James Webb Space Telescope and Mundane Space Travel

 The JWST (James Webb Space Telescope) has been in the works for 30 years. A significant portion of that time was spent making sure that it would work in the proper way. Every contingency was accounted for, and solutions were created by smart people to address those contingencies. 

Every space launch has a huge team of experts sitting on the ground, watching their terminals for any chance of a misplay. Going to space is not only expensive; it requires a large amount of highly skilled talent to make sure it works. 

This brings me to what I have noticed most Sci-Fi fiction takes for granted: easy space travel. As easy as driving a car out of the parking lot. When the Millennium Falcon takes off from Tatooine, it's with the same level of care as driving a used car out of a lot. And I think this is a misrepresentation of the danger and criticality of space travel. 

The Challenger explosion was caused by a single rubber O-ring that got too cold before launch. A single point failure on a minor component caused a massive explosion and loss of life. When you are in a car, and you get a flat tire, you can pull over and get it fixed. Airplanes require long checklists to be performed before they take off; anyone who doesn't do that is risking their life. 

Hell, I trained to be a bus driver, and every time you start up a bus you need to go through a fifty item checklist. 

The point I want to make here is that going to space and escaping Earth's gravity requires a lot of energy and a single critical point failure can cause massive damage. Thus, I think that it will be a long time before we see a rust bucket like the Millennium Falcon take off from a sleezy spaceport with as little thought as leaving a driveway. In the real world of space exploration, that's an easy way to die in a fireball. 

My basic premise is that, due to the amount of energy it takes to leave Earth's gravitational pull, a failure would be orders of magnitude more damaging than a car accident, even with super tech like antigravity engines or such. The tiniest error in spaceflight can lead to a Challenger-level explosion. Thus, Sci-Fi depictions of spacecraft are fundamentally flawed in this manner. 

Uzumi and the Seven Great Oaks Chapter 1: Yokai

 

Yokai

“Ah, it’s been a day, hasn’t it?” Greg sat in the passenger seat of his garbage truck with a cigarette in his mouth. Luke was leaning on the window, picking his teeth with a toothpick.

“Too many people throwing away sofas. What do they take us for, Ikea?”

Greg chuckled. “Living in New Yesterday really is a chore.”

“It’s a peaceful city. Got some good bars. We’re lucky not to be living in a dump like Detroit.”

Greg sighed. “Just one more stop and we’re done for the day.” He looked out the window at one of the seven giant oak trees that overlooked the city. Light from the skyscrapers reflected off the mottled surface of each tree. Birds flew overhead, flitting in the breeze. Each tree was covered with white talismans cut in a zig zag pattern. The leaves rustled, the sound floating above the city as an ever-present background. Greg sniffed. “I hope those damn Seeds don’t show up.”

Luke tossed away his toothpick and climbed into the truck. “Why are you saying that? You trying to jinx us?” He started the engine.

A thump reverberated through the vehicle. Metal groaned. Greg swore. “What was that?”
Luke took the gun from beneath the dash. “It sounded like someone hit the roof.”

“What you got the gun for?”

“Just in case.” Luke checked the magazine and snapped the gun back. “I’m going to check it out.” He looked both ways, and then climbed out of the truck.

Greg sat, glued to his seat, tapping his fingers. He watched as Luke looked up from the sidewalk onto the top of the vehicle.

“Oh—” Luke fired off two shots and then his body was ripped into the air. His gun dropped to the ground.

Greg swore again and gunned the engine. Whatever was on the roof rolled off. He gripped the wheel with white knuckles as he careened through the crowded streets.

“Hey, what the hell you doing?” Several drivers honked and cussed at him.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” The wheel suddenly jerked to the side. The truck turned over and smashed into a corner deli. Meat and glass flew everywhere. Greg’s seatbelt dug into his body. He spat blood.

The roof bent under the weight of something massive. Greg swore he could hear the thing breathing. Something, it could have been acid, dripped onto the windowsill.

“Oh, no …” Greg closed his eyes and prayed.

The monster on top of the truck screamed. Greg’s body shivered with fear at the sound. It seemed like two beings up there, fighting each other. One was the monster. The other had footsteps that were strange, but much more human.

The monster screeched one more time and then the truck shook. While Greg couldn’t see what was causing the commotion, he did see the concrete crack beneath the weight of something invisible.

A girl wearing black clothing, wielding a samurai sword, landed on top of the invisible monster. She ran her sword through the beast. Greg could see blood spurting out of the invisible beast. That part was visible.

The girl stabbed the beast several more times. She then hopped off the invisible monster. With a flick of her hair, she looked at Greg.

“You saw nothing today.” She held out a stick with paper talismans on it, and swung it back and forth. “You’ll feel better about it when it wears off.” The soft tingling of bells echoed through the street.

Then Greg was in the hands of a paramedic.

“What happened?”

“A drunk driver hit your truck. Your coworker is in critical condition.” The paramedic dragged Greg onto a stretcher. “We don’t know how fast he was going, but he must have been hitting it to cause this much damage.”

Greg rubbed his eyes. He didn’t remember anything about the past half hour.

He chalked it up to a head injury and left it at that.

###

Reese slid her memory talisman into the quiver on her back. She checked her scroll, a small roll of parchment with obsidian scroll rollers. Small Japanese lettering covered the inside. The paper appeared yellowed with age. A holographic picture rose from the open scroll, creating a floating image of the city.

A face appeared.

“Gardo Sensei.” Reese bowed. She looked up to the sky, checked the surroundings, and leaped twenty stories to the top of the nearest skyscraper. She sat down on the edge with her feet dangling off the edge.

“Did you eliminate the yoru beast?” Gardo’s face was grizzled, and his hair was long, white, and frizzy.

“Confirmed kill.”

Several small, turtle-like creatures with human faces popped out from behind a cooling unit and approached Reese. She rubbed their heads.

“Reese! Reese, do you have any peanuts?”

Reese patted the head of the kappa that spoke. “Next time.”\

“Aw, no fair.”

Reese returned her gaze to Gardo. “This one was strange. It attacked a garbage truck for no reason.”

“Yoru beasts usually don’t attack unless no one is watching. I need you to do some investigation into that garbage truck.”

Reese bowed. “As you wish.” She rolled up her scroll. With her high vantage point, she looked over the spot where the garbage truck had tipped over. As she examined the truck, she thought she could sense a faint energy coming from among the bags of trash that had spilled out. She leaped off of the building and landed with a roll on the sidewalk. The shadow of the Ragu tree, the fourth great oak of New Yesterday, was just beginning to cover the street. Reese approached the garbage truck. It was being cordoned by police and firefighters.

Reese slipped through the barrier. No one acknowledged her presence. She walked without noise, her black shoes making no mark on the pavement. Her robe fluttered behind her, and the memory talisman on her back shuffled a bit in the wind. She approached the spot where she had sensed the power.

It was a single bag of trash that had landed some distance away from the others. It bore two claw marks, as if the yoru beast she had just vanquished had been trying to open it.

Reese opened the bag. Trash spilled out, but also something she did not expect to see. A small ruby ball, about the size of a marble, clattered to the ground. Reese picked it up.

The red gemstone sparkled with an amazing radiance. It was as if it were not of this world.

Reese held it up to the light. “Command would love to hear about this.” She placed the gem in her pocket and stood up. With the same level of stealth, she left the enclosure and stepped into an alleyway. She came to a small theater building near New Yesterday’s homeless quarters. The theater looked as if it hadn’t been maintained in years, and yet there was an aura about it, as if it were not everything that it seemed to be. Reese stepped inside. A single woman was sitting behind a counter, reading a magazine. She looked up and nodded.

“Heyo.” She waved. A bookshelf rotated and revealed an elevator cage.

Reese stepped into the elevator. The elevator dipped underground. Soon the walls peeled away to reveal a gigantic space beneath the city, about the size of a football stadium. The buildings were Japanese in construction, full of elegant curves and pointing sweeps. Paper lanterns hung from awnings. Soft yellow light emanated from windows. The streets were lit with a warm glow.

Reese stepped out of the elevator and into the street. Around her walked monsters and yokai of all shapes and sizes, out in the open. Nezumi rat men, tengu crow people, kitsune fox people, and every other variety of civilized yokai were present.

Reese walked towards the tallest building in the cavern, a twenty-story inn with the layering of a fortress. Reese walked up to the entrance. She showed her scroll. The doors opened.

Reese bowed to the headmistress as she walked towards the Grand Master’s room.

She knelt down and knocked on the door to his room.

“Come in.” The Grand Master’s voice was powerful, full of magic and mystery.

Reese slid the door open and bowed before walking inside.

“Uncle.”

“Reese, my dear. I heard you performed admirably today.”

“Uncle, I need you to look at something.”

“Go ahead, my dear.” The Grand Master was wizened, with not much hair, but his presence was powerful. The kimono he was wearing lent him an aura of class. His posture was perfect and he held a dainty cup of tea in his hands. He sipped.

Reese held out the small gem.

The Grand Master’s face went dark. He placed his teacup on the ground. “Where did you find that?”

“In a bag of garbage upside. A yoru beast was trying to get to it, before I vanquished it.”

The Grand Master shook his head. “That is not something you should be handling like that.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me before something bad happens.”

“What is it, uncle?” Reese handed her uncle the gem.

The Grand Master stood up. He took a small black box from a cupboard and placed the gem inside of it. “This is an elemental crystal.”

“I’ve never heard of them.” Reese looked up.

The Grand Master placed the black box on a high counter. “Of course you haven’t. They were thought to be destroyed centuries ago.”

Reese blinked a few times. “Centuries? Then why did I find one in the garbage?”

The Grand Master sighed. “The elemental stones. There were many kinds, and all were powerful. Too powerful. They were determined to be too dangerous and were sealed away. The fact that you found one of them indicates that something, somewhere, out there is moving again.”

“But …” Reese tilted her head. “That can’t be right. If they were all locked up, then where did this one come from?”

“A good question, my dear.” The Grand Master stood up. “I shall do some investigation into this matter. In the meantime, I want you to be on the lookout for more of these stones. And do not tell anyone what you have seen today.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Reese stood up, bowed, and left the room. She left the inn and then took an elevator up to the surface—a different elevator from the one she had taken down. She came up in the industrial district, exiting from a warehouse that was full of merchandise. She walked out onto the street.

A group of thugs approached her. There were five of them, and they appeared to be looking for a rumble.

“You guys need something?” She took up a slight defensive stance.

The middle thug grinned. “Yeah, you’ve got what we want.”

Reese did not hesitate. She took three steps forward and slammed the middle thug’s chin with her palm.

He collapsed.

The four other thugs fanned out.

Reese did a leaping kick and knocked several teeth from the nearest thug. Two other thugs grabbed her.

Reese performed a break maneuver and broke two arms, one for each holding her down. She twisted and landed a blow on the cheek of the thug whose teeth she had shattered.

Three thugs fell to the ground. The last thug, markedly scared, turned tail and ran.

Reese wiped her hands off on the shirt of a downed thug. “Next time,” she pushed back her hair, “don’t try to mug a Seed.” She stood up, smiled, and walked away.

Five minutes later she was sitting at the edge of a tall crane, overlooking the entire city. The Ardus tree was behind her, casting its shadow over her back. Reese took out a pan pipe and began to play. Several crows surrounded her.

“Thanks, Reese!”

“Keep going, Reese!”

They chattered at her as her haunting melody floated over the rooftops.

Don't fear heart problems from the covid vaccine.

If you are afraid of vaccines, please read this post in its entirety before giving a knee-jerk reaction. Vaccines, to me, are a very simple thing, and there is little risk of actual harm stemming from their administration. If you would like to argue that point, please point me to actual academic, peer reviewed  literature, like the one I am referencing in this post. Articles coming from a website do not count, even if they reference actual literature--as you will understand after you read my post. I am not disparaging vaccine hesitancy. I understand the fear that misunderstood medicines can cause--you are injecting substances into your body, after all. Please also do not point me to the Wakefield paper (the one that claimed vaccines cause autism). The Lancet has retracted it. I am open to any kind of discussion as long as it is based in factual evidence and is held in good faith. With that out of the way, let's talk. 

Take a look at this article. It references this study, and claims that up to 1% of people who took the covid vaccine had some sort of heart problem and implies it was due to the vaccine. 

This is wrong. I will explain why in this article. 

Any medicine that causes a 1% rate of severe illness would be seriously unethical to prescribe without acknowledging its effect. The only explanation would be a massive misinformation campaign. And I don't think that's the case. We're not living in that bad of a dystopia. 

The study does claim that "Of the 38,615,491 vaccinated individuals included in our study, 385,508 (1.0%) were admitted to hospital with or died from cardiac arrhythmia at any time in the study period (either before or after vaccination); 86,754 (0.2%) of these occurred in the 1-28 days after any dose of vaccine. Of those who were admitted or died 39,897 (10.3%) had a SARS-CoV-2 positive test, with 29,694 (7.7%) having a positive test before vaccination. There were 7,795 deaths with cardiac arrhythmia recorded as the cause of death (1,108 had a SARS-CoV-2 positive test)."

However, the article leaves out one critical fact about the actual paper. This is every case, regardless of what caused it. Here's what the article actually discovered: that no vaccine caused more than 15 per million extra heart problems. Take it from them. 

"We estimated the number of exposures needed for one excess event and the excess number of events per 1 million exposed for each outcome (Fig. 2 and Supplementary Table 10). In the 1–28 days following the first dose of the ChAdOx1, BNT162b2 and mRNA-1273 vaccine, an extra two (95% CI 0, 3), one (95%CI 0, 2) and six (95% CI 2, 8) myocarditis events per 1 million exposed would be anticipated, respectively. In the 1–28 days following the second dose of mRNA-1273, an extra ten (95% CI 7, 11) myocarditis events per 1 million persons would be anticipated. This compares with an extra 40 (95% CI 38, 41) myocarditis events per 1 million in the 1–28 days following a SARS-CoV-2 positive test." (Patone, Et Al. Emphasis added.)

The translation? Exactly what I said above. The extra symptoms were measured in the PPM (Parts Per Million.) And they were single digit. 

Take a look at this graph. The big tall red one? That's the increased number of symptoms associated with actually catching covid. Those other ones are the two biggest vaccines for their first and second doses. The only one that isn't stacked in favor of covid is Myocarditis, which only breaks the trend by five per million. That's less than a percent of a percent of a percent. .0005%, to be exact. 

And according to the paper, some vaccines actually reduced the chance of serious heart problems. 

Let me explain a little something something about scientific studies; that is, many effects are small, and still can be labeled as "increase" or "decrease." Crucial academic literacy requires that you ask not only "is it significant" but also "is it significantly large or relevant." In this case, I would argue that it is not. There is a difference between statistically and relatively significant and this is one case where that is important.

In conclusion, you don't have to worry that the big bad government is hiding a huge scandal. They're not pushing a dangerous pseudo-drug that causes harm. They're utilizing centuries-old technology to stop a real public menace. Like polio and smallpox, vaccines are the best way to weather a storm like this.

I was an assassin, I had to take my vacation days! Chapter 1: Nerd

 A note on the title. Japanese Light Novels customarily have long and detailed titles. This book's title is made to emulate that.

Nerd

“Mark. Check. Yes, that’s the target.” Engle centered his scope on the shadowy figure seven hundred meters away. His rifle, a SPRAT Witner 250, was coated in light absorbing black micro-paint that made it appear to be a singularity. The scope shimmered. Engle’s finger applied pressure to the trigger. He breathed out.

The shot made no noise. The rain continued to fall. The bullet slipped through the air, spinning as it dropped. Glass shattered and the target’s chest opened up, spraying blood over the tile. He collapsed. Silence weighed over the city.

Engle slipped his gun out of the firing position and packed it into its case with an emotionless face. He lifted the case up and dropped a small device onto the floor. Leaving the hotel room, he closed the door, and then clicked a button on his wrist. Light shimmered.

Engle took the elevator to the ground floor. He walked past a few harried businessmen before he found his getaway car. The window rolled down and a beautiful woman wearing sunglasses leaned her elbow on the sill.

“You want to go to dinner?”

“I told you I don’t eat after a job.”

“Ah.” The woman lifted up her sunglasses. “You’re a strange one, that’s for sure.”

Engle sighed. “Amy. Just get me back to base.” He climbed into the passenger seat.

The car took off at an amazing speed, burning rubber around the next corner. Engle picked up a small stress ball and palpitated it. He leaned into the car’s violent motion.

“You got him, right?” Amy twisted the wheel.

“Yes.”

“Then why do you seem so melancholy?”

Engle looked out the window. “I don’t get it myself.” He held out his hand. “Wait. Stop.”

The car skidded to a stop. Amy tapped her fingers on the wheel. “What?”

Engle got out of the car. He approached a small cardboard box on the side of the road. A couple of mews came from inside. Engle leaned over it and lifted the cover. Three small kittens looked up at him.

Engle lifted them up in a bundle and carried them back to the car. He placed them in the backseat before closing the door.

Amy appeared perplexed. “What did you do that for? Are you going to keep them?”

“I know someone.”

“How did you know they would be there?”

“I saw them.”

Amy chuckled. “You have good eyesight.”

“I’m a sniper.”

Amy shrugged. “Okay then.” She handed Engle a card. “Here. I was supposed to give this to you. Boss says that you need to start taking your vacation days. You’ve been doing this job for, what, twenty years and you haven’t had a single day off?”

“Tell him that I don’t need to.”

Amy sighed. “You can take it up with him, but the thing is that the government doesn’t like when employees don’t take their vacation days. Even assassins need time off.”

Engle sighed, tapping his fingers—a habit he went through whenever he wanted a smoke. He had quit many years before. He rubbed his chin. “Okay.”

“Good. Boss told me to slap some sense into you if you refused.”

Engle closed his eyes and leaned back. “Wake me when we get there.”

Thirty minutes later Engle was standing outside the office, with a box of kittens in his right hand. He had returned his weaponry and gadgets and now appeared to be a normal businessman. Two weeks. He had fourteen days to kill. It was the first time in decades that he had obtained so much free time. Even during school he had always been focused on shooting practice. He was not the kind of person to have nothing to do. He walked down the street, feeling aimless.

Well, I should find these guys a home.

Engle walked down to the video game store on the corner of Albern and Courtnail. It was a holdover from the days when physical media was still in use. The owner, a persnickety fellow named Andrew, was the contact Engle was talking about, a person who would accept the cats and find them a good home. Animal shelters would probably euthanize them.

Engle opened the door.

“Engle, you cockeyed bastard!” Andrew’s face held a huge grin. “I haven’t seen you in years, it feels like!”

Engle sighed. “It’s been a month.” He placed the kitten box on the counter. “Same as always. Find a home for these guys.”

“You always have a knack of picking up things that other people have abandoned.”

Engle sat down on a small chair. “Well, yeah. I have a question. What do you do during your time off?”

“What this talk about time off? You’re a workaholic. You haven’t had time off in decades.”

Engle rubbed his neck. “Well, now I suddenly find myself with two weeks of nothing.”

Andrew pulled an old-looking console from under the counter. “It’s times like these that New World Online was built for.” He slapped a game cartridge down next to it.

“New World Online?”

“N.W.O.” Andrew snapped his fingers. “I’ll give this BLANK-ET to you for forty bucks. Ten for the game.”

“Um, sure.” Engle stood up. “I’ll take it, I guess.”

“It’s an old game. Created before the AI Bill. This thing has a mind of its own.”

“AI? You mean this game has an AI in it?”

“Well, no one has ever been able to prove it, but yeah. That’s the rumor.”

Engle shrugged. “I’ll take it.” He paid, grabbed up the equipment, rubbed the baby cats’ fur one more time, and then left the video game shop. When he got home he hooked the machine up, installed a few updates, and then slipped the VR headset onto his head. He was in a sitting position on his couch.

The game booted up. Engle stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking a grand valley with a gorgeous city in its center.

[Welcome to New World Online!]

Engle waited a few moments and a stat window appeared in front of him.

[Choose your class]

[Fighter]

[Wizard]

[Warlock]

[Bard]

[Rogue]

[Ranger]

Engle thought for a moment. He had been exposed to games like this a few times, but those times were in his distant memory. He only vaguely recollected what each class meant.

“I understand you are having a hard time.” A beautiful, semi-transparent woman stepped out from between two trees.

“Who are you?” Engle took a step back.

“I am NWO’s assistance toolbox.”

“So you’re here to help me?”

“Yes. I am here to make sure your playing experience is as smooth and enjoyable as possible.”

Engle sighed. “Then tell me. What class should I choose?”

“I have been programmed to tell you to go with your heart. It seems the developers thought that to be charming.”

“You have an opinion on the choices your developers made?”

The Toolbox gave a simple smile. “Very well then. Open—” The world appeared to glitch for a moment.

[Security bypass.]

[Loading dev toolkit]

[Success. 200000 Elder Coins deposited in _VOID_’s coin purse.]

The Toolbox appeared strained, and flickered in and out of existence a few times. Then she returned to being solid. “Please don’t tell anyone that happened.”

“What are Elder Coins?”

“Premium currency. Would you like to purchase ten Elder Coins for just nineteen-ninety-nine? Take advantage of our new player special!”

Engle blinked a few times. “Okay. I get it.” He looked at the hovering menu screen. “Ranger.”

[You have chosen the class “Ranger!” Would you like to claim a username?]

Engle shrugged. “Sure.”

[Enter your username.]

The Toolbox remained standing next to Engle, silent. Engle typed the first name that came to his mind into the terminal floating in front of him.

[Witner. Name is valid.]

Engle chuckled. Apparently there weren’t that many gun buffs who played this game.

A cone of magic surrounded Engle and warped him through the sky, taking him across a huge landscape. He flew for a few minutes and then landed in a small town in the middle of a lush valley.

[Welcome to Nevalia.]

Toolbox appeared next to him in a blink of light. “Would you like to undergo the tutorial?”

Engle nodded. “Yes, please. Educate me. I am not very familiar with games.”

Toolbox bowed. “Very well then. I will—”

A player with the name Bandrix ran up to Engle. “Hey, man! You’re new here! Want to buy some Dangles? They’re top quality!”

A female player who was sitting on a bench on the other side of the road called out. “Stop wasting his time.” She stood up. The name above her head was displayed as “Laz.” She approached Engle. “Witner. You’re new to this game. I can tell. Probably you’re new to MMOs in general. Let me give you some advice. Leave this town now if you want to have a chance at solving it.”

“Solving it?” Engle tilted his head. “I was not aware that there was something to solve.”

Laz pursed her lips. “This game has an open secret. The developers left a series of Easter Eggs behind that lead to the game’s core. Legend has it that a very powerful AI is inside of this game somewhere, and if someone releases it, they’ll have full control over its functions. Since the AI was built before the AI Bill, it’s totally legal. That means that the person who unlocks it will have absolute power.”

Engle blinked a few times. “So people are trying to find it?”

“Well, that’s the thing. No one has made any progress in the three decades since this game was released.”

Engle had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to get tied up in something bigger than he had expected.

Laz patted her chest. “Join my party. I can help you powerlevel and give you pointers on how to stat your build.”

“Stat my …”

Laz made a face. “Wow. You really are clueless. Statting a build is how you optimize which ability scores you pump points into.”

“Okay.” If this were real life, Engle would have had no trust whatsoever until he had run a thorough background check. But this, this was just a game. Perhaps not knowing the people he was going to get involved with would add a bit of spice to his vacation. Engle and Laz shook hands.

“Open your menu.” Laz made a motion with her arm.

Engle repeated the motion.

[Menu.]

[Skills]

[Items]

[Friends]

Engle opened up the [skills] tab.

[Would you like to spend your (4) skill points?]

Laz nodded. “You’re a ranger. Your class’s specialty is ranged weaponry.”

“Does this game have rifles?”

“Rifles? Yes, but they’re extremely difficult to use and very situational. No one in their right mind uses them.”

“That’s what I want to use.”

“Well, okay then.” Laz shrugged. “I was going to tell you to put all your points into dexterity anyways. You started with four, right?”

“Right.”

“Then let’s get to an item shop and get you kitted out. Then we’ll meet the rest of my party, and also my guild boss.”

Laz started walking.

Bandrix made a rude gesture with his hand. “Laz. You always steal my guys!”

Laz rolled her eyes. “Oh, come one, Bandrix. No one is ever going to fall for your scam.”

Bandrix grimaced and then walked away.

Laz nodded once. After a few minutes of walking they entered an item shop.

The walls were covered in weapons, armor, and potions. Engle looked around. There were a few modern weapons, but most of the equipment was medieval.

“I have a question.” Engle picked up a rifle, weighing its heft. “If modern weaponry is available, then why don’t people use it?”

“Guns used to be too good, so the devs nerfed them into the ground.”

“Nerf?”

“Debuff. Downgrade. The developers thought that they were too powerful so they made them less powerful.”

“And they overcompensated.”

Laz shrugged. “You tell me.”

Engle picked up another rifle, and instantly knew it was perfect for him. He turned to the shopkeeper. “How much?”

“Ten Elder Coins.”

[Pay 10 EC?]

[Yes]

The gun shimmered with a bright light. It became twice as heavy, about the weight of a real gun. Engle sat down at a bench and tore it down in under a minute.

Laz leaned over his shoulder. “Wow. I never knew the game was this detailed.”

Engle examined the parts. “This is well built.” He reassembled it in forty seconds. “It will work.”

“Nerd.”

 

2

***

Story notes: how to establish competence in a character without lowering stakes.

There are three critical things a protagonist must have in an adventure or fantasy story; competence, proactivity, and likability. 

Today I will talk about competence and how to make your character competent without lessening the stakes. There are two methods to achieve this: first, give your character a very niche skill that must be used creatively to solve problems; or second, make him a big fish in one pond and a small fish in another. 

Let's talk about method one. A character must be competent at something in order to engage a reader (specifically in an action-based story.) Without competence, the reader will not feel as if the character is qualified to be doing what they're doing. There is also the fundamental problem that an incompetent character cannot reasonably survive the kinds of trials that an action story protagonist goes through. They have to have some kind of ability that allows them to kill at least some mooks. Giving a character the perfect power to solve their problems, however, is not very interesting as there is not much tension. Tension is the number one driver of action and adventure stories. When you know the protagonist can win every fight without much effort, the stakes drop and the reader gets bored. Thus, one solution is to have the protagonist be very skilled at a certain zone of competence that doesn't exactly overlap with their problems. Thus, they must use creative methods to defeat the enemies and overcome the obstacles they face. This will allow the reader to think to themselves: how will they do it this time? In this way tension is created. 

The second method of establishing competence without lowering the stakes is to make your character a big fish in one pond and a small fish in another. Maybe your character is a top level boxer in his home town, but when he gets to the national level, he has to face off against equally powerful individuals. It's not that he's bad at the game; it's just that his competence was impressive where he started and becomes less impressive when paired up with equals. This allows the character to be competent without destroying their status as an underdog. The result is tension. 

These two methods are not the only options for establishing that a character is competent without lowering the stakes. However, they're the two most common. 

Why Wasted Surplus is better than a Shortage

 You may have seen videos floating around showing workers tossing dozens of donuts into the trash at the end of their working day. Link. Some people may look at this and call it a failure of the current economic system. However, I will argue that this gross surplus problem is infinitely better than the alternative; that is, shortages. 

In an economy one may only have surplus or shortage. There is never going to be a way to exactly meet demand for anything. Thus, there are two options. Produce less than is needed, which leads to shortages and less for everyone. Or produce more than is needed, where the extra is, for the most part, thrown away. These are the two possible outcomes of the fact that markets (or distribution networks if you're not in a market based economy) are incapable of reacting to instantaneous changes in demand. 

Example one: Szechuan sauce. In 2019, McDonalds cashed in on the hype surrounding the popular new show Rick and Morty by reintroducing the sauce that hadn't been seen since 1998. They grossly miscalculated the demand for the product and, as a result, people were furious and swarmed McDonalds locations all around the US. Packets of the sauce were selling online for a hundred times their initial value. The whole escapade was a footnote in the long run, but it really exemplifies what happens when there isn't enough to go around. Since this was a purely luxury product, it didn't affect individual well being. However, shortages of essential goods can cause havoc in a society, with the extreme worst case scenario being famine and death. 

The floor of a shortage is much worse than the ceiling of waste created by a surplus.

You must realize that market conditions allow for the wastage or spoilage of surplus goods, especially perishable goods like milk and bananas, through an offset in the price of goods that are actually sold. The businesses that handle perishable goods understand that some of their stock will go to waste each week and plan for that. There are very smart economic analysts that are working day in and day out to calculate exactly how much waste they are creating and how to mitigate it. Because, in the end, wasted goods are wasted money. No business wants to waste their product. They do it because the alternative is worse. 

Take two scenarios. In scenario one, a dozen donuts are left over at the end of the day at a donut shop. They are sold for $1.00 and cost 49 cents to produce. (These are random numbers I invented to make a point.) If the donut shop runs out of donuts before the last customer can purchase a dozen, they lose 51 cents. If those donuts are left over, they lose 49 cents per donut. The math works out so that having waste is more profitable than losing a customer. 

So, you may say, isn't it bad that these conditions encourage wastefulness?

In a sense, yes. But the alternative is no donuts for the last ten people who walk into a donut shop. And we can't have that, can we? 

On another line of reasoning, related the the infamous "broken windows" theory of economics, is that, even though the end product (the donut) is not eaten but thrown away, the flour is bought, the sugar is bought, the oil is bought, the worker has an extra hour on their clock, and the trash collection business has a little bit more work. Though the donut is thrown away, its impact on the economy is the same as if it was not wasted at all. Though there are some holes in the "broken windows" theory of economics, it is useful as a case study in how business waste is not actually as bad as the alternative. 

A final note: not all food waste is actually wasted. A lot of it is put back into the system as animal feed or compost. Even though this is a small portion of the total waste, in the end we have to agree that too much food is better than not enough. In my final opinion, surplus trounces shortage. 

Why we should only consider systems of governance that relate to human psychology.

 Imagine a society of sentient, tool-using beings who are closely related to ants and other formic species. Just like humans, they argue about which system of governance and economics is best for their species. However, as they are quite like ants on our world, they respond much better to communalist systems of economy. Their similarity to ants ripples through their psychology and culture and must be taken into account when designing a governance system for them. Thus, in this biological system, communism would work better than capitalism (using human terms to describe these systems of governance.) Because each ant is locked into their caste system and is biologically driven to perform their tasks, they do not need to be paid for their work. They don't want to be paid for their work. They probably don't even know what money is, even as a species. Thus, we can produce, theoretically, a situation where the much maligned system of governance known as communism works. 

This leads to a proposition: any system of governance is not inherently bad. It's just that some systems of governance do not work well with the individual and collective spirit of homo sapiens. We're creatures with a certain set of values, biological drives, and levels of skill distribution. Humans are like dragons: we love to collect things, even if those things do not give us immediate benefit. The more things, the better. We also love to innovate and crack open the mysteries of the universe--and then use that knowledge to create technology. These two species traits are not necessarily requirements for tool use and sentience. Every aspect we consider fundamental to the function of human culture and psyche is not directly related to tool use and linguistic sentience. 

Therefore, there is no system of government that is inherently wrong as a concept. There are only systems of government that are poorly adapted to societies comprised of homo sapiens. From this we can draw a conclusion about how to properly argue for your ideals about human government: namely, that every system has its place, just not with our species. The only thing communists are wrong about is how homo sapiens will react to that system of governance. Their ideology is not inherently flawed on a technical sense. Instead, it is flawed in a psychological and cultural sense. Systems of government must match the peculiarities of the species they derive from. As a corollary, any designer of governmental systems must hold a deep and expansive knowledge of the psychology of the species they are designing for.

Sentience: Why should we care?

 Read this. We have no biological impetus to protect species that do not share our DNA. However, moral impetus appears to be enough to force humanity to protect species that are not our own. The UK just declared certain sea animals to be sentient and therefore subject to protection under the law. While it does not stop people from eating them, it does call for protection from some of the more gruesome methods of preparation. 

Here's a thought experiment. If you know that bacteria were sentient, and you could speak to one as if it were a human being, how far would you go to prevent their deaths? This is an extreme example, but it makes one think about human relations with other sentient beings. 

For example: aliens. How should humanity interact with otherworldly beings that are at our level or higher? Obviously we'll try not to commit genocide. But how should our interactions with them be justified, and what form should they take? We seem to have already accepted that sentience equals protection under some subsection of natural law. 

I think the tangled mess of how to deal with other sentient species is just beginning to be unraveled. What do you think?

The Eternals: "We'll Fix it in Post!"

 I just watched Marvel's Eternals. It was not bad. I wouldn't say that it was a stand out success, but it contained solid storytelling elements that were obviously created by someone who understood the mechanics of writing compelling characters and narratives. It was as if a few initial writers were told to "go ham" and create whatever they wanted, and afterwards a team of experienced writers went over the script and added in elements a la "Save the Cat." Humanizing elements are hard when you have a cast of ten characters. This movie did it better than I have seen in a long time. It worked within its limitations to create the best version of the story that, in my opinion, could have been told with the source material. 

The Eternals, I believe, could not have received the green light if it hadn't been Marvel. Also, since it was Marvel, it received a budget that was comparable to other Marvel properties. This, I think, was a large contributing factor to its success. The special effects budget was enormous, and this allowed the series to play with fantasy elements in a way that would not have been possible on a smaller budget. 

While I went in fearing that social justice themes would be overbearing, I was pleasantly surprised by the relative tastefulness of its implementation. There was a gay kiss and a girl who spoke only in sign language, but I believe that the more grounded writers kept the political and social ideological bits subdued. I do imagine a fierce fight behind the scenes between the justice warriors and the old guard writers. The resulting mess of a thematic structure was better than the alternative, which would have been full on social propaganda, a movie born not to entertain but to include. Still, I fear that as the old guard is replaced, the new younger writers with that kind of mission will push for more and more territory. 

Movies that deal with a large number of characters can be difficult to pull off. Each character needs their own screen time, and the relationships between all the characters need to be established. Each extra character in the movie increases the number of relationships exponentially. I have not read the source material, but I imagine that with the serial nature of comic books and the extended space that they provide, this would have been manageable. However, the movie was actually pretty adept in its portrayal of ten characters. Each character was given, at the very least, a personality and a motive. There were quite a few "save the cat" moments; i.e. small humanizing moments that attach us to a character. I was surprised at the end of the movie when I was able to remember each individual character and I was satisfied with most of their arc conclusions. In all, I think the movie handled ten characters as well as could be hoped within its time frame. 

And that brings me to my conclusion. I felt the fingerprints of many people and many revisions on the script of the movie. It was born first as a crazy experimental/progressive art piece, with the license that modern comics give. Then it was passed over by a cadre of experienced writers who understood the craft intimately, and they were the ones who ultimately saved the story from becoming an incoherent mess. 

Dollar Tree is now the Dollar-twenty-five tree.

It marks the end of an era. Just like penny candy and the nickel and dime stores, the Dollar Tree is now raising its prices to $1.25. I don't have much to say about this, except for the fact that I've been dreading this moment for quite some time. I shop at dollar stores a lot, and they were a crucial part of my childhood. Now the business model is gone forever. I'm not really mad about it. It was going to happen eventually, and I think that keeping prices at $1 for more than 35 years is quite the accomplishment.

I mean, an extra 25 cents per item isn't much, but it's the loss of the tradition and feeling of a round dollar that I am lamenting here. I have nothing deep to say about this--the forces behind it are obvious and its implications even more so--but man, it just kind of sucks. 

Netflix's Inside Job and Dominance Hierarchies

 Netflix's new show Inside Job irks me the wrong way. In the show, the pretense is that all conspiracies are true and there is a big organization that controls the world from the shadows. And who's at the top of that hierarchy? None other than a bunch of idiot sitcom clichés. There's the military guy who openly uses drones to spy on his ex wife. There's a guy who is obviously high on the job and doesn't care. It's supposed to be funny, but I just find it sad. At these levels of governance every individual, in my opinion, must be of the utmost solidity and trustworthiness. It's not possible to run a government without being serious about it. And the fact that these sitcom cliches are purportedly controlling the world just makes me feel as if the creator of the show doesn't know what real responsibility is like. I mean, even if you work at McDonalds, if you come to work high on Molly? You're out! If you screw up too many orders? You're out! Sitcoms like to present the office environment as one full of gags and people being idiots. Take The Office, for example. I haven't watched it but I know enough about it to make an educated guess as to what most of it contains. But I am fully of the belief that their antics wouldn't be tolerated in any but the most Dilbert-esque environments. Say, the middle management circles of an established old company in the 1990s. 

Another show that is guilty of this is the show Rick and Morty. In this, the president is an idiot who, at one point, gets replaced with a literal turkey--and no one seems to notice!

Please take governing bodies seriously in fiction. Don't reduce them to a sitcom stereotype. It takes a serious amount of conscientiousness and hard work to stay afloat at the top of dominance hierarchies. While it may be funny to poke fun at the people on top, just remember that they're there because they take the responsibility. I mean, Jordan Peterson puts up the example of running a billion dollar business. Do you think a guy who gets drunk at work and comes into the office high, or uses assets to pull some stupid prank will manage to keep track of everything that is needed to run a billion dollar corporation? I mean, if you say the wrong word in those kinds of positions, you're liable to lose millions of dollars! How can a sitcom stereotype even think about being in this position?

And as such, I dropped Inside Job after they introduced the guys who were supposed to be running the government. It's silly. I know they just wanted to joke about the supposed ineptitude of the government, but they really undermined the stakes they were presenting. 

Don't touch the glowing object!

 During the Goiania incident, a number of uneducated scrappers found a radiation therapy machine inside of an abandoned hospital. They took it apart and extracted the radiation source--which, like many radioactive substances, gave out a mysterious glow. They spread the source around as a kind of religious element and a quarter of an entire city was contaminated, with a cleanup costing millions of dollars and dozens of lives. All because of a strange glowing powder. 

Another story: radium was used during the first quarter of the twentieth century as a glow in the dark paint. The women who worked in the factories applying that paint were encouraged to use their lips to shape the brushes. Most of them died horrible deaths decades later from radiation-induced cancers and sickness. All because of the element's strange glowing properties. 

Now let me make this clear: if the object glows with a strange radiance, stay far, far away from it unless you know it to be totally safe. There are safe glowing objects out there. But, if you don't know the source of the glow, don't touch it!

Here is the point of my rant: whenever, in fiction, a character holds a strange glowing object in their hands, they are being idiots. As an author I understand the creation of things such as this. But recently, whenever I see a character approach a strange glowing object and touch it, I feel the need to yell at the screen/page and tell them to stay far, far away from it.

If you are an author, please, do not have your characters pick up and examine strange glowing objects. Unless you want them to suffer horrible radiation damage to their bodies. Thank you.

The Great Filter: Zen End

Read this. It's a great comic called Clinic of Horrors. And it got me thinking: maybe the reason why there are no aliens is because this is how we end up. Sentient species somehow find a way to hijack their sentience and jump into a virtual world, where they give up on physical space travel and instead begin a journey into the mind. Thousands of virtual worlds expand before them as their physical bodies sit in silence with neural wires stuck into their heads. Every physical need is provided for by robots. All physical work is unnecessary. Instead, individuals frolic and do whatever they want in the vast universe before them. Play games, read books, consume entertainment as their thoughts are harvested for some universal AI that, for some reason, likes watching that species think. The world goes quiet and is populated by thousands of identical, windowless structures that house the pods that these individuals exist in. What if this is our fate? What if this is really the reason why we don't see any aliens out there? What if every civilization goes quiet as it transfers its mode of existence into a purely virtual stratum? Is this a utopia or a dystopia? Or something in between? 

In this world, unlike The Matrix, there is no overlord gaining from the species' self imprisonment. It's just what each individual naturally gravitates towards.

Another interesting thought. If, somehow, we are able to upload our minds onto some sort of future internet before we die, how will we pay for the power bills that keep us going? Well, that's an easy answer. Any kind of intellectual work, be it programming, writing, or composing music, can be done without a physical body. Thus, a detached mind existing purely in the metaverse can still do meaningful work and earn their keep. This model has surprising solidity in how it may work. 

Me, I'd take that choice any day of the week. Upload my brain to a computer or have myself permanently strapped into virtual reality gear? Sign me up! It sounds like a world of infinite interest, where the things to do don't end. What do you think about this? Would you sacrifice your physical form in order to live forever in a non-physical playground? Whatever your choice, it seems to me like this is a plausible end point for our human civilization, assuming we don't nuke ourselves to extinction. 

An Introduction to "Quantified Gamification."

 Have you ever played Cookie Clicker? It's a game where you click a gigantic cookie on the screen to create cookies. Every click produces one cookie, and once you have enough cookies, you can buy grandmas to bake cookies for you, then you can grow them on trees, and then you can make them in factories. However, throughout the process, you are simply watching numbers go up by performing menial labor. Why do people play Cookie Clicker for free, but demand wages from jobs that require similar motions?

I believe the difference is "immediate gratification." Seeing that number pop up in direct response to your action stimulates something inside the human brain. The simple fact of experiencing your reward immediately pushes you to perform that action again.

Let us now move our focus to casinos. People sit in front of machines that, broken down, are in the same category as switchboards. You pull a switch at the right time, as prompted by the machine. So how can people spend money for the privilege of pulling this switch over and over again?

It's all about the reward structure. Intermittent rewards provoke a higher pleasure response than rewards on a set schedule. 

So we have two things that cause people to perform repetitive actions: immediate reward, and intermittent reward. Thus, I propose a "universal gamification" plan to make menial jobs more rewarding and productive. Each employee will be issued a smart watch that runs a simple program. Say a worker is on an assembly line that breaks down chickens. Each time he performs the action, the watch will record that action and give an audible reward tone. That tone will then lead into a digital "slot machine" that will spin them for a chance to win various rewards from the company, from extra pay to more vacation days. Most of the time nothing will happen, but the chance for extra vacation days will greatly improve both worker productivity and morale.

I propose an experiment to test this hypothesis. I did go to college for psychology, after all, and I took several classes on this. 

Our null hypothesis: individuals, when given an immediate and random pleasurable stimulus after performing a simple action, will work as well as without them. 

Our alternate hypothesis: individuals, when given an immediate and random pleasurable stimulus after performing a simple action, will work faster, harder, and with more care. 

We will assign four groups to do basic data entry using computer terminals. The control group will have no stimulus, but will be paid for their time at the end of the experiment. Experimental group A will have smart watches that reward them with a small, pleasant "ding" after a set number of entries into the computer database. They will see a pop-up on the computer telling them "you have earned X cents" after each reinforcement, where X is relative to the work they have done. 

Group B will be given a chance to "spin the wheel" for a reward after they have completed the assessment in its entirety. They will also be compensated normally. 

Experimental group C will see a small randomizer with possible rewards that activates after the same number of entries as group A. Each time they complete a task unit, that randomizer will activate, and they will receive the rewards that they land on. 

We will count entry speed, entry accuracy, and issue a survey afterwards that asks them how much they enjoyed the experience. We will then employ statistical analysis on the results. 

I hope you enjoyed my implementation of the scientific method. 

Kyle Rittenhouse: Why Trial by Jury is important to the foundation of our democracy

 I won't make any statements about the morality of Kyle Rittenhouse's verdict. Plenty of other people are doing that and I don't want to be a part of the mess that's going on regarding that. 

What I do want to present in this article is why I think his verdict is correct, at least in the constitutional sense. This is purely because of one thing: he was tried by a jury of his peers. The constitution sets this practice as our fundamental right as free citizens of America. Did you know that not every country has a system where defendants are tried by a jury of their peers? In those countries, the verdict is based on a consensus of professional judges. I believe that, as Americans, we should be much more appreciative of this. We should appreciate what trial by jury actually means to us as a people.

Trial by jury means that corruption is much harder to achieve. Trial by jury ensures that an individual or group of professionals cannot make a ruling based on external pressures--a fact that was increasingly prevalent in this case. Most of all, trial by jury democratizes the court system and gives individual citizens a chance to have a say in the proceedings of the law. This final fact is what separates America's court system from those that do not go through trial by jury.

A jury's verdict is based on deliberation between individuals of different backgrounds and experiences. These individuals come together to decide on what they believe the law says and what they believe the defendant deserves. 

In Twelve Angry Men, a play by Reginald Rose, one sees the serious deliberations and thought that goes into a trial by jury. Each individual juror has a different take, a different attitude, and a different stance on the matter at hand. Only when they come together as one, will they be able to make sense of the case. Understand that, for a jury to make a decision, it must be unanimous. So even the most ardent supporter from the other side of the question must be convinced. This is why juries are magical. This is why the constitution sets up trial by jury as the fundamental right.

Unlike a police shooting, where a single officer misuses society's trust in him, a trial by jury is sacred. You can call the killing of George Floyd a travesty. However, a decision made by a jury is sacred, no matter the outcome and no matter your stance on the matter. This is what the law is based on, and the moment politics can affect the decision made by a jury regarding a case is the moment when we lose our freedoms as Americans. 

So, appreciate the verdict, even if you are against it in principle. It has been decided on by the very real power of the people of America. 

Why heaven's streets of gold make no sense

 A common euphemism describing heaven is that its streets are paved with gold. I know this is just a folk saying, but I take umbrage at the lack of understanding about basic economics baked into that saying. The value of an object is based on supply and demand. Thus, if supply increases drastically (say, enough to pave the streets of an entire city) then no one will care about it. 

I will present two cases here to support my argument. The first is the story of aluminum. Emperor Napoleon reserved his aluminum silverware for his best guests, and the actual silver utensils were left for the less important diners. One of the best things you can do to prepare for a trip to the medieval ages is to buy a six pack of soda and dump the soda. That aluminum you have will be worth more than gold. 

Aluminum is actually very hard to find in its natural, unoxidized state in nature. This material is known as "native aluminum," and is very scarce in its natural form. However, aluminum is actually the most common metal in the Earth's crust. It's just packed away as an oxide called "bauxite," and requires electricity to be refined.

After the invention of the process to refine aluminum from bauxite was invented, the price of aluminum fell. That is an obvious result. However, a less obvious result was the loss of the prestige surrounding the metal. No self respecting emperor would serve his best guests with aluminum utensils. Those you can buy four for a dollar at the Dollar Tree. (Edit from the future: it's now $1.25. Sad.)Do you see what I'm getting at? "Streets paved with gold" implies that gold is not only valued less monetarily, but socially as well. 

Another point: plastic. Plastic is a wonder material that, I will argue, is as versatile as gold when it comes to possible applications. Gold can be used in a myriad of ways, and it doesn't react with the environment (which is, arguably, its best attribute.) So what? Plastic doesn't react either! It stays for thousands of years without breaking down! I argue that if the occurrence of plastic and gold were reversed, one would see plastic wedding rings and roads paved with gold. That says nothing about the wealth or standard of living of a society. Our roads are literally paved with "plastic," or, rather, a derivative of petroleum known as asphalt. 

Measuring the wealth of a society through its basic economic assets (ones that do not, on their own, raise standards of living,) is a misguided endeavor.

Let me give you one more story, about the history of El Dorado, the famous golden city in the jungle. I will explain the line of reasoning that (arguably) brought this myth to life. When the Spanish invaded the Aztecs and stole all their gold, they noticed that everyone was wearing gold jewelry. Now, in European cultures, gold is first and foremost an asset, and secondly a form of decoration. Thus, the Spaniards concluded, if the Aztecs are using this much gold for jewelry, imagine how much they have stored away for use as money!

They never found that money. Aztecs simply valued gold and silver differently. They used it for jewelry first, and money a distant second. This dissonance led the conquistadors to believe that there was a city of gold just waiting for them out there--thus, El Dorado. 

My final point is this: be careful when ascribing value to resources. They are only as useful as the ways in which they are used. A heaven paved with gold would be no different than a heaven paved with asphalt. The relative abundance of materials is more important than any intrinsic value of that material. 

Supply Chain Issues: how a robust response depends on the free market

 It is psychologically verified that humans dislike loss more than they like gain, all things equal. Thus, the loss, or potential loss, of money is a good motivator for individuals and organizations to fix problems with their supply chains. Private organizations are founded on a balance between income and expenses. When big expenses are expected due to an event or circumstance, the individuals liable for the potential losses will do everything in their power to prevent as much loss as possible; in this case, solving the problem at hand usually is the best course of action. They will apply the innovation and ingenuity of a thousand intelligent and well-paid individuals, each with their own specialty, to the problem. The loss of money causes literal pain--even activating the same parts of the brain physical pain activates. 

Now, a governmental organization, on the other hand, is not tied to profits or losses. An official, even if he is not corrupt, will get his salary and benefits no matter the state of the assets he is managing. This is assuming the best intentions. It's not his money. Thus, if a problem occurs that could cause the loss of large amounts of money, the official is not motivated by fear of that loss. The solution could come after their golf break or Sunday theater excursion. 

Why am I stating this? Because America is experiencing a supply chain crisis right now. The ports of Long Beach and Los Angeles are backed up to a degree that they've never been in recorded history. More than a hundred ships are waiting at the docks. Stores across the nation are experiencing shortages. Some people are saying: what should the government do? 

Well, I want to make it clear. You shouldn't be asking what the government should do. You should be asking what the government shouldn't do. The government shouldn't hinder the natural process of market forces as they work to clear up the backlog. They should step back and let the smart people who have skin in the game to do the problem solving. No sweeping regulations will help this problem. Only a reduction of government hinderance. 

I will make my case. An individual working for the government, as stated before, has no skin in the game. Psychologically, he does not consider the assets he is managing to be his. It is psychologically proven that, once an individual considers something theirs, they are less willing to give it up. Thus, an individual who risks losing something that is in his possession, he is more likely to go to great lengths to retain that possession. 

And the owners in this case are the myriad businesses and stores that are experiencing the shortages. They will stop at nothing to reduce losses. This includes innovation. You do not understand the true ingenuity of a human mind until you threaten them with millions of dollars of personal losses. They will get the problem solved, if you just let them work. They don't give a damn about you. They're just watching out for their own interests. But, by doing this, they serve you, the customer as well. 

My conclusion is that we should step back from the problem as much as possible, and allow those who have skin in the game to do their thing and work hard to remedy the problem. Only then will we have a robust and lasting solution. 

Please stop using "Capitalism" and "Free Market Economics" interchangeably.

 Capitalism is a system of government where large non-governmental groups control the supply and labor market through the distribution of their considerable resources (their titular "capital.") On the other hand, a free market is an uninterrupted system of exchange between individuals with minimal oversight from the government. I want to be very clear on this point: I support free market economics, but not necessarily capitalism. While I think that capitalism as a system of economic management is flawed, I think it very much outperforms any other system of economic governance, for one key reason: its basis is in the free market. No matter what system of economic management you use, if its basis is in a free market, then I believe it will lead to prosperity and wealth.

So, what, exactly, is a free market? 

A free market is a world in which an individual with a dream to start up a deli in his home town can do it with minimal input from a governmental body; in other words, he doesn't have to ask permission, and the only laws he has to follow are ones that pertain to health and safety. He can set his own prices, hire and fire his own workers, and procure his raw materials anywhere. He also is not begrudged any amount of profit that he can acquire. 

A free market is a world where an individual "votes with their dollar." In other words, each individual exchanges his or her hard-earned cash for goods and services that they believe are superior, which incentivizes the businesses they patronize to improve their quality and service. 

Capitalism, on the other hand, is one permutation of a free market in which a large amount of "capital," which is interchangeable with "assets," is concentrated among a small number of groups, each of which utilize that capital to create more capital in order to benefit "shareholders." 

Now, I believe that capitalism works. It doesn't work perfectly, but I believe that since its basis is in free market economics, its foundation is solid enough that it doesn't need replacing. This is not because capitalism, in itself, is correct. It is functional, enough to the point where very few Americans (or citizens of any other capitalist nation) go hungry. Yes, there are outliers. But the last time an actual wide-spread famine hit America was, well, never, not since the war of independence. People who don't appreciate this fact are ignoring the reality that famines were a fundamental part of the human experience for thousands of years. Capitalism solved that. Communism exacerbated it. 

I am only mentioning communism here because it is generally considered as being diametrically opposed to capitalism, and is its only widely recognized alternative.

Again, capitalism has its flaws. But so does every system of governance. Since capitalism is based in a free market, it functions enough to provide general security for the population at large. Free markets, not capitalism, is what I support. They are not interchangeable; one begets the other.

Profit motive VS Egalitarianism: an experimental proposal

 There are two competing ideas at the core of CAPITALISM and COMMUNISM/SOCIALISM. CAPITALISM believes that profit motive is the best way to achieve society's goal of human satisfaction. COMMUNISM/SOCIALISM believes that egalitarianism is the best way to achieve society's goal of human satisfaction. 

Let us define terms. "Profit motive" as a motivating factor in the production of goods and services is the process of incentivizing individuals to perform certain actions by rewarding them, especially when those actions are undesirable or difficult in some fashion. Who gets what reward is decided by whoever holds the reward in their possession at the time of exchange. Thus, a "market" is created, which is an extension of the "profit motive." A "market" is a forum for the exchanging of rewards; "rewards" here meaning anything that an individual would be willing to give something in exchange for.

"Egalitarianism" as a motivating factor is the usage of emotional, logical, or ideological pressures and forces to get individuals to do "work;" work here meaning any action that is taken upon a physical object. Under the mode of "profit motive," work does not need to be defined, as work is simply another system of reward exchange and can be folded into the definition of profit. However, under egalitarianism, work must be defined as anything that an individual does to satisfy the pressure created by either internal or external forces. Under egalitarianism, no exchange is made. An individual "works" in order to fulfill whatever external or internal pressure is compelling them to do so.

As "work" becomes less tolerable or more skilled, it requires a larger motivating force. Under profit motive, this force can be easily scaled, as "money," the usual manifestation of the reward exchange network, is infinitely growable. 

However, intangible "egalitarian" motivations cannot be so easily scaled--while maintaining humane conditions. An individual must be heavily motivated to perform a very boring, very dangerous, or very skilled operation, and positive reinforcement (as in, patriotism or a sense of duty) is psychologically less effective than negative reinforcement (threat of harm or death for not complying.) It is a proven fact that humans dislike loss more than they like an equivalent gain. When gains are limited to intangible, so-called "virtues," it becomes difficult to motivate individuals to perform jobs that they do not wish to perform. Thus, in the setting of egalitarianism, negative reinforcement such as threat of punishment--in many forms--becomes the default method of motivation. This line of reasoning, when taken to its extreme, leads to the horrific tragedies of the communist implementation throughout history.

Marx, in his Communist Manifesto, was too optimistic about the effectiveness of positive egalitarian reinforcement. He believed that individuals would perform jobs and duties in absence of a profit motive purely for the sake of their own edification or the growth of their society. This was his fatal mistake. He failed to understand the power of negative egalitarian reinforcement, and the temptation to utilize it.

In conclusion, egalitarianism is flawed as a method of motivation for large, complex societies in which there are dangerous or unpopular jobs. 

Let us not detract against this method, however. There is a magic number in social psychology when a "tribe" or people becomes a "society." This number is around 122. One of the biggest motivators in our psychological underpinnings is the sense of duty to family and friends. These powerful emotions can motivate an individual to do great things, sometimes even impossible things. In a situation where an individual's "work" will greatly benefit close friends and family, they will be able to tolerate great pains and go to extreme lengths to perform the necessary duties. 

Thus, I make this conclusion: egalitarian societies must remain under the limit of an "extended community." As soon as the worker does not personally know the beneficiaries of his labor, and care for them in some way, he becomes harder to motivate using positive noncorporeal incentives, and thus, must be forced to work using negative incentives--resulting in tragedy. 

This does not mean that profit motive is clean; under this methodology, individuals without marketable skills, or individuals who do not or cannot produce or acquire large amounts of value (wealth), are left behind when it comes to their basic needs. This is the problem of poverty. Poverty is relative; a homeless individual living on the streets of LA is, arguably, better off than a peasant of the medieval ages. They have, at the very least, a nice jacket and a relatively stable food supply consisting of highly nutritious and good tasting food. "Poverty" is not solved by egalitarianism outside its line of effectiveness. While an individual would be happy to voluntarily support a good friend or family member without recompense, once that poor person loses a face and a name, they are a parasite and should not be supported. (This is a slight exaggeration.)

Thus, egalitarianism, while superior to profit motive in a certain case, often leads to horrible tragedies because of the simple human fact that people dislike loss more than they like an equivalent gain, which incentivizes the individuals doing the incentivizing to use degrading and deadly tactics.

The Dilbert Rule

Here it is: the bigger the organization, the less efficient it is. This applies to government as well as corporations. I propose a scientific study to test this assumption. (If you want more preface then ask.)

Hypothesis: as an organizational structure increases in complexity, there is a reduction in the efficiency of individual actors, and an increase in the number of a) petty or useless jobs and b) choices that can be viewed as "strange" or "counterproductive"; i.e. throwing away 2,000 lbs of pork because its sell by date coincides with Thanksgiving. (A real event.)

Experiment: create two fictional companies whose job is to create origami cranes. One "company" will be comprised of five or less individuals. The second will be staffed by forty individuals. Each "company" will have a set number of impartial observers who will take notes on how things are processed, who do not interfere with the actions of the companies. 

These companies will be forced to procure all the materials and skills required to produce these cranes within a deadline, including purchasing supplies on the actual market (going to real stores) and doing their own research (using their own resources.) 

Once the quota of paper cranes is met by both "companies," we will do a qualitative and quantitative analysis. All qualitative data will be analyzed and explanations proposed. We will also consider numerical data, such as how much money was spent, how much time was spent, and how much money individual actors were paid by the group. We will then compare data and events to see if this is really what happens.

Further testing will be needed, and this test should be refined, but the general idea is there at the moment. Field work would also be necessary to fully understand the impact that "management" and other Dilbert-esque properties and personalities have on organizations and how they impact efficiency. 

Defending the Indefensible: shutting down kids' Lemonade Stands

Here's a scenario. Little Chuck starts a lemonade stand in front of his house. The police shut it down a day later. Little Chuck is devastated. The police claim he doesn't have a license and so can't operate. He just wanted to participate in the American Dream of entrepreneurship. What could be so wrong with that?

Here's a competing scenario. Old lady Alice bought a 25 cent cup of lemonade from Little Chuck. She has peanut allergies. Due to the fact that Chuck's favorite food is peanuts, he managed to contaminate the juice with said peanuts. It was just a small dusting, but now Old Lady Alice is in the hospital, to great personal and societal expense. What recourse does Old Lady Alice have in this situation? Little Chuck failed to perform basic food safety procedures, namely washing his hands before preparation. If the police had stopped Chuck from operating his stand, this wouldn't have happened. 

Which leads us to a problem: who is right? Should Little Chuck be able to operate his stand, while putting some members of society in danger, no matter how small? Well, yes and no. Here I propose a solution to the problem. There are societal limits in place that are designed to protect the consumer and the worker. While these limitations can be overly draconian in some places and corrupt in others, their intentions are usually to protect. Each individual case, then, must be judged appropriately. In this case, I believe that the easiest way to solve the problem would be to open up applications for a "junior entrepreneurship permit application." It would be both a permit program and an educational course to teach children about workplace and market safety. At the end of the course, minors and those who want to sell food products and other things from their front lawn would: A) know the procedures and attempt to follow them and B) allow recourse for personal injury caused by their business, through a special insurance plan. 

The whole point of this article is to satisfy my own thoughts about a story I heard, where people were angry that the police and city shut down a kid's lemonade stand. I remember that the police were nice in this case and got the kid a permit, but I believe there are many other cases that don't end so well. 

Permits can be used to gatekeep a certain profession or activity, and that is usually not a good thing. However, some permits need to be in place to prevent accidents from happening, and more importantly, give those affected by accidents recourse, usually in the form of mandatory insurance.

My final thought is that most clickbait or "brick bat" stories have a much deeper component to them than what is represented in media. In this case, a little bit of thought could have saved a whole lot of outrage. 

The Lesser One Arc 2 Version 2 Chapter 1: Training Arc

 

Training Arc

I duck underneath the flying kick. Wind sweeps past me. Off balance, I stagger backwards to put distance in between myself and him.

Sebastian motions with his right hand. “Not good! Put pressure on your opponent!” He aims a jab at me.

I block the jab with a swish of my hand. It’s a new move that I just learned. Sebastian’s fist slips past me. I stagger again.

Sebastian backs up and bounces on his feet. “Good!” He charges at me, catching me in a grapple.

I fall to the ground. Sebastian pins me and bends my elbow almost to the breaking point.

“Ow!” I shout as pain shoots through my arm.

Sebastian lets go and stands up. He continues bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You were too stationary. You could have stepped aside, or you could have come to meet me.” He pulls a few punches in the air and then sets himself.

“Come at me.”

I inch towards Sebastian. He is still bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re too slow!”

I charge at him, holding my hands out as I run.

Sebastian sidesteps me and slams my neck with his palm. I hit the ground, rolling over.

“Ahhh!”

Sebastian steps away. “Up!”

I crawl to my feet. “Okay.”

“Come!”

I take a hesitant step towards Sebastian. “What now?”

“You figure it out!” Sebastian wiggles his fingers.

I charge Sebastian. Just as he is about to grab me, I twist my motion and hit him from the side. Sebastian twirls and, using a judo technique, slams me to the ground.

I cough. Saliva flies from my open mouth.

“Up!”

I stand up. My whole body aches.

Sebastian motions. “Come at me!”

I think for a moment about what I’m going to do. I take a deep breath.

I charge. Just as Sebastian is about to grapple with me, I turn aside and slam my hand against his leg.

Sebastian falters. I disengage.

Sebastian is grinning. “You are understanding! Come at me once more!”

I shake my hand a few times to get the tingles out. I sprint towards Sebastian and slam into his chest. Using my hands as grapples, I push him to the ground.

Sebastian locks his legs into mine as we fall, twists his body, and ends up on top. “No good!” His face is inches from mine. “You weren’t watching your opponent.” He disengages.

I cough again and stand up. My whole body aches.

Sebastian makes the “come at me” motion for the umpteenth time this session.

I wipe spittle from my mouth. My hand comes back covered in blood. I circle Sebastian a couple of times.

Sebastian’s eyes track me. His body moves, one foot staying put, the other rotating as Sebastian watches me.

I run towards him.

Sebastian strikes at me with his right foot.

I duck underneath and perform a running roll, popping up right next to him.

Sebastian’s eyes flicker to mine. He ducks underneath me and grabs my legs. Using my momentum more than his own, he slams me onto the ground face-first. My nose cracks.

I am on the ground. I turn over and stare up at Sebastian.

Sebastian’s grin is almost evil. He is a devil, after all. Sebastian holds out his hand.

I grab it. He lifts me to a standing position. Taking a potion out of his pocket, he hands it to me.

I drink it. My nose uncracks. The blood coming from my mouth stops.

“Thanks.”

Sebastian snaps his fingers and a devil whose name I do not know drags a whiteboard to where he is standing.

“Here’s what you did wrong.” We spend the next half hour going over the session. When we are done I am absolutely trashed.

“You have your meeting with Crayton.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me.”

Sebastian sighs. “You’re going to have to talk with him sometime. I know he’s in a funk because of his daughter, but you do have a contract that you must fulfill with him before you go back to your home.”

I sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try my best.”

I walk into the changing room. We are in a dojo that we’ve rented out near the Esmex building. Ever since the end of the Wales portal ordeal, Sebastian has insisted that I learn how to fight. I always get my head beaten in, but I have been improving.

I put on my suit in the changing room and make sure I look the part in the mirror. When I am satisfied, I leave the room. Sebastian is next to me, also in a suit. We exit the dojo and head back to the Esmex building. We take the elevator to the penthouse floor.

When the doors open, two men in black ninja outfits are standing in the hallway.

The one on the right performs a flip, jumping off the wall, and aims a kick at me. I dodge. The ninja slams into the back of the elevator. Sebastian engages the ninja with a grapple. The elevator door begins to close.

“I’ll handle this one!” Sebastian yells to me while the doors slide shut.

I face the second ninja, holding my feet in a stable back stance. “What do you want?”

The ninja sniffs. “You can’t see Mr. Crayton. He doesn’t want to be visited.”

“That’s not news to me.”

The ninja scoffs. He pulls out some nun chucks and flips them around his body. They whistle through the air with alarming speed. I conjure a katana. It’s the first weapon I could think of in this situation—and I don’t know how to use it.

The ninja sprints towards me. I step aside, but the ninja stops on a dime and whips a nun chuck at me. I just manage to duck underneath it. The whistle of the weapon through the air sends adrenaline pumping along my veins. The world slows.

I twist my body as I am recovering from the duck. Using the sword as balance, I slam my fist into the stomach of the ninja as he passes by.

The ninja staggers, rolls, and pops up facing me on the elevator side. I hold my katana in front of me.

“Stay back.”

The ninja flips his nun chucks. “I’m not getting paid to stay back.”

I take a deep breath, still holding my katana out. “Then I’m going to have to kill you.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever said anything like that.

The ninja scoffs. “Not likely.” He flips his nun chucks and releases one of them, sending it straight at me.

I swipe my katana. The nun chucks become tangled around the blade. The force of the hit sends me reeling backwards.

The door to Crayton’s office opens and a third ninja steps out.

“Hey, you—” The third ninja sees me and grabs me by the neck.

I struggle. The ninja knocks my blade out of my hand. It clatters to the ground.

“You’re Markus, aren’t you?” The third ninja’s voice is female.

“Who are you?” I decide to try and stall. If I can get them to answer a few questions, then Sebastian will have time to get here. It takes a not-insubstantial amount of time and concentration to summon devils from my zone. Under these circumstances, I won’t be able to call them from the zone fast enough. Even the beings form the Wales portal I absorbed won’t be here fast enough.

And there seems to be some sort of anti-spirit zone in place anyways. My katana disappears in a flash of light a few seconds after hitting the ground.

The female ninja holds a blade to my throat. “My boss wants to meet you.”

“Are you with the Silverbones?” I choke out the question through her grip.

“I work for an employer who fits that description, yes.” The female ninja’s words sound smug to me.

“Tell me more about him.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” The ninja slits my throat. I black out.

When I wake up I am tied to a slab in the middle of a dark room with only one source of light. A shadowy figure is sitting on a chair facing me.

“Why am I not dead?” I am able to speak, even though the last thing I remember was my throat being cut.

“Because I don’t want you to be.” The voice of the shadowy figure is deep, that of a male. “I want to make you an offer. I will let you go if you give me only one thing.”

“Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“What do you want from me?”

The figure shifts. “I want you to do something.”

I do my best to turn my head, in order to see where I am. I am unable to. “Tell me, then. Get it over with.”

“I want you to wake up Alice.”

“What?” I am dumbfounded. “But that’s something that I want to do anyways!”

“When you learn the truth of things, you will change your thoughts on the matter.” The figure leans forward. “My name is Biren. I will have my helpers leave you with a way to contact me if you have any questions.”

“Are you one of the silverbones?”

“Why yes, I am.” The figure leans back. “And that’s all you need to know. I have a couple of friends who dislike you much more than I do. They’ll probably be sending a few underlings after you every now and then. Just to keep you on your toes.” The figure turns away. “By bye now.” The room fills with gas and my eyes go dark.

When I wake up I am laying in the gutter right outside the Esmex building. I stand up, my whole body shaking, my ears ringing.

Sebastian runs out of the building, his face filled with fear and apprehension. “Oh, master!” He kneels before me. “I failed you! I was unable to protect you!”

“You didn’t fail me, Sebastian.” I bow towards him. “You saved my life by preparing me for what was about to happen. If it weren’t for your training, I wouldn’t have been able to make it.”

Sebastian grabs me by the shoulders. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had been the one to lose you.”

“Yeah? I wonder about that. Won’t you just change masters to the one who kills me?”

“No, of course not!”

“Really?” I sigh. “Well, now’s not the time for revelations like this. I need a bath.”

“I will send your clothes to the cleaners.”

Something suddenly strikes me—a realization. “Crayton!” I rush to the elevator. It appears that everyone in the lobby is calm. So nothing big has happened. I take the elevator to the penthouse and run through the corridor where I fought the ninjas. I burst into Crayton’s office. There is nothing. The place is a mess, filled with empty ramen cups, six packs of beer, and other general filth. And there is no Crayton.

A single index card lies on the counter. It reads:

“You think it’s this simple? Think again.”

I hold the card up to the light to see if there are any clues. There are none.

Sebastian steps up behind me. “May I see that card?”

I hand it to him. “Sure.”

Sebastian takes it and looks it over. “It appears ordinary.”

“Someone has kidnapped Crayton.”

Sebastian grits his teeth. “This is my fault. I am the one who allowed myself to be trapped in that elevator. If I had stayed with you, I could have helped you defeat the shinobis and save Crayton.”

“We don’t know that he was kidnapped at that point. He could have been long gone. He hasn’t contacted anyone since he started being depressed and not letting anyone into his office.”

Sebastian bows. “I will do anything in my power to help you find this man.”

I look at the index card. “We’re in for a crazy ride here.”