humans, and a surrounding park dotted with blankets and other human lounging in the sun. It was a truly alien scene to her, and the atmosphere was like nothing she had experienced. They received some wide eyed open mouthed states as they walked past, especially from the children, who ran over to get a closer look trailed by their equally curious but somewhat worried parents.

Adam greeted them politely as they passed by the park, and onto the stretch next to a chain link fence behind that being a set of bleachers which looked out onto a diamond-shaped filed Adam said was used for baseball. After that was a soccer field covered in more human children, one group wearing bright green and the other wearing purple. Adult humans cheered their spawn from the perimeter of the field.

They passed beside another wide open field.

That’s when her attention was diverted by a sound. A human voice barking a sharp guttural call. SHe turned her head just in time to see a group of humans crouched in two parallel lines facing each other. As the call was given, the man in the middle front tossed the ball backwards to a teammate standing behind him. The rest of the human responded violently and quickly bellowing war cries and slamming into each other with violent force knocking each other to the ground when possible.

A human at the end of the line raced out behind their opponents ducking past a larger human barreling towards him. The human with the ball fell back and then lobbed the thing into the air brown highlighted against eggshell blue. It flew in a tight spiral before arching towards the ground. The running human reached out with both hands and leapt forward arms wide. He caught the ball, though sloppily, and cradled it against his chest just in time to be plowed into by a human from the opposing line. There was a sharp burst of blue around the man’s head and shoulders as the two men hit the ground, the rest of the human came to a grinding halt

“Jackson! What did I say about head shots.” The human without the ball staggered to his feet, “He has a force field, so it's not like it matters.”

“Just because he has a field doesn't mean a concussion isn’t possible.” The leader explained in annoyance.

Adam had come to a halt ahead realizing that Sunny wasn’t next to him anymore. She felt him rather than saw his as he came back to stand next to her watching as the humans returned to their lines once more, “Should have known you’d like it.” He muttered to himself a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Which human game is this one.” Sunny wondered.

“A dangerous one.” Krill determined wincing as the humans plowed into each other for a second time.”

Adam accompanied sunny onto the grass as she moved a little closer, “Football….. Or I guess American Football depending on who you ask. It was almost banned at one point once they realized repeated concussions were bad for the brain.”

“No shit.” Krill muttered.

He kept going, “But people couldn’t let it go, so instead they just made better protective technology.”

“So what you’re saying is this sport was killing people because of how violent it was?”

Adam shrugged, “Less killing people and more giving them degenerative brain damage, but I digress.”

Krill looked up at sunny with annoyance, “Tell Me I am wong, but the fact that it hurts people didn’t make you more excited…. Did it?”

Sunny shrugged. 

Krill groaned.

There was a clattering as the human rammed into each other. One was violently plowed into the ground, and the group went silent as he didn’t get up. His friends knelt next to him, “You ok.”

The man gasped and through heavy breathing, “Shit…. I…. I think I pulled something.” With looks of concern, his friends pulled him off to the side to look him over. 

Of course Krill being Krill couldn't help but wander up shadow darkening the humans who looked up and jerked back in surprise at the strange alien watching them. Then their eyes moved upwards to where Sunny stood sun glittering of her bright blue armor. 

Adam approached with a smile, “Sorry, but my…. Friends were interested in your game.”

The humans blinked in surprise, “No…. apologies necessary.” one of them stammered craning his neck back to look up at Sunny.

Krill pointed to the downed human, “I am a doctor.” Eyes still wide the humans slowly moved to the side So Krill could get closer ordering the padding removed so he could get a better look.

The human leader walked up to Adam and Sunny. He was tall, taller than even Adam was making him only maybe five or six inches shorter than Sunny, “Shit…. You’re a Drev, right…. Damn your tall.”

She looked down at him with amusement, “On my planet, I am actually very very short, human. My brother is over nine feet tall.”

He blinked in shock and surprise then looked her over one more time noting the double set of arms and the built in padding, “Wow ... wouldn't mind having someone like you on my team. That extra set of arms would be nice.” Curiously, he reached out a hand and then paused, “You mind?” Hw wondered 

Sunny shook her head, she knew how humans liked exploring things with their hands, and actually found it rather endearing.  He knocked on her armor with a closed fist prodding at that which covered her shoulders and her chest with great interest, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were built for a game like this.” 

Krill had stepped back from the downed man, “Just a pulled muscle, but you should stay off of it for a week or two.” The human sighed dejectedly, but didn’t argue.

Their leader frowned, “That leaves us two men down since Dave didn’t show up today.” He glanced towards Adam and Sunny, and Sunny leaned forward eagerly hoping he would ask.

“How about you two….. Would you want to hop in.” he glanced at Adam, “You ever played?”

He shrugged, “Backyard games with my brothers.”

The guy turned back to sunny, “What do you say?”

She nodded eagerly, ad the humans whooped enthusiastically. Adam was given the protective padding the other humans wore, and the two of them were talked through the rules as they dropped into line. Sunny found herself standing across from an absolutely massive human, maybe only an inch shorter than her. He had dark skin, dark eyes, a wide smile, and his shoulders were probably wider than hers.

She had never seen a human so big before. 

He held out a hand, and she took it, “Never played against an alien before. Should be fun.” She chirped her agreement pleased with how personable these humans were. Looking around, she lowered herself into a crouch like the other humans. She didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but it was clear to her that her job was to protect her team from the opposite human, or to…. Make sure the ball didn’t get any further down her side of the field…. Or at least that’s what she thought.

She couldn’t be entirely sure.

From the sidelines Krill shook his head with annoyance standing next to the injured human.

Somewhere the human began speaking words Sunny didn’t understand. Then the order was given. She and her opponent charged forward at the same time, and before she knew it, she hit the ground hard, hard enough that it caused a slight tremor through the earth. She barely remembered what happened but was aware of a horrible throbbing in her chest, where the human had plowed into her shoulder first.

Another call went up, and the large human loomed over extending a hand down to help her up.

She groaned but took his hand, and he hauled her to her feet like she weighed nothing. It was a strange experience for sure. She had never felt like that around the humans 

“You ok Sunny.” Adam laughed, “You look like you just got body checked by a train.

She wheezed, “This human is very large.”

The rest of the group laughed, the big human most of all. She vowed to give him a taste of his own medicine next time.

And she did too. She probably didn’t intend to do it so excessively catching him by the waist ducking and inadvertently causing him to do a full rotation over her shoulder before slamming into the ground. The blue forcefield erupted around his body, and despite her apologizes, he was good natured and gave her a few pointers. She soaked them up like a sponge chirping happily pleased to find a human nearly her equal in strength and greatly outranking her in skill. She Hadn't had a fight like that in a while.

Krill hated the game as expected, but Sunny loved it.

 She especially loved watching when Adam, caught the ball, registered a moment of surprise and then was plowed into the ground from two directions. The look on his face was priceless. That was followed by a discussion about how fair it was Adam having a cybernetic leg that, he accidentally (according to him) used to flip over one of his opponents and go racing off down the field.

THey determined it was fair enough considering how many times he ended up knocked over or fumbling the ball when it was tossed to him. Adam good naturedly joked it was his depth perception with only one eye. The group laughed and said that was probably fair.

Krill decided it was a good time to lecture the humans on why they would play a game that was clearly so violent and aggressive after a particularly excessive play where one of the humans ended up squished to the ground under at least four other bodies. However they just laughed and kept playing.

Sunny learned pretty quickly that she wasn’t very good at throwing things, her arms just weren't built for that sort of thing, but she did enjoy running people over, so didn’t even bother with the ball most of the time. 

She did bother plowing into other players as they tried to get to the ball, though, and found herself thrown to the ground on more than one occasion for going after an opposing player with the ball. She wasn’t entirely sure she was doing any of this right, but no one corrected her, and when they did it was generally just to tell her what she could be doing better rather than what she was doing wrong.

Not only that, but she was pleased to hear Adam laughing again, not that he hadn’t done it in the past month but because it seemed easier than it had been lately. 

They played till the sun set, and the two of them were invited back if they were ever in the area. Her tall opponent approached her as the others were packing up and handed her the ball, “You play well.” Was all he said before returning to his team. Sunny hummed her pleasure honored that someone as good as that human would acknowledge her in that way.

Sunny like that game.

Though they were forced to endure a lecture on the way home from Krill bout how insane humans were. Where sunny saw a game of strategy and Skill, Krill saw a bunch of raging idiots using their bodies as battering rams to the detriment of their health. It was barbarous idiotic and a reason for the human to beat on each other in an acceptable manner.

They didn’t bother correcting him.

There was no arguing with krill when it came to his opinions.

Sunny spun the football in her hands thoughtfully. She would have to look into this game more. Perhaps get herself a team to root for.

She wondered if they carried jerseys in her size.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are spaceoddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

[says-the-thief-to-the-piper2]

CARGO CULT SCIENCE by Richard Feynman

Adapted from the Caltech commencement address given in 1974.

During the Middle Ages there were all kinds of crazy ideas, such as that a piece of rhinoceros horn would increase potency. Then a method was discovered for separating the ideas--which was to try one to see if it worked, and if it didn't work, to eliminate it. This method became organized, of course, into science. And it developed very well, so that we are now in the scientific age. It is such a scientific age, in fact that we have difficulty in understanding how witch doctors could ever have existed, when nothing that they proposed ever really worked--or very little of it did. But even today I meet lots of people who sooner or later get me into a conversation about UFOS, or astrology, or some form of mysticism, expanded consciousness, new types of awareness, ESP, and so forth. And I've concluded that it's not a scientific world. Most people believe so many wonderful things that I decided to investigate why they did. And what has been referred to as my curiosity for investigation has landed me in a difficulty where I found so much junk that I'm overwhelmed. First I started out by investigating various ideas of mysticism, and mystic experiences. I went into isolation tanks and got many hours of hallucinations, so I know something about that. Then I went to Esalen, which is a hotbed of this kind of thought (it's a wonderful place; you should go visit there). Then I became overwhelmed. I didn't realize how much there was. At Esalen there are some large baths fed by hot springs situated on a ledge about thirty feet above the ocean. One of my most pleasurable experiences has been to sit in one of those baths and watch the waves crashing onto the rocky shore below, to gaze into the clear blue sky above, and to study a beautiful nude as she quietly appears and settles into the bath with me. One time I sat down in a bath where there was a beautiful girl sitting with a guy who didn't seem to know her. Right away I began thinking, "Gee! How am I gonna get started talking to this beautiful nude babe?" I'm trying to figure out what to say, when the guy says to her, I'm, uh, studying massage. Could I practice on you?" "Sure," she says. They get out of the bath and she lies down on a massage table nearby. I think to myself, "What a nifty line! I can never think of anything like that!" He starts to rub her big toe. "I think I feel it, "he says. "I feel a kind of dent--is that the pituitary?" I blurt out, "You're a helluva long way from the pituitary, man!" They looked at me, horrified--I had blown my cover--and said, "It's reflexology!" I quickly closed my eyes and appeared to be meditating. That's just an example of the kind of things that overwhelm me. I also looked into extrasensory perception and PSI phenomena, and the latest craze there was Uri Geller, a man who is supposed to be able to bend keys by rubbing them with his finger. So I went to his hotel room, on his invitation, to see a demonstration of both mindreading and bending keys. He didn't do any mindreading that succeeded; nobody can read my mind, I guess. And my boy held a key and Geller rubbed it, and nothing happened. Then he told us it works better under water, and so you can picture all of us standing in the bathroom with the water turned on and the key under it, and him rubbing the key with his finger. Nothing happened. So I was unable to investigate that phenomenon. But then I began to think, what else is there that we believe? (And I thought then about the witch doctors, and how easy it would have been to cheek on them by noticing that nothing really worked.) So I found things that even more people believe, such as that we have some knowledge of how to educate. There are big schools of reading methods and mathematics methods, and so forth, but if you notice, you'll see the reading scores keep going down--or hardly going up in spite of the fact that we continually use these same people to improve the methods. There's a witch doctor remedy that doesn't work. It ought to be looked into; how do they know that their method should work? Another example is how to treat criminals. We obviously have made no progress--lots of theory, but no progress-- in decreasing the amount of crime by the method that we use to handle criminals. Yet these things are said to be scientific. We study them. And I think ordinary people with commonsense ideas are intimidated by this pseudoscience. A teacher who has some good idea of how to teach her children to read is forced by the school system to do it some other way--or is even fooled by the school system into thinking that her method is not necessarily a good one. Or a parent of bad boys, after disciplining them in one way or another, feels guilty for the rest of her life because she didn't do "the right thing," according to the experts. So we really ought to look into theories that don't work, and science that isn't science. I think the educational and psychological studies I mentioned are examples of what I would like to call cargo cult science. In the South Seas there is a cargo cult of people. During the war they saw airplanes land with lots of good materials, and they want the same thing to happen now. So they've arranged to imitate things like runways, to put fires along the sides of the runways, to make a wooden hut for a man to sit in, with two wooden pieces on his head like headphones and bars of bamboo sticking out like antennas--he's the controller--and they wait for the airplanes to land. They're doing everything right. The form is perfect. It looks exactly the way it looked before. But it doesn't work. No airplanes land. So I call these things cargo cult science, because they follow all the apparent precepts and forms of scientific investigation, but they're missing something essential, because the planes don't land. Now it behooves me, of course, to tell you what they're missing. But it would be just about as difficult to explain to the South Sea Islanders how they have to arrange things so that they get some wealth in their system. It is not something simple like telling them how to improve the shapes of the earphones. But there is one feature I notice that is generally missing in cargo cult science. That is the idea that we all hope you have learned in studying science in school--we never explicitly say what this is, but just hope that you catch on by all the examples of scientific investigation. It is interesting, therefore, to bring it out now and speak of it explicitly. It's a kind of scientific integrity, a principle of scientific thought that corresponds to a kind of utter honesty--a kind of leaning over backwards. For example, if you're doing an experiment, you should report everything that you think might make it invalid--not only what you think is right about it: other causes that could possibly explain your results; and things you thought of that you've eliminated by some other experiment, and how they worked--to make sure the other fellow can tell they have been eliminated. Details that could throw doubt on your interpretation must be given, if you know them. You must do the best you can--if you know anything at all wrong, or possibly wrong--to explain it. If you make a theory, for example, and advertise it, or put it out, then you must also put down all the facts that disagree with it, as well as those that agree with it. There is also a more subtle problem. When you have put a lot of ideas together to make an elaborate theory, you want to make sure, when explaining what it fits, that those things it fits are not just the things that gave you the idea for the theory; but that the finished theory makes something else come out right, in addition. In summary, the idea is to try to give all of the information to help others to judge the value of your contribution; not just the information that leads to judgment in one particular direction or another. The easiest way to explain this idea is to contrast it, for example, with advertising. Last night I heard that Wesson oil doesn't soak through food. Well, that's true. It's not dishonest; but the thing I'm talking about is not just a matter of not being dishonest, it's a matter of scientific integrity, which is another level. The fact that should be added to that advertising statement is that no oils soak through food, if operated at a certain temperature. If operated at another temperature, they all will-- including Wesson oil. So it's the implication which has been conveyed, not the fact, which is true, and the difference is what we have to deal with. We've learned from experience that the truth will come out. Other experimenters will repeat your experiment and find out whether you were wrong or right. Nature's phenomena will agree or they'll disagree with your theory. And, although you may gain some temporary fame and excitement, you will not gain a good reputation as a scientist if you haven't tried to be very careful in this kind of work. And it's this type of integrity, this kind of care not to fool yourself, that is missing to a large extent in much of the research in cargo cult science. A great deal of their difficulty is, of course, the difficulty of the subject and the inapplicability of the scientific method to the subject. Nevertheless it should be remarked that this is not the only difficulty. That's why the planes didn't land--but they don't land. We have learned a lot from experience about how to handle some of the ways we fool ourselves. One example: Millikan measured the charge on an electron by an experiment with falling oil drops, and got an answer which we now know not to be quite right. It's a little bit off, because he had the incorrect value for the viscosity of air. It's interesting to look at the history of measurements of the charge of the electron, after Millikan. If you plot them as a function of time, you find that one is a little bigger than Millikan's, and the next one's a little bit bigger than that, and the next one's a little bit bigger than that, until finally they settle down to a number which is higher. Why didn't they discover that the new number was higher right away? It's a thing that scientists are ashamed of--this history--because it's apparent that people did things like this: When they got a number that was too high above Millikan's, they thought something must be wrong--and they would look for and find a reason why something might be wrong. When they got a number closer to Millikan's value they didn't look so hard. And so they eliminated the numbers that were too far off, and did other things like that. We've learned those tricks nowadays, and now we don't have that kind of a disease. But this long history of learning how not to fool ourselves--of having utter scientific integrity--is, I'm sorry to say, something that we haven't specifically included in any particular course that I know of. We just hope you've caught on by osmosis. The first principle is that you must not fool yourself--and you are the easiest person to fool. So you have to be very careful about that. After you've not fooled yourself, it's easy not to fool other scientists. You just have to be honest in a conventional way after that. I would like to add something that's not essential to the science, but something I kind of believe, which is that you should not fool the layman when you're talking as a scientist. I am not trying to tell you what to do about cheating on your wife, or fooling your girlfriend, or something like that, when you're not trying to be a scientist, but just trying to be an ordinary human being. We'll leave those problems up to you and your rabbi. I'm talking about a specific, extra type of integrity that is not lying, but bending over backwards to show how you are maybe wrong, that you ought to have when acting as a scientist. And this is our responsibility as scientists, certainly to other scientists, and I think to laymen. For example, I was a little surprised when I was talking to a friend who was going to go on the radio. He does work on cosmology and astronomy, and he wondered how he would explain what the applications of this work were. "Well," I said, "there aren't any." He said, "Yes, but then we won't get support for more research of this kind." I think that's kind of dishonest. If you're representing yourself as a scientist, then you should explain to the layman what you're doing--and if they don't want to support you under those circumstances, then that's their decision. One example of the principle is this: If you've made up your mind to test a theory, or you want to explain some idea, you should always decide to publish it whichever way it comes out. If we only publish results of a certain kind, we can make the argument look good. We must publish both kinds of results. I say that's also important in giving certain types of government advice. Supposing a senator asked you for advice about whether drilling a hole should be done in his state; and you decide it would be better in some other state. If you don't publish such a result, it seems to me you're not giving scientific advice. You're being used. If your answer happens to come out in the direction the government or the politicians like, they can use it as an argument in their favor; if it comes out the other way, they don't publish it at all. That's not giving scientific advice. Other kinds of errors are more characteristic of poor science. When I was at Cornell, I often talked to the people in the psychology department. One of the students told me she wanted to do an experiment that went something like this--it had been found by others that under certain circumstances, X, rats did something, A. She was curious as to whether, if she changed the circumstances to Y, they would still do A. So her proposal was to do the experiment under circumstances Y and see if they still did A. I explained to her that it was necessary first to repeat in her laboratory the experiment of the other person--to do it under condition X to see if she could also get result A, and then change to Y and see if A changed. Then she would know that the real difference was the thing she thought she had under control. She was very delighted with this new idea, and went to her professor. And his reply was, no, you cannot do that, because the experiment has already been done and you would be wasting time. This was in about 1947 or so, and it seems to have been the general policy then to not try to repeat psychological experiments, but only to change the conditions and see what happens. Nowadays there's a certain danger of the same thing happening, even in the famous (?) field of physics. I was shocked to hear of an experiment done at the big accelerator at the National Accelerator Laboratory, where a person used deuterium. In order to compare his heavy hydrogen results to what might happen with light hydrogen" he had to use data from someone else's experiment on light hydrogen, which was done on different apparatus. When asked why, he said it was because he couldn't get time on the program (because there's so little time and it's such expensive apparatus) to do the experiment with light hydrogen on this apparatus because there wouldn't be any new result. And so the men in charge of programs at NAL are so anxious for new results, in order to get more money to keep the thing going for public relations purposes, they are destroying--possibly--the value of the experiments themselves, which is the whole purpose of the thing. It is often hard for the experimenters there to complete their work as their scientific integrity demands. All experiments in psychology are not of this type, however. For example, there have been many experiments running rats through all kinds of mazes, and so on--with little clear result. But in 1937 a man named Young did a very interesting one. He had a long corridor with doors all along one side where the rats came in, and doors along the other side where the food was. He wanted to see if he could train the rats to go in at the third door down from wherever he started them off. No. The rats went immediately to the door where the food had been the time before. The question was, how did the rats know, because the corridor was so beautifully built and so uniform, that this was the same door as before? Obviously there was something about the door that was different from the other doors. So he painted the doors very carefully, arranging the textures on the faces of the doors exactly the same. Still the rats could tell. Then he thought maybe the rats were smelling the food, so he used chemicals to change the smell after each run. Still the rats could tell. Then he realized the rats might be able to tell by seeing the lights and the arrangement in the laboratory like any commonsense person. So he covered the corridor, and still the rats could tell. He finally found that they could tell by the way the floor sounded when they ran over it. And he could only fix that by putting his corridor in sand. So he covered one after another of all possible clues and finally was able to fool the rats so that they had to learn to go in the third door. If he relaxed any of his conditions, the rats could tell. Now, from a scientific standpoint, that is an A-number-one experiment. That is the experiment that makes rat-running experiments sensible, because it uncovers the clues that the rat is really using--not what you think it's using. And that is the experiment that tells exactly what conditions you have to use in order to be careful and control everything in an experiment with rat-running. I looked into the subsequent history of this research. The next experiment, and the one after that, never referred to Mr. Young. They never used any of his criteria of putting the corridor on sand, or being very careful. They just went right on running rats in the same old way, and paid no attention to the great discoveries of Mr. Young, and his papers are not referred to, because he didn't discover anything about the rats. In fact, he discovered all the things you have to do to discover something about rats. But not paying attention to experiments like that is a characteristic of cargo cult science. Another example is the ESP experiments of Mr. Rhine, and other people. As various people have made criticisms--and they themselves have made criticisms of their own experiments--they improve the techniques so that the effects are smaller, and smaller, and smaller until they gradually disappear. All the parapsychologists are looking for some experiment that can be repeated--that you can do again and get the same effect--statistically, even. They run a million rats no, it's people this time they do a lot of things and get a certain statistical effect. Next time they try it they don't get it any more. And now you find a man saying that it is an irrelevant demand to expect a repeatable experiment. This is science? This man also speaks about a new institution, in a talk in which he was resigning as Director of the Institute of Parapsychology. And, in telling people what to do next, he says that one of the things they have to do is be sure they only train students who have shown their ability to get PSI results to an acceptable extent-- not to waste their time on those ambitious and interested students who get only chance results. It is very dangerous to have such a policy in teaching--to teach students only how to get certain results, rather than how to do an experiment with scientific integrity. So I have just one wish for you--the good luck to be somewhere where you are free to maintain the kind of integrity I have described, and where you do not feel forced by a need to maintain your position in the organization, or financial support, or so on, to lose your integrity. May you have that freedom.

Return to Donald Simanek’s home page.

#words