#progress marker

[oceanicfloorsponge]

Back-Alley Deals: Retrospective (2/2)

Hello, this is part two of a retrospective piece on one of my Hazbin Hotel fanfictions. It’s one-shot on Vox and Alastor’s first meeting.

Check it out via this link on AO3: [Back-Alley Deals]

Summary:

Vox is a relatively new sinner in Hell, trying to strike it rich the only way he knows how: Television!

Or at least, by selling televisions…

It’s a pity that the hapless fools around him fail to see things his way, opting instead to focus on the past rather than the future. But that attitude might get him into trouble one day.

Surely, Vox can handle himself… Right?

Finally, it is here! The second part that a whole three people were waiting for (me included). LET’S GOOO!!!!

If you didn't see/read the first part and would like to, you can check it out [here]

Housekeeping pt2?

I feel a bit like a broken record with the amount I’ve thanked people. It’s silly, but I really do mean it, and I appreciate all the interactions I’ve received thus far. It’s fun to interact with the Hazbin Community, and everyone I’ve spoken to/interacted with has been such a joy. It’s a privilege to have your attention for even a moment. So, truly thank you! 💙💙💙

But I can really see why influencers do what they do, it’s a lot of fun interacting and sharing things with others! (My inner child is healing).

In any case, this will be the last part of this Retrospective, so it’s probably going to be quite long.

Catch-up From Part 1!

Did I forget anything?

1) Yes, I did!

So, there’s a line I wrote that was 100% inspired by Christian Borle’s performance of ‘Hard to Be the Bard’ from Something Rotten, A Very New Musical. When I talk about his shoebox apartment being “stuffed to the brim with television units to the point that he can’t take a piss”… Yeah, I imagined a choir singing “He can’t pee!”. It’s a reference to that line that, for some reason, amuses the hell out of me, and I don’t even like potty humour or the word PISS (Like it’s revolting!). But…

C’est un élément intertextuel (My French Lit Professor would be so proud of me, may she enjoy her retirement). Also, check out the song if you haven't heard it before, it’s fun! Here’s a link: [Hard to Be the Bard]

On the topic of music…

2) What songs, if any, did I listen to while writing this story?

Given how many fanfics use song names as titles and have playlists attached to them, you will be unsurprised to know that I, too, listen to human music (This is a Rick & Morty reference, but it’s a little sad that it sounds like a legit disclaimer that has to exist these days).

Now I think music can be an incredibly powerful tool in crafting atmosphere when you write, because it gives you an immediate link to a desired emotional response, but when I tell you that finding a song that matched the vibe I was going for when I was writing was near impossible?

Negotiation music was too intense, and silence, which I ended up writing a good portion of the fic in, obviously lacked the emotionality I was looking for. All hope was lost, and I was about to give up until… in the distance… she arrived! The Wolf Among Us OST (RIP Season 2).

It had the perfect atmosphere, moody, dark, a little intense when I needed it to be, and a whole lotta rain-backed videos on YouTube to kill a horse (Not too sure about that last bit, though). So, shoutouts, I guess? I’m not sure if the moodiness came across in the writing, so that could be something to work on in the future.

3) Alastor’s broadcasts

I think he might do some regular broadcasts fairly often, perhaps a Breakfast Show every Sunday or something, where he discusses the week’s events or personal anecdotes or whatever it is, but I don’t think he would broadcast every day. As someone with a little bit of knowledge in commercial radio broadcasting, I think the business side of everything would occupy a lot of his time (so once a week sounds fitting for his slacker ass + it could be a limited music radio station every other day; so when Alastor is actually there and broadcasting people TUNE IN because it’s an event, which would just bolster his ego tenfold).

However, when it comes to his hunting broadcasts, ooh, now that’s the good stuff. I headcanon that whenever he killed an Overlord, Alastor commandeered every radio signal in Hell or at least in the Pride Ring, so people hear his carnage whether they want to or not. Which is why Vox’s signal fritzed in the factory as Alastor approached and was getting ready to broadcast the minor overlord’s screams (similar to how you can feel the static before a lightning strike). Vox was so sensitive to the frequency because he emits his own signal. So, we sort of get the perspective of what a sentient radio would feel when having its signal overrun by a far more powerful one that broadcasts what it wants.

4) Miscellaneous

So, Vox would’ve been cooked if Deus Ex Alastor hadn’t shown up (and taken an interest in his strange anatomy). For some reason, this is sort of a running theme with my writing because in my *cough* ongoing *cough* Arcane fic, the same thing kind of happens. [Here’s a link to that if you’re interested: The Wastes]

I did try to minimise the Deus Ex Machina feeling by having Vox experience the static corruption earlier to show that Alastor was near, but I suppose when you cut to the chase, Vox didn’t get himself out of the situation, and Alastor saved his ass even if he didn’t intend to.

With that being said...

Setting

Why did I choose the 1950s to set this story?

Surprisingly, for being set in the 1950s, this actually has very little to do with the story, besides its narrative function to explain Vox’s naivety about Hell and how it works, along with some of the technology and power distribution not “evident” in the actual show, i.e. Alastor threw a wrench in Hell’s Overlord hierarchy when he landed; who were some of his victims and what industries did they occupy/run? That’s what the setting helps explore, imo.

Besides that, I wanted to write a fic where Vox and Alastor first met, and Vox died sometime in the 1950s, and as such, I thought it appropriate to use this decade.

Why a newspaper & newspaper factory?

Now, the reason I chose the newspaper was because I really see Vox as the pioneer of TV in Hell. He seems to pretty much have a monopoly on the sinner television market, and his V-Flix or whatever it’s called is used by the hellborn so we can see that he transmits signals to the lower rings in Hell. I think his monopoly comes from entering the game early and possibly from being cosy with the Overlord Hunter, that is, Alastor. So, it becomes easier to control the market, and Hell’s technological advancement does seem to somewhat lag behind Earth’s.

Now, printed media does work in tandem with television and even radio as marketing and brands are sort of everything (in real life and in the show. Concerning the latter, we can see V-Tower is covered in posters, so they definitely have a printing department or something similar in the future). However, another reason is that Vox wants to skip the line to become an Overlord. He’s been rejected by any larger Overlord who would hear him out, and now he’s getting desperate and he’s willing to go to anyone who might give him a chance, even if he doesn’t respect them enough to remember their names.

The thing is, as well is that we have a TV Demon, a Radio Demon, a Social Media Demon, but we have no Newspaper Demon... Now I don’t consider the minor overlord to be THE Newspaper Demon for this story; rather, he was a competitor. But I would like to see if such a demon exists/existed in the actual Hellaverse

Funnily enough, in my initial post on Tumblr, I asked if people liked newspapers when announcing this fic, only to set fire to the newspaper factory. So, to any and all die-hard newspaper fans out there, I’m sorry you had to see that.

My artistic limitations!

If you’re interested, here’s a rough layout sketch of the overlord’s newspaper factory. It was based on a factory my mother worked at in the 1980s, and given that it was the 80s in South Africa, it is pretty much equivalent to the 50s in America… Ok, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but a lot of South Africa’s technology lagged behind other countries because of sanctions and Apartheid. For example, monochrome TVs were only widespread in the country around the late 60s & 70s (Don’t quote me on that, though).

Good luck trying to dissect this shit, btw...🙄

The above image is a rough layout of where everything is, and I imagined it to actually be larger than what is illustrated here. There are also some details missing, such as the newspaper shelving and reels of paper near the service alley and emergency exit. For a little more explanation, the giant square with the rectangle and circle represents the mezzanine and the overlord’s bureau.

But this whole thing is a guideline, hence, the (+/-) somewhere on the page.

Changes & My Own Bugbears

What would I change after writing and publishing?

Like every writer, I have complaints about my own writing, and this story is no different. So, this section is the one most addressed to me.

Complaint 1: I don’t feel that I best communicated how obsessed I wanted Vox to be with Alastor by the end of this fic. I wanted him to look at Alastor with a whole bunch of awe and desire, but I think I barely scratched the surface.

Complaint 2: I don’t think I made Alastor menacing/intimidating/mysterious enough, so I would’ve changed that or been more aware. I wanted him to feel like a whirlwind, and I’m not sure if that is the vibe that came across… Kinda, but I feel it could’ve been clearer.

Complaint 3: My prose… Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind with my own prose because whenever I write, I suddenly forget how to speak English and the same three sentence structures and the same fifteen words are overused, for example, do not look how many times I say “as” in this bloody fic (and it’s only (+/-) 6 000 words! Lord, save me!). It could be better, and that’s why I am writing in the first place. I want to get better. So, I’m more forgiving of this gripe.

Complaint 4: This is general advice for me going forward. I need to pay more attention to my character’s voices. I’m not 100% confident in my ability to communicate their thoughts or characterisation. So, keep that in mind for the future.

The Retrospective Itself

Why write a retrospective?

A valid question, I must say. It’s just fanfiction, not some great art piece that really “deserves” to be dissected and to that end… touché… It’s not, but it still took effort to create.

All fanwork takes effort. It requires decision-making and time for a product that you tend to get “very little” out of, beyond the joy of creating it. But every decision, no matter how silly or small, matters because you, with your individual lived experiences, used them to make it and put it into existence.

Is it the best thing ever? No, probably not.

Is it unique? Most likely no, but that’s debatable.

Is it good? That’s up to you.

To me, all that matters is if you enjoyed making it or not.

I feel like creatives need to hear this because they forget that even small things can influence them or make something distinct. And I needed to hear and internalise this long ago.

So, many people are focused on the product that they forget that a lot goes into making something, no matter its length or subjective quality. It’s the attention economy and monetisation of art that really kills the creative spirit, because why would you waste your time on something that can’t make you money? And I hate that I subscribed to that idea for so long. It shackled me and made me hate everything I did because I was “never getting anything out of it”. And AHH I hate that type of mindset with a passion, and it’s only gotten worse with AI. Now, I could go on a rant about how people who claim that they want to create and use AI to do something don’t actually care enough about the thing to learn how to do it themselves, but then we’d be here all day.

This is for me, and I need to remind myself that I matter and the things I make matter because I made them. So, in my opinion, the retrospective matters to me because I want to document my process and progress. I’m probably being overly romantic and sentimental (But hey, that’s the kind of person I am) …

All in all, we gotta live our Ratatouille dreams👩‍🍳🐁 

In conclusion…

I never really expected anyone to care about this whole retrospective thing, but I wanted to share the thoughts and feelings I have about my writing and put down some of my intentions behind certain decisions. So, to everyone who had even a slight interest in seeing the continuation, thank you💙💙💙

I know that it’s just fanfiction, not some grand masterpiece, but I also want to appreciate the effort I put into it. Plus, it’s my blog and I can post what I want on it…

The amazing thing about life is that we can all choose what we engage with. So, if anyone has read this far. Thank you—honestly and truly—and goddamn, go do something more productive with your time!

That’s enough sentimentality. Now I’m going to get back to work. Bye all!

Also, here’s a real link to Hard to Be the Bard. I just couldn't resist the temptation, and I think I'm hilarious.

Now check out this cool skeleton for October! Happy Spooky season everybody!

[oceanicfloorsponge]

Back-Alley Deals: Retrospective (1/2)

Hello, this is part one of a retrospective on my newest Hazbin Hotel fanfiction. It’s one-shot on Vox and Alastor’s first meeting.

Check it out on AO3 via this link: [Back-Alley Deals]

Summary:

Vox is a relatively new sinner in Hell, trying to strike it rich the only way he knows how: Television!

Or at least, by selling televisions…

It’s a pity that the hapless fools around him fail to see things his way, opting instead to focus on the past rather than the future. But that attitude might get him into trouble one day.

Surely, Vox can handle himself… Right?

With that being said… Strap in, baby! It’s gonna be a doozy!

This whole thing is mostly for me to document some of my thoughts, intentions, and writing processes, but then I thought, “What the Hell?” Why not share it with random strangers? So, here it is! In half its glory.

Also, that shark gif is mesmerising🙄

Housekeeping?

First, I would like to thank everyone who read the one-shot. I’m glad that the worms in my brain were able to feed and entertain people beyond myself.

I don’t really use social media all that often, so I really appreciate your interactions, likes, and kudos💙

Why Two-Parts?

Because I have way too much shit to say and I didn’t want to waste time with one giant post. I have multiple subsections, but I felt that it might be easier to read in two parts rather than one giant one.

Plus, this gives me time to reflect and add anything I missed in the first part, and it will be easier for me to keep track of in the future.

Now to the potatoes!

Inspiration!

What inspired this fic?

Would you believe me if I said it was purple, as in the colour? The idea sort of came to me when I imagined what rain might look like with a red atmosphere/sky, and then I was like, duh. It’d be purple!

… Just ignore the fact that rain isn’t blue, nor is sulphuric acid… But I fell in love with the vibe and atmosphere a purple Hell would create that I just had to get it out on paper… Several months after the idea had settled its roots in my brain…

Something else that contributed to the creation of this fic was an umbrella and the sound of rain hitting it. The visual is just so striking in my mind’s eye that I ended up giving Alastor one because he strikes me as a man who would carry one… It’s probably the staff… But also, what is the umbrella made of to be able to withstand acid? ✨Magic✨ ... Yeah, that or plastic...

But I also love first-meeting fics and despite there being quite a few on AO3, I never feel like there are enough, and I wanted to share my version of their first meeting… From there, it was things related to my interpretation of the characters and how I could get them to meet in the rain – How hopelessly romantic.

But the biggest reason I wrote the fic was to practise writing prose, as if you want to do any skill, you actually need to do the skill.

Alternative names for the fic

What names did I consider using before I settled on the one I did?

“Take me back” / “What you mean to me” / “The back alley” / “I dream in Technicolour” / “Dreaming in Technicolour”

If I make the fic into a series, I might use one of these for the series name…

Characters & Intention

Why did I make the decisions I did?

To start with, this fanfic is very Vox-centric, so communicating Vox’s character (and what I interpret his character to be) is key. For instance, I see Vox as very prideful and cocksure about himself and what he thinks he deserves. So, I tried to compare Vox with the minor overlord he attempts to do business with by drawing on their similarities.

The minor overlord, whom I will discuss in his own section, reflects a lot of the qualities that Vox possesses, but he is in a position that Vox wants. Evidently, Vox doesn’t think that this guy deserves his power/position and gets upset when he is treated exactly how Vox would treat someone if he were an Overlord. It’s rather ironic, and very much my intention.

So, when it came to Vox’s characterisation, I outlined what I thought Vox might want in his afterlife, namely…

Power

Money

Respect

Status

(And as a bonus) Fear/ To be feared

And based on these wants/characteristics, I wanted to show how Vox lacked each one and contrast that with the other characters having them. Specifically, how Alastor had them in spades.

I think much of Vox’s obsession with Alastor is in part because he “falls” for him, but it mostly relates to Alastor having what Vox wants (that is to say, Vox wants to be Alastor, hence the obsession). So, when it comes to “falling” for Alastor, I see it as Vox believing that being with Alastor can give him everything he desires.

Alastor embodies these desires because he checks off every single one, but he isn’t the only character with them; enter the minor overlord.

For Power, Status, and Respect: Alastor is an Overlord who is very powerful and earns Vox’s respect through his actions, while the minor overlord has his position and influence over his guards, but loses Vox’s respect when he refuses to even consider Vox as a business partner.

For Money: The minor overlord’s linen white suit and bureau that he is incredibly blasé about ruining, compared to Vox’s threadbare oversized jacket + his scuffed shoes, which in turn is compared to Alastor’s well-tailored suit and well-looked-after dress shoes.

And For Fear: The minor overlord’s goat-headed bodyguard/right-hand man strikes fear into Vox, along with his access to angelic weaponry, which I imagine to be rare at this point in Hell. While Alastor scares the shit out of Vox the first time he meets him.

Anyway, the list of Vox’s desires is going to be key if I take this story any further, as it will act as a sort of determining guideline for how he interacts with others, particularly Alastor.

Also, the way the minor overlord rejects Vox’s business proposal is very intentional. And I thought it telling that Vox is so desperate to do business with someone notable enough to get him everything he thinks he deserves. But he has been rejected at every turn, which forces him to deal with someone whom he doesn’t respect to the point that he doesn’t even bother to learn the guy’s name. So, buddy, it’s not all that surprising that he doesn’t want to do business with you beyond the insult to his pride of “working together” with some nobody sinner.

But much of how I described Vox’s perception of the world had to do with sound and visuals, given that these are his two primary senses beyond touch, sensation, and taste (in that order). The problem with this sort of limitation is that describing “changing sounds” and “expanding eyes” can get pretty droll fast, so that’s something to pay attention to going forward. Also, a magic eight-ball gave Vox occasional monochromatic vision. I’m not even kidding, I asked it because I couldn’t decide if he should have it or not, and I really wanted to describe the purple atmosphere.

Now about that minor overlord…

A lot of his design is based on steampunk aesthetics and the various types of non-animal sinners in Hell, as the gas mask is supposed to suggest that he died during WW1. But there was definitely a thing going on between him and the goat-headed guy, who I sort of pictured as a French butcher who used to be a boxer. Their names would’ve been something along the lines of “Mr Pinkham” for the minor overlord and “Raoul” for the goat-headed sinner. The rest of the hellhounds and guards are less important, but I still wanted them to feel a little unique in their own minimal way.

So, the minor overlord’s company would’ve been called something like the “Pinkham’s Paper Company Ltd” and his paper would have some cliché name like “The Morning’s Star” (based on “The Daily Star, or whatever it's called). [I may reuse this information at a later date].

I particularly focused on the overlord and goat-headed sinner because I wanted Vox to feel powerless in their presence. Yeah, he got a lucky hit on the “big boss,” but he was never the person to be concerned about—he was the brains, and goat-guy was the brawn.

Also, having the severed head of the goat sinner be the thing that shocks Vox draws attention to Alastor’s overwhelming strength—because—here was this guy beating you to a bloody pulp, and now the only thing left of him is half his severed head, and the person who killed him hasn’t even got a scratch or drop of blood on him.

So, in the overlord’s rant/assumption about Vox’s life when he was human… None of it is actually what I believe Vox really experienced/lived. I don’t think Vox was married, and I think the overlord’s words sort of just reminded Vox of his failings in life—especially given that he was a bisexual man in the 1950s—he must’ve had some serious conflict about marriage and his sexuality. So, a lot of it rang hollow, but some of it was accurate, but Vox was more offended by the “ain’t nothing” comment because he really didn’t appreciate someone he looked down on looking down on him in turn.

But if you’re wondering what happened to the minor overlord… You’ll have to keep wondering because that’s the sort of stuff I’ll explore in a series, baby! …Maybe… Don’t hold your breath…

Now my boy Alastor…

He doesn’t really show up in this fic all that much, but he is a massive component in Vox’s development/deterioration/obsession, and I wanted to explore what could make Vox so enthralled/bothered by him. The answer I came up with was that he opens Vox to a whole host of possibilities/changes his way of thinking/looking at the world, while simultaneously being everything Vox desires for himself.

An interesting tidbit when it comes to how I wanted Alastor to be perceived was via his scent. Now, the problem is that I don’t think Vox can smell anything given his TV head, so he relies on taste to tell him if things “smell” good or bad, but it’s not as effective as a nose. So, for Alastor, I imagine him to smell like shoe polish, cigarettes with a hint of cherry/berry undertones, and aftershave (I don’t know why I think he smells like that; I just think he would).

So, these scents inspired how Vox saw Alastor, i.e. he saw his shoes first, which added nicely to the list of Vox’s desires. Also, given the overwhelming scents in the alley, Vox couldn’t really “taste” any of Alastor’s scent as they were just drowned out.

If I continue this fic, which I really desperately want to—but my Thesis—I will explore how Alastor views his relationship with Vox and what their dynamic was before they fell out. Alastor is my favourite character, because I find him oddly relatable (which is weird to say given that he’s a serial killing cannibal radio host), so I would like to get into my interpretation of his character.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading, follow me if you'd like, and...

PART 2 COMING SOON!

[addicted2needles]

Progress keeper someone sent 😍

[ecologyalike]

Learning Organisation III

Another Outcome Mapping example to facilitate dialogue in organisational learning in the context of development intervention.

Example of an outcome challenge: “Coordinated planning between agency A and agency B on all programs targeting the same beneficiaries.”

Three levels of progress markers to measure progress (all levels are indicators of progress, the love to see level being the most desired but expect to see already demonstrating progress).

Plans between agency A and agency B regularly shared (expect to see)

Joint planning between agency A and agency B of all activities that are agreed under ‘tasks that need coordination’ (like to see)

Planning shaped by the regular monitoring data and feedback sought and received from the target group and partners involved  (love to see)

This was also very helpful for me to distinguish why were are using progress markers and not just “indicators”. The difference between an indicator and a progress marker: Progress markers are different from indicators in the following ways:

They do not describe a change in state (e.g. income levels increased), but rather changes in behaviour or relationships of those individuals or groups that a program supports directly.

They describe a gradual change process.

As a set, progress markers help illustrate the complexity of the change process.

They can be adjusted during the implementation of the project (mid-course corrections).

They are not a checklist of accomplishments or targets to be reached.

They provide a basis for dialogue about progress.

Reference: Barefoot Guide Two CHAPTER 5: Weaving learning into change: planning, monitoring and evaluation

[ecologyalike]

Learning Organisations II

Some steps of outcome mapping can be used to agree, together with the direct partners, what organisational practices or institutional changes are needed to improve policy implementation and service delivery, and also carry on the results beyond the life of the project [1].

The outcome challenge statement for village forest conservation could be: All community members see conservation as a viable option for short term gains derived from deforestation and forest destruction

Progress markers to monitor and reflect whether this outcome challenge is being met[2]:

Objectives of the village forest are discussed/reviewed/clarified regularfly within the village forest committee (VFC) and among all villagers

VFC involves villagers and other agents/partners to provide evidence on progress of activities, management practises and results

Decision making process of the VFC is supported by evidence, learnings from the past implementation and all members can contribute to discussion when VFC is preparing new plans and strategies

VFC ensures that financial reports are readily available, based on actual expenditure and all villagers can see and discuss how funds are allocated and used 

All grievances are handled in timely manner with the mechanism agreed upon and regularly reviewed by VFC and all members 

It is important to note that progress markers are not indicators in the sense that they are monitored externally by the project to see if it is reaching certain targets, but instead create a frame to discuss organisational practices and policy implementation together with the project partners.

[1] Outcome mapping is a project progress measurement system that was designed by the grant-making organisation International Development Research Centre (IDRC).

[2] Progress markers
are developed by the partners as a framework for dialogue
and learning. They are a little like resting places on a long journey, places to reflect and review progress. Reference: Barefoot Guide Two Page 73.

[figachilles]

sighs loudly im an egotist so im going to post what little i have anyway at least so i can record my progress here donut feel obligated to read 

It was a grey day on which the yellowest of things occurred. Of course, every day in that horrendous city was grey. The streets were wet and asphalted with congealed oil and trodden chewing gum, the buildings stories of filthy concrete slum and lackluster ambitions, the sky the color of failure, of destruction, of fifty-year-old stale exhaust fumes strapped down by nothing but the fragile apathy which had been so present for much too long. But March 17, 2067 was greyer than most. It reeked of all the smells present on a Thursday morning, of battery fluid and processed meat and the waxen leaves that had somehow lasted through the winter, relying on nothing but that lone crack in urbanization, the tear in the whitewash of modern day to memories of when one could stand outside when the rain fell from the sky for more than ten minutes before the acidic irritation of the skin began. It was raining, today, and the streets were empty of everyone that had a home to go to. The news blared against clean walls, on screens, on watches, on plastic tablets ironic in their similarity to those stone documents of a thousand years ago. The truth remained unseen, sealed under chrome snap-locks and in the minds of those that chose blindness, believing it was the only way to cleanse themselves and salvage the remains of what they believed to be their castle’s ruins. Few chose to believe that these ruins were, in fact, still standing underneath their dilapidation.

This story isn’t about the blindness of kings or politicians, however. Rather, it’s about the clarity of the stars behind the veil of self-isolation, the truth inherent in those whose hearts prevent them from believing those who secretly have none. More importantly, this story is about a thirteen-year-old girl with a universe in her eyes.

  Before Astrid you must know about Aurelius. Auri was twelve years old this year, something he had made absolutely certain no one could forget. The middle son of two wonderful but overextended mothers, he was quiet but excitable, shy and naïve but irrefutably searching for a way to hold every philosophy in his small, cupped hands. He had excelled at his pre-placement cognitive exam, and had thus been one of the few lucky children to be sent to regular school, permitted to receive a true education rather than lose his soul in the grueling sweathouse training that defined the state-run technology schools. His two brothers, Jack and Hunter, had been almost as bright as he had, but the newest strain of chicken pox had somehow hit their home for both of the boys’ examinations, and the two had been placed in Wartech School 19 and purged completely of their individuality. Aurelius, who was fascinated by the science of the universe, who refused to believe anything he was told until it could be proved, who always wore a small purple hairclip just behind his left ear, unknowingly held every ounce of his parents’ hope.

But Auri was lucky, not perfect, and chance rarely acts in one’s favor twice in a row. In January of that year, his mother had fallen ill, her job quickly refilled by one of the hundreds of qualified jobless persons in the city. The small household income remaining couldn’t maintain three young boys and a home, and in February they downsized to a clean, standard, unmemorable apartment. No one had been remotely concerned about the happening – after all, it was a small excitement in the boring humdrum of the decade and it meant an entire new neighborhood for Auri to introduce to himself- until the darkened, looming Law Administrator had arrived suddenly at their door. Condition 487.2 of the Cognitive Test Agreement, which had been skimmed and signed a week before Auri had been seated in the musty testing room, apparently read ‘relocation of a child to a less advantageous environment annuls its right to presence in a non-state school, effective within one month of establishment in the child’s new setting,’ the Law Admin droned. There was nothing to be done, although neither parent nor any friend or neighbor could recollect this passage having ever been present in the article, and on March 17 Auri was transferred from Lincoln Traditional Academy to Wartech 3. Standing hopeless in his ruddy cheeks, scabbed knees and stubborn disposition, Aurelius Bentley Brown remained an average boy with an unusual name who had fallen into the worst of circumstances. And yet it was this name, sighed in a teacher’s gravel voice and repeated in whisper by a spectacular girl who raised her hand and smiled “there’s a seat open here,” that inevitably changed his life. Years later, it became known to Auri that he had in fact been relocated from access to a influential future because he had had what was considered to be too ‘dangerously inquisitive’ a mind. Had a teacher not reported this, however, and had Auri been retained in the traditional school, it is likely he would not have done a single ounce of harm.

Auri scrambled to the big steel table dominated by the small glowing girl and thudded into the cold, dented chair beside her. “Astrid Cady Smith,” she said, holding her hand underneath the table and her laughter somewhere behind her deliberate lips