Civil wars, sectarian things, Sunni vs Shiite, you think the WestCivs cared anything about that?
Locke sat in the 'waiting room', reading through the report that had been filed by her. 'Anabasis' was confirmed anomalous, and was now SCP-1856. Something involving space-time. She couldn't understand it. Somehow, she doubted the people who'd written the report understood it as well — so many footnotes, divergent thoughts, and technobabble on theoretical sciences. It wasn't the only object they'd caught that had reality-bending effects. It was just the first that could actually do something on a considerable scale.
None of that bothered Priscilla Locke. What disturbed her was seeing Jaime Marlowe's name plastered everywhere. Priscilla Locke's words, her notes, even her initial sketch, were all included in the report. And her name was nowhere near them. Dr. Jaime Marlowe's name decorated every page.
She snorted, and dropped the report into her lap. It didn't bother her not getting credited so much; it was just Jaime Marlowe she hated.
Her gaze shifted, over to the short man standing nearby, having emerged from Dr. Marlowe's office. He looked over at her vacantly, as if expecting her to tell him what to do.
"Hey," She said. He fidgeted, and stood erect, nodding in response, "Sir. I mean, ma'am."
The jumpsuit indicated him as Class-D, but that wouldn't have been necessary. He looked like a junkie, fresh off the streets and hosed down like a dog until he was presentable enough to pass as human. Remembering Rhiannon's argument the week before, Priss was uncomfortably aware of his race. Most of the Class-D were black or Hispanic. Some of the doctors were, too, but the percentage of non-white Class-D was enormous. That couldn't have been intentional… everyone here was a local.
"What's your name?" She asked.
He fidgeted again, eyeing her suspiciously before responding, "My designation number is D-9…99401."
"That the name your mother gave you?"
He shook his head, "No, ma'am. Never knew my mother. I grew up in a orphanage… ev'rybody called me Boo. Short fo Butane, 'cause I always had me a butane lighter handy."
She couldn't help herself, "Do you still have the lighter?"
"No, ma'am. Took it from me before I came here. Dunno where it went now. Don't matter, everyone still call me Boo."
"Are you talking to my D-Class?" A voice suddenly broke in.
Priss looked over her shoulder. Marlowe. She looked like a porcelain doll, with big round blue eyes, perfect white skin, perfect little snub nose, supple lips. Priss hated every little thing about her face.
"Don't talk to my D-Class," She said in her cool, husky voice. Boo shuffled over to her, and she patted him on the shoulder, leading him out of the room. Like he was an animal… Priss felt a hot rush of anger go through her, and she lunged from her seat, giving a firm middle finger at the open doorway, before Dr. Marlowe returned. She smiled to Priss, motioning with her own middle finger for Priss to follow her. Fucking fucker. Somehow she knew. She always somehow knew.
Priss followed her, out into the hall and into a conference room. Sharpe was there, along with Agent Maximo and Dr. Horner, Dr. Domingo, and Dr. Valens. Priss took a seat next to Sharpe.
"Agent Locke," Valens nodded, and turned to the rest, "Let's begin."
From : 11311OULH@.com
To : moc.liamtoh|rekcoL_P#moc.liamtoh|rekcoL_P
CC : ten.dkuf|n0n1eihr#ten.dkuf|n0n1eihr
Subject : None
I don't know how best to compare it to, when Istanbul fell in '66 and all the dirt the Ottomans had been stashing since the 1870s came out. Everyone knew about the deaths and actual movements; some compared it to the Trail of Tears. We didn't know it was a systemic effort. The Christian Genocide, they called it, because the Armenians were Christian, I guess. Not like anyone here cared about Armenia or could even locate it on a map. Besides, it was 50 years in the past by that time. "A true testament to the power of the Sultan to keep it hidden that long" I just typed before realizing it wasn't hidden at all — nothing ever is. We just didn't care as it happened because of the War.
Speaking of that, one bit of info that riled up some of the boys was news of Ottoman plans to invade Russia. Some stupid bastard named Enver Pasha was going to strip down the defenses in the Mid-East and Thrace in the middle of a British invasion to march up into the belly of Russia. Stacks and stacks of papers detailing these plans. Only one letter explaining why it was shut down.
I know you don't care, Locke, but it warrants repeating; if it weren't for the Ottoman victory in the Mid-East war, we'd probably be in an all-out brawl with Britain, France, Russia, and China over the Arab world. Even then we knew about all the oil they had. The land was precious. Part of the Fourth Armistice in 1925 was a subsidizing of the oil by the Germans so the rest of Europe could buy at low prices, making the Sultan fat.
It was a sweet deal for everyone but the Turkish people. Probably sweeter for them than the situation in '69. You know how the US is with occupations. Remind me to tell you about China some time.
Those Muslims aren't dumb savages. Don't let any WestCiv propaganda tell you otherwise. I wasn't on the ground by then, but I met with plenty of Arabs during the time. The image of them you see of camel-riding, turban-wearing nomads living in tents and living off loot and spoils is all bullshit. Bedouin, they call those types. The Arabs I saw were dressed in robes and turbans for show; back home, they wore T-shirts, polo shirts, denim pants. They smoked cigarettes and cigars, drank whisky and beer, ate steak and watched western TV and movies. They even shaved sometimes, though they kept the mustaches.
So why the masquerade of the dumb oriental savage? Pure racism, Locke. And you've only got your WestCivvie selves to blame. WestCiv hates seeing savages start to "walk upright", they'll cut off any people they think are becoming too "westernized" if they can't control them, and the Mid-East is a rabid beast at war with itself. You can't even begin to pretend to control them.
So they played dumb, and the US threw money at them. Civil wars, sectarian things, Sunni vs Shiite, you think the WestCivs cared anything about that? I literally saw a bill pass both houses of Congress that pledged support to a Sunni country we had officially declared war on eight weeks earlier. Someone messed up the acronyms. You think they'd revoke the law and pass another one properly proofread? Nope. They made peace with that country, and declared war on another — their enemies — just to maintain our military presence there. It was more work to pass a whole new peace and declaration of war, and they preferred doing that than admitting they didn't bother to learn a damn thing.
That was before the Big Comedown. Your school isn't worth a damn if you don't know about the Comedown.
After exploiting the west for more than a decade, what was the next obvious step? Get us to fight their wars for them. It was brilliant in its simplicity. One tribe was allied to the Qing, another tribe attacked them, then came to us asking for help. They'd hide their guns and say they were helpless, and we'd send troops in to "advise" them. Qing would do the same. Money flowed east. Two or more tribes might even stage a skirmish, pretend to be at each others' throat, then call on separate superpowers to give them aid. It was the absolute best weapon the natives had against their colonial overlords, and if so many Americans hadn't died, I would've considered it the greatest comedy of the age.
Just remember, Locke; people want what they want, and it doesn't matter where they come from or who they are. The longer you keep them from what they want, the more insidious their methods become. You can't keep people from the things they want and expect them to give up and let it go.
Notice I say "want" and not "need". A need is a physiological requirement. People need food and water. They need basic amenities. It doesn't matter who they are or what they are, their body tells them what to do and they do it. A want requires more than that. A want requires concerted effort on a person's part. A force of will that has to be sharp and intelligent, clearly defined and perfectly executed. The Turkish revolt against the Ottoman Sultan was an act of necessity, and it was crushed by superior firepower. The military coup against the Sultan was an act of want, and it succeeded because it was too fast and indomitable to stand against. Of course, a handful of tanks and fighter jets doesn't hurt either.
From the Office of Ret. Lt. Col. Umber
From : ten.dkuf|n0n1eihr#ten.dkuf|n0n1eihr
To : moc.liamtoh|rekcoL_P#moc.liamtoh|rekcoL_P
Subject : Devil his Due
Looks like being a coward ain't an impediment to being right