08-17-2017, 12:05 PM
Marcus steepled his fingers as he stared past the holo-display. Interesting. Very interesting. Emotions warred within him as he was confronted with something he had never thought possible.
They were both from Chicago. Similar in age. Both had attended prestigious universities and gained acceptance into highly competitive programs. And, most important of all, they were perhaps doing research in the very same field, though it was possible she didn't realize it.
But it seemed that for every similarity, a difference existed that seemed almost designed to be its polar opposite. She grew up in an affluent and safe neighborhood while he moved from housing project to group home to housing project; She went to public schools in those neighborhoods, benefiting from property taxes, the largess of parents who were heads of businesses, and alumni donations that made sure there was always enough of everything for the students. They enjoyed field trips to places he wouldn't have imagined and participated in school projects designed to nurture every child's gift. The schools he went to were in gang and drug filled neighborhoods, with metal detectors and bars on the cracked and drafty windows. The teachers were always short staffed and war racked as they tried to corral kids with home lives that were anything but stable, many of whom had already become parents themselves. And sometimes, the teachers became victimizers.
There could not be two more different furnaces in which two people had been forged.
So....did he resent her and her privilege? That was the question and one he didn't shy away from. The words of Darth Palpatine were always close to his heart.
"There is a place within you, my boy, a place as briskly clean as ice on a mountaintop, cool and remote. Find that high place, and look down within yourself; breathe that clean, icy air as you regard your guilt and shame. Do not deny them; observe them. Take your horror in your hands and look at it. Examine it as a phenomenon. Smell it.Taste it. Come to know it as only you can, for it is yours, and it is precious."
He stood on that icy mountain and examined his feelings. He studied his responses. Deep down, in the place he was still in the process of burning away, the place from which had come his strange question to the Ascendancy- "Was it worth it?"
- from there he heard an echo of...was that resentment? Perhaps. There was something else that tinged it. Loss. But of what? The deep hidden place was silent.
Or maybe he didn't hear it. Malik's thoughts were always louder. They were proud. Defiant.
"True power can come only to those who embrace the transformation. There can be no compromise. Mercy, compassion, loyalty: all these things will prevent you from claiming what is rightfully yours."
The circumstances into which was born, the life which he lived, had brought about that transformation. He would not resent it. There was no loss. More importantly, it had put him where he was. Even he was astonished how well things had worked out so very quickly. Truly, the Dark Side (he still called it that even though he'd moved beyond those simple terms. The multiverse was a simulation. That was his paradigm now. And it made so much more sense.), truly, the Dark Side was maneuvering things.
Just as it had done now, bringing his attention to Dr. Zayed and her work.
He felt more at peace now. He stood up to get ready. He had messaged her with time and location: his office, 10 am. From everything he had seen in her social media, she was a happy and good-natured person. While that could certainly be an act, in this case, he was inclined to believe it. There didn't appear to be much in her life that might embitter her enough to live a lie.
Meeting at his office would impress her, no doubt. But the man she met would be affable, open and charming. He wanted to know what she was doing, what she found. And whether he could add her to his collection of useful tools.
It was just as well that he had taken the time to meditate. Because he would have to channel that inner innocence that he had encountered just moments ago. Part of it, anyway.
He smiled into the mirror as he did his tie. He was wearing a grey wool suit with a purple silk shirt. The tie was a checked dark mustard yellow, with faint hints of red at certain angles. A splash of color and the appearance of fun without sacrificing dignitas. Gone was his Sigma pin. In its place stood one with the newly commissioned symbol of his Consulate.
He made his way to his office and spoke to his secretary and various aides that needed quick answers. They were competent. The coffee was on his desk before he more than logged into his system. The room was large, a spacious desk to one side next to a curtained window overseeing the inner gardens. Spring was in full bloom and it was lit up with color. A smaller table was flanked with comfortable chairs. The decorations were chosen to be minimalistic. He had leaned toward Taoist art, with its simple charcoal paintings that suggested an ethereal world, almost dreamy. Idealized in its simplicity. Opposites figuring regularly. His shelves contained books. He still liked actual tangible books. There was a permanence to them.
At 9:50 his secretary notified him that Dr. Zayed had arrived. He smiled inwardly. He liked punctuality.
"Send her in,"
he said as he stood and came around from his desk, buttoning his jacket, cool but friendly smile on his face.
They were both from Chicago. Similar in age. Both had attended prestigious universities and gained acceptance into highly competitive programs. And, most important of all, they were perhaps doing research in the very same field, though it was possible she didn't realize it.
But it seemed that for every similarity, a difference existed that seemed almost designed to be its polar opposite. She grew up in an affluent and safe neighborhood while he moved from housing project to group home to housing project; She went to public schools in those neighborhoods, benefiting from property taxes, the largess of parents who were heads of businesses, and alumni donations that made sure there was always enough of everything for the students. They enjoyed field trips to places he wouldn't have imagined and participated in school projects designed to nurture every child's gift. The schools he went to were in gang and drug filled neighborhoods, with metal detectors and bars on the cracked and drafty windows. The teachers were always short staffed and war racked as they tried to corral kids with home lives that were anything but stable, many of whom had already become parents themselves. And sometimes, the teachers became victimizers.
There could not be two more different furnaces in which two people had been forged.
So....did he resent her and her privilege? That was the question and one he didn't shy away from. The words of Darth Palpatine were always close to his heart.
"There is a place within you, my boy, a place as briskly clean as ice on a mountaintop, cool and remote. Find that high place, and look down within yourself; breathe that clean, icy air as you regard your guilt and shame. Do not deny them; observe them. Take your horror in your hands and look at it. Examine it as a phenomenon. Smell it.Taste it. Come to know it as only you can, for it is yours, and it is precious."
He stood on that icy mountain and examined his feelings. He studied his responses. Deep down, in the place he was still in the process of burning away, the place from which had come his strange question to the Ascendancy- "Was it worth it?"
- from there he heard an echo of...was that resentment? Perhaps. There was something else that tinged it. Loss. But of what? The deep hidden place was silent.
Or maybe he didn't hear it. Malik's thoughts were always louder. They were proud. Defiant.
"True power can come only to those who embrace the transformation. There can be no compromise. Mercy, compassion, loyalty: all these things will prevent you from claiming what is rightfully yours."
The circumstances into which was born, the life which he lived, had brought about that transformation. He would not resent it. There was no loss. More importantly, it had put him where he was. Even he was astonished how well things had worked out so very quickly. Truly, the Dark Side (he still called it that even though he'd moved beyond those simple terms. The multiverse was a simulation. That was his paradigm now. And it made so much more sense.), truly, the Dark Side was maneuvering things.
Just as it had done now, bringing his attention to Dr. Zayed and her work.
He felt more at peace now. He stood up to get ready. He had messaged her with time and location: his office, 10 am. From everything he had seen in her social media, she was a happy and good-natured person. While that could certainly be an act, in this case, he was inclined to believe it. There didn't appear to be much in her life that might embitter her enough to live a lie.
Meeting at his office would impress her, no doubt. But the man she met would be affable, open and charming. He wanted to know what she was doing, what she found. And whether he could add her to his collection of useful tools.
It was just as well that he had taken the time to meditate. Because he would have to channel that inner innocence that he had encountered just moments ago. Part of it, anyway.
He smiled into the mirror as he did his tie. He was wearing a grey wool suit with a purple silk shirt. The tie was a checked dark mustard yellow, with faint hints of red at certain angles. A splash of color and the appearance of fun without sacrificing dignitas. Gone was his Sigma pin. In its place stood one with the newly commissioned symbol of his Consulate.
He made his way to his office and spoke to his secretary and various aides that needed quick answers. They were competent. The coffee was on his desk before he more than logged into his system. The room was large, a spacious desk to one side next to a curtained window overseeing the inner gardens. Spring was in full bloom and it was lit up with color. A smaller table was flanked with comfortable chairs. The decorations were chosen to be minimalistic. He had leaned toward Taoist art, with its simple charcoal paintings that suggested an ethereal world, almost dreamy. Idealized in its simplicity. Opposites figuring regularly. His shelves contained books. He still liked actual tangible books. There was a permanence to them.
At 9:50 his secretary notified him that Dr. Zayed had arrived. He smiled inwardly. He liked punctuality.
"Send her in,"
he said as he stood and came around from his desk, buttoning his jacket, cool but friendly smile on his face.