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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Warriors in Red Armor

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Chapter Three

Warning: This chapter features a highly sanitized and idealized version of a protest. A protest that would take place in a galaxy far, far away with a functional government and officers held to an incredibly high standard. In short, this is not meant to be a reflection in any way, shape, or form of any of the protests that have taken place over the last few years, especially in regards to racial prejudice in the United States. If you think this could be a trigger for you, please skip this chapter and send me a message! I would be thrilled to summarize the chapter's contents for you.

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Fox I

"These men fight and die for the sake of a Republic that cares nothing for them!"

Fox winced, dialing down the volume on the channel that connected the audio intake to the interior of his helmet. Whoever had given that woman a device to amplify her voice had never been forced to listen to how loud she was all on her own.

"They were bred to fight in wars they did not create, used to protect a society from which they do not benefit, and given no chance to choose a different life!"

A different life. Fox didn't even know what he would do if he wasn't a soldier. Not that it had ever mattered. The woman had gotten that right, at least: the troopers had been bred for ultimate reflexes and battle efficiency. Using them in any other capacity would be a waste.

"They have no rights, receive no recognition, and barely earn a paycheck!"

"Hey, Commander," a trooper's voice said in his ear. Fox's HUD identified the speaker as Jek.

"What is it, Jek?" Fox asked, on instant alert and scanning the crowd with increased fervor.

"Do you think we could get a pay raise out of this?"

Fox bit back an irritated sigh. It wasn't Jek's fault that he had never experienced a riot. He didn't know the devastating speed at which crowds could turn, that you couldn't take your eyes off them for a moment. He didn't know how dangerous people like Nora Czajak could be.

"Keep your focus, trooper," he admonished. "If this crowd gets out of control, you won't deserve a pay raise anyway."

"Yes, sir," Jek agreed, sounding disappointed.

"We must stand for sake of these men who are forbidden to stand," Czajak was lecturing. "We must speak for them, because their voices have been ignored. Come, my fellow Coruscanti citizens! Lend your legs, lend your voice, lend your time! Help us show the Galactic Senate that we will not rest until these men have received all they deserve!"

"Someone must have kriffed up hard if listening to this is what we deserve," Rhys complained through the inter-HUD comm system.

It was only the second complaint, but that was two too many in Fox's opinion. With a short motion of his eyes, Fox had activated the communications system that connected all trooper helmets. It allowed him to make a sweeping announcement.

"Stay on alert, men," Fox ordered. "They have permission to march for another twenty minutes before we can break this whole thing up. Keep your seals tight."

But it was not to be. Groups of civilians thronged to the demonstration, convinced by Czajak's passionate speech to join the Clone Rights cause. At the exact time Clone Rights was to end their march, the Coruscant Guard stepped up to urge civilians off the street. It didn't matter - Czajak took up her amplifier once more.

"See, citizens? Do you see how the troopers are forced to work counter to their own interests?" Czajak demanded. "We march on their behalf, but their commanding officers order them to silence our voices! They have no choice but to obey."

The murmur of agreement passing through the crowd put tension thrumming through Fox's shoulders. If this demonstration was going to get ugly, it would be now.

"No thinking, feeling being should have their choices removed!" Czajak cried through the amplifier. "No being should be forced to fight for those who would keep him enslaved!"

If given the chance, Fox could have guessed the first act of violence down to the second it happened.

By the time the cry of, "Don't push me!" rang through the crowd, he was well on his way to Czajak.

Before she could lift her amplifier again - to do what, he didn't stop to ask - Fox had taken it from her hand. "Sorry ma'am. I'm placing you in custody."

"Under what charges?" she asked, fixing him with an impish grin that made no sense under the circumstances.

Fox's own reaction made even less sense: the sight of that little mischievous smile set his blood boiling. He had experienced far more disrespect from civilians in the past. There was no reason she should have any effect on him at all.

Still, he had to take a deep breath before he could answer her. "Violating the terms of a special demonstration permit, inciting a riot, disturbing the peace… should I go on?"

"Why not?" Czajak asked. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Fox shook his head and held up a pair of regulation magnetic binders. "Are you planning to resist arrest?"

She didn't answer him immediately, instead staring into the darkness of his visor in a way that made Fox feel painfully exposed. Czajak was calm and steady while he - Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard - was off-balance. Somehow, she had gotten him at a disadvantage. Discomfited at the idea, Fox shook the cuffs at her in a rude gesture. "Well?"

"Hold on, I'm trying to decide if resisting arrest would be working for or against my cause," she pondered, still wearing a hint of her ridiculous grin. At last, she sighed and presented her wrists. "I'll go with you."

If Fox put the binders on her wrists a bit more aggressively than necessary, no one dared to ask him why.

Somehow, he ended up being the one to transport Czajak back to the Coruscant Guard precinct - mostly because the other men were busy escorting rioters to the precinct or being looked over by Ink, the Guard's medic.

After he had gotten Czajak in his transport, Fox slid into the front seat and began preparing to pilot it. She watched with interest while he removed his helmet, but it was illegal to drive with one on, so he persevered. Besides, there would be nothing of interest for her under his helmet. Fox kept his appearance strictly within grooming guidelines. His hair was regulation, his face was clean-shaven, and his tattoos were neatly hidden beneath his body glove.

He had glanced at her in the rear-facing mirror of his transport and resolved not to do so again. Still, his determination not to speak to her lasted until she spoke exactly once.

"So you don't see your required enforcement of my demonstration as a conflict of interest?" she asked conversationally despite having stared at him in silence for the first few minutes of their trip. "You don't think it's a violation of your rights? Not that you get many of those…"

"I have rights," Fox ground out before he could stop himself. "You and your group don't help any of us. You just make our lives more difficult."

"But imagine if you weren't being forced into life as a soldier," Czajak pressed. "You and your brothers could do anything you choose to do, live in the way that best pleases you."

"And we would choose to fight and die for the Republic," Fox answered stoically.

Czajak didn't answer immediately. Fox glanced into the mirror to find her staring at him in unsettled silence. When she finally found her voice, she said, "Surely you can't be so arrogant to think that all your brothers feel the same way."

"We're clones. We look the same, act the same, fight the same, and think the same," he said with a conviction he didn't feel. "Being soldiers is what we're good at, what we were made to do. It's in our genes."

Even in his peripheral vision, he could see her perk up slightly at that. "Your genes? Your genes were donated by a man who was a bounty hunter - one of the best the galaxy has ever seen. If every person sharing your genetic profile was made to be a soldier, how did he end up as a bounty hunter?"

It was a good point, Fox resentfully admitted to himself. Czajak was excellent at debate and he found himself drawn into the argument.

"Lack of opportunity," he said, mostly to give himself time to think.

"So, if given the opportunity, you believe Jango Fett would have left a successful bounty-hunting career to be a soldier fighting for the Republic?" She shook her head. "That seems unlikely, to say the least. He was a man who valued freedom and choice."

"Jango Fett was a traitor to the Republic," Fox argued. "He died at the hands of a Jedi because he was in league with the Separatists."

"Are you a traitor to the Republic?" Czajak asked, voice gentle despite the horrendous accusation she was tossing in his direction.

"Of course not!"

"Then genes don't determine personality, preferences, or choices. Your brothers may not all like the life of a soldier, regardless of how you enjoy it." With that, Czajak settled back against the seat and stared peacefully out of the transparisteel window, as if she hadn't turned Fox's idea of the world on its head.

---

Hound III

Public relations assignments were a nightmare for most troopers. Being forced to parade in front of civilians was hard enough, but the GAR wanted their troopers to do the impossible. They had to toe the line between being friendly and non-intimidating, but still remind citizens that the troopers were more than enough to defend the Triple Zero against threats.

Hound was one of the rare troopers who didn't mind PR duty - actually, he enjoyed it. Not only did it play into his love of crowds and people, but he got to spend some time showing off his best friend.

"Now, Grizzer, can you show these good people some tricks?" Hound asked, giving the massiff a subtle signal to go into alert mode.

"Sit." Grizzer sat. "Smile." Grizzer bared his fearsome teeth. "Speak." Grizzer let out a loud, yelping bark. "Good boy!"

Grizzer could not sit still as the crowd applauded his good work. The muscular massiff's body quivered as Grizzer did his best to wag his whole being in excitement.

Non-threatening image: check, Hound thought with some amusement. The sea of younglings surrounding them had wriggled closer to the pair. Okay, so they were here for Grizzer, but Hound received some reflected fame because he got to be friends with the massiff.

"Do any of you have questions for me?" Hound asked, when he saw that their time was almost over.

A young Rodian boy raised his hand and immediately told Hound, "My mama said that massiffs eat bad children who don't listen to their parents. Does Grizzer eat bad children?"

Hound chuckled a bit. This was a common question at PR events. At first, he hadn't been sure how to answer the question, not wanting to accidentally encourage children to disobey their parents. He had ended up taking the problem to his fellow Coruscant Guardsmen and they had come up with a good solution.

Hound leaned down as if he were telling the younglings a secret and all of them wiggled closer as well. Meeting the wide, galaxy-mirroring eyes of the Rodian boy, Hound said, "Grizzer doesn't really like to eat children, but that's a secret. Don't tell your parents! Do you know what he does like to eat?"

The suggestions were wild and varied, but Hound grinned wider. "All of those are right! Grizzer will eat just about anything, even if it isn't good for him. The other night, he stole my dinner…"

And, with that, they had reached the 'Grizzer stealing food' part of the event. It was always an audience favorite, especially with younglings. Hound had vague thoughts about writing a series for young audiences about the massiff's antics. However, he was broken from his reverie by Fang, another ARF trooper, pointing at his chrono.

"That's it for today, everyone! Grizzer and I have to go back to work now."

The children - and some of the adults - made sounds of disappointment while Grizzer whined and gave Hound his most pleading expression.

"Sorry, buddy," Hound apologized to Grizzer. "You know we can't stay here all day."

"Talking to the massiff again, Hound?" Fang asked with a laugh as he approached the pair.

"That's how you become the best," Hound said, shrugging in false modesty.

He was proud of his reputation as the best ARF trooper in the GAR. It had been in every performance review he had gotten in the past few years: If there is a question about massiffs or their training, it goes immediately to Sergeant Hound. He was widely considered the ultimate authority on the subject of massiffs. Even some of the nat-born officers came to ask his advice.

In fact, Fang was at the PR event to shadow Hound. Coruscant wasn't as dangerous as some other assignments, but there was still risk in the job. There was a chance that Hound would meet an unpleasant end any day. It was best to have another qualified ARF ready to take over his work if that happened.

Grizzer, who had been idly watching the crowd with the uncaring nature that only an off-duty massiff should display, brought himself to attention. Early in their partnership, Hound had learned that the massiff had an uncanny knack for spotting trouble. Grizzer's instincts were almost never wrong.

Sure enough, a human woman stumbled out of the crowd when Hound glanced over. The two made eye contact for a moment before her gaze snapped to Grizzer, standing with one leg propped on Hound's foot. Immediate terror crossed her face and she tried to scurry back into the crowd, but she ran into a passing Devaronian. She bounced backward, falling hard on the duracrete ground with a noise that didn't sound entirely like flesh hitting a solid surface.

"Miss?" Hound asked, starting forward with a worried Grizzer hot on his heels. "Are you okay?"

The woman turned to face them, swiping frantically at the blood seeping from a cut above her eyebrow, but her attention was locked on Grizzer. "Get away from me!"

"Please calm down, ma'am, Grizzer isn't going to hurt-"

"Get away!" With that shout, one of the woman's arms lit in crackling blue electricity. Webs of light traced up and down across nodes nested in the wires of an arm he could now see was mostly cybernetic.

Hound towed Grizzer back and away from the woman even as he stared at the display. The hissing buzz of the electricity was as fascinating as it was intimidating, but Hound knew without reading the alerts on his HUD that they were illegal cybernetical alterations. Illegal alterations that she had just activated - accidental or not - in the middle of a group of civilians.

There was no way around it: he was going to have to bring her into the precinct.

"Fang," he ordered, holding Grizzer's lead out to the other ARF. Grizzer was smart and well-trained enough to go to Fang without the lead, but Hound didn't think the woman would be calmed by seeing a massiff moving around uncontrolled by a handler.

Fang, stars bless him, jogged across the small distance. He took the lead and hauled Grizzer away in seconds, ordering fascinated onlookers to go about their business all the while.

Hound's attention was fixed too closely on the woman to worry about things like civilians in the area. Her close-shaved head let him see the fire in her eyes, brighter and more violent than the sparks dripping from her cybernetic arm. If she was going to attack him or the crowd, he would need all the warning he could get. Stopping her in time to keep people from getting hurt would be tricky.

Slowly, he extended a hand, palm-out. "Easy," he breathed, humming a bit when she stared at him without moving. "The massiff is gone and no one wants to hurt you. Everything is okay."

Hound wasn't aware that he was nodding gently until she mirrored the motion, her head bobbing up and down in tense jerks. The rise and fall of her chest was still too rapid for comfort. Hound took a deep breath, exaggerating the sound for her.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths," he told her. "Everything is fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just- just keep it away from me," she said, voice a bit hoarse.

"Grizzer is over there and he's going to stay over there," Hound said firmly. "What else?"

She stared at him, her eyes intense and frank. "Let me go home."

Hound shook his head. "We both know I can't do that. Those are illegal alterations on your cybernetic, and you used them in a very public place. I need to take you to the station and file a report."

It was a bold thing to say, especially with the shivering light from her electricity-wreathed arm bouncing around the area, but she only sighed and flexed her fingers. The electricity died with the movement.

"I'll come with you," she stipulated, "but I won't ride with the massiff."

"I understand," Hound agreed, accepting her offer with ease. "Fang?"

"Sir?"

"Can you bring Grizzer back to the precinct?"

Fang took a moment to answer, and Hound glanced back to find the ARF staring at him in shock. "You want me to take Grizzer?"

"Yes, trooper," Hound said, an edge of exasperation entering his voice.

He felt a little bad making the request in the first place. Hound always took Grizzer with him, always. But Fang was a good soldier and a good brother, and he had a solid working relationship with Grizzer. Hound trusted Fang to get the massiff back to the precinct safely, even if he was a little guilty at leaving Grizzer behind.

Sorry, buddy, he mentally apologized to Grizzer. The massiff shook his head, tongue lolling out as if to say it was fine. Hound grinned. He had long thought that Grizzer was a little psychic.

"I'll get him there, sir," Fang agreed immediately, adding a sharp salute. Hound nodded solemnly at him and watched as the ARF and the massiff headed for Fang's cruiser.

When they were gone, Hound stood and extended a hand down to the woman, but she ignored it and stood on her own. When she was upright, she extended her wrists toward him for restraints. Hound pushed them down and gently guided her toward his own cruiser.

"You aren't going to put binders on me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I wasn't planning on it," Hound said honestly. "Why, are you going to make trouble?"

"I wasn't planning on it," she said with a hint of mockery in her voice. "But for someone who is arresting me for illegal cybernetic enhancements, you don't seem worried I'm going to use them on you."

"If you want binders, we can do binders," Hound said with a long-suffering attitude. "It'll be a lot more trouble on my side, though. Do you really want to make extra work for me?"

"I would never want to inconvenience someone who's arresting me," she responded, expression as dry as her tone.

"Good! No binders, then," Hound decided, steering her into the backseat of his cruiser.

They didn't say another word to each other on the way to the precinct.

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A/N - I just realized that the chapter cut comes before Hound learns that it's Ransom he's arresting. It's an awkward splice, but that's what happens when you write a story all at once and try to cut it into chapters of similar length afterward!

I'm sorry for the late update, but between the Chauvin sentencing and the death of Ma'Khia Bryant in the last week, I couldn't even think about posting on my usual day without feeling guilty and uncomfortable. I hope the protest described here wasn't too offensive to anyone, but I wanted to get this chapter posted!

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #sergeant hound #commander thorn #commander thire #tcw #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

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jemej3m · 6 years

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in confidence i confide

i do understand this isn’t how therapy works :)

basic summary: neil needs help and andrew gets paid to help. it works out, somehow.

Neil was uncomfortable with how startingly different it all seemed. There were no sticky leather ottomans across from a black leather couch, or bookshelves covered in intimidating titles, or walls covered in certificates of achievements. The room was rather small, and Neil sat in a very soft velvet chair. A wooden coffee table sat in front of him. The man was on the other side of the room at the small kettle, making two mugs of something or rather: Neil smelled Earl Grey. He wasn’t fussed about that, so he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to drink it regardless.

The lighting of the room: That was different too. All offices of psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists and counsellors alike seemed to have a stark, bright white lighting. This room was lit by a lamp in the corner, and the cracks of daylight that seeped through the gaps in the curtain that covered the floor-to-ceiling window.

The psychologist must have seen him glance at the curtains. “I usually keep them shut, but some patients prefer them open. Depends on what they want from me, usually.”

Neil had nothing to say.

Andrew Minyard looked at him, one mug in each hand, huffed out a small sigh, and paced back towards the small, matching velvet couch perpendicular to Neil’s chair. He settled down the tea in front of Neil and sat himself against the armrest of the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in his hand. “Curtains shut, then.” He took a sip. “Feel free to open them whenever you like.”

Neil wanted this session to be over.

“In case you were wondering,” He put down his mug. “I’d prefer if you called me Andrew, rather than doctor, or Dr Minyard. We both already know you’re here for my medical qualifications: We don’t need the reminder every time you say my name.”

“What are your qualifications?”

“It speaks.” Andrew tilted his head to the side. Neil felt like copying, just to mock him—so he did. Andrew rose up a single eyebrow in amusement: Neil saw the twitch of the corner of his lips. “I have an undergraduate degree in criminology, and a post-grad in medicinal science. I continued on to study psychology and I have a PhD in criminal psychology. I’ve been in the field for five years.”

“Five.” Neil echoed. “How old are you?”

“29.” Andrew laced his fingers together. One year older than Neil. “I accelerated through many of the courses and stacked the necessary hours for certain qualifications on top of one another. I completed my PhD last year. Star pupil.”

Neil hummed.

“Do you feel, in light of my accomplishments, that you have to share yours?”

Neil looked up.

“Because I’d like to keep this space completely honest and open from the get-go: I already know who you are, and incidentally already know more than you want me to. Seems a little unfair to me.”

“Through Exy or through my father?” Neil’s plight was open to the entire public: Ten years ago he’d fought and won, and these scars were proof. Now he’d gone to the Olympics once—they’d lost to Germany, but they would be heading back this time next year. “Nevermind. Criminal psychologist.”

“It’d be hard not to know you from Exy,” Andrew corrected him. “But yes. Its your past that interests me more. I’m no policeman, or agent. I’m not here to drill and extract. This is your hour to talk about whatever you want, and to ask whatever questions you need.”

Neil picked up his Earl Grey, took a sip, and settled it back down again. No sugar, just how he liked it. He put his feet up on the edge of the coffee table and nestled into the velvet chair—it was very comfortable, but he couldn’t imagine anyone larger than him would find it so. How on earth did Kevin sit here for an hour every two weeks?

“I’m going to take a nap.”

Andrew said nothing, but Neil saw the tick of his jaw before he closed his eyes.

At first, Andrew didn’t move. Neil eventually heard him shift, and then stand, take his own mug off the table and treading lightly across the room. A creaking noise: Neil cracked open one eye to see the chalkboard on the opposite wall, next to the door, lifting up to reveal a book case. Andrew grabbed something off the bottom shelf—something tattered and worn—before closing the hidden bookshelf and turning around. Neil shut his eyes before Andrew could see him staring.

Andrew sat down again with his book, opened it, flicked through a few pages, before saying “You’re terrible at pretending to sleep.”

“I’m not trying to pretend.”

Andrew hummed.

Neil did not trust therapists—psychologists, psychiatrists, anyone of that or a similar brand. It was pure instinct. He could not sleep with Andrew in the room, but he could piss him off by wasting his time: He was Kevin’s psychologist—and Matt’s. Probably one of the most popular counselling professionals in the world of professional sport. If he shit-bagged Neil to Kevin about how much of a waste the session was, maybe Kevin wouldn’t hassle him again.

Andrew said nothing else. Neil opened his eyes at the beep of his watch, marking the turnover of an hour. He stood up, straightened his shirt and looked down at Andrew who was perusing a book on his couch. The psychologist didn’t spare him another glance, nor another word as he walked out.

The receptionist glared up at him—identical to Andrew. His name tag read A. Minyard, which wasn’t helpful at all. “So, first session with Andrew, huh?”

Neil nodded.

“Would you like to schedule the next one? Weekly or fortnightly is the recommendation, but—“

“Next one?”

He rose up a single eyebrow. “Oh, yes. Andrew insisted. It’d be wise to listen to his instruction.”

When the hell did Andrew instruct—

“Same time, next week.” Not-Andrew stabbed enter with his finger and stood up to give a business card. “The reception phone is always manned if there’s an emergency. We’ll link you through to him if it’s necessary. Bye.”

Neil nodded, stunned, turned himself around and marched out the door before he could kick up a fuss.

“What level of nutcase was he for you to text me mid-session?” Aaron lounged in the chair as Andrew rounded the front desk.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, now patient confidentiality is a concern of yours?” His twin arched an eyebrow. “You just want to get with him. That has to be illegal.”

“Aaron.”

Aaron rose up his hands in surrender, lips puckered like he tasted something sour and tucked himself under the desk, sitting up.

“You have a patient coming in five minutes. Go set up.”

Andrew sat down when Aaron slipped by him and put his feet up on the desk, staring at the screen.

Neil Josten was attractive. That was, however, not a concern of his. Regardless, he’d already known that. It was hard to sift through sports’ news without finding a Moreau, Josten, Reynolds, Knox, Boyd or even the legendary Day plastered somewhere, shirtless and glistening.

He and his twin had made a name for themselves as the one-stop-shop for professional sportsmen and women: Andrew fixed their heads, Aaron fixed their bodies, and Renee fixed their relationships. It was as good a team as any.

Neil Josten. Andrew scoffed.

Kevin shoved Neil out the door a week later. “Go.”

“Kevin—“

Kevin slammed the passenger door shut for Neil and sped off. Neil cursed after him until he turned the corner.

It was easy for Neil to get home, or to their court. He wasn’t incapable of catching public transport, despite it being something he’d more or less avoided since starting college and shaking his father off his back ten years ago.

He didn’t have to walk in there, either. But sleeping through the session hadn’t had the desired affect: Andrew had talked to Kevin, and Kevin had yelled at him for it, sure. But he wasn’t letting Neil go: He was pushing him until Neil used the time ‘wisely’.

Neil made another sour face in the direction that Kevin had driven off, and stalked inside. They were both there, and Neil remembered Not-Andrew who’d manned the desk after his appointment. They were joined by a young woman, too, with silver hair that was black at the roots and cut to her chin. The three of them looked up at him: The woman smiled, Andrew rose up his signature eyebrow and Not-Andrew glanced at Andrew.

“Follow me.”

Neil pulled the door shut behind him.

“Going to pull the same shit, today?” Andrew went to draw the curtains shut.

“Most likely.”

“Your money, your time.” Andrew hummed. “I’ll have to move you to a different spot if you’re going to remain stubborn, because people who need this time slot more urgently than you do are waiting for it.”

“So why get me in again.” Neil said flatly, dropping into the chair.

Andrew looked at him. “Me, get you in again? You’re the one who rescheduled, Neil.”

Neil tasted something sour, sunk into the chair and closed his eyes.

This lasted four sessions—six weeks, when Neil started going fortnightly instead.

And then it changed

Renee buzzed Andrew in. He was at home: She was manning the reception phone tonight. He picked up immediately. “Renee?”

“I’ve got Kevin Day on the phone. He sounds very stressed: Can you take it now?”

“Put him through.”

“—swear to God, Renee?”

“Kevin, it’s me.”

He sighed with relief. “Thank god. Andrew. Help.”

Andrew almost rolled his eyes. “I’m aware you require it. What’s happening?”

“Neil’s having a panic attack. We’re in public: I’ve barricaded the bathroom and we’re alone. He won’t talk to me.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to me?”

“I don’t think he will, but you’re trained to do this. I’m not. I’m putting you on speaker and standing outside the door. Neil, if you need anything, call out to me. Ok?”

Andrew didn’t hear Neil reply, but there was definitely someone breathing raggedly. The phone was placed on the tile floor, and he heard the door shut.

“Neil.”

Nothing.

“I want you to breathe for me. I’m going to count with you. Ok?”

Nothing.

Andrew counted. He wasn’t breathing evenly nor steadily, but the longer Andrew murmured numbers, the more it evened out.

“Look at your hands, Neil. Are they holding something? Are they in fists? Can you stretch them out for me?”

Neil murmured something.

“Can you repeat that for me, Neil.”

“What are you—“ He took in a shuddering breath. “—doing.”

“I’m going to wait this one out with you and make sure you’re ok. I am able to answer any questions revolving why this would have happened and to help you work through how it started, what contributed to it, and how you can resolve it, understood?”

Neil hummed.

“Back to breathing, alright?” No response, not even a hum. “Ok. Breathe with me, ready…”

Kevin texted him later.

Thank you. That was a really bad one. I couldn’t let the press see him like that, he was desperate to escape but so lost in his head that he couldn’t find one. What did he say when he calmed down?

He didn’t say anything. Andrew texted back. He said ‘enough’ and hung up.

You’ll earn his trust. Kevin replied. Just be patient.

Andrew already knew that. Dont tell me how to do my damn job.

Right. Sorry.

Neil missed their next session.

He rescheduled, though, much to Andrew’s relief. It rolled around slowly, like watching the clock and seeing the second hand slow down just to taunt you. But it czme, eventually, and he appeared in the doorway, ragged and sleepless and angry.

He doesn’t shut the door behind him this time.

“You could have saved your brothers’ scholarship if you’d explained the history of your abuse during his trial. But you didn’t.”

He did his research.

“Does slandering me make you feel better about being exposed as you were?”

Neil’s jaw tightened.

“For your information, Aaron wasn’t going to let me attempt that. We had enough evidence to keep him out of jail. None of that is your business.”

“Did you kill your mother?”

Andrew tapped on the armrest of his couch. “Car accidents are awful things. Did you kill yours?”

Neil stared at him. “No. My father did.”

“And your uncle killed your father, and the boss of a mafia gang in New York killed him. Are you next?”

Neil shook his head. “How do you know about Ichirou?”

“I am good friends with Kevin.”

“He never talked about you until he admitted to going to your sessions a few months ago.”

“He doesn’t talk about much but Exy, does he.”

Neil paused. “I suppose that’s true.”

Andrew stopped tapping on the armrest when he saw Neil was watching his movement. Neil’s gaze flitted up to his because of it. “Are you going to talk to me, now?”

“I’m not good at talking.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m very good an comprehending nonsense and piecing together puzzles. Where do you want to start?”

Neil paused, and then let out a singular, startlingly genuine laugh, stretching out on his chair. “Oh, doctor, it all started when I was young and impressionable…”

“Don’t you dare.” Andrew felt the tick of a muscle in his cheek. He was not going to smile. He was not going to smile. “What if we worked through the night where Kevin called me, hm?”

Neil sighed. Cast his gaze to the ceiling, then back to Andrew. Swallowed. Looked down at his hands.

“Fine.”

And they did.

The next time Neil called Andrew after-hours, it was weeks later and he was the one manning the reception phone: It was in the pocket of his slacks and he was on the couch at home. The three of them took turns keeping the reception phone on them: Each of them were qualified in first-aid, of which they’d required twice before. Aaron was the only one of the three who wasn’t apt at dealing with psychological emergencies, but was the best with physical ones. It was a good system.

Andrew rose the phone as soon as it started ringing. “Yes.”

“Oh, Andrew. It’s you.”

Neil had his session today. Why was he calling?

“Indeed.” Usually people couldn’t distinguish between him and Aaron over the phone. How had Neil been able to with just a yes.

“Oh. Hi.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not—“ Neil made a noise. “I realise now this is the after-hours phone. And this isn’t urgent. It’s stupid, too.”

“Nothing can be stupid if I haven’t been given the chance to judge whether it is or not, Neil. What is?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you. More. Are you always working?”

“Not always.”

“Is it weird if I get your actual phone number? Is that some kind of breach of policy?”

This was not happening. “You can have it.”

“Oh. Ok. Let me—“

“I’ll text you.”

“Oh. Right.”

Andrew hung up and leapt for his actual phone, where it was laying face-down on the coffee table.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The only thing that was stupid about Neil Josten was how much Andrew had let himself like him.

“Why are you so groggy.” Aaron remarked when Andrew walked into the reception. Renee had a coffee waiting for him.

At approximately the same time, Kevin hit Neil over the back of his head. They’d been up and at it since six—Neil was already dead on his feet, but he kept checking his phone. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Neil slid his phone back into his bag.

Andrew didn’t reply to Aaron’s very similar question.

“You never get much sleep.” Kevin grumbled to himself. Neil ignored him.

“Bad night.” Renee deduced. Andrew sipped his coffee.

No, Andrew thought, remembering who he’d been up talking to until four in the morning.

Not for the reason you’d think, Neil thought, following Kevin back to the treadmills.

Andrew had thought—had suspected, hoped, projected, was almost certain—that Josten was going to ask him out.

He hadn’t.

Andrew wasn’t sure what was going on. Maybe years ago, he would’ve given up and moved on without the bat of an eye, but this Andrew was invested in puzzles with missing pieces and things so shattered that the normal man wouldn’t dare try to work out how to glue it back together. Andrew was psychoanalysing Neil out of habit, and assessing every little movement and comment and facial expression out of habit.

It was driving him up the wall.

He met Neil for coffee after Neil’s early morning runs, and they grabbed Thai and Italian and Chinese together when Andrew got out of the clinic.

Neil was very good at guidelines, and understood what Andrew meant when he asked Neil to keep it separate from his therapy: Andrew had a job to do. It was still never a single hour that was all about Neil and his issues: From the beginning, Andrew had worked out that a truth was traded for a truth, and that they would get nowhere in Neil’s twisted, thorn-embedded landmine of a mental space if he didn’t let Neil into his own.

But outside his office, he could no longer detach himself like he often did.

It was what lead him to grabbing Neil by his fingers—the first bad decision—and rerouting to the roof-top access stairwell—the second bad decision—showing Neil he was apt at lock jimmying by getting it open without disturbing the alarm system—the third bad decision—and pulling Neil to the edge—the fourth bad decision.

“What do you feel, standing here?” He was curious. His heart was racing, every breath catching in his throat. A combination of the sheer drop beneath them and the fingers still hooked with the redhead next to him’s. Neil looked tired, but a well-worn kind of tired: No nightmare-induced shadows under his eyes or nervous clench to his jaw. They’d been up talking all night again.

“The wind.”

“A truth.” Andrew looked out. “I’m scared of heights.” The fifth bad decision—telling Neil that.

His blue eyes opened a little wider. “Why did you bring me out here, then?”

“It used to be the only way I could feel something.”

Neil was still looking at him in that peculiar way of his, feeling as though he was opening Andrew’s chest, one layer of skin at a time. But he’d made it well-past his skin, and had pulled back filaments of muscle, and yanked at his sternum and ribcage, worming around his lungs and dislodging his trachea. There was only one thing left in there.

“What do you feel now?”

“If I asked to kiss you—” Andrew started.

“Yes.” Neil’s fingers tightened around his.

“You didn’t hear me out.” Andrew frowned, looking at him.

He was so close. “I already knew what you were going to say.”

Andrew turned into it. That was the sixth bad decision—and probably the worst. But Andrew still refused to believe in regret and abided by his own policies (aptly ignoring the don’t-fuck-around-with-patients policy), and this was happening. This was happening.

“I hate you.” He muttered, right against Neil’s lips. Neil wasn’t moving backwards. It was as good of an excuse an any to do it again—The seventh bad decision.

It was that point that Andrew lost count of the number of bad decisions he’d made—because he let himself be lead inside and lost count of the kiss count as soon as they made it past Neil’s front door.

Neil’s reasoning for stopping the sessions was because he was ok: Andrew wasn’t having any of it. He wouldn’t see Renee since becoming friends with her, but he was unwilling to branch out.

“It’s the regularity and routine.” Andrew grabbed Neil by his chin and rose up an eyebrow. “Neil. We can still keep the sessions going.”

“I have access to your services as a psychologist whenever I like. You won’t let me pay anymore: There are people who need the time slot more than me.” Neil put his fingers around Andrew’s wrist. “And as much as I appreciate the offer, the risk of me ending up naked on your desk is far too high. Not that I’d complain, but—it’s a little unprofessional, don’t you think?”

Andrew shoved him back with a scoff. “I do have some element of self-control, Josten.”

Neil grinned.

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #au #not-so-mini fic #i like the idea of psychologist andrew #who knows how exy and palmetto fit into this #it's 10 years in the future no one gives a shit whoop #what city are they even in #no one knows #aftg #jem writes

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halsteadproperty · 4 years

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New York Is on PAUSE: Here’s What You Need to Know

Last weekend, New York Governor Andrew Cuomo introduced a 10-point “Policy that Assures Uniform Safety for Everyone,” referred to as PAUSE. The executive order, which is in effect as of March 22, aims to slow down the spread of coronavirus through a series of strict measures.

The order will remain in place at least for the next few weeks, and possibly longer. Referring to PAUSE, Governor Cuomo said that “these are not helpful hints…these provisions will be enforced.” Here is what you need to know about the 10-point order:

All non-essential businesses must remain closed.

In an effort to avoid gathering and ensure as many people as possible stay home, non-essential businesses will be closed.

Essential businesses and services that will remain open include grocery stores, pharmacies, healthcare providers, public transit, banks, mail and shipping services, cleaning and maintenance services, restaurants and bars (for take-out and delivery only), liquor and wine stores, and human service providers like food banks and shelters. Refer to this guidance from the NY state governmentto see a more comprehensive list of essential businesses that will remain open.

Non-essential gatherings of any size are canceled and postponed.

Following earlier closings of gathering places like movie theaters, event venues, gyms, and salons, this mandate temporarily bans gatherings of any size for any non-essential reason. This means postponing any parties or events, even in private spaces.

In this time of social distancing and isolating, it might be tempting to invite close friends to dinner or see family members outside of your household. This kind of gathering accelerates the spread of the virus and is in direct violation of PAUSE. Instead, enjoy your time at home with these fun and socially responsible activities.

Any concentration of individuals outside of their home is limited to essential service workers.

Not only are these the only types of gatherings allowed, but essential service workers are also expected to practice social distancing while performing their jobs.

When in public, individuals must practice social distancing of at least six feet.

It’s vital that you keep at least six feet of distance between you and other individuals when you are outside, whether you’re on a walk/run, at the grocery store, or picking up take-out.

Entities that provide essential services must facilitate social distancing.

Essential businesses and services will be expected to implement social distancing rules so that their employees remain safe.

Individuals should limit outdoor recreational activities to non-contact activities.

You are still welcome to take walks, jog/run, and do other non-contact recreational activities outside. But, it’s crucial that you keep a safe distance away from others and avoid touching objects.

Once you get home, make sure to wash your hands properly, change clothes, and disinfect any objects you brought in.

Individuals should limit the use of public transportation.

While public transportation is an essential service and will continue to operate, you are urged to use it only when absolutely necessary. If you do need to use it, limit your exposure by keeping a safe distance away from others and avoiding touching surfaces (and washing your hands or sanitizing afterwards).

Sick individuals should not leave their home unless to receive medical care.

Additionally, a sick individual should only leave their home to receive medical care after a telehealth session/calling a medical professional to determine whether leaving home is in their best interest.

If you are in a household with a sick individual, please keep your distance and be especially mindful of social distancing if you have to go out in public.

Young people should also practice social distancing.

It’s vital that young people self-isolate whenever possible and also practice social distancing at home and in public. Whether or not they have any symptoms of coronavirus, this segment of the population is likely to spread the virus to others, including those who are most vulnerable.

Use precautionary sanitizer practices.

Washing your hands according to CDC guidelines is the best way to protect yourself. In addition to this, you can use hand sanitizer when washing your hands is not an option. Also, make sure to sanitize surfaces and objects with isopropyl alcohol wipes.

Aside from the 10-point policy, other measures introduced as part of PAUSE include the following:

- Matilda’s Law: Named for Governor Cuomo’s mother, Matilda’s Law is an effort to protect New York’s most vulnerable, including those over 70, the immunocompromised, and those with underlying illnesses.

The measure requires these New Yorkers to stay home unless they need to leave for emergency reasons. Family members or friends should avoid visiting unless there is an urgent need. Before visiting someone who is part of this population, you should pre-screen by taking your temperature and ensuring you have no flu-like symptoms. During any visit, all individuals, especially the vulnerable, should wear a mask and keep distance whenever possible.

- A 90-day moratorium on residential and commercial evictions is now in place, joining an existing statewide freeze on mortgage payments.

- Given the current shortage of PPE for medical professionals (gloves, masks, and gowns), Governor Cuomo is asking PPE providers to sell products to the state. He is also encouraging any company with the appropriate equipment and personnel (clothing designers, for example) to begin manufacturing PPE products. The state will provide funding to businesses that are able to do so.

Additionally, if you as an individual have masks and/or gloves that you do not need, consider donating them to a local hospital or clinic.

Here are some resources where you can find more detailed information about coronavirus as well as PAUSE and what it means for New Yorkers:

The CDC’s Recommendations and Resources for Coronavirus Governor Cuomo Signs the “New York State on PAUSE” Executive Order Guidance on Which Businesses Are Essential New York Goes on PAUSE: Here’s What That Means (Gothamist) New York Issues a “PAUSE” On Nonessential Services and Gatherings (Curbed New York) City to Comply with “PAUSE” Program (AMNY)

#New York City #new york #pause #coronavirus

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suitcasetales · 5 years

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We’ve Got the “WALK”

With me having a March 2 birthday, we will often take a trip, usually just a weekend away, around then. We have survived January and February and Spring Fever is spiking. This year, when I realized we were leaving for Costa Rica on my birthday, I felt a bit guilty. Longer story short, Janet’s birthday was Wednesday and we are heading home from her birthday weekend in New York City.

We reserved two nights in a nice hotel [The Maxwell, on Lexington] via PriceLine, bought two sets of theatre tickets in advance, booked a round trip on Amtrak and researched some “cheap eats” in The Big Apple.

We left Richmond at 6am Friday with only 38 other passengers on board. Other than absolutely freezing on board, it was a pleasant journey and we stayed on schedule. We had eaten our packed lunch so once we reached Penn Station, we hit the ground running........well, okay, walking — no suitcases, just backpacks; no taxis or public transportation, just our KEENs. We headed directly to the hotel, hoping to be able to check in early, and not only did we succeed in doing that, we also received an upgrade. Score one for the birthday girl.

Our individual agendas for the afternoon did not clash — I wanted to go to the Stonewall Inn and Janet wanted to go look for a food cart she had read about. Luckily, these two were in the same direction.

In most of the world, June is [gay] Pride month. [Richmond has to be different!] This year is particularly special as it is the 50th anniversary of what has simply become known as “Stonewall.” For those of you who don’t know what that means, I will just post my photos of the historic markers and you can read about its significance. The last weekend in June is Pride weekend in NYC but at practically every turn, there were rainbow flags and store windows with Pride displays and welcoming and encouraging messages so I went a bit nutty taking photos along our way.

When we got to Washington Square, we couldn’t immediately spot the food cart we wanted. Upon asking, a woman simply directed us to just around the corner. “You’ll see the line.” And so we did. But when we went to join it, a man was standing there with a “we are closed sign.”

I don’t think we played the birthday card but he let us join the queue. Ninety minutes later (yes, folks, that is not a typo) we were chatting with the chef and ordering anything he had left! He asked “spicy [Janet] or not spicy [me]” and then made us savory crepes and pancakes. We found an unoccupied chess table and sat down and thoroughly enjoyed every single bite.

We now know why he is so popular and why the line moves so slowly. His food is delicious and is matched by his personality. He treated every person as if they were his only customer and practically everyone ended up with a photo with him or a selfie with him. We had been chatting with him while he was making our food, telling him where we were from and where we lived. When he found out Janet was from London, he had to show her an article about him winning an award there. He is so proud that he has won competitions in both London and NYC. After someone took our photo with him, he whipped out his own cell phone for a selfie with “the two ladies from Virginia.”

From Washington Square Park, we walked over to Christopher Street and the Stonewall Inn. Across from it, the small, appropriately triangular park, Christopher Park is a newly designated [during the Obama Presidency, of course] National Park property and the Inn a National Monument. More photo opportunities ensued including the bouncer letting me in and him directing me to all of the important things to photograph!

Our next hike was to the Laura Pels Theatre for our 7:30 curtain with an “off Broadway” play entitled “Toni Stone.” Marcenia Lyle “Toni” Stone was the first of three women to play professional baseball in the Negro Leagues. It was a story about an athlete who simply wanted the equal opportunity to play ball. The actors were not miked and one major player was difficult to hear and understand. I don’t suppose it will ever be a highly decorated play but it is a story worthy of being told.

Saturday morning we enjoyed a tasty breakfast a block away at a Danish bakery before heading north to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We had pre-bought our entrance tickets so once through security, we headed for our reason for going. “Camp: Notes on Fashion” was another delve in to the history of a certain genre of fashion, in particularly how the whole concept of “camp” more or less became interchangeable with homosexuality, especially with males. An absolutely fabulous exhibit, highly entertaining and again a story worthy of being told. (If you go, entry to it is not timed — we think it should be just to control the flow of humanity going — so plan accordingly. I can’t imagine how mobbed it will be during Pride weekend but it runs through September 8.)

Despite it being a beautiful day, the museum was hopping but we had had our fill and were not interested in staying inside any longer. We walked back to our hotel to cash in our two $30 vouchers at our lobby bar, enjoying veggie burgers, cauliflower bites and truffle fries for lunch.

In our next quest to cover every inch of the City, we walked 1.9 miles, plus three and a half sides of another block because we got confused — in order to then walk the entire length (1.45 miles) of the popular High Line park.

A rails-to-trails endeavor with views of the Hudson River to the west and Manhattan to the east, there is not a lot to it. With little shade and a scattering of benches, there are some nice sculptures along the route, interesting plants and trees and several opportunities to descend to the street level. It was hot and we walked the entire length and then had to backtrack to go to Chelsea Market where we rewarded ourselves with milkshakes at, again, a place we had read about!

Revived a bit, we headed back to Midtown, stopping in Macy’s to see their Pride & Joy displays and merchandise. We maneuvered through Times Square and arrived back at our hotel with enough time to relax, shower and replenish some liquids.

If asked, I would guess that Janet’s foremost reason for wanting to go to New York was to see the musical, “Come From Away.” When international flights destined for American cities were unable to enter American air space on September 11, many were diverted to airports in Canada. Thirty-eight of them ended up at the airport in Gander in Newfoundland with runways big enough to accomodate jet landings. The area was (and is) scarcely populated but the airport was big because before modern day jets could cross the Atlantic in one shot, they had to stop and re-fuel in Gander. The town and its residents rallied around and got organized to house, feed, entertain and distract, as best they could, the 6700 unexpected guests on that dreadful day.

I can not put in to words how much we enjoyed this musical. We knew about Gander, remembering stories from 2001 and we have a book about how they stepped up that week, but to see it on stage was heartbreaking and heartwarming — crying, laughing, sometimes crying and laughing, if it had been a movie, we would have turned right around and bought tickets for the second showing! The audience was enthusiastic, to say the least, jumping to our collective feet the micro-second the show ended, honoring the cast in their performances and then clapping while the show band, hidden in the wings during the show, came on stage and played a rousing tune. There were even about six folks from Newfoundland in the audience, proudly waving the provincial flag of Newfoundland and Labrador. Alas, the band stopped playing and we had to return to the real world.

But at least the real world came with a pizza slice....

......and a visit to the Hard Rock Cafe where I finally chose the Pride shirt I wanted to buy. Honoring Freddie Mercury and raising money for the Mercury Phoenix Trust (founded by Brian May and Roger Taylor in memory of Freddie) to fight AIDS worldwide, I will wear it proudly.

On Sunday, we were a bit limited by our heavy-ish backpacks, not wanting to walk too far with them and always keeping an eye on the clock. Janet directed us to the lovely Sara Beth Bakery, just on the edge of Central Park, for a tasty brunch. There were Police of every category gathering for the parade in honor of Puerto Rico Day and folks heading toward the parade route as we were heading away from it. We ended up hanging out in a hotel lobby for a while and then doing just a tad of shopping before heading to Penn Station early enough to buy takeaway food for the train and head back to Richmond.

We had a fabulous weekend in New York. The weather was perfect and our chosen activities and destinations were perfect for us. If my FitBit had not died, I would be able to tell you how many steps we walked! By far the most common thing we said to each other had to have been, “We’ve got the WALK” as we crossed countless intersections. Seeing all the rainbow flags and the visible corporate support of Pride was an amazing thing to witness first hand and a reminder of how much the world.....our world.....has changed just in the 33 years we have been together. Unfortunately, not all the change has been good. I think we could all learn a few lessons from the citizens of Gander or from these two:

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criticalotterstudies · 7 years

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Mostly, Rand would savor Musk, a hyper-logical, risk-loving industrialist. He enjoys costume parties, wing-walking, and Japanese steampunk extravaganzas. Robert Downey Jr. used Musk as a model for Iron Man. Marc Mathieu, the chief marketing officer of Samsung USA, who has gone fly-fishing in Iceland with Musk, calls him “a cross between Steve Jobs and Jules Verne.”As they danced at their wedding reception, Justine later recalled, Musk informed her, “I am the alpha in this relationship.” [...] Here’s the nagging thought you can’t escape as you drive around from glass box to glass box in Silicon Valley: the Lords of the Cloud love to yammer about turning the world into a better place as they churn out new algorithms, apps, and inventions that, it is claimed, will make our lives easier, healthier, funnier, closer, cooler, longer, and kinder to the planet. And yet there’s a creepy feeling underneath it all, a sense that we’re the mice in their experiments, that they regard us humans as Betamaxes or eight-tracks, old technology that will soon be discarded so that they can get on to enjoying their sleek new world. Many people there have accepted this future: we’ll live to be 150 years old, but we’ll have machine overlords. [...] In Silicon Valley, a lunchtime meeting does not necessarily involve that mundane fuel known as food. Younger coders are too absorbed in algorithms to linger over meals. Some just chug Soylent. Older ones are so obsessed with immortality that sometimes they’re just washing down health pills with almond milk. [...] Peter Thiel told me about a friend of his who says that the only reason people tolerate Silicon Valley is that no one there seems to be having any sex or any fun. But there are reports of sex robots on the way that come with apps that can control their moods and even have a pulse. The Valley is skittish when it comes to female sex robots—an obsession in Japan—because of its notoriously male-dominated culture and its much-publicized issues with sexual harassment and discrimination. But when I asked Musk about this, he replied matter-of-factly, “Sex robots? I think those are quite likely.” Whether sincere or a shrewd P.R. move, Hassabis made it a condition of the Google acquisition that Google and DeepMind establish a joint A.I. ethics board. At the time, three years ago, forming an ethics board was seen as a precocious move, as if to imply that Hassabis was on the verge of achieving true A.I. Now, not so much. Last June, a researcher at DeepMind co-authored a paper outlining a way to design a “big red button” that could be used as a kill switch to stop A.I. from inflicting harm. Google executives say Larry Page’s view on A.I. is shaped by his frustration about how many systems are sub-optimal—from systems that book trips to systems that price crops. He believes that A.I. will improve people’s lives and has said that, when human needs are more easily met, people will “have more time with their family or to pursue their own interests.” Especially when a robot throws them out of work. [...] Some sniff that Musk is not truly part of the whiteboard culture and that his scary scenarios miss the fact that we are living in a world where it’s hard to get your printer to work. Others chalk up OpenAI, in part, to a case of FOMO: Musk sees his friend Page building new-wave software in a hot field and craves a competing army of coders. As Vance sees it, “Elon wants all the toys that Larry has. They’re like these two superpowers. They’re friends, but there’s a lot of tension in their relationship.” A rivalry of this kind might be best summed up by a line from the vainglorious head of the fictional tech behemoth Hooli, on HBO’s Silicon Valley: “I don’t want to live in a world where someone else makes the world a better place better than we do.” [...] Six months after the Puerto Rico conference, Musk, Hawking, Demis Hassabis, Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak, and Stuart Russell, a computer-science professor at Berkeley who co-authored the standard textbook on artificial intelligence, along with 1,000 other prominent figures, signed a letter calling for a ban on offensive autonomous weapons. “In 50 years, this 18-month period we’re in now will be seen as being crucial for the future of the A.I. community,” Russell told me. “It’s when the A.I. community finally woke up and took itself seriously and thought about what to do to make the future better.” Last September, the country’s biggest tech companies created the Partnership on Artificial Intelligence to explore the full range of issues arising from A.I., including the ethical ones. (Musk’s OpenAI quickly joined this effort.) Meanwhile, the European Union has been looking into legal issues arising from the advent of robots and A.I.—such as whether robots have “personhood” or (as one Financial Times contributor wondered) should be considered more like slaves in Roman law. At Tegmark’s second A.I. safety conference, last January at the Asilomar center, in California—chosen because that’s where scientists gathered back in 1975 and agreed to limit genetic experimentation—the topic was not so contentious. Larry Page, who was not at the Puerto Rico conference, was at Asilomar, and Musk noted that their “conversation was no longer heated.” [...] Trying to puzzle out who is right on A.I., I drove to San Mateo to meet Ray Kurzweil for coffee at the restaurant Three. Kurzweil is the author of The Singularity Is Near, a Utopian vision of what an A.I. future holds. (When I mentioned to Andrew Ng that I was going to be talking to Kurzweil, he rolled his eyes. “Whenever I read Kurzweil’s Singularity, my eyes just naturally do that,” he said.) Kurzweil arrived with a Whole Foods bag for me, brimming with his books and two documentaries about him. He was wearing khakis, a green-and-red plaid shirt, and several rings, including one—made with a 3-D printer—that has an S for his Singularity University. Computers are already “doing many attributes of thinking,” Kurzweil told me. “Just a few years ago, A.I. couldn’t even tell the difference between a dog and cat. Now it can.” Kurzweil has a keen interest in cats and keeps a collection of 300 cat figurines in his Northern California home. At the restaurant, he asked for almond milk but couldn’t get any. The 69-year-old eats strange health concoctions and takes 90 pills a day, eager to achieve immortality—or “indefinite extensions to the existence of our mind file”—which means merging with machines. He has such an urge to merge that he sometimes uses the word “we” when talking about super-intelligent future beings—a far cry from Musk’s more ominous “they.” [...] Russell took exception to the views of Yann LeCun, who developed the forerunner of the convolutional neural nets used by AlphaGo and is Facebook’s director of A.I. research. LeCun told the BBC that there would be no Ex Machina or Terminator scenarios, because robots would not be built with human drives—hunger, power, reproduction, self-preservation. “Yann LeCun keeps saying that there’s no reason why machines would have any self-preservation instinct,” Russell said. “And it’s simply and mathematically false. I mean, it’s so obvious that a machine will have self-preservation even if you don’t program it in because if you say, ‘Fetch the coffee,’ it can’t fetch the coffee if it’s dead. So if you give it any goal whatsoever, it has a reason to preserve its own existence to achieve that goal. And if you threaten it on your way to getting coffee, it’s going to kill you because any risk to the coffee has to be countered. People have explained this to LeCun in very simple terms.” [...] Eliezer Yudkowsky is a highly regarded 37-year-old researcher who is trying to figure out whether it’s possible, in practice and not just in theory, to point A.I. in any direction, let alone a good one. I met him at a Japanese restaurant in Berkeley. “How do you encode the goal functions of an A.I. such that it has an Off switch and it wants there to be an Off switch and it won’t try to eliminate the Off switch and it will let you press the Off switch, but it won’t jump ahead and press the Off switch itself?” he asked over an order of surf-and-turf rolls. “And if it self-modifies, will it self-modify in such a way as to keep the Off switch? We’re trying to work on that. It’s not easy.” I babbled about the heirs of Klaatu, HAL, and Ultron taking over the Internet and getting control of our banking, transportation, and military. What about the replicants in Blade Runner, who conspire to kill their creator? Yudkowsky held his head in his hands, then patiently explained: “The A.I. doesn’t have to take over the whole Internet. It doesn’t need drones. It’s not dangerous because it has guns. It’s dangerous because it’s smarter than us. Suppose it can solve the science technology of predicting protein structure from DNA information. Then it just needs to send out a few e-mails to the labs that synthesize customized proteins. Soon it has its own molecular machinery, building even more sophisticated molecular machines. “If you want a picture of A.I. gone wrong, don’t imagine marching humanoid robots with glowing red eyes. Imagine tiny invisible synthetic bacteria made of diamond, with tiny onboard computers, hiding inside your bloodstream and everyone else’s. And then, simultaneously, they release one microgram of botulinum toxin. Everyone just falls over dead. “Only it won’t actually happen like that. It’s impossible for me to predict exactly how we’d lose, because the A.I. will be smarter than I am. When you’re building something smarter than you, you have to get it right on the first try.”

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mediafocus-blog1 · 7 years

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Student rethinks his perceptions of N. Korea with the ride to u. S .

New Post has been published on https://mediafocus.biz/student-rethinks-his-perceptions-of-n-korea-with-the-ride-to-u-s/

Student rethinks his perceptions of N. Korea with the ride to u. S .

Even earlier than the Trump administration announced that Americans will quickly be prohibited from journeying North Korea, not many humans could recollect taking a holiday to one of the most reclusive international locations inside the global. But for someone like Evan Terwilliger, who turned into searching out “precise journey locations” for spring smash 2013, he knew he could remorse not taking the possibility to see the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

“I observed out that tourists from China, Russia, Europe and other nations go to frequently,” Terwilliger said thru e mail Friday. “But truly I, as a United States citizen, could no longer be capable of a cross, proper? With more studies, it turned out I ought to. It turned into clearly one of those moments where as soon as I knew I could go, then I could regret it if I did not. That’s where I differ from others who would still not desire to move even if they knew they could. I took any other examine an e-book by Mark Twain known as ‘The Innocents Abroad,’ which contains the oft-quoted, ‘Travel is fatal to bigotry, prejudice, and small-mindedness,’ and requested myself of which is of an I could have the maximum preconceived notions and prejudice. The solution was the DPRK.”

Terwilliger is a 2009 graduate of Tri-Valley High School and a son of Republican-Herald personnel author Vicki Terwilliger. He is currently residing in Boston, Massachusetts, in which he is studying at Harvard University for his master’s diploma in international members of the family.

Evan Terwilliger spent per week in North Korea starting March 12, 2013, approximately years after Kim Jong-un turned into declared ideal leader. He used the same travel provider — Young Pioneer Tours — that organized Otto Warmbier’s ride to North Korea. Warmbier, an American scholar, turned into detained in North Korea for nearly 18 months earlier than being flown domestically in a coma six days before his death on June 19. The country branch announced on July 21 that a tour ban to North Korea might go into effect in about 30 days.

“It isn’t any doubt a horrible event,” Terwilliger said. “I was now not together with his institution, so I can not comment on what exactly passed off. However, if Otto did certainly try to steal some thing from the resort, that changed into some thing that changed into made entirely clean in the policies at the beginning of the ride. Theft is a criminal offense in all nations, of direction. But did Otto need to be jailed? No. Did he deserve to die? Of course not. Nothing can justify what took place to Otto and his circle of relatives. I can simplest communicate for myself after I say that the regulations had been made very clean, and I tried to comply with them to the fine of my ability.”

Terwilliger became one in all four humans in his tour group. He stated he changed into joined by using a Chinese vacationer and Americans who were living in China and Japan on the time.

“We all stayed at the Yanggakdo International Hotel, which sits on an island in the center of the Taedong River that splits Pyongyang. One might say this makes it tougher for a traveler to slide out on their very own and discover Pyongyang. While our authorities excursion publications did no longer stand by using our door, they did live in the motel on a specific floor and followed us everywhere we went,” he stated.

Nearly the entire weeklong trip become organized by way of the kingdom-owned Korea International Travel Co., he said.

“As you may anticipate, I had very little desire in the itinerary. Everything is arranged and managed by the KITC. The authorized itinerary basics included downtown Pyongyang, many museums, statues and questionable records training which veered from the historical truth as I understood it. Yet, I had finished my research — and bribing with quality alcohol and Marlboro cigarettes can get you farther off of the ‘authentic’ approved excursion.”

For example, Terwilliger said he became capable of visit the faculty Kim Jong-un went to as toddler in addition to the Korean Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea alongside the 38th parallel.

“Most interesting turned into seeing the embalmed bodies of the primary leaders — Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il,” Terwilliger said. “You need to bow three times at their corpses. If I had refused or stolen Kim Jong-Il’s shoe, I in all likelihood could now not be around to jot down these days.”

Terwilliger said the companies’ courses were two ladies, ages 22 and 26. He said they had been no longer intimidating, but they made positive the entire institution understood the rules and guidelines along the manner.

“I by no means felt hazardous, as my institution and I by no means even attempted to do anything outdoor the policies,” he stated. “I was shot a glance by way of my guides once I requested where Kim Jong-un’s residence become whilst atop a tower in the center of the city. They then smiled and jokingly known as me an American secret agent. It seems they were in reality joking ultimately, however, their transport of humor should use improvement. At the quiet of the experience, I sang a love track duet on a karaoke machine with one in every of my publications. It changed into cute, and I knew that they had no extreme trouble with me in any case.”

Despite being in regular view of his tour guides, Terwilliger stated he became free to talk with any residents he came throughout and took lots of photos and movies. However, Terwilliger said, all conversations have been held in the front of the authorities guides. He said there was additionally a variety of propaganda and false facts obvious.

“The common DPRK citizen is incredibly every day on the outside,” he stated. “Unlike the robots, we regularly cause them to out to be, maximum residents try to get via the day separately. They have gigantic delight and support for his or her country — a lot in order that the most not unusual fear I heard turned into that they’re being misrepresented or regarded as inseparable from their government. Frequently, I turned into asked about my views of the DPRK and tensions between their use of a and mine.”

To recognize why North Korea operates the way it does, Terwilliger stated that, like any u. S . A ., it is critical to have a look at its history.

“Out of its 2,000-12 months history, the Korean Peninsula has been invaded and occupied for around 900 years,” he stated. “When you have got records of being attacked by using larger and greater effective acquaintances, you may begin to understand the DPRK’s perception of geographical insecurity, made most effective extra insecure by the division among North and South in 1953. The end result is a real-lifestyles version of Orwell’s ‘1984’ within a Soviet-bloc technology time tablet.”

He said vacationers will now not be shown detention facilities, prisons, and a starving populace just like human beings traveling to New York go to see Times Square and Broadway shows rather than the state’s prison device.

“If any person invitations you into their residence to reveal off their revamped kitchen, don’t try to sneak around into their dark and unfinished basement. It’s disrespectful both in this country and overseas,” he stated. “Imagine if the best belongings you knew approximately the US have been the rate of murder by weapons, the O.J. Simpson case, Michael Jackson’s adolescence, cheeseburgers, violence in video games and President Donald Trump. You could have a totally skewed vision of America, which is real in its individual parts, however, neglects to reveal the whole thing of its truth.”

Terwilliger stated he is aware the decision with the aid of both the state branch and Young Pioneer Tours to no longer allow Americans to journey to North Korea, with unique exceptions. The new coverage will consist of the hazard of canceling the passport of any American who violates the ban.

The actual value of the ban is the misplaced opportunity to interact the citizens of North Korea, Terwilliger said.

“The authorities can blast ideology and propaganda into their lives on a constant basis,” he said. “Yet, there’s some thing to be received whilst the average citizen sees Americans appearing much like them, assembly new people, speak me in kind and sharing a few cultural values. American u. S . A . Songs and South Korean cleaning soap operas smuggled in on USB sticks go a long manner. Even more so, interacting with Americans in real lifestyles changed into a piece of the outside that they could examine from. Those interactions and the outside media are records this is light. Not simply light in preference to heavy, however also light instead of darkness. Once that light shines, it’s tough to get out of your head — a common trope many of the testimonies from defectors.”

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