...and a Rebuttal

I am, as one might call it, an evolutionary dead end. This means that anyone who, for whatever strange reason, decides to use me as an inspiration to live their life, is asking for trouble.

Boohoohoo! What a whiney little bitch.

Don't emulate my life. I made enough poor choices among those pitiful few that I have done well.

Woe be me! How much self-pity can you even get?

The first poor choice was to revere my teachers back in the day. There is nothing to revere about them---they are just [young] adults trying to make a living doing a job that involves them doing the same song and dance routine that recurs every year, while dealing with whatever politicking that occurs in the background, their responsibilities increasing, their salary dropping, and with each batch of students getting increasingly disrespectful.

That was not a poor choice---as a young child, you really did not have much in terms of adult role models. It is not as though that you were brought up in a village where there are more adults to look at, with potentially more to look up to. Teachers are the authority figures in your life then, so it is natural to keep them in high regard. Technically, that does imply ``revere'', but you were a kid then---how/why would you know otherwise?

The second poor choice was to spend so much time reading to amass book knowledge, instead of going out there and learning street smarts. All the book knowledge that I have learnt over time is steadily being eroded by the ever-increasing reach of this current generation of machine learning/artificial intelligence, where the indefatigable Machine is allowed free reign to slurp up all the digitsed human knowledge and then create a new walled garden where they rule supreme in the art of Knowing. As I get older, the skills that are increasingly less redundant over time are those that involve the coordination and coaxing of people to do things, i.e. street smarts or social/emotional intelligence, stuff that the so-called books of learning are sorely lacking.

Don't be an ass. All the street smarts in the world without a solid foundation of knowledge to back things up is just going to lead you through a more convoluted path than what you have gone through before. Street smarts without maturity is a fast way to stray off the straight and narrow, and the skills that you have learnt from sitting down quietly and reading are still relevant in the face of the Machine. In fact, the ability to synthesise these book knowledge with street smarts is what will make you successful, so don't piss on that through the magic of 20/20 hindsight.

The third poor choice was to go study overseas on a scholarship, instead of staying in SIN city and studying at one of the local universities. The overseas experience might be useful from the social/emotional intelligence point of view from the broadening of horizons with respect to the continual refinement of one's understanding of the human condition, but the stuff that is learnt there, and the friends that were made there are effectively useless when I'm not there.

You are thinking too small. Are you saying that meeting people like Brian, Mo, Alisa, loliponi, Liesel, Oat, and the like are useless? Why must you view relationships with the earthly notion of ``utility''? Why can't you just enjoy the fact that you have spent time with people far diverse and different from your own cultural centre, thus expanding each other's horizons of what the humman condition is? If you think that all the stuff you learnt there is useless, then you truly have not learnt anything. After all, to learn is to take a thesis, and its antithesis, and synthesise a new understanding. To claim uselessness is a demonstration of the lack of the synthesis step, a true measure of a thinking person.

Which brings me to the fourth poor choice---to return to SIN city and decide to stay here, for the sake of patriotism, and a sense of duty to repay the tax payers for supporting my education abroad via scholarships. Having not been in the local environment during the most important early years of one's professional life meant that I started off in greater isolation than one who has been studying at the local universities, and mingling with the very same people who are likely to be one's compatriots in the working world, thus developing that covetted ``network'' that allows one to thrive better.

Now you're being an asshole. Why conflate who you are with what you do for a living? You are not what you do for a living---your true nature is known to you and your Father in heaven. Isolation itself is meaningless out of context---if the mainstream is highly daemonically influenced, then perhaps isolation is a good thing. A ``network'' is whatever web of relationships you make of it, and the reality is that there are more people who are willing to give a chance and relate to another person than one might think there are, with the only barrier being the mere thought that everyone is contented enough to be alone to want to be reached out to. Unless that person is a sociopath, it is simply not the case that you can't create that network to thrive. Get out of your damned comfort zone, shake off that anxiety, and go with the flow for once.

Prestige is bullshit. Don't go Harvard because it is Harvard---go to Harvard only if the programme you are interested can only be found in Harvard. So, don't study overseas for the sake of ``prestige''---go overseas to study only if what you are interested it can only be found overseas, and not here.

A non sequitor. The first half is not wrong, but the second half is contradictory with all that you have said so far. What is it you are admitting, that you messed up by going overseas due to the ``prestige'', or that pursuing what you are interested in that is better foundt here than here that is messing you up? If you cannot figure out what you want to say, you might as well just shut it.

I can go on, but I think the pattern is clear---there are many that will try to sell a vision to you. Know that the vision is just that: a vision only. Reality is often much different from what the vision holds, and more importantly, even for those who claim the title of ``master planner'' are unlikely to know that much more of the consequences of the vision that they are zealously selling. There are no gods among men---only One True God Above; anyone who claims to be a god among men is not just not a god, but also not a man, for that person is really a demonstration of the qualities that are more akin to that of the devil.

Probably the only paragraph that is as true as truth gets, though the whole claim that ``the pattern is clear'' is just hubris. See also Colossians 3 (specifically v23), as helpfully pointed out by a Sister---your life is hard because you chose to walk the straight and narrow, to do what is Right as opposed to what is Easy or what is Nice. And you do so because your Father in heaven demands it, because He is Right, and He likes it when you do Right.

``MT, what's wrong?''

Response: What isn't?

``MT, did you just argue with yourself?''

Past MT can be a prophet at times, but he is also a bit of a bitch when he gets overwhelmed. And that fucker gets overwhelmed when he feels that he hasn't prepared enough, though these days, when everything is always out of step with each other, the natural state is often to be unprepared. Past MT often knows what needs to be done (i.e. what is Right to do), but many times he second guesses himself because of the fear of arrogance. Present MT thinks that for that fear, past MT can be a bitch. Present MT tries to do what past MT is too afraid to do, so that Future MT will have a better time. But sometimes Present MT falls short, because that fear-shit is contagious. Present MT is a bit wiser than past MT---he seeks help from wherever he can, through supplication, or through talking with other people that past MT is too much of a whiney bitch to ask.

There are some days I wished I were black-out drunk: all that happened this week are precisely the days for that, even though I have promised myself to never be that wasted again.

Yeah, I get that. But don't be black out drunk---you can only live in this material world if you keep on thinking. And when you are black out drunk, you cannot fucking think, and that will kill you.

Not much else to write except for the need to vague-vent for a bit. Till the next update.

That wasn't even a vague-vent---it was a really poor attempt. I hope that you are proud of yourself for dumping such asinine observations in a pique of anxiety-laden fear.

Because if you hadn't, maybe I wouldn't be here to argue with you.

Bouncing Through an Evolutionary Dead End, One Bad Choice at a Time

I am, as one might call it, an evolutionary dead end. This means that anyone who, for whatever strange reason, decides to use me as an inspiration to live their life, is asking for trouble.

Don't emulate my life. I made enough poor choices among those pitiful few that I have done well.

The first poor choice was to revere my teachers back in the day. There is nothing to revere about them---they are just [young] adults trying to make a living doing a job that involves them doing the same song and dance routine that recurs every year, while dealing with whatever politicking that occurs in the background, their responsibilities increasing, their salary dropping, and with each batch of students getting increasingly disrespectful.

The second poor choice was to spend so much time reading to amass book knowledge, instead of going out there and learning street smarts. All the book knowledge that I have learnt over time is steadily being eroded by the ever-increasing reach of this current generation of machine learning/artificial intelligence, where the indefatigable Machine is allowed free reign to slurp up all the digitsed human knowledge and then create a new walled garden where they rule supreme in the art of Knowing. As I get older, the skills that are increasingly less redundant over time are those that involve the coordination and coaxing of people to do things, i.e. street smarts or social/emotional intelligence, stuff that the so-called books of learning are sorely lacking.

The third poor choice was to go study overseas on a scholarship, instead of staying in SIN city and studying at one of the local universities. The overseas experience might be useful from the social/emotional intelligence point of view from the broadening of horizons with respect to the continual refinement of one's understanding of the human condition, but the stuff that is learnt there, and the friends that were made there are effectively useless when I'm not there.

Which brings me to the fourth poor choice---to return to SIN city and decide to stay here, for the sake of patriotism, and a sense of duty to repay the tax payers for supporting my education abroad via scholarships. Having not been in the local environment during the most important early years of one's professional life meant that I started off in greater isolation than one who has been studying at the local universities, and mingling with the very same people who are likely to be one's compatriots in the working world, thus developing that covetted ``network'' that allows one to thrive better.

Prestige is bullshit. Don't go Harvard because it is Harvard---go to Harvard only if the programme you are interested can only be found in Harvard. So, don't study overseas for the sake of ``prestige''---go overseas to study only if what you are interested it can only be found overseas, and not here.

I can go on, but I think the pattern is clear---there are many that will try to sell a vision to you. Know that the vision is just that: a vision only. Reality is often much different from what the vision holds, and more importantly, even for those who claim the title of ``master planner'' are unlikely to know that much more of the consequences of the vision that they are zealously selling. There are no gods among men---only One True God Above; anyone who claims to be a god among men is not just not a god, but also not a man, for that person is really a demonstration of the qualities that are more akin to that of the devil.

``MT, what's wrong?''

Response: What isn't?

There are some days I wished I were black-out drunk: all that happened this week are precisely the days for that, even though I have promised myself to never be that wasted again.

Not much else to write except for the need to vague-vent for a bit. Till the next update.

A Poor Telling of Why Irony is Dead

Irony is dead---no one should be saying anything that they don't personally believe in or mean on the 'net any more.

This, unfortunately, means the death of the third wave of the 'net.

I know there's a lot to unpack here, but considering that I'm on leave today (and not sick, for once!), I can talk a little bit more on what I mean.

The first wave of the 'net, I was not a part of. As far as I could tell, this happened when the only folks on the 'net were those from the universities, roughly when the World Wide Web was first created. The crowd then were the bookish/academic sorts considering the background. Multimedia was not normal, and thus text interactions a la Usenet were the norm. With text as the primary means of communication, natural extensions of literary techniques (including irony) are the norm, and for the most part, it was ``obvious'' what was being said.

The second wave of the 'net, I was sort of a part of. This was when rudimentary multimedia started their ascent, where graphical interfaces started their long run towards dominance. The 'net was still mostly text based---personal websites were the main information sources, and indexed pages (first by hand, then automatically using variants of PageRank) that were accessible via search mechanisms were one of the newer means of creating reach with the said personal websites. Interactive text messages via IRC or any of the personal messaging platforms flourished, as were the various privately hosted 'net forums.

The user space was starting to get diluted a little, with initial exposure to the nerdier teenages, before slowly percolating out to the less nerdier teenagers. Word play and other literary traditions were still predominant in the communication sphere, and several aphorisms were introduced, including classics like: ``Don't feed the troll.'', and ``On the Internet, no one can tell if you're a dog.'' As funny as the aphorisms may sound, they conveyed a wisdom of never trusting whatever was being posted on the 'net.

Some claimed that MySpace was the start of the third wave, others said it was the burst of the blogs over Blogger or even LiveJournal. But I think the real start of the third wave is Facebook. Facebook was the ``true'' progenitor of the social media revolution. It was originally for college-going folk only, with gatekeeping done at the email address that was used for account creation (it had to end with .edu or otherwise demonstrated to be of a college/university---the specific details on the requirements was never sought by me then). Its purpose was to act as the social events tool.

For the college students in the year of 2006, if you weren't on Facebook, you just weren't going to get anywhere socially---there was simply no way around it. It mirrored a lot of the original first wave 'net, in the sense that the folks on it were somewhat bookish due to being college people. While it was still text heavy, communications technology as a whole has enabled pictures (not videos!) to increase their importance.

Especially since it cost ``nothing'' now to upload pictures, share one's thoughts, and ``socialise''---no need to find paid/free hosting to run your own website, and no need to explain to people how to find it since they can just ``add'' you on Facebook, and see everything there as a part of the newsfeed.

Then Facebook opened up to the rest of the population that was not college-going folk. And it went sideways, because there was no guarantee that whoever is reading whatever is written would be sufficiently attuned to the nuances of what was said.

At the risk of infantilisation, when the written word is made available to all sundry, those who aren't learned enough will take things at face value. They can't tell truth from bullshit, irony from fact, and hyperbole from reality.

And the trolls loved that. Trolls were on a losing path for a long time as the wisdom of the 'net propagated among those who were nerdy enough to be on the 'net. But now, with all these clueless normies who cannot see that the 'net is quite different in style from the real world, the trolls had fresh meat to work with.

And work with the fresh meat the trolls did.

It was originally just bad faith ``fun'', like brigading public polls, or creating bad memes. There were some consequences, but were mostly harmless.

Then the true agent provocateurs started to lurk among the trolls, creating situations that led to real world consequences. Hoaxes, foreign influences to elections, witch hunts, deliberate self-sabotaging through careful application of doublespeak---it would make the trolls from the 1990s drool with sheer envy at the amount of real world impact these agent provocateurs have managed to create.

The permanent 'net mob is thus born.

This mob sees no reason---they run on their own internally inconsistent logic. They perform witch hunts; they are functionally illiterate.

As such, if they ever feel that they are slighted, they will descend upon the alleged offender like a pile of bricks.

And they will co-opt anyone whose words seem to back what they believe in, creating a guilt-by-association set up.

Doesn't matter if what is said in an ironic sense. And God help you if you point out that you were being ironic---that witch hunt will come regardless.

And so, irony is dead.

Stay safe---say only what you mean, and avoid anything that requires at least one braincell to interpret.

And Sometimes, Things Just are Shit

Urgh. The week that just passed was bad. I was basically out of action for the whole week due to an acute URTI (yes... that's URTI). Normally I would just try to ``suck it up'' till I'm in a position where I can operate nearly normally, but thanks to the existence of a high-enough stakes external meeting, I just had to get well enough to go through it.

And so to the doctor I went, and was given enough meds to knock me out cold for a while.

Now I'm in the odd position of still having some viscuous as hell phlegm, but without the usual pus dissolved in it because the bacteria that were causing the trouble had been eliminated through the course of antibiotics.

But I don't really want to talk about that here.

------

I finally caught up with this year's SGDQ. The games that were showcased were sufficiently varied, the production quality high, but as always, the longer the GDQ events are run, the more mainstream they get, and therefore the more they will ostracise the fringe despite being fringe events on their own right.

Part of the annoyance that I have is the many instances of in-your-face virtue signalling on things that aren't directly related to the charity organisation that the particular GDQ event was organised for.

``But MT, you know that the so-called `virtue signalling' you are referring to are very real issues that the individual speedrunners are facing, and thus when they are given a global platform such as GDQ, they should be allowed to express themselves!''

Uh-huh. But the slippery slope begins---why this particular issue deserves a shout-out, while others are taboo? I'm fine with having causes other than the target charity that the speedrunners might have, but it just feels odd to have anything else other than the target charity's mission being shouted at ever so often.

If it were a protest, it would make sense---the idea of a protest is to be as inappropriate with the vibe of the venue as a means of drawing attention to the cause (hence: ``protest''). Thus, a group of people protesting against the execution of some person in some country by standing outside of said country's embassy within the protesters' country makes sense, even if it may be illegal. Or in the extreme, the provocation of violence on the streets to draw attention to a cause in the form of protesting against the authoritarian nature of the state also makes some kind of sense, legality and escalation issues aside.

But what happens at GDQ isn't a protest, because the folks who are watching GDQ aren't the ones who are likely to be part of the cause of the issues in the first place.

An expression of solidarity then? Maybe, but it just feels off at a charity event.

Or maybe I'm just getting jaded from observing that the current trend of the world tends towards the ``might is right'' mentality after having veered away from it for nearly fifty years.

------

I think I need to get back in the saddle of my bicycle. Three-ish weeks of non-cycling due to my work-from-home days being nullified as well as self-diagnosed plantar fascitis surely does not help matters.

I think that's about it for now. I really don't want to write more for now, and would rather get some rest. Till the next update then.

Sometimes, Wonderful Things Happen

Many days, life sucks.

But sometimes, things align, and wonderful things happen. Today is one of those days.

I scored Empires of the Ancient Near East (2nd Edition) for the cool price of SGD5.00. It was sitting on a shelf, alone. I didn't know what possessed me to take a look at it. I spun it around, saw the ``Cheap Item: $5.00'' label, tried to check online what it was about and failing due to no 4G network, asked my colleague to connect to the Wifi and search, found out that it was a decent book without caring about the price (because 5 bucks is a real steal no matter how one looks at it), and went ahead to purchase it with a stupid grin on my face after.

I could also score a linguistics text book for SGD1.00, but I refrained.

So I was holding my haul (sans bag, of course), and my other younger colleague approached me.

``What is this?''

``My people call them `books'! We read them, and sometimes use them for self defense too!''

``Oh, can I use them for self-defense?''

``Nope, because you didn't buy them!''

😅

It was indeed a nice day, shelf space be damned.

The books are in remarkably good condition considering that they hadn't been opened in twenty-five years, with only some minor issues of the plate pages sticking together. The material seems to be well researched too (according to the online reviews), and I am looking forward to reading them.

Friday is soon upon us, and then the long-ish weekend (I've already had approval to clear the off-in-lieu for the Saturday public holiday on Monday instead). I've pieces to work on for a couple of gigs that I'm involved in outside of my usual group(s), and it is exciting.

And I think that's about it. Till the next update then.

August Whatever...

Qnza. Jr'er va Nhthfg abj---gvzr gb oevat bhg gur urnil fghss.

V jnf jbaqrevat gbqnl, jung jbhyq vg gnxr gb bcra zl urneg ntnva, naq nf n frpbaq gubhtug, jul vf vg pybfrq va gur svefg cynpr.

V hfrq gb abg-qvfyvxr crbcyr. V hfrq gb or urycshy naq xvaq gb sbyxf, jvyyvat gb uryc nalbar jub unq n ceboyrz. V npgrq nf noyr nf V pbhyq, rira gubhtu V nz grpuavpnyyl qvfnoyrq, jung jvgu gur ernyyl onq fxva gung cerpyhqrq zr sebz qbvat culfvpny npgvivgvrf jvgubhg trggvat syner hcf (V'z qbvat zhpu orggre abj, ohg V fgvyy unir zl onq qnlf).

Gura ng fbzr cbvag, V fgnegrq gb fybjyl ybfr nyy gung.

Gung cbvag jnf jura V jnf va frpbaqnel fpubby. V jvyy fgnaq ol zl jbeqf: EIUF onpx va gur qnl jnf ryvgvfg ns, naq vs lbh jrera'g sebz gur srrqre fpubbyf, lbh jrer abguvat; vs lbh qvqa'g sbyybj gur pebjq, lbh jrer n qnatrebhf crefba gb or fuhaarq.

Zl gvzr va EIUF jnf abg pbby. V fgnlrq va gur pbzchgre ynof nsgre fpubby gvyy yngr cnegyl orpnhfr V jnf tbvat gb fpubby gung jnf fghcvqyl sne sebz jurer V yvirq (juvpu znqr znkvzvfvat zl gvzr bhgfvqr zber jbegu gur 3 u pbzzhgr), naq cnegyl orpnhfr gur jbeyq bs pbzchgre cebtenzzvat jnf nf zhpu n urnyvat fnyir sbe zr nf vg jnf n zbzrag bs qvfgenpgvba sebz rirelguvat ryfr.

V gevrq gb oyraq va fbzrjung, ohg tnir hc pbzcyrgryl jura V oebxr n obar va zl nez jura V jnf gelvat gb uryc n pynffzngr. Bu, naq gur shpxre qvqa'g rira gunax zr.

Fher, V riraghnyyl pneirq zl bja anzr bhg guebhtu unccrafgnapr naq fbzr yriry bs fxvyy, ohg zl urneg unq orra ybfg sbe n ybat juvyr nyernql. V qba'g rira obgure gelvat gb xrrc hc jvgu nalbar sebz gung ren nal zber.

``Ohg jung nobhg Kvnbyh, naq Puvatuhn?''

V jnf pybfr jvgu Kvnbyh sbe dhvgr n juvyr, orsber bhe yvsr cnguf qviretrq fb sne gung rnpu gvzr jr gevrq gb erpbaarpg, V srry yvxr V'z whfg enzzvat zl urnq vagb n jnyy. V qba'g unir nalguvat va pbzzba jvgu ure nal zber, bgure guna gung jr ner obgu fcrpvzraf bs gur uhzna fcrpvrf, naq rira gung vf nyfb hc sbe qrongr. V hfrq gb guvax gung V unq fbzr xvaq bs pbaarpgvba jvgu ure, ohg vg jnf grahbhf ng orfg.

Abj vg'f ba vaqrsvavgr uvnghf. V jvfurq ure n unccl oveguqnl erpragyl, ohg gur urneg jnfa'g ernyyl va vg---vg sryg sbeprq. V qba'g guvax V'yy qb fb nalzber, whfg gb jnyx njnl zber pyrnayl.

Nf sbe Puvatuhn... gur bayl pbaarpgvba jr rire unq va gur ortvaavat jnf gur snpg gung jr jrer obgu fznegre guna zbfg bs gur sbyxf va pynff, naq jrer trarenyyl ybaref nf n jubyr. Jura whavbe pbyyrtr pnzr, naq riraghnyyl jrag, jr nyzbfg cebzcgyl jrag bhe qvssrerag jnlf, ur gb gur ynaq bs culfvpf, naq zr gb zl orybirq ynaq bs pbzchgre fpvrapr.

Jr zrg ntnva jvgu Qvat rg ny arneyl n qrpnqr onpx, ohg frrvat gung ab bar ryfr bgure guna zr unir orra gelvat gb frg hc zrrg-hcf, V whfg pbafvqre uvz qrnq gb zr gur fnzr jnl gung V nz pbafvqrerq qrnq gb gurz.

Gb cnencuenfr gura, gb bcra bar'f urneg gb n fcrpvny fbzrbar erdhverf gung bar bcra bar'f urneg rabhtu gb unir sevraqf, sbe sevraqfuvc vf gur sbhaqngvba bs nal bgure vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc.

Naq zl sevraq yvfg vf qbja gb fvatyr qvtvgf. V'z abg rira fher vs gung fvatyr qvtvg vf fgevpgyl terngre guna mreb be abg ng guvf cbvag.

Ubj znal crbcyr pna gehyl pynvz gb xabj zr?

Juvpu oevatf hf onpx gb gur vavgvny dhrfgvba: jung jbhyq vg gnxr gb bcra zl urneg ntnva?

V qba'g xabj vs vg vf rira cbffvoyr, ng guvf fgntr.

V'z trggvat byq; V'z frg va zl jnlf. V unir fgebat bcvavbaf ba n srj guvatf gung V xabj/cenpgvfr jryy rabhtu gb cebsrff znfgrel; V unir fbzr bcvavbaf ba rirelguvat ryfr, naq nz jvyyvat gb yvfgra gb arj crefcrpgvirf gb yrnea naq hcqngr zl bja jnl bs ybbxvat ng guvatf.

Ohg vanfzhpu nf V nz trggvat byq, gur jbeyq unf nyernql zbirq ba. Gur nzbhag bs cngvrapr gung nal fvatyr crefba unf vf terngyl erqhprq sebz orsber, naq pbafgnag arrq gb ``purpx gurve cubarf'' ol znal unfa'g orra qbvat zl vafrphevgvrf bs orvat ``vagrerfgvat rabhtu gb ubyq nggragvba'' nal snibhef.

Znlor V nz ernql gb bcra zl urneg, ohg jvyy V whfg trg n fync va gur snpr va erghea? Nz V guvpx-fxvaarq rabhtu gb rng gung xvaq bs evfx guvf yngr va yvsr? Nz V jvyyvat gb nyybj zlfrys gb or evqvphyrq zrepvyrffyl sbe orvat gur bqq-onyy gung V unir nyjnlf orra?

``ZG, trg gurencl.''

Jul? Jba'g gur jbeyq or n orggre cynpr jvgubhg gur yvxrf bs zr jnfgvat gur cerpvbhf erfbheprf? TQC ng nyy pbfgf, vaavg? Bayl culfvpny nvyzragf ner erny---zragny barf ner whfg n qrzbafgengvba bs gur aba-znayl angher bs orvat jrnx-jvyyrq, nzvevgr?

Svefgyl, shpx lbh vs lbh guvax yvxr gung---lbh'er gur ernfba jul fbpvrgl vf tbvat gb uryy. Frpbaqyl, shpx lbh ntnva sbe tbbq zrnfher.

Guveqyl, V inyhr zlfrys sbe fher, ohg V unir ab qbhogf gung fbpvrgl inyhrf zr qvssreragyl---onfvpnyyl nf ybat nf V'z fgvyy ``pbagevohgvat'' gb fbpvrgl, gur arg inyhr V unir sbe fbpvrgl vf fgvyy cbfvgvir.

V yvxr gb frr zlfrys nf n trarenyyl phevbhf sryybj, bar jub rawblf yrneavat n ybg nobhg n ybg, naq univat fbzr engure aba-znvafgernz ivrjf ba znal znggref qhr gb gur vqvbflapengvp ebhgrf gung V unir gnxra, jvgu n qnfu bs pnhgvbhf fxrcgvpvfz ba nhgubevgvrf va trareny. Guvf vf abg rknpgyl lbhe pbbxvr-phggre crefba va FVA pvgl, naq vg fubjf.

Ohg V'z fgvyy urer, V'z fgvyy nyvir, fb V'z whfg tbvat gb qb jung V pna jvgu jung V'ir tbg.

``ZG, guvf vf n qbjare cbfg...''

Jryy, vg'f zl oybt---naq V pna pubbfr jung V jnag gb fnl, naq ubj V jnag gb fnl vg.

Gvyy gur arkg gvzr gura.