Sanguine Posting

hello everyone. sooo many people are asking for samples of my book, i've decided to post it up here. Just a tidbit.

Copyright pending, written by Stephen Richard Scully circa 2008.
please contact me if you have any questions, comments, fan art... whatever!
(by the way, I love the fan art! you guys rock!)
if you love it or hate it, let me know! I love feedback!

and so begins Sanguine:
(sorry about weird formatting! it copy/pastes strangely)


Prologue:
Rain.
Huge torrents of rain, beating down on the city like the angry lashings of a god seeking retribution for all of the dry days of summer. The rain seemed to get everywhere, up sleeves, in cars, through windows, even sending its chill straight to the bone. Doug Grant stood alone in this rain, wishing he was somewhere else, anywhere else, anywhere but in this dreary misery of a downpour. But then he reconsidered. He was the first, and probably only, outside person to be allowed to go into the Red Crescent. He gazed at the plain bricks, splashed with racial and religious hatred of a thousand punks and misfits of ages past. The building itself was misleading. For such an important inside to have such a plain exterior was contradictory, but somehow appropriate. The Crescent had been hiding in plain sight for longer than anyone knew or cared to tell. And now it had been exposed. At first there had been uproar. Hidden communities? How dare they hide from us, living under our very noses! But eventually the general populace had learned to accept, largely upon the rationalization that if we didn’t mind when we didn’t know, why should we mind when we do? Grant looked up into the raging skies only to have a freak raindrop knock the last cigarette of the last pack right out of his hand and destroy it in a furious splash of wet. He looked at the damp, strangely sad little thing and sighed, uttered a mumbling consternation about such events being the pattern of his life, and decided he might as well begin.
After squeezing his way through the enormous crowd of partiers in the visible club, the façade placed to hide the true value of the place, he eventually managed to slip into the back room of the crescent, indeed where the actual Red Crescent was. He had been blindfolded at this point by men at least a meter taller than he and half a meter thicker than he. Such men should not be argued with in his state, specifically, unarmed, so he allowed them to guide him through the loud voices in many tones and many languages to an even more distant and distinguished room, closing and locking the door behind him.
Abruptly the blindfold was ripped off, leaving him blinking dumbly in the strange light. He blinked again, this time in surprise when he saw a perfectly normal bar. For a place with the reputation of the Crescent, he would have expected something far more, well… unique. But it was just an ordinary bar, with ordinary uncomfortable stools and ordinary low lighting and an ordinary bartender behind the large ordinary dark oak bar itself. It was all so intensely ordinary that it felt inordinately ordinary. It was a strange thought to have and a strange place to think it in.
Grant sat uneasily on a stool, noticing several others around him, none of which he could actually see in any detail. Mere shadows of faces, silhouettes of hidden bodies amidst the gloom of the patrons, none of whom gave him a second glance. The barman, slightly rotund but pleasantly so, reminding one more of Santa Claus than a mere overweight man, came up to him and smiled warmly. “Welcome, to the Red Crescent, Mr. Grant. And what can I provide for you on this fine evening?”
Grant snorted, assuming the man to be making a sarcastic humorous remark. “It’s not very nice at all! But I’m here for information. For stories, surely you know that?” He asked.
The Barman nodded, still polishing a glass. It shone like a diamond, but still he polished with an equally pristine rag. “It may not be beautiful to you, but I’m sure it is to some, and if not, then it’s a beautiful night somewhere else, I’m sure.” His emphasis on the word was curious, and grant was unsure how it was intended. The Barman held up the glass to the light, examining it with a critical eye, “And as to stories? That’s why I’m here. ‘What would you like to drink,’ however, is what I intended with my remark.”
Grant laughed lightly and shrugged. “Have you got a menu?”
“No.” Grant was surprised. “why?” The Barman shrugged, as though unconcerned. “We’ve never needed one. People usually know what they want.” He held the glass up once more. “In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever come in here and not known what they like to drink. You might be a first in all the time I’ve worked here.”
“And how long is that?” Grant asked, intrigued. He was always looking for an angle to a story.
The barman hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then continued his industrious cleaning. He spoke slowly, almost carefully, “A very, very, very long time, Mr. Grant. As long as I can remember.” He finally looked at Grant, for this whole conversation previously he had never actually looked directly at him, always slightly away as if he was unwilling to concentrate on him. “So, what will it be?”
Grant, if he were honest with himself, would have loved a cold beer, but knew he needed his wits about him for the coming tales, so he could recall them at a later date, and ideally make great money off them. “A club soda then, on the rocks.”
The barman nodded in a way that suggested he knew the other man would say this, and just fallen into a ‘club soda’ stereotype. He acted as though he knew this would be the choice as well. He bent down and immediately straightened up with a still slightly foaming triangular glass with just the right level of ice and perfect temperature soda. It was disconcerting to say the least. Grant opened his mouth to comment on the speed, but then considered all of the weird tales about this place and decided not to comment. Instead he thanked him and tasted the perfect elixir. “So, I’d like you to tell me a story. An important story about or from the Red Crescent.” He took another sip, greatly enjoying the drink, indeed far more than he would have expected from a comparatively dull drink. “Tell me about a great person, perhaps.”
The Barman put down the ever cleaned glass for a moment as he stared off into space to ponder the trench coated man’s inquiry. “One does come to mind. A more recent story, in fact. The story is of a curious young boy.” The barman poured himself a drink, a vile green thing that fizzed slightly as he took a drink and stank of cabbages. “His name is Seth, and he was a truly amazing young man.” He took another long drink, and Grant copied the gesture, extricating with practiced speed a laptop from his long overcoat and setting it up to record the Barman. “Seth’s tale of misery and joy alike begins right here in the crescent, actually, and ends here as well.” He laughed suddenly, a strange sound, seeming to lack all mirth but still containing amusement. “Well, perhaps not end here exactly. But you can judge that for yourself.”
Grant began typing as the man began speaking; beginning with a tale of hardship that began in the very spot Grant had lost his cigarette. The tale of Seth began right outside the Red Crescent.
Chapter one, A chilly November evening a little while from now
Pension. That was the first thing Officer Welsh thought as the bullet ripped through his thigh. It said a lot about a man, his first thoughts upon a potentially lethal injury. And to have it be such a word as 'pension' said that he knew his job well, and wanted any excuse to leave. Today more than ever. HE grimaced as he shifted position to a crouch to get out of the line of fire and check for damage. The wound was not bad, and he decided to ignore it until this bloody situation was over. Bloody, well, it certainly had become so. It had all begun with a state sanctioned talk between two rival gangs, two of the cities largest, a black and a latino gang known only by their racist terms. But, somehow, tensions had begun again and the city's, if not the country's largest shootout had begun. currently, it been continuing for over twenty minutes, and was taking an enormous toll on life. He'd seen several dozen of his best friends go down, and was fearing how many more would have to die for this ridiculous business to end. "kill ‘em all, just slaughter the lot. it'd solve so many of the Street's problems" he mumbled to himself for the thousandth time in the twenty-five years he'd been on the force. And then he sighed, just as he did every time he had this thought, knowing it could never work. He took a moment to check his magazines. he had fifty-two rounds left for his sidearm, and his rifle was nearly empty, to judge by the weight. Not great, but not bad, just like his leg. He slid the magazine back into the well and pulled the slide to make sure a round was still there. There was, and he thanked his paranoid wife for insisting he action-load his gun. "here's to you honey" he said and began to move from around his car towards the door of the latino hideout. suddenly, he felt the horrible burning cut of a sniper round in his other leg. The shock made him scream more than the pain, and he collapsed onto his damaged limbs, making him scream again. As he slid back down against the car, a young man in tattered street clothes appeared in his vision with a suddenness that made him stifle yet another scream. After a second to collect his wits, he hissed into the smiling, sickly pale face of the youth. "get out of here! are you utterly stupid? can you not see what is happening?!" The young man looked at him, with, Welsh noticed, creepy red eyes, and seemed to make a judgment.
The young man spoke softly, "do you need help, officer?" He offered. Welsh stared at him. "what?" was all he could think to say in response. The kid smiled in a slightly arrogant way, saying again "do you need help, officer? I am offering you assistance. Do you want it, or not?" Officer Welsh felt he should yell again, yet something held him back. He looked into the crimson eyes and saw the offer was, at least to the boy, utterly genuine. "what can you hope to do?" he asked, on a toss to the winds of fate. The winds answered with a whisper, the whisper of the boy. "solve your current problem. sound good?" Welsh did not want a kid's life on his conscience, but... he was offering, so it wasn't as though he was forcing him or anything. "...what will you do?" he asked slowly. The pale youth hesitated, then smiled again, but tight-lipped, clearly not amused. "I'll help." Welsh paused. then he gave up. He handed the youth his sidearm, butt first. The pale one took it graciously, then just as graciously handed it back. "no. I'm not like that." he said very simply. Welsh paused again to readjust his opinions. "alright...do you want anything in return for this help?" he asked. The boy answered immediately, giving Welsh the impression he had been anticipating this question. "yes. just one thing. Next time we meet, you will not bother me or stop me." Welsh's eyes grew larger. "what the hell does that mean? Why? Will you be doing something illegal? It's my job to stop you--" the boy cut him off "promise me! just this little favor. who knows, maybe we'll never meet, and you'll never have to meet this promise." Welsh looked down at his sleeve with the badge on it. He groaned in anticipatory guilt, and finally said, "fine, fine, settle this, though I admit I'm doubtful, ...and don't die, please? that would lead to a lot of issues. and please don't get seen by the news crews?" The pale young man laughed at that last comment, saying "I'm good at that bit, don't worry. as to dying, well, I do try not to, as a rule." he gave a final reassuring pat on the leg to officer Welsh, which made him grunt and the kid grin slyly.
And then he was gone. Welsh slid back down a little more as the bullets continued raining all around his car, and the night turned even darker, light as in a disco by the thousand flashing lights of muzzle flash. The world's base beat was kept by the explosions of grenades and rocket fire, "they're right" mused Welsh. "The world really is musical, you've just gotta look for it." He listened, much happier now, though he realized his mood was probably due to slipping into shock. About six minutes later the shooting from inside stopped. There was silence, absolute silence, even the wounded seemed to be holding their cries to see what would happen next. Welsh pushed himself up enough to see the building over the hood of his perforated car. Still nothing. After another minute he grabbed his radio and said cautiously, "I... I guess it's over." He paused and exchanged a glance with the man next to him, Wolf. Wolf gave him a confused look in return, and they both got up and leaned against the car. without communication, Wolf grabbed Welsh around the shoulders and helped him hobble into the building, the rest of the police and a few daring reporters following them a little ways back. Inside the tumbledown apartments was a mess, broken furniture everywhere, and, Welsh noticed with a churn in his stomach, broken bodies. One man lay, his body torn to pieces by a hail of bullets. They continued upstairs to where the most had been congregated. Welsh nearly threw up with what he saw on the top floor. "Sweet Jesus" Wolf muttered beside him. the floor was littered with scraps of meat, unidentifiable bits of wet flesh were stuck to the walls, the ceiling, an entire arm was rammed into a door and torn off their, a head had landed facing them on the floor, giving a grisly greeting grin to the approaching officers. He heard the bravest reporter, Alice Wader, vomit her dinner in the nearest bathroom. Then she joined the two men. "what the hell..." she voiced the unspoken thought. Welsh said nothing. He was fairly sure he knew what had happened, at least in a general sense. "i'll solve it" he muttered repeating the kid's words. Alice gave him a look. "I'm sorry?" she said, asking for a repetition. He shook his head, "nothing, forget it. Just something somebody said." they continued, blood swirling under their feet. there was so much devastation it had actually formed little pools of the sanguinary liquid, and as they continued he heard more and more people cursing the intense violence. "is this what happened when we heard those explosions? I mean..." Wolf hesitated, and readjusted his grip on his wounded friend. "this is incredible! There's nothing left of these bastards... it's like somebody brought a stump grinder up here and..." he never finished his statement.
They left. Welsh was being loaded into an ambulance, and took one last glance at the building. In the alley he saw the pale kid wave at him, with a grin on his pale, blood-smeared face. Welsh tried to call out to him, but they shut the doors of the ambulance over his voice, blocking his view. He sat up quickly and peered out the little windows. The kid was gone. Welsh fell back quietly onto the stretcher, Wolf giving him a reassuring smile. "forget about it." he slapped him on the leg, which made Welsh stifle a scream. Wolf laughed "now you've got that pension you so desperately desired! Cheer up! The misses will love you for that. Welsh sighed, "yeah, I suppose she will." and said nothing more. The ambulance drove away from the scene of horrific devastation, and the men both wished it good riddance.
Seth leapt down from roof to lower roof, eventually stopping to catch his breath in the dark center of Gold lane. He looked up at the stars, the few he could see between the rising towers of glass and concrete. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue. "that was amazing!" said a girl's voice beside him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking he grabbed the wrist, twisted, and had tackled the speaker before she could express her surprise with a startled squeak, which burst from her like a trodden on mouse when his weight pressed her to the dirty alley ground. Then, realizing what he had done, he examined her quickly. She was younger than he, by a fair margin, and she was dressed rather nicely, too nice for a street rat. "who..."he said in a soft hiss, which made her friends, which he had not previously noticed, back up from their aid of her, "who the hell are you?!" he demanded. She began to cry a little, from fear he supposed, and loosened his grip on her twisted shoulder somewhat. She spoke through tears, trying her best to sound brave. "I'm Anna, and uh" she squeaked again, "you're reeeeally hurting my arm, mister!" Seth made a quick calculation that the dozen teenagers would not be a problem and then released her arm, backing up swiftly, but he bumped into another, older girl. He was surrounded. His hands, curled defensively, "what do you want, girl?" he said cautiously. She got up and smiled fearfully at him. "you, I guess. that was so amazing! we saw the whole thing, we were hiding in that building during he shooting. How did you kill all those--!" He leapt forward and slapped a hand still wet with blood over her mouth. Then he realized this, wiped his hands hurriedly on his bloody pants, and then looked her straight in the blue eyes. "look, miss, uh," he paused. "Anna" she reminded him. "miss Anna," he corrected himself. "why are all of you here? what do you want!? and you must never talk of that." he looked her over once more, and looked at the dozen girls and two young boys who were with her, "on second thought, I really should kill you for knowing who I am..." they all gasped and took hurried steps back. Anna pleaded with him. "no, really mister! we just want to, you know, hang out! you saved us from them, in a way, so we want to thank you. that's all!" he lowered his hand from a violent position, "and besides, who would believe us that a pale kid in a hoodie killed a whole street gang with his bare hands? so," a few tears ran down her pretty, if dirty face, "please?" He looked at her one last time, then rolled his crimson eyes to the heavens and shrugged. She gave a little cheer and hugged him. "Thanks big brother!" and he groaned in exasperation. One of the boys, about his own age, spoke up, "what kinda karate was that?!" he asked, wide-eyed. Seth noticed he too had blue eyes.
Then Seth did a double take. They all had blue eyes and whitish-blonde hair. It was slightly creepy, and he noticed further they all wore nice but dirty white suits and dresses. He shook his head, and answered the question at last. "not karate. just, um, me." He looked at them all. "shouldn't... why do you care? why are you here? I'm so confused!" Anna smiled at him, revealing too perfect white teeth. "oh, we were just around. and we'll see you again soon, I think. You are not calm enough to talk to us." Another, but older girl piped up, "that's too bad. but, well, we'll see you around, Sang." Seth stiffened. "how do you..." he raised his hands threateningly again, and the girl backed up fearfully. He advanced on her, probing her expression for an answer. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, because I've killed enough today. But if I ever hear you talking about... that... again." he left the sentence hanging, looked once more around at them all, and leapt over their heads onto another roof and off into the night.
Anna sighed with combined relief and disappointment. "oh well. Next time, perhaps, And I have a feeling we will be meeting again soon enough." she turned her pretty young face towards a previously hidden doorway. "was that OK, Mrs. Browne?" she asked nervously. A tall woman stepped out of the enshrouding darkness. Dressed all in black, she was a curious counter to the almost glowing white children all around her. She looked down at the little ones all around her and nodded patiently. "good enough. Now, get him to like you, like you all. Become comfortable, and of course the key; relaxed and trusting." Anna looked puzzled but Mrs. Browne spoke over her. "I don't care how you do it, just get it done." she walked back into the gloomy doorway, then turned once more towards them, "oh yes, and get it done within a month. We'll be ready then." And then she was gone.
Anna felt like crying again, but her brother Merto put a hand on her shaking shoulder and smiled reassuringly. She looked up at him with tears welling up in his eyes, "this feels..." He nodded sadly. "it feels wrong, I know... but remember, it's either him or us, and who needs to live more?" he left the question unanswered, giving her shoulder a last squeeze, and turning to go with the rest of them. Anna ran to catch up with the group. "but don't you guys think this is..." She made a frustrated little noise, "This is just not right! we should fight back instead!" she suggested defiantly, pumping a fist in the wet night air. Most of the group laughed hollowly. "well, nice idea, but it can't happen. Just try not to think about it! we'll have fun for a month, and then he'll just... go away, OK?" he ruffled her hair affectionately. "it'll be fine." Anna looked down at her expensive shoes, dejected. After a little while of walking, she came back to their own building. "well, I guess he'll be fun for a while." she trailed off, and didn't speak for the rest of the evening.
Robert Cunningham looked across the meal at his resident. His guest was refusing to touch his food and looking moodily off to the side and into his memories. Robert sighed, knowing teenage angst could be quite a problem. He scrutinized the pale expression of his guest, who was nearly an adopted son. "Girl trouble?" For the second time that evening Seth nearly swallowed his tongue in shock. After a few seconds spluttering he glared across the table at the concerned face of Butcher Bob. "NO." he said emphatically. "so yes?" Bob countered. Seth groaned in annoyance and Bob erupted in a huge belly shaking guffaw. "alright, what's up kid, you know you can tell me." Seth looked him closely in the eye for a while. Even though Bob had taken him in off the streets and had cared for him for nearly three years he still didn't trust his benefactor entirely. This knowledge saddened Bob slightly, but he hoped eventually the trust would grow. Seth seemed to make a judgment that resulted in truth, so he spoke up in an irritated grumble, "Some people saw me, and they know what I am." Bob shrugged. "well, I know 'bout cha, maybe it's not--" Seth interrupted. "But I don't know them, and they want me to join them daily, I think." He looked rather helpless. "what do I do? should I have killed them all?" he suggested.
Butcher Bob vigorously choked on his wine, "um, no, I think not. Who are they, anyway?" Seth gave a brief description of the event including their uniquely white look, and Bob sat back in his chair reflectively. "Hmm. seem harmless enough. perhaps just fans, you know, they might be like you, in a more general sense, and," he reasoned, "it couldn't hurt to have more friends, could it?" Seth said nothing to this. Bob pointed at the ham on Seth's plate with the mouthpiece of his pipe. "now, eat, and go have fun with friends tomorrow. It's healthy." Seth made a face. "I've had my fill already tonight." Butcher Bob frowned. "so I heard." he jerked his head towards the screen still showing the graphic violence. Seth grinned a bit at the site of the news anchor nearly loosing her lunch on the scene. Bob forced Seth's attention back upon himself. He sought an inoffensive way to breech the question. "Why'd you...help?"
Seth looked at the bubbles coming out of his mentor's fake pipe. "I..." he stopped and reconsidered. "I really am not sure. I guess I just wanted to see what it'd be like to help somebody else for once." Bob snorted around his soap bubble pipe. "good, then you can help me do the dishes. now eat!" Seth rolled his bloody eyes once more and took a begrudging bite of the delicious meat.
Anna and only a few of the white-obsessed teens met Seth this time. It was the middle of the night, and they were standing around in the same alley as the previous night, waiting in the slight November chill. "he's taking his sweet time" Merto muttered irritably. Ariya punched him in the arm. "he's totally worth it though" Merto gave his friend an odd look. "you're interested in a v--oough!"she punched him rather lower this time, and said, "no, I'm NOT, he's just..." then she let off a string of curses in her own language. Merto laughed, though still hunched over from the pain of insulting a teenage girl's boy thoughts. "you alright?" came a soft voice from behind Merto. Merto whirled around as best he could, and saw about a foot away the glaring red eyes of their new acquaintance. "uh, Seth!" he paused, trying to straighten up without looking ridiculous, "uh, hi!" he tried. Anna ran up and gave him a hug. "hey big brother!" Merto tensed, worried the other boy might hurt her, but Seth merely looked as though his personal bubble had been ruptured drastically and could never be repaired. He exchanged a "please-control-your-friggin-sister" glare with Merto who returned a "yeah,-you-try-it-first" expression.
Seth looked down at the little white haired head still pressed hard to his newly cleaned chest. "um, can you please let go? thanks." she backed up, and Seth noticed the other girl, about his own age. She blushed furiously when he looked at her, "uh, hi! I'm Ariya..." her voice became softer and softer as he continued to stare, and she looked away, her nerve gone. Seth looked back at Merto, and raised an eyebrow. Merto stuck out a hand and introduced himself. "hi! I'm Merto, and I'm, um, special, like you." Seth looked at the hand, and looked at his own clawed digits. "well, not quite like you, but not like these others around us, if ya know what I mean... so, does that make us friends?" he suggested hopefully.
Seth's eyes turned colder than their earlier slight warmth from confusion. "No." Seth saw them all look hurt, and remembered what bob had told him. "be nice, ...you suck at that, I know, but just try it," the Butcher's words rang in his head and he sighed.
He extended the previously examined hand reluctantly. "Seth. you seem to know what I am." Merto took the offered hand happily, and shook it hard. "great!" he paused, still pumping up and down, frantically thinking what to say next. "like music?" Seth looked shocked. "yeah, well, most music I suppose. why?" Ariya saw her opening. She slid up behind him and put her arm through his non-shaken arm. She was well aware she was pretty, and she recognized him becoming uncomfortable, just as he should do with this level of proximity. It was all working perfectly. "well, I like to dance. shall we go together?" Seth looked worried now, being held on both arms and waist by oddly beautiful, very white people. He looked between the trio. "yes, but on one rather key condition." they looked at him. "name it! this'll be great! we'll dance and play and --"
"--that you get the hell off me!" he said plaintively. All three laughed and released him immediately. "thank you." he brushed himself off, more to get the thought of their touch off him than any actual dirt, their persons seemingly immaculately clean. "now where are you dragging me off to?"
Ariya giggled and crooked a finger for him to follow her. "this way, Seth! You like raves?" She asked excitedly, walking backwards to keep the uncomfortable youth in her vision. He gave a noncommittal noise. "yeah, a bit. I've been a few times in the past, when..." He didn't finish the thought, and the trio exchanged another nervous glance. "well," Ariya said, recovering the situation, "even if you hadn't, you'd like this!" She laughed as he gave her a doubting look, and Merto gave him a little polite nudge to speed up. "actually, we're pretty close" he said into Seth's ear as the noise got louder and louder. Seth grunted sarcastically. "really?" Merto smiled by way of answering. "and is she, and girls like her, always that.... annoying?" Merto laughed appreciatively, making Ariya turn around. "what was that?!" She demanded. "nothing!" Merto and Seth called out simultaneously, making her pout dramatically, hands on her slender hips.
They reached the club, and a huge hairy man tried to stop Seth entering the back door. The first time he held out his arm to stop the black clad teenager the young man in question threw him into the alley's opposite wall with little effort. At that point Anna said apologetically "he doesn't like being touched, and he's a guest of ours and dad's, anyway. OK?" She turned to Seth, "say you're sorry to Biggie!" She demanded childishly. Biggie, still upside-down in the the pile of boxes he had landed in, saw the furious red eyes look into his. Seth gave an enormous false smile and Biggie saw a series of oddly sharp and pointy teeth. He got the message, though it was not quite the one Anna had intended.
Ariya giggled nervously. "now, you know it's traditional to be with a girl in a place like this," and she hugged him from behind. Instinctively he grabbed her, flipped her around so that she was gripped tightly in his arms in front of him and held her close. She blinked, then recovered smoothly, "oh, you prefer the front? OK!" and he recoiled from her as the the others, including Biggie, laughed raucously. She pulled him along by the pockets of his hoodie into the intensely noisy dance hall. Inside was pitch black, and then a sudden flash of green illuminated hundreds of moving bodies, all flailing with the music. Seth was shocked. "wow." he said, and Merto laughed, pushing his female friend out of the way. "yeah, it's pretty cool. Come on, lemme show you around, there are lots of... others, here." Seth looked at his new friend's face in the flashing lights. Blue, green, red, blue, green, red... "others?" he asked in clarification. Merto nodded. "non-humans, come on, you can figure it out." he pointed to a man with scales on his bald head. "see? not in Kansas anymore, eh?" Ariya grabbed Seth's other arm, a flanking gesture with Anna pouting in the back, "no, he's home!" She winked coyly at Seth, "right, hotstuff?" Seth gazed at her, feeling himself blush. "what's wrong?" Merto asked. He was doubtful about Ariya's part of the plan, and thought he sensed a bump.
Seth continued to look into her beautiful though oddly alien face. "I don't know what to do here. I'm not sure if I should kiss you or kill you." Ariya laughed and kissed him immediately. "there, your choice is made!" she began to dance violently to the violent music, disappearing into the crowd. "join us, Seth!" She called out to him.
Seth took one last look at Merto, "friends?" Merto suggested, holding out his hand. Seth touched his lips where Ariya had kissed him, his first kiss... "yeah. friends." he said, and smiled genuinely, shaking the proffered hand with the kiss-touched hand of his own. Merto smiled and drew him into the club, outwardly overjoyed to have a new friend, but inside he was crying for the betrayal to come.
Seth danced and talked with them many times over the next few weeks. Everyday they returned to the red crescent, and everyday Bob was thrilled to see his surrogate child grow happier and happier. Ariya had become extremely friendly to Seth, and Bob enjoyed watching Seth figure out how to behave with people he wasn't actively trying to kill. Seth had had an interesting conversation with Merto, who seemed the most serious and reliable of the trio. He had explained they called themselves angels, but had little to nothing to do with the myths. He wasn't allowed to say much more, just as they knew better than to ask about Seth. But even this small exchange of secrets had made them all much closer.
One day Seth was alone reading in his room, a room they had arranged for him adjacent to the Red Crescent when he heard a soft knocking on the door. Surprised, he put down his book and called, “well, come in, I guess.”
The nervously smiling face of Anna appeared in the door way. “Seth?” she called out. He answered her and she said timidly, “uh, can I come in?” He thought about this for a moment. He didn't see why not, and shrugged, getting up to get the door for her, using his finger as a bookmark in his reading material. She beamed at him, “hey big brother!” she hugged him, and he hesitantly hugged back.
He tried being nice, “Well, this is a, uh, nice surprise!” he tried hopelessly.
It seemed to work however. “yeah! I want to spend more time with you!” She said joyfully.
Seth gazed down at her, and had a small internal battle. The side that listened to Bob won and he smiled as kindly as he could, “OK, well, what do you want to do?” She paused, her pretty childish face contorted in thought. After a moment she clapped her small hands, beringed and pristine. “I want you to read to me, Big Brother!” She declared.
Seth fought an urge to moan in frustration, though a small sigh escaped his lips. Reading to child was not an idea of fun for him. “alright, what book have you got?” she showed him a storybook, and he flipped through it with one hand. Then he handed it back. “no.” He said firmly. Anna looked heart broken, but he continued, “if I'm going to read to you, I'm going to read something worth reading.” She beamed at him, and ran to his bed and hopped up joyfully. Seth reflected for a moment upon her little white figure amidst the blackness of the room, but then went to sit next to her. He glanced around the room, then looked lastly down to his own hands. “this is what we will read.” he declared, and opened to the page his finger was still holding.
Anna was petulant. “aw, but that's a hard book! I know that one, it's stupid, I can't understand it!” she whined. “the story has been done before, it's just a stupid love story about two families who don't like the other's children!” She summarized the book in her way. Seth waggled a finger in her face. “no no no! This is an excellent book, you just need to understand why. The excellence comes not from the story, which you are right, has indeed been done before, but HOW the story is told!” he cleared his throat and was surprised when she moved to sit on his lap. He opened his mouth to comment, but thought better of it. He held the book out for her to see as well, and began to read. “now, listen to how this is said, not just what is said. Here he is speaking to his poor dead wife, reflecting upon their love; Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there'.”
She gazed at the book, then squealed with delight. “that sounds so much better when you read it!” she declared happily. “read more!” she commanded imperiously. Seth had the odd impression she was used to ordering people around, but decided to read on anyway. He was pleased with her reaction, and glad he had someone to share his pastimes with.
As the days went on he read more old books and plays, and he tried to teach her a new way of reading. About a week after their first reading session she opened the door at the usual time, but she was sobbing and her face was bruised and swollen. Seth gaped at her from his bed, then leapt up and helped her. “Oh gods Anna! What happened?” She sobbed through her words, but eventually she calmed down enough to speak cohesively when he held her to his chest for a few minutes. He stroked her hair consolingly as she blubbered, “John! John hit me!” she sobbed into his black clothing, her white face shining against the dark. Seth froze. “a boy hit you? Hurt you? Bruised you?” He was confused. “but, why?” Anna sniffed wetly, and Seth handed her a towel for her face. “He said rich kids like me shouldn't go to school with people like him. He says I just exist to make him feel bad about money!” she wailed. “and he says pretty girls like me shouldn't go to school, they should just sell--” Seth put a finger over her mouth gently to stop her.
Seth patted her head again, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Anna looked up into his terrifying visage, seeing comfort in those eyes, not fear, and glad of it. “do you have school yearbook or something?” he asked. She was confused, but nodded. “in my backpack.” she told him. He carefully placed her on the bed and went over to her satchel. He riffled through it for a minute and eventually came across a book with students in it. He looked for her, and smiled in spite of the sad situation. Anna was watching him curiously. “what's up, big brother?” she asked tentatively.
He held up the book. “is this him?” he asked. Anna peered at the page, and nodded, wincing at seeing her tormentor's face again so soon. “that's the meanie who--” But big brother cut her off again with, “can I cut out two photographs from this book?” he asked her seriously. She gazed at her role model, confused. “yes... I suppose, but why do you want a picture of him?” She inquired.
He smiled at her. “never you mind. Lets' read again, OK?” she giggled through her tears and hugged him. “thanks big brother, you're the best!” He laughed, and hugged her back. He really had begun to love her innocence. He was so accustomed to seeing people as either sources of money or things to kill, it was a joy to find someone he could teach and explore with.
When he had finished reading to her, he looked at the two photographs in his hands. Then he wandered off into the night.
John Hitchinns was bored, and had resorted to throwing pebbles at kittens in the street. His meanie mother had yelled at him to come inside, but he had ignored her, as he did every night. He had managed to knock a cat off a ledge with one particularly well aimed stone when he sensed someone behind him. He turned around, expecting to see Mich and the gang. “about damn time you showed up, I was...” he trailed off. There was a boy, all dressed in black and with freaky red eyes staring at him from the alleyway. “what the hell do you want?” John snapped. The boy looked at a piece of paper in his hands, and then held it up for john to see. “is this you?” he asked. John peered at the photograph. “yeah, it is.” he stood up and balled his little fists. “you wana make something of it, punk?” he said toughly. The boy smiled. “yes. Yes I do.” and john screamed as the big kid lunged at him.
John smashed to the alley floor and looked up into the sickly pale face of this attacker. He punched that face, and the boy grabbed both his wrists and held them down over his head. With his free hand he pulled out a second picture. “you see this girl?” he asked. John looked at it and spat on it. “yeah, that's the rich bitch from school, she thinks she's soo--” the big kid grabbed his face and John shut up instantly. “think about her face. Remember her face. Got it?” John, tough as he was, knew when to draw the line. He nodded. “I'm thinkin' about her, I'm thinkin' about her!” he insisted. “good.” the boy said.
And John began to scream.
The next day Anna burst into his room at the usual time, a cold pack on her face and a big smile on her face. “big brother! Guess what?” she demanded of him, leaping from the floor to his chest on the bed where he lay. He “oomph'd” and then smiled at her, putting his book down. “I don't know, what? Your face looks a lot better, by the way.”
She smiled at him, loving his concern for her. He was so nice! “That awful bully, John! He wasn't at school today! And the teachers said he probably cant ever come back!” she said joyously. A funny look crossed her mentor's face, and she faltered for an instant. “really?” he asked. “that's wonderful!” She fell on top of him. “you helped me, didn't you?” she inquired imperiously with a hug.
He smiled that strange smile again and said mysteriously “maybe.” she pouted. “tell me!” she insisted, but he shook his head. “no, telling you would remove your imagination. Remember what I've told you? Imagination is the greatest thing.”
She nodded sagely from his wisdom and sat back, ready to be read to. He picked up a new book and read to her, as he did every day, and smiled to himself.
It was a good day.
About a week later Seth was back eating dinner with butcher bob, his adoptive father. “so I've been hanging out with this little girl for the past few weeks.” he was saying as they munched on delicious meats. Bob raised an eyebrow. “and I really think I'm starting to like her! She's great, and I really enjoy the time we're spending together!” bob was shocked, but said merely, “oh?”
Seth blushed. “not love like that, she's like ten years old! Eww! No, I just like her like a daughter or little sister or something. I look after her, you know, and care about her. I read to her a lot, and it's really fun getting to know somebody I'm not supposed to kill for once!”
Bob smiled at him and got up from the table. As Seth stared at him he embraced his potential son and said tearfully, “I'm glad you've found your heart, kid. I knew you could turn out alright. It just took a kind person to bring out the kindness in you.” Seth blushed again, but returned the embrace. “thanks, ...dad.”
A full month had gone by with happiness, and Ariya now sat on his lap, an act if Bob could see Seth knew he would never hear the end of, and something utterly impossible before being taken under the wings of his 'angelic' friends. She leaned back to look up into his face, pecking him quickly on the cheek. "hey, wana try someplace new?" Seth looked to the heavens, or rather, the thousands of little dancing lights on the ceiling one could believe were stars, waiting, thinking. "yeah, I suppose that'd be cool" he said, "where'd you have in mind?" he idly stroked her hair, another action he couldn't have imagined himself doing without pulling off her head instinctively just a month before. He was pleased that he could interact with other people, even girls now, without having to be frightened of violence. She giggled, a rather distinctive girl trait, he had noticed, and shifted so she sat facing him on his lap. "someplace quieter. The M&Ms can come too" Seth smiled at the nickname they'd created for the brother and sister. The pair in question smiled and stood up. "let's go! the 'special' spot?" Merto asked. Ariya nodded, and gave Seth a big hug. "come on, sang, let's go!" Seth was uncomfortable with her using that word, but he shrugged it off. "Alright, my pretty angel!" she smiled her beautiful smile at him, and tossed her soft white hair cutely. Seth smirked and followed them out and to a waiting car. "my dad secured a car," Ariya explained. Seth emitted a little "oh" of understanding and slipped into the darkness. "We figured you'd want it dark." she offered. He sent her an appreciative smile, and they were on their way. After about half an hour of driving in comfortable silence they arrived at what appeared to be an old church.
Seth raised an eyebrow. Ariya waved his concerns away like a cloud of mosquitoes "don't worry! it's cool!" He followed them into the empty church, and began to frown slightly. "guys... why are we in an empty church?" he asked with mild suspicion. Suddenly Ariya hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his shoulder. "you're really soft in a hoddie, you know that?" she told him, and he realized she was crying and laughing at the same time. he looked down at her in shock. "Ariya, what--?" he began. Merto came into Seth's field of view, crying as well. he smiled through his tears. "Seth, I... you were cool, man. really cool." Seth began to seriously worry. "what is going on!?" he demanded. Ariya sobbed harder into his shoulder, and he suddenly had to catch the little form of Anna who threw herself into his arms. "We're so sorry!" she cried, "please forgive us big brother?" she begged him. As Seth opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly felt intense pain and he could taste blood, his own blood The pain ebbed as he slipped down into darkness, falling away from the loving angels around him.
The Browne family looked down at the fallen young man. A heavy wooden stake protruded through his back and deeply into his heart. The three angels were crying all around him. Merto was the first to speak. "you... you'll let us live then?" he asked for reassurance. Mr. Browne nodded, stroking his small brown beard with one had, and holding a large leather bound book in the other. His wife beside him still held the hammer and an extra stake in her hands. Browne spoke softly. "yes, now that you have given us the foul beast, we can let you lesser evils go." he pointed towards the door angrily. "now go, before I get violent."
"I think that's my line" said a voice. They all looked around frantically, before they looked down to see Seth pushing himself up to his feet. Mrs. Browne screamed in frustration and confusion, though a surprising lack of fear. "you! What the hell? there's a four inch thick stake in your heart!" Seth reached behind him, and with a small scream of fury and pain of his own he ripped it out of himself, a jet of blood squirting out to spray on Ariya, who began to scream. He held the dripping sharp stake and staggered towards Mrs. Browne. "first of all, learn better anatomy. the heart is higher than that. Second, learn what it feels like!" He took a violent leap at her and rammed the stake with all his remaining strength into her chest.
An explosion of blood erupted from her torso, spattering onto him and the floor. "and that's where the damn heart is!" he screamed into her shocked face. She took a staggering step back, and he walked after her, digging his face into her neck and sucking up the red fluid that gushed forth. after a few seconds he let her fall to the church floor, and turned to look at her husband, who was hurrying to the door.
"HEY!" he called out after him. Browne stopped, looking back momentarily. "by the way, I don't die that way." He pointed at his chest, now just a huge scab, looking more like he had fallen off a bike than had been impaled. "remember your wife, you bastard." And at that Browne screamed an oath to kill Seth and ran out and away.
Seth turned now to the angels, who were cowering in the pews. Anna ran forward and sobbed onto his wound, hugging him fiercely around his waist. "Big Brother! I'm so sorry, so sorry!" She sniffled, and looked up into his face. His expression terrified her. "big brother, they were going to kill our family!" she pleaded with him. He looked at her with loathing in his eyes. He picked her up by the front of her expensive dress and brought her face up to his with no apparent effort. "Big Brother?" he asked. he looked past her to Merto and Ariya, who were holding each other hidden in a pew. "Friend? maybe even lover?" He screamed at them then. "Is that how you treat your friends?!"
Merto stood then, swallowing hard. "we... we're so sorry man! We liked you, really we did!" Seth snorted. "apparently not enough." Ariya spoke up then, "they were going to kill us all!" she said through gasping sobs. Seth screamed again "SO WHY NOT ASK FOR HELP?!" he bellowed. he pointed at the corpse of the woman who had tried to kill him. "if you had even a vague idea of what I was, then why didn't you ask for help!?"
Anna looked into his eyes, still held to his head height."please, big brother, we'll always ask next time! we trust you know, and we know you could defend us!" Seth began to laugh. "you know, somehow..." he stopped. He brought his face in towards her soft young neck and her brother yelled, "Seth! STOP!" Seth hesitated. Anna laughed through tears of absolute terror. "big brother! you wouldn't kill a harmless girl, right?" She begged him. He looked at her neck, then touched his chest wound with his other hand. "you're not harmless." he said simply, and tore out her throat.
The fountain of red that burst forth covered Seth's face, and he drank a great deal, letting the liquid flow down her once beautiful white dress and his newly ruined black hoodie. Merto and Ariya stared in silenced amazement, unsure how to react. He finished and dropped the little girl to the ground where she still tried to make little noises through her abused neck. Merto held up his hands then. "please! Seth! she was your friend! she loved you like a brother, she really did!" he was crying now, and stood protectively in front of Ariya, his hands spread to block her as Seth advanced on the pair. "Ariya, how do you feel about Seth?!" he demanded. She spluttered and he shouted at her "spit it out!" she cried hard into her hands, her whole body shaking. "I love you! I really do!" Seth had walked right up to Merto and put his gore caked fingers on his shoulders. Merto looked, terrified, into the pure red eyes of the psychotic boy he had once loved like a brother. "...please" he said quietly. Seth's eyes began to quiver, and suddenly he began a screaming cry of anguish, falling into the other boy and sobbing hard into his shoulder. Metro lowered his hands from surrender to a bone crushing hug and cried with him. Ariya joined them in their great hug, and they fell back into the pew, the angels repeating softly over and over, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" long into the night.
Chapter Two: Roughly 2 years later....

and that's all I'm going to give you for now! It should be published sometime next year, I'll give updates as they happen. By the way, I really do love fan art, I've always wanted to see my characters drawn. I don't care how good or bad you think your art is, I'd like to see it!

Have a nice night!

Your thoughtful ...me,
Stephen Scully.

Hell and Joy

Hell. Hell is supposed to be awful, full of fire and demons who will hurt you in however creative a way as the speaker can imagine. However, after a bit of reasoning, this is not so. First, how could I be beaten by demons if I'm dead? Rather difficult to hurt me. Also, I'm dead, just to reitterate, meaning I can't experience time passing, or indeed anything. ...I'm dead.

But what if hell is not a place, but a state of being, indeed, a state of being we can acheive hear on earth as well. Then it stands to reason that my hell will be exactly what I want it to be. Explanation: The darker I go into various fields, the more corrupt I become, and the more I begin to like what I do and experience. Take a drug addict who can eventually become a druglord, killing people. But they like doing this: their version of acheiving 'the good' in life is being the best crimeboss they can be. And by seeing their highest good as something other than The Good, they are effectively in hell, because their good goal has changed from the aforesaid Good to a lesser good, of being a good businessman.

So hell after death would be the same experience as hell on earth for them. They would be exactly what they want to be, because that would be their version of the good. amusingly, they would probably assume themselves to be in heaven.

One fear occurs to me. If I, in my rather odd desire to see just how deep the rabit hole goes, become corrupt, am I aware of the corruption? it would seem I am not, so how do we as humans, full of error, avoid forgetting the good? In my pursuit of the good, I look for the good as seen in other things, and does this distract me from the real good? If my pursuit of the good makes me investigate how evil humans can be, to see the opposite in order that I might see the true good, does that infact show me the real good, or it's opposite? I'd hope for both, in all honesty. But only time, and death shall tell. If I get up after being hit by a bus and i'm in a library, I'm probably wrong. ^_^

So, conclusively, hell is a good thing, a joyous thing, in a manner of speaking, just not the best thing, but rather it is the best thing for you/your perspective. I look forward to death with curiousity after this examination. Who can fear death when it is so interesting? (probably.)

Prediction

I don't want this to sound like fear mongering, but this thought occured to me...

Miku Hatsune.

CREEPY.

lets take a step back for just a second to explain.
japanese people can become OBSESSED with a character, for the character has on the surface as much depth to personality as you or I, because they are voiced by someone real.
makes sense, if you think about it... your hero can be Luke Skywalker, though he is fiction, you like his efforts to help the rebellion, you know he's a good guy.

but he doesn't actually exist.

and this brings me to my point:
miku hatsune is smegging freaky, if you add just a bit more

miku chan, for those who don't know, is a program. she is a program to simulate speech that is all computer made,(not using voice samples).
the images are made on a computer, the images that represent her.

...if you add a reactionary personality,
she's as real as a person, on the surface.

So, my freaked out prediction?
we shall make sufficiently advanced reactionary AI to interact with her voice, add a prog that simulates her face and emotional reactions, (she can already alter pitch accordingly)
...see? I already did it. "she..."

and Miku chan is as good as a person for a while.

I can see her becoming some sort of online friend type thing, and becoming RIDICULOUSLY popular.

I am vaguely hoping this happens, beacuse of the social study you could do...
but when that happens, what next?
____________________
added later:
proofs.
this first is funny, kinda cute.
second is impresive, and furthers my point
this third is proof of my point, but 18+
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lIcx3Cde2I
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sOEqoZ22u0o&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKzhOoCrb50&feature=related

fear? good? bad? I'm not one to judge.
what makes me REALLY curious is when we can make robots that look like her, and don't have jerky movements.
then...
Blade Runner much?

Evil is the end of all things

Aristotle says in part 2: "In this way, then, every knowledgeable person avoids excess and deficiency"
Now, this made me really curious. My first reaction was to believe he meant wise men avoid excess of any kind. Which sounds alot like the idea of christian virtue to me, and made me wonder if such christian values were based on this same idea of avoiding extremes.

However, then the thought occured about excessive goodness. Isn't alot of good a good thing? For example, chariity. Helping the more people, 'the merrier' as they say. But then I considered a negative to this. What if you give so much that you are in neeed of your own charity? Then an excessive good has become an evil. This thought caused great surprise, and made me consider if perhaps an excessive evil could become a good, if an excessive good can become an evil. Thus far, I have found that good leads to evil, and evil leads to more evil.

This realization was not the most uplifting of discoveries, and made me really reconsider optimism and cynicism.

I am fairly certain my conclusion that evil is the end result of all actions is accurate. With notable exceptions I suppose, but even then, those probably lead to pride which then leads to worse things, and thus also evil.

Thus, evil is the end of all things. Even good things in excess lead to evil.
Sexuality would be another great and obvious example of this fact. Sex si a beautiful thing when respected, when not: leads to pediphilia and all sorts of other perversions.

I don't know if there is anything we can do to avoid the evil. Perhaps, as aristotle suggests, habit of virtue would help, but judging by looking at society, I wouldn't get my hopes up.

The Thinking Skull

Kids With Guns

What kind of person can kill?

More specifically, this is about children. First off, I don't have an actual problem with children being killers, Or more specifically, I see it as no different than adults killing provided that certain stipulations are met. First, that the child is aware of what they are doing. I'd cite columbine as an example of where they are not aware, yet still acting. Thus, they must be aware and able to use judgement as to its value and proper occurence.

This thought comes from the idea of training children to be anti-terrorist units. I'd say that this could potentially be good, insofar as they are trained properly. first, I don't think that soldiers should be emotionless about killing. If they have no reaction to it, they will kill without considering the reaction. This is bad, as those other than the targets might get killed. (If you want an emotionless reason for why that is bad, think of the expense. otherwise, use your own beliefs.) So, I think that children who are actually slightly disposed to killing would be best. They should not like killing per se, but they should see it as a bit of treat. Like, going to daddy's work. "Cool! we don't do this very often! I'm excited!" and then they do not think about it very much. They do not consider the pain, or what the person was like, however they do realize the seriousness of the act.

(The idea of an anti-terrorist child has been done before,

though I think their design needs more thought.)

Also, a parent or someone trained to be as parental as possible would need to be their boss and on-field commander. With kind, happy adults for leaders teaching and caring for them, they will acquire huge love for their parent, (extreme care should be taken to grow this love into near zealotrous obsession) and they will always listen to them. Training would really just consist of growing love for the parent and overriding the instinct to disobey, no matter how strenuous the situation. This is absolutely vital, for as we can see, children like to think for themselves too much, and they must be able to follow specific instructions in order to assure the success of the mission.

The rest of the training could be of several things. Perhaps you could teach them how to be cute and put people at their ease, to avoid suspicion. How to talk to adults in an affectionate or friendly manner, how to seem defenseless and threatless. They could be taught how to blend in, pretend to be tourists, or children on a field trip, or similar. perhaps, if they are old enough, they could be taught to look like summer-job table waiters or kids studying in a coffee shop after school even. If young enough they would play on playsets in parks, perhaps even using the height of some of these sets to set up a better line of sight to the target. Also, if caught could be trained to sound helpless and adorable, like a frightened kidnappped kid. All these psychological tricks should be strongly repeated and practiced.

Further training could be in actual lethal skills, and they should always be occupied with many hobbies (encouraged with love as well) to keep their minds off of their jobs. They must learn the basics of whatever guns they have. how to field strip them, clean them, fire and maintain them. they would also need to be taught one or more martial arts based on enemy momentum, (jujitsu, some kung fu, etc.) for being children they would not be effective using hardstyle martial arts. they should be taught how to recognize objects as weapons, and use many forms of knives or similar small non-projectile self defense tools. Lethal training would actually be a slightly lesser concern, because where they are most usefull is not in their killing ability but in their aspects as children.

Now, what age is too young? This varies from child to child in maturity level, and indeed these children would be one in a million already, but a physical child age limit of 11 or 12 would be good. At this age they are tough enough to do basic martial arts and strong enough to carry most firearms, and with practice handle the recoil as well. On a side note, children could also make interesting spies, however this is much more difficult, as children are barred from most things worth spying in other governments, however terrorist cells meeting in cafes or similar might be perfect.

Now, what about boys or girls? Both present a serious though different problem. Boys and girls psychological design is so different that it is difficult to predict which is better, for both have a distinct advantage and disadvantage over the other.

Boys would be easy to train to ignore the morality of killing, (this is a plus) however, they are naturally agressive and disobedient. (this is bad.) They would be likely to 'fly off the handle' occasionally and ignore the order to stop killing. The only way to fix this is with lots of training. And even with such training caution must be used.

Girls present sort of the exact opposite problem. Girls are naturally obedient and not particularly agressive, prefering to trick their way out of a situation. (good, they could lie and act cute to escape capture/danger) However, they have (according to what I've read on neurology) several times more emotions than males, as well as far less emotional control. (just watch any 'chick flick' for proof of that last) Also, once puberty sets in their emotions would be even more confusing, frustrating and uncontrolled. This could be cured with drugs, but that might make the girl useless in making her own decisions both on the field and off. But soon I will present another possible solution.

A thought would be to have a boy and girl work together. Anyone who looks at pubescent boys knows that if a cute girl tells him to do something he will do it without hesitation. Perhaps affection should be encouraged, and pairs made to work with eachother often. The girl would be the voice of reason and control amidst the turmoil of battle. And the boy would be the better warrior with his natural agression and instincts to protect women/lover/partner. Extrapolating this idea further, perhaps they could have different jobs if working as teams, the girl recon and the boy fighting. The best choice would only be found with experimentation. Should this relationship be allowed to flower into more than affectionate teamwork? That is hard to say. that is a true double edged sword. On the one hand, they could recieve lots of reassurance and security knowing they have someone to love, and they would work to the death to protect eachother, and the male in particular would (quite litterally now) kill for her. The other hand shows us the horrendous consequences of their falling out of love, and having fights, possibly resulting in ruin of missions or even killings of eachother. This could be reinforced, (possibly) with intensive psychological work, even if they begin to hate eachother. Everyone can be taught to like something, perhaps the same extends to liking people. Not knowing a much about teenage female reactions (as though anyone does...) I cannot state for certain the worst case or even ideal scenarios that would occur from more than affection. The problems of all teenagers would apply I suppose, and what with the incredible amount of mind abuse they have taken already they might be unstable. However, upon reflection, the training works specifically to make sure that they do not become emotionally unstable. It is an interesting question, and one that can only be answered by trial and error.

I would predict such a program would take a few generations to work out properly. Lots of issues would arise, but with any luck more solutions than problems would be created.

Going back to the amorous killers, should they be allowed to breed? This could be interesting. If they were allowed to breed, it could be a form of eugenics. trying to make an even better child soldier. however, they could not be proper parents, as they are not trained for it. And as can easily be seen it is exceedingly difficult to take babies from parents. However, I'm confident they could be convinced to hand over the children to their own 'parents' (the people who trained them) and thus a new generation of children would be ready, and already indoctrinated into the mindset that the organization is trying to create.

Children are handy however because they are easiest to train, and as said earlier with proper encouragement of joy and parental approval can be taught to adore their jobs. The strong ties to their parental unit would also make them extremely unlikely to defect or reveal information under duress. They may have some problems with weapons, (the recoil may be too much to handle at first, but as any shooter knows you get used to it and can overcome it.) and they would need to be occupied and cared for almost every waking minute when not on duty. Thus, choice of parents would have to be very careful, as they must not cave under the pressure of entertaining young boys and girls for hours a day, day after day.

Perhaps unity between the children (all of them) should be enforced as well. However, they should NOT compete. Why? imagine if they start to compete on how many kills they can get? Massacre occurs. Again, problem. But if they are taught something along the lines of bettering their team, like a sports team, and making unity, this would be good. they could be told that the terrorists are an enemy team, and it's all some sort of game. (Metaphorically speaking, that is, they should probably be aware that it is not a game. this would be part of the trust of the parent. and responsibility of killing understood in the begining.) Though it seems all humans have the desire to compete, perhaps they could be allowed the outlet of who is the better marksman or better piano player or other activities that are inoffensive. Video games are an idea, but that comes dangerously close to competition in the negative sense. It would be morbidly amusing to see them playing shooter games, and a worthy study to see how they react to them and how skilled they are. Something innocent and uncomplicated, like Wii games, would be ideal, for their casual nature and thus lack of anger over loosing.

If they children ever work together, they would need to love eachother like brothers and sisters and want to help eachother. Affection to parents and other children should be strongly encouraged (many hugs, outings, whatever it takes) but not much if any affection should be allowed for others, because they may consider the terrorists others to be loved. I'm not sure how you would be able to program the total lack of affection for strangers yet obsession over their own. Perhaps a form of xenophobia.

Children are also ideal soldiers, because nearly everyone, no matter how hardcore a terrorist or hired gun hesitates before popping a child's head open. Perhaps it's instinctual, perhaps societal who can say. Whatever it is, it's there, and should be taken advantage of. This will alow an extra second or two when the child is atacking. As any NRA instructor will tell you, that's all you need to use your gun, and then some. This will give a strong advantage to the child, make the child much safer, and make them able to make better shots and more careful of harming other people such as bystanders, hostages, civilians, or other teammates. Also, the simple confusion people feel when they see a child with a gun, automatically assuming it is a toy and thus ignoring its threat potential.

what if the child dies? the parental units may have become attatched to the child, and then they may become depressed or other negative psychological reactions that parents go through when they loose their child. they may have to be eliminated as a security threat, or if they are able, they can be transferred to a new child. But that may be very hard. However, if they are strong enough psychoogically to be parents to killer children in the first place, then they may be able to handle the transition. If not, they they would be moved to another department or removed.

All in all, children soldiers if done properly could be a good asset.

Eternal Death

AC Cotter states that the belief in an afterlife is a prerequisite for philosophy. I do not agree, and there is a specific reason why. I need not beleive in a afterlife because it is not, as Thomas says, 'self evident'. 'god' as order and structure in the universe is self evident, finding God as a persona and creator is one of the purposes of philosophy, but the afterlife is neither self-evident nor reasonable without others of his suppositions, which are many also irrational. I find it exceedingly hard to believe in life after death, particularly if I do not believe in a personal God. For the most basic reason of 'with no personal God, who is there to make it? it is not evident in nature, and god/order is.'

So, perhaps with the proof of a personal God we can reason toward an afterlife, but I shall declare that it is not a necessary starting point. Another proof that belief in an afterlife is not necessary is similar to aristotle's proof that there is no universal good. If there are so many versions of the afterlife, how can one be true, and the rest false? as sinclair says, "maybe god doesn't care how you say your prayers so long as you pray them" If so, then perhaps whatever you have believed so far may be true for your afterlife. And then we can consider the idea of reincarnation, for the buddhists, that is a form of afterlife, yet it is also unreasonable.

So who can say? I say that Mr. Cotter is wrong in presupposing that such a belief is needed, but that it may be interesting to reason towards this thought. Though I still find it ridiculous at the present time, I can still try to figure it out.

The Thinking Skull.

Truth Puzzles

Thomas' examination of truth reminded me of the logic puzzles in the original startrek used to fool the evil robots.

Thomas' arguement, when put in the vernacular, sounds something like "truth must be because the phrase "truth is untrue" would be true in a world without truth, and is thus self-contradictory.

This is an awful lot like the Nomad episode of OS startrek. In this episode, there is an evil robot whose duty it is to destroy all 'imperfect' things. however, it's programming is flawed, and thus it itself is imperfect. When this is pointed out to it, Nomad (or Veeger, if you prefer the movies) proceeds to kill himself as best he can.

Such logic puzzles have been used in many areas, and I think they all point to the same general concept. there must be truth. Another startrek episode, infact, has the trick of "computer, this is Mr. Mud. everything he says is a lie. Mr. Mud is lying." and then the computer goes off to a corner and cries.

So, all of these truth puzzles I think are different ways of stating the same truth (small pun intended) which is simply that there is such a thing as truth, and additionally that we must be human to understand it (note the failing robots).

but maybe i'm lying.

The Thinking Skull