ZTR

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 : 𝐍𝐮𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐈. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐚𝐦, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲. 𝐖𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐀 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐬. 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞. 𝐈𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐖𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧. 𝐖𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐧𝐨𝐭. 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬. 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨: 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐬. 𝐀𝐧 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 : 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫. 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈'𝐦 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝.

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐈𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧.. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥. 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 : 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤? 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦.

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭 (𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭). 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐌𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫?. 𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 : 𝐀𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐭. 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

𝐈𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐈 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐚. 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐲, 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐈 𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐈. 𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞,𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓 : 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐀𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝, 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤. 𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩. 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐞𝐭, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬; 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐬. 𝐌𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲. 𝐈𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥; 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐰. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝. 𝐖𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐀 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐀 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭. 𝐀 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬? 𝐈𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐖𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡; 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.

𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝; 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫. 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭. 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭.

I don't dream much in my sleep, but I do dream a lot. Dreams help me write. I close my eyes, lie down on my bed and get lost in thoughts, that is where most of the things I try to write come from. Those dreams though, the ones that are a part of my creative process are almost always triggered by the unpredictable. The sort of things that happen to me or that I witnessed that I was not hoping to. That's where my love for the unpredictable comes from yet I find myself not liking change very much. The mundane doesn't help the creative process very much.

The first ever writing that I jot down was when I was 11, I was in Dinajpur (my hometown) exploring the corners of a Police Academy field. Ever since then my mind has been drawn to the Suburbs of Dinajpur. Half of it was the beauty of nature that I have witnessed here, the blue skies, the green fields , the simplicity of life there, the long slow rickshaw rides through the city and the love that I have received from the people here and their deep interest in listening to my childish stories. What mesmerized me was the view from the bridge of the Punarbhaba river, a part of which is called Kanchan by the locals. The sound of the rejuvenating water flowing through kanchan is perhaps a melody I would never forget. The other half was the freedom that I have there, the freedom to go around and explore and there was always something new , a view I have never seen, a street I have never walked, watch the sunset sitting at a place that I have never been to. The scent of rice and wheat and fresh green leaves of the early morning market that I was taken to every week. The stories people would tell of the lady that lives in the pond of the Police Academy or the demons that haunt the old house of my great grandmother. All that made it never feel mundane there, mundane was Dhaka. Same old school, same old lectures, a life where being a student was more important than being a child. I dreamt of Dinajpur, waiting to get back there, where I can meet my thirst for the unexpected and the unexplored.

I can tell you exactly what took my mind off Dinajpur. Growing up in the city, you slowly start appreciating what it has to offer. The endless possibilities in Dhaka captured my mind. I started dreaming of my days here in Dhaka. Slowly but surely I got the freedom to explore the city. That was almost the death of the romance I had with my hometown. Over many spent summers in the suburbs of Dinajpur, the town was almost boring. The town had lost its soul to me. Not to mention my hate for change and the way Dinajpur had changed over the years had a role to play in the town losing its heart to me. The fields were cut shorter and shorter and whatever was left, was barren and dusty, almost empty of life. The rise of the electric motor was the death of the rickshaw. You can see the bones of what was once Punarbhaba and the rapid use of the water left only the carcass of Kanchan behind.
Perhaps it's my understanding of suffering and the sadness of reality, that made me see the bitterness of the town and the people were bitter to it in return. The town sang to me no more, melody was lost amidst the clanking of metal and the grinding of engines. The creative process was no longer triggered living there.

I dreamt of stars and spaceships as a child, but I was in that same old bed in the same old room amongst the same old people. Dreams are necessary, dreams are what inspires the artist, yet the art is done with the same old colors and painted with the same old set of brushes. The unpredictable is a necessary motivator yet the mundane is what helps paint those dreams. That understanding breathed a new soul into the heart of Dinajpur that lived within me. Perhaps things have changed but my mundane still lives within the small town and its fields and Punarbhaba. I dream of stories that I would tell, lying in a small room in, in a small bed, amongst my people, in Dinajpur.

Conclusions are often seemingly simple to look at. Conclusions are also often repeated and unoriginal. Yet a conclusion that an individual has derived from his own experiences are never that simple.

Let me first explain where I am coming from. Earlier in my life, I have felt that the conclusions I came to using my own obvsevation were often disregarded, either because I was too young to understand anything or because they were very normal thoughts that adults already knew. That had a lasting impression on me, sadly I myself have done similar things only to realize that these conclusion which often are epiphanies that people have, are not only a few words that they put together in a rush but, are a sum of all their memories and things they have experienced through out life. An epiphany is a complex combination of a person's aspirations, their regrets etc. Often those conclusions/epiphanies hides within the soul of a person, that we ignore because something like "slow and steady wins the race" is a conclusion to a famous story we have heard over and over again. However the significance of such an epiphany might just be life changing.

We are made of the same flesh, bones and blood, not only that we also tend to speak the same old spoke of the same old philosophers. The only difference lies in experiences and the nuances of our thoughts. A complete disregard for how someone reached a seemingly simple conclusion, is perhaps missing the whole point.

Artwork credit - Safia Rahman
https://instagram.com/safia_zaynab?utm_medium=copy_link

Exclusive live Interview with Mr. Monil Mohammad Alaul Haque

On the 20th of June, 2020 IUB ACM Student Chapter was honored to have Mr. Monil Mohammad Alaul Haque (Research Intern at Oak Ridge National Lab, Graduate Research Fellow and PhD student at University of Oregon) join them for a live interview on their Facebook which was done by Zohair Tahmid Rahman(Student Advisor, IUB ACM Student Chapter). The interview started with Mr. Monil letting us know about his educational background and then went ahead to tell us the difference between Bangladesh and other countries like the U.S., while in Bangladesh the subject is called Computer Science & Engineering in other countries there are mainly two subjects which are Computer Engineering and then Computer Science. Computer Science is said to be the more valuable of the two subjects and most Bangladeshi students prefer this subject. When asked about the skills that one might require to excel in this field he said that there was only one skill that you mainly required that being your skills in math. He was Table Tennis champion in his university life and part of the football and cricket teams. He then went on to tell about how his journey in Grameenphone started, he sent them his CV and was called for a written exam which had questions based on electrical engineering, computer science engineering and other general subjects like Math and English, he suggested to go through a book named GSM Systems Survey for anyone planning to join the telecom companies. On being asked about what he thought was important to join a foreign university in countries like US or Canada he said being good at sports is great if you are a state level champion, but otherwise might not be so helpful. He stressed on the fact that it is the CGPA and recommendation letter from your professors that is most important and having a publicized work can always act as a huge boost. He then went on to talk about his favorite topic High Performance computing (HPC) explaining what it means and how he got in to it.
Link to the interview : https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=597075541216317&id=2818135908411581

The Rain - An accidental protagonist of seven:
how the light and atmosphere sets the stage for the thriller.

“Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light”. The quotation might play a huge role thematically but where it certainly is more evident is in the set up of the whole movie. Light and dry is usually a sign of peace and calm for the protagonist in the movie, but Fincher turned that theory on its head, not only did he make the dark and the rain a prominent part of the set but he made the presence of rain and dark so crucial that those two things are the third protagonist of the movie.

The dynamics between Somerset and Mills grows as the story progresses, we see them slowly understand each other and get along, but behind the obvious growing bond between them their separate bond with the rain grows similarly. We see them hide from the rain, run from the rain at first. Eventually just like Somerset learns to work with Mills and vice versa, they both learn to work with the rain, and for all we know the rain helps them keep sanity.

Darkness comes with rain, and in this story whenever our main characters get to crack the case in any way, their faces go dark instead of being lit. This is most evident with Somerset, whenever he takes a peek at the motive of John Doe his face turns dark, as if the director wants us to know that they take no pleasure in breaking this case. John Doe however is always under bright light, the scene where he is being escorted by the two detectives, John Doe is face is lit with god rays as if he truly is the Messiah. Somerset and John , both have a shared disgust for apathy; what separates them is empathy. Somerset’s empathy makes him powerless and leaves him in dark, whereas John’s prime disgust and no empathy makes him powerful and more in the light.
Blood from the beginning is always hidden, often behind people creating an atmosphere of suspicion. This is most evident in the first scene with Somerset and the cop, then again on the scene where Mills goes to investigate the murder of the lawyer. However, when John shows up, blood is the first thing we see, showing that the answer to all suspicion is John.
Different colors also play a role in setting the mood for the life style of the characters. Grey means chaos, hence Mills’s place is in grey in the first scene. Blue is calm , therefore Somerset's place at first has a blue tilt to it, and red is Dread and Fear, John's place is all red.

The presence is only known in absence, and in the last piece of the movie, there is no rain no dark no city, just a dry empty sunlit field and whatever happens was meant to happen and the absence of our third most prominent protagonist let's all hell break loose. The rain loses and so does Somerset and Mills.
To more accurately put it "Long is the way and hard, that out of Light leads up to Rain."