033

The Longest of Hauls


Let’s focus on the stuff light does to things.

Do you know what can travel faster than anything else in the whole wide world? The whole universe, for that matter. You may know that the answer is light.

How do you know?

Do you know how fast light travels no matter what?

Put it this way: the speed of light can traverse a distance equal to the circumference of the earth about 7.5 times in a single second.

Text messages can travel around at that speed, too.

We’ll put this many ways throughout.

Have you ever read anything at all? That’s cool, I guess. It came from the past. Don’t let your perception of light make you think it’s instantaneous. The scale we perceive naturally doesn’t allow us to see that.

Things are a bit different on the astrophysical scale. For example, a beam of light cannot traverse a galaxy as fast as it can illuminate a room. In fact, a photon needs about 100,000 years [a.k.a. “light years”] to skedaddle across The Milky Way. That’s roughly equal to 30 kiloparsecs, a measurement of distance/time that is useful when looking at the whole picture of our universe.

1 kpc equals 1.917e+16 miles.

Fairly safe conclusion: our universe is big.

The entire world really does need to get on the same page in terms of how things are measured, recorded, and reported. The metric system seems like the way to go. It’s cleaner, makes more sense.

If we can’t even agree on how to measure everything, then how can we expect to agree on anything?

When you wish upon a star, the light you see was actually emitted a long time ago.

You can see the light from stars that predate the sun—the galaxy, even!

When you look up at the night sky, you are basically looking into the past.

Should our sun fall to magical deletion in the middle of the day, we would not realize it until 8.333333333333333333333333333333 [ish] minutes later.

Light sets the pace of our time, but it can’t teleport as is, nor is it telepathic, per se.

In other words, there isn’t anything in existence that can travel faster than light.

In still more words, light makes time go crazy.

That’s not a lie, joke, guess, hypothesis, or theory. That’s a proven fact.

But light is also something else.

The word “light” also means light, i.e. not heavy.

The lighter something is, the faster it can move.

In other words, it’s a thing and it’s not weird.

The heavier something is, the more it weighs.

Ever been slowed down by weight?

Wait, what equates with weight again?

You probably know the answer to this one.

Gravity.

Still.

Gravity and light, bookending peas in our pod of existence, spiraling ever-wildly out of control.

When it rains, man, it pours.

Boy, does it ever.

Connected any new dots yet? Mapped any new correlations? I see a new one every day lately.

A body can resemble the human form, a lake, a planet, or an organization.
Light can describe weight or brightness.
Deep can indicate a hole or thought.
Force and matter can be nouns or verbs.

There must be one dominant power in the universe that explains every single item on every list contained on this site, a single relationship that matters most (or makes the most matter).

What’s the most abundant element in the universe?

Do you know?

Why doesn’t everyone know?

Shouldn’t we all know?

Think about it.

Of literally ALL THE THINGS EVER, the abundance of but one element sits around 75%.

In 3 out of 4 things, a single atom repeats.

Do you know what it is?

Hydrogen!

Doesn’t this fact seem kind of important?

It should because it is.

Or, again, maybe I’ve got it all wrong.

So let’s straighten out the facts.

Hydrogen is the lightest and smallest of all elements.
Hydrogen is the element most commonly found in the cosmos.
Hydrogen is the only element that lacks a neutron chilling out in its nucleus.
Hydrogen’s name alone seems to forecast the generation of the molecular powerhouse known as water.

In other words riddled by intentionally moronic inaccuracy, who’s your daddy?

In all seriousness, I am of the urgently strengthening opinion that any fact concerning hydrogen should be grouped in the top tier of that which constitutes “common knowledge.” Why isn’t it?

We probably need to reconfigure our approach to education every so often. Drastically. Clearly!

I highly suspect that budding intellectuals are being taught most of the right stuff, but not with proper emphasis, and all out of sequence, to boot.

Do kids still learn that “Christopher Columbus discovered America in 1492”?

Why?

After all, the statement is shamefully false.

In other words, that’s not real.

When you teach a kid lies on purpose, what should we expect to see in return?

Name something that grows without investment.

Don’t feel bad; I can’t either.

Only when we share our perspectives may we understand one another.

Never hesitate.

Step into our mental dojo.

In other words, always feel free to come inside.

Now.

Go outside and play.

☀️

Welcome back.

When you think of the term wavelength, what do you imagine? Perhaps an image not unlike this one:

Notice the spikes.

What the hell is a wavelength anyway?

In other words, what are we doing?

Wavelengths illuminate frequencies.

Unlike mechanical waves, electromagnetic waves are always perpendicular/vertical (transverse).

Light is an electromagnetic wave; its energy is produced by the vibration of charged particles.

An electromagnetic wave doesn’t need help to travel—it serves as its own fuel and can even do so in the vacuum of space.

The existence [pulse] of gravity causes the vibration [nether-regional desires] of particles.

(Admittedly, I get funky with parenthetical interjections from time to time.)

The other stuff amounts to matter [energy at c2] that hasn’t figured out how to stay alive without needing to eat. And without dying. Hmm, I wonder if those two problems have the same solution.

Whoops, derailed again.

Should we get back on track?

Sound is a prime example of a mechanical wave.

In terms of waves, “mechanical” means that it cannot exist in a vacuum and therefore requires a medium [meaning some form of matter] through which to travel.

Sound waves are always longitudinal. Water waves can be either.

Your voice is a mechanical wave.

Say something aloud.

If you did, then congrats, because you just waved, mechanically speaking.

The fact that we can talk at all is a freak accident thanks to evolutionary entropy and genetic mutation.

Summon your voice from within.

Say anything about this. It’ll be brilliant.

The frequency of a wavelength determines its shape.

Frequency.

Occurs frequently, or not.

Light zips along at 299,792 kilometers per second (186,282 miles per second).

Per second.

Infrared is the lightest light, which means that it has the lowest frequency, i.e. least curvature.

Curvature highlights gravity’s bias toward bending spacetime.

Highest frequency [which means most weight, not coincidentally] manifests behind the electrified veil of the invisible living color that we coolly call ultraviolet.

Spacetime actually bends by the weight of the star that anchors our solar system. It has been observed, measured, and documented. And our sun is “only” average—meaning green, fair, balanced.

Hot, hott, hawt—take your pic(k).

The higher the frequency in a wavelength, the farther light has to travel back and forth [parallel] to cover the same distance [perpendicular].

“Frequencies” occur on/along/across/within/throughout “wavelengths,” and therein lies the differences between them.

Sound travels at a much slower pace than light.

The speed of sound varies depending on temperature and elevation, but on average it travels at about 1,234.8 kilometers per hour [343 mph].

To put it mildly, sound’s relationship with light naturally complicates matter{s}.

Earth falls within the green wavelength of the sun’s heat/light.

To reiterate, green epitomizes balance, as it occurs directly in the middle of the color spectrum.

In other words, green is the color where{in/-upon} life can happen.

Now I see how and why our number system works!

In other words, color illuminates why math features 9 digits.

We need to be green.

While we’re here, we should touch on the other four waves in the electromagnetic spectrum.

Radio waves are vital to our connectivity since they can carry our voices and images along with them. We’ve been beaming them into space ever since we started broadcasting about a hundred years prior to the assembly of this sentence.

At some point, even billions of years from now, if there’s intelligent life out there, then in theory they could detect us {assuming they’re listening}.

Spooky.

You’re very familiar with the waves some of us call micro.

Microwave ovens cook specifically by targeting water molecules in food.

In other words, microwaves cook like the sun.

In another word, radiation.

Misconceptions abound concerning this type of heating method; however, not only is it perfectly safe (unless the interior is dirty or the food’s container is made of plastic, for instance [because it can bind unsavory chemicals to your grub]), but also the shorter cook times result in the preservation of more nutrients. Yeah, microwaves can be good for you!

X-Ray radiation, due to the measurements of its specific wavelength and unique frequency, passes through matter that isn’t too dense.

Bones are dense, generally.

Skin is thin, usually.

That’s how X-ray imaging works, in a nutshell.

Curious side-note: both microwaves and X-rays were accidental discoveries.

Lastly, gamma rays are produced at the nuclear level, whether by fission, fusion, or a type of decay.

In medicine, gamma rays are used to fight cancer.

In the universe, no event has been observed to be more luminous than a gamma ray burst. Scientists believe these events signify the formation of neutron stars or black holes dark orbs. Yikes!

It all depends on how the math shakes out.

The difference between each wave on the spectrum (of which there are 13 in total, luckily, I suppose) comes down to the frequency within the wavelength.

Radio waves display the lowest frequency and the longest wavelength. In other words, the path is straighter but with observable undulation.

Gamma waves reveal the highest frequency and the shortest wavelength. In other words, the path is more squiggly.

By the way, if your imagination isn’t running wild, then you should let it.

Unmolested, light’s wave looks like a straight line. In a vacuum, an electromagnetic wave moves energy at a speed of 3.00 x 108 m/s, a value commonly shown in math by the symbol c, the variable that represents the speed of light in Einstein’s famous equation.

Though light cannot escape an event horizon, the gravity of a black hole dark orb itself cannot consume light because the fight is evenly matched, meaning each does its own thing as well as the other does the opposite.

In other words, gravity and light are a match made in heaven.

Science has proven this via calculated observation on a proverbial loop.

In other words, the science of observation has proven a the whole lot.

E = mc2

Energy equals matter [or mass, if you like] at the speed of light (squared).

I prefer “matter” because it makes more sense in my head. Without matter, there can be no mass with which we can interact.

For now, just consider the fact that, essentially, Einstein’s equation indicates—given an absurd (c2) amount of time—that energy (E) equals (=) matter (m).

Matter becomes energy.

Energy becomes matter.

Matter and energy become one.

As the nerdy tee states, “You matter, until you multiply yourself by the speed of light twice, then you energy.”

the speed of light = c

No matter how you slice it—as long as you do in fact slice it—the variable c represents a measurement of time.

Light sets the bar for speed while time ripples in its wake.

c =
miles per second186,282
kilometers per second299,792
meters per second299792457.82816
span of whole universe>13.8 billion years
OMG

Is there a more absurd amount of time than none at all?

How about time that goes backward?

Hold that thought.

The speed of light is one of three key factors in one of (if not the) most current, renowned, revolutionary contributions to science, the General Theory of Relativity. Einstein’s theory basically observed that gravitational waves and material interference determine the pace at which time ticks by wherever you (or anything else in the universe) might be, and the only thing exempt from this constant truth is light.

This explains why as we go faster, time slows down.

Einstein first published his theory of Special Relativity in 1905, updated to its General form ten years later to accommodate Isaac Newton’s law of gravitation.

Long story short, the primary adjustment was based on the realization that spacetime is not flat, but rather curved.

We’ve not been the same since.

The primordial force of gravity actually bends space and time, creating an array of trajectories and pathways for movement.

In other words, water spirals down the drain.

Seemingly, when bending yields breakage, we get those galaxy-gobbling monsters known (heretofore inaccurately) as “black holes” that, for all intents and purposes, are trying to rewind time by slurping up all the things and stuff in the universe.

I never said gravity was smart, okay?

No wonder light’s in such a big damn hurry to get the hell outta dodge.

Like a kid, toy, top, clock, heart, atom, sperm, nucleus, cell, sun, planet, moon, creature, toddler, whatever else you can think of, if you wind it up, then by golly, it’ll go!

But it will not go at the speed of light. It will not because it cannot. It isn’t physically capable. The laws of physics have highlighted this fact without exception since folks began trying to observe and record said physical laws. The speed of light sets the edge of reality, the space where time stops.

How much more irrevocably irrefutable can one fact be?

What might all this suggest happens when the speed of light doubles? How about an absolute reversal of time? What can you imagine that could suck worse than that?

Imagine it.

All of time. The history of starlight.

Approaching 14 billion years of all this chaotically dispersing energy fueling oceans of hydrogen, the formation of galaxies, stars, planets, moons, oxygenating seas for all matter of carbon, collapsing dust, rising ash, nurturing development, breaking and sliding, shifting and braking, billowing ash toward all manner of life, evolving, discovering, creating, encompassing and permeating every last fraction of recorded history.

All of it.

Imagine everything there ever was.

Stock image.

Now imagine it gone.

Snap, blink, poof.

Goodbye, forever—at the same time, hello again—all in an absurd instant that times out upon reaching the kind of speed only accessible in dreams.

Remain calm. We will make sense of all this. Assuming we get lucky.

Now what can you imagine that might suck worse than all of existence glitching out and requiring an instantaneous reset? Nothing, perhaps? The speed of light is already plenty absurd, but multiplying itself by itself!? How square.

The word “square” has over 50 definitions, by the way.

Squared, opposite of split.

Multiplication.

Times.

X.

Consider everything that can happen by splitting anything squarely.

(You gotta do some of the work here.)

When enacted upon an occurrence of circular motion, straight lines have this super weird way of dividing up then being unsure about whether to veer left or keep right. Pardon me for saying so, but that’s exactly what I think must’ve happened before the first atom ever was formed. Miss Zero was sad because she couldn’t count. That sucked. Then, in an enlightening moment of staggering clarity, she realized that she’s a goshdarn circle, an intensely infernal inferno, a supernatural sorceress capable of hurling a level infinity fireball.

Science, physics, math, language, civilization, religion, philosophy, art, music, food, everything I’ve ever seen, smelled, touched, heard, felt, wanted, needed, or thought about supports every sentence held together by these digital pages. 

In other words, most likely, I’m delusional.

But have you ever heard of a cell that didn’t divide?

Any kind of cell.
Any cell in your body.
Any stormcell.
Any terrorist cell.
Anything cellular.

Anything sold.

Energy boomerangs while building momentum in a straight line.

Where lines meet, mathematical randomness takes place and creates shape.

In other words, even properly lubed gears eventually grind.

In other words, triangles come full circle.

Really quickly, take forever and think of something that fully conflicts with the following pattern.

Being says hello.

Any mushroom cloud that ever violently arose.
Anything that collects and gathers dust.
Anything that ripples or makes waves.
Anything that needs to be moved.
Anything that goes on its own.
Any bulb that ever bloomed.
Any tree that ever grew up.
Anything that breathes.
Any division of labor.
Any friction between competing parties (or bodies) that generated enough heat (or power, or pain, or pleasure) to explode.
Any thing (like you and me) that ever learned to control its energy, the essence of its vitality, the source of its light.

That’s what all this is about.

(The hokey-pokey is optional at this point.)

Just hang in there, okay? I swear you’re fine.

All anything has ever been about equates with dire needs in the face of wanting control of energy sources.

Life is programmed to do whatever it takes to survive.

How many triumphant armies have been well-fed? How many wars have been fought over land? All of them.

Think of all the blood that has been shed since mankind learned how to summon and control fire.

Imagine wanting full control of fire.

Imagine profiting off a need meant to be spread evenly across humankind.

Maybe you don’t have to imagine it.

Why do people want to control more fuel than they need?

Fuel.

Food.
Energy.
Power.
Electricity.
Light.
Time.
Money.

Is there nothing else?

Guess what happened next.

The way I see it, this highlights the root of all greed. Resource-hogging can only end badly. When you don’t need something, you cannot use it. This is not hard, people—fuck.

Greed is the ultimate evil, if you will.

It all comes down to power.

power: energizing existence only to relinquish a fraction more or less than half its assets since forever ago

041

In Thickness and in Wealth

Let’s say that this image represents a supernova, a monstrous cosmic event which demonstrates gravity’s unstoppable nature when a massive star runs out of fuel and collapses in on itself en route to an ultra violent explosion resulting in the birth, among other things, of the precious metal we call gold.

Currency amounts to the blood of a nation, society, civilization—that is to say (via implicit extrapolation), resources must flow and circulate in a timely manner (in order) to promote and sustain health. Analogously by extension, hoarded riches become thick clots. Clotting portends systemic failure, advertising symptoms that may include social injustice, just for one historical and current example, which can plant eager seeds of civil unrest and stoke raging fires of political division.

Welcome to 2020!

We already know where this is going, and yet we act like we don’t. In other words, we dumb.

Treating solely the symptoms that compromise the integrity of any body, especially poorly and under predominantly ill-equipped leadership (at every level), will not cure the ailment.

This is painful{ly simple}. Simplify the problem. Know the solution.

The disease that plagues humanity is inequ(al)ity.

The virus is greed.

In other words, overall, we’re sick in the head.

We don’t have to be.

Our cure has to be wisdom, and this must be spread by enlightened people.

Currency means time.

Time.

Money.

Worth?

Existence is like a ticking time bomb. Gravity imposes the same tax on all of us. We need to share the weight of our presence across the globe lest human civilization, along with our impressively diverse, positively bursting catalog of earthly creations, ultimately crumbles in a tragic comedy of pigheaded errors atop a cacophonous concert of contagiously willful ignorance.

In other words, don’t be greedy; rather, share.

That’s how we win.

In other words, it’s the only way we avoid loss.

People, we run the same race.

Life versus death.

Our variably tilted equation won’t solve itself—we have to correct the imbalance by smartly affecting the factors, by reducing waste, by redistributing power in every sense of the word.

Teamwork will be required.

Ha, in my/(y)our dreams, right?

Yeah.

Right.

035


Is This Entitled?

Some questions answer themselves; others mind-fuck you{r ass} (sideways).

As always, thereupon and herein, meanings may remain doubly triply king.

Oh, well, let’s get on with it, shall we?

At the helm of every documented human civilization/empire in world history lies a top dog. The Ruler, Overlord, General, Emperor, Master, Chief, Leader, Boss, CEO, King—whatever you wanna label him/her—the Granddaddy of Galacia [we call him Magnus Rex] has been in power for nearly seven hundred thousand years.

700,000.

One thousand, seven hundred times.

I’m sure this must be confusing.

To keep it simple, let’s say the average lifespan of a galacian lasts 1,000 years, and that they spend 97-99% of their lives in one of their technologically top-tier hibernation facilities {which doesn’t quite fully freeze them, but it drops the rate at which they age die to 1% that of the normal clip}. All things being equal, galacians will experience undergo their first deeply frozen sleep {which could last upwards of 50,000 years} around the age of 250—i.e. once the process of bodily growth has concluded. After that, they’ll be roused to function as a cog in Galacian Civilization for up to a century at a time. It’s all very carefully calculated based each individual’s identified value. Almost all spend interglacial periods unconscious.

Per the natural laws that rule the living, if a body isn’t growing, then it must be dying. And according to the physical laws which order the universe, cold preserves organic matter; whereas, heat accelerates decay.

In other words, while humans chase their invisible tails around in circles trying to catch time, our mortal enemies are trying to stop it.

How important of a role would you say emotion plays in the formation, implementation, and governance of human ideologies?

Galacians bow only to the earth’s foreseeable pattern, to sunlight’s unavoidable nature, to math’s unwavering vow. Galacian policies, culture, infrastructure, their daily and entire lives—it’s all dictated by the inevitability of numbers, the certainty of mathematics, the predictable structure of building sequences. Indeed, there’s always a best way to do anything; usually this involves taking the path most likely to optimize efficiency, minimize waste, and maximize results. Emotion does not factor into any of their ideological equations. Not purposely, anyway.

In other words, g/b go about their business a little differently than humans.

With almost every issue that surfaces, the first step in their political process is to gather a popular vote. If the masses agree to the tune of 75% or more, then the issue is considered decided. It’s that simple. However, when the popular vote falls short of that mark, The Galacian Eight [G8] meets.

The GE’s ruling monarch oversees a panel of eight galacians, always made up of 4 males and 4 females, each bringing unique bases of knowledge, areas of expertise, professional specialties, and the like, to the table. Together, they constitute what Americans might liken to a “President.” But as we all know by now, what it means to be the American President has been redefined recently (rather ingloriously).

A la a jury, The G8 discuss and vote on most decisions. When there’s a tie, The King—or Queen; their preceding head honcho was female—makes the final call. When a ruler gets it wrong three times, s/he opens himself to (the possibility probability of) replacement.

In this case, quite weirdly, your guess actually is as good as mine, but I would wager that Magnus has been (seen as) wrong either 0 or 2 times, and I strongly lean toward the former.

There are no term limits for The G8 [customarily called “The Gate” in a certain clandestine circle], but each member must compete annually to maintain a seat against candidates elected by the populace.

In general, “issues” are rare in their world, but when they do crop up, a reliable source assures me us that they have a very good track record when it comes to solving problems swiftly.

We, humankind, have become an “issue” for them. That’s bad (for us).

Magnus’s life partner and mother of their two children, Queen Velda, does not sit on the panel—it’s not permitted; the reigning monarch’s significant other is already influential enough as far as his/her decision-making goes—but she is revered in her own right, similar to how Brits treat royalty (in general).

Galacia’s (infallible) logic is that since Magnus was exceptional enough to become King, his DNA must be exceptional, too, and should therefore be (re)inserted into the bloodline as frequently as reasonably possible.

From top to bottom of their civilization, the “better” the galacians, the more offspring they are expected to produce. The King expects to uphold this standard at worst and to set a new benchmark at best.

As it was customary of any prospective “other half” in the galacian king-queen dynamic, Velda compiled a list of requirements to which Magnus agreed without hesitation, but hers were a little more, um, “quirky” than usual—in fact, she set new historical precedents—and one of the stipulations came back to bite her, so to speak.

It is an understood way of life in g/b society that males and females mate whenever unmistakable bodily signals arise and the participants find themselves willing to proceed. It’s that simple. They view involuntary physiological responses as nature telling two members of their species to recombine DNA. If their union results in fruit, then they take that to mean that any offspring will be a worthy (if not altogether special) part of their mighty civilization. Nothing emotional about it. Their goal, quite simply, is to strengthen the gene pool as quickly as possible.

And really, why delay evolution? There’s never enough time as it is.

As a whole, g/b evolve far, far more slowly than humanity; nonetheless, they are way, way ahead (because they started the race millions of years sooner).

Ultimately, the damning (and strangest) item on Velda’s list was that she carry the first three of her royal partner’s children. The possible truths influencing her rationale for even daring such a bold submission have been debated to death. Back in the day, Elvyn’s best guess was that Velda sought to secure a unique sense of renown for her{self and her} future offspring; in other words, by keeping their popular king’s initial three heirs in the immediate family, it would solidify their celebrity and, in so doing, afford them a better quality of life thanks to unheard-of recognition amidst a civilization wherein privilege is astoundingly evenly spread; (basically) all members of galacian society have access to the same amenities. Unlike the most powerful human entities, our natural nemeses not only grasp the value of equality, but also they capitalize on the knowledge.

Velda’s procreation agreement with Magnus yielded a firstborn (immediately) right on schedule, the only male they would produce, in the form of The Belanoc’s current alpha male, the former Prince of Galacia, Severus Rex. As soon as it was biologically feasible for Velda to get pregnant again, Liana, a bona fide princess, was conceived. After her birth, a few cycles of highly unanticipated failure to conceive a third time lead the galacians to the discovery that their charmed King was {and still is, assumedly} sterile.

All told, Magnus sired only two genetic heirs; there is no such thing as inherited wealth in galacian society. He was meant to sire hundreds, but he couldn’t because he wasn’t as perfect as he (was) thought (to be). We can only imagine the disappointment a virtually emotionless being would feel under those circumstances.

As you may (not) have assumed, the galacian populace didn’t make much [at least not outwardly] of their fearless leader’s lone defect. See, g/b have a policy against making mountains out of molehills.

Boring, aren’t they?

What fun is life without drama?

With regard to civilizational setup especially, humankind could learn {in}valuable lessons from galacians. Not only do they fully grasp the importance of sharing the weight of existence, but also they incorporate the knowledge.

His Majesty’s flaw certainly made him more relatable to the average citizen. In fact, I’m betting they wouldn’t support their king quite as devoutly (today) were it not for his glaring blemish, but what the hell do I know (besides everything {you don’t})? In their eyes, and despite his biological shortcoming(s), Magnus was {and still is, assumedly [wow, again]} the best among them for the job. That’s not a conclusion I’ve reached haphazardly—I know it to be true simply because he’s still doing the job.

I wonder if Grandpa resents Grandma for inadvertently denying him the opportunity to father countless more offspring. I’m betting so, at least a little. In galacian(al) [:)] terms of emotional impact on their psyches, “a little” might amount to a lot.

I’d like to talk to my grandmother [Velda] face to face (if I could somehow guarantee she wouldn’t try to eat my brain). I have a weird feeling that we will get the chance to speak someday in the future after the world gets turned (EXTRA) upside down.

Cool as ice.

Magnus poured all his energy and resources into training Severus, who bloomed early and blossomed later into the strongest physical specimen in the storied history of Galacia. Severus was not quite the brightest, but he was well above average [wild guess: 87th percentile]. An aberrant temper was (and surely remains) his most self-defeating weakness. In other words, he doesn’t know how to express his feelings.

Back at Bessi—the hidden organization through which {in part} I was born and where I was raised, educated, trained, et cetera—especially in the early decades when there was less to do for daily entertainment, we used to abide by what might widely be considered a weird custom today. Every evening, we’d gather together in our cafeteria/mess hall, sit down, eat, relax, and converse. 20 diners on average, upwards of 40 sometimes during the busier stretches [that is to say, the winter months] (in terms of g/b {inter}activity from within the boundaries of human civilization). Our bread-breaking powwows would last 2-3 hours. The conversation never died. I mostly listened, but in that setting, I felt like I belonged—I was home—so when I had something to say, I said it. The room never fell more silent than when I opened my mouth. I didn’t realize this fully until several years after my unavoidably self-imposed banishment.

Never have I not dominated my immediate surroundings.

God. The gravity of that realization. It’s not fun.

One of the most popular debates over the years regarded who would’ve won in a fair fight between Severus at the height of his physical prowess [circa 1400] and Magnus. The room was always split down the middle, roughly. (Approximately half of them were always wrong.) Honestly, I understand that it seemed too close to call—if you watch sports, you’re aware that the best team doesn’t always win—but I gave this topic a lot of thought and concluded with confidence that Severus eclipsed his father (who would’ve been declining physically at that stage in his life) in combat proficiency.

Magnus Rex in his prime, however, was the most physically gifted specimen and most legendary warrior in galacian history. The victor in an imaginary fight between the two at their individual zeniths is no contest—Magnus triumphs every time—however, near the midpoint of the previous millennium, mano a mano, Uncle Sevy ekes out a nailbiter. Today, I would expect Old Magnus to win a close match. {We’ll come back to that (unless we don’t).}

Let’s pause and make sure we’re painting an accurate picture here.

Pretend you’re Magnus back then guiding your eldest heir into his youthful prime. You’ve reigned atop the world’s dominant civilization for a handful of glacial cycles and have spent all your free (up)time during the previous 250 years or so working on this project, your only son, efforting tirelessly to mold him into a being you can stand beside/behind {all the while neglecting your only daughter}, cementing your legacy as the biggest, smartest, and loneliest king ever. In terms of purely physical capabilities, your efforts pay off. Severus transforms into an absolute beast. He can sprint faster, run farther, jump higher, carry more weight, take more punishment, and command more respect (or instill more fear) than any other galacian (besides {maybe} you [remember, you’re Magnus]).

Meanwhile, your daughter has grown up with the same education and training, but her curriculum has been heavily skewed toward the academic side. You barely know her. Then, one day, you notice that she has grown taller than your son, if only by an inch. This odd discrepancy piques your interest. You begin trying to get to know her, but she resists, doesn’t trust you. Your protégé grows jealous{y}. You’ve unwittingly stirred up a sibling rivalry for the ages. And you couldn’t have known that you were even capable of causing such an effect because emotional interference has never manifested to a degree of noteworthy impact in your prestigious bloodline. Your son now hates your daughter and desperately craves your approval. Your daughter dislikes you and doesn’t really care what you think, quite frankly. You silently resent your mate for the unexpected disappointment in your life.

Does this mean you’re “getting emotional”?

There’s more to the following (and previous) abbreviated story, but one day Severus and Liana ended up in a no-holds-barred fistfight in front of a small crowd. Guess who caught the tail end of his boy getting beat up by a girl.

Magnus’s perspective on his lone male offspring, his wannabe pride and joy, his prospective legacy, shifted from “golden boy” to “runt.” His daughter, on the other hand, was truly exceptional, but by his way of thinking, he missed his chance to maximize her potential because he put all his eggs in the same wrong basket.

How would you feel?

Imagine how Severus felt. I am uniquely qualified to imagine this because I have witnessed the remnants of more than one of his feeding grounds in the context of umpteen similar sites left behind by his kindred. Severus dismembers his victims, partly postmortem, always excessively, leaving scenes of unnecessary brutality in his messy wake, bemoaning a deep-seated, very unnatural range of emotions [rage, in this case].

To expand on Elvyn’s theory about the “prenup” [with which I (more or less) agree totally], I wouldn’t be surprised to confirm that Velda’s highly specific genome features a genetic mutation, as it were, whether inherited or original, which makes her brain capable of processing (or {depending on your outlook} drastically increases her susceptibility to) emotional energy. This would explain Liana’s passionate rebellion as well as Severus’s burning rage—more on those points in time.

It’ll (probably) never happen like this, but I would like to meet up with my mother’s mother one morning and chat over coffee. I have an odd feeling that we’d connect on a “tortured souls” level.

(No, g/b don’t drink coffee. They prefer not to alter their brain’s naturally occurring chemistry.) [Caffeine is a psychoactive substance.]

Liana brought me into the world, by the way, and against all odds. (I’m genuinely not sure if you’re aware of that.) She didn’t survive my birth. Per the stories I’ve heard, even after emerging from any of my countless, unforgiving mental filters, she was like an angel. An enormous fear of mine is not doing what I must do in order to make the energy she spent, the sacrifices she made, the time she lost, and the sum of her life {in broad strokes} mean something—in other words, I’m afraid of failing to honor Mom’s memory.

We never get ahead of ourselves, do we?

Can you/I feel my/your eyes rolling?

Immense pressure mounts.

One day, you’ll feel it, too.

Won’t you?

Please.

Do.