Goes Without Saying

“Apologies, but I cannot help you,” repeated the feckless attendant.

“You said that already,” noted Brit-Zal irritably, “And that is no more helpful the second time.”

“There is nothing I can do,” blandly assured the mindless drone minding the parcel gazebo of this Rigellian space port.

“I got a message,” an irked Brit-Zal declared, steadfastly, “that my package would be available at this time. So here I am, now kindly go fetch.”

In the capacity of a freighter captain, they had brought their cargo vessel here for the explicit purpose of retrieving that inextricably elusive package.

“As I said,” retorted the impassive kiosk operator, “the lock on the storage locker is jammed. I am unable to get your package at this time.”

“So why,” insisted Brit-Zal, annoyed, “did you say it IS available? Just this morning, I got a message reminding me MY package is available. If it has become UNavailable, then why did you not only send me that erroneous message, but also NOT send me an update that circumstances have changed? You made me come here for nothing!!!”

“Someone should have informed you,” remarked the blasé interloper, unhelpfully. And stating the grossly obvious.

“How does that help me?!” Brit-Zal countered, in great annoyance, temper rising, “Isn’t your job customer service?! I’ve done my part, now you do yours. Why are you even here?!”

The insouciant kiosk tender, becoming agitated at this berating, then retreated into, “Apologies. I cannot — “.

“I’ve got a schedule to keep,” shouted Brit-Zal, interrupting, “and you are screwing that up!”

Staring blankly at Brit-Zal, the impotent package hostage remained silent.

“So if the lock is broken,” Brit-Zal challenged, defiantly, “why don’t you get it fixed? It can’t take that long, I’ll wait.”

“Unfortunately,” deflected the impertinent fool standing between Brit-Zal and their package, “that is not possible.”

Awaiting an elaboration that was not forthcoming, Brit-Zal prompted, “…because…?”

“We have no one to resolve this right now,” explained the ambivalent kiosk drone.

“You’re seriously telling me,” Brit-Zal bellowed their aggravation, “on this entire station, there is no one capable of opening that locker?!!!”

“Our maintenance crew,” relayed the itinerant clerk, “ is otherwise occupied… for the next two days.”

Brit-Zal scrunched their eyes closed, breathing deeply and slowly in and out, before replying with severe determination, “So. Then. I. Will. Call. My Engineer. To deal with it. Problem. Solved.”

“That,” denounced the indifferent clod, cringing under the weight of Brit-Zal’s grievance, “is not possible.” Struggling to maintain docile composure, while bracing for anticipated further chastising.

“Of course it’s possible,” vehemently rebutted Brit-Zal, “my engineer is here, ready and willing to render assistance. All you have to do is give us access. This, contrary to your recalcitrant foolishness, is incredibly possible!”

“That,” came the vacuous response, “is not allowed. Against protocol.”

“So — -” Brit-Zal demanded, “what are you going to do to help me?!”

“Apologies, but I cannot help you,” was all the apathetic attendant could meekly muster, visibly wincing, apparently incapable of independent thought or action.

Clearly, Brit-Zal realized, their indignant rage was not rendering the desired direct results.

Indirectly, however, ancillary mission accomplished.

They glared fiercely at their interceder for several seconds, gaze radiating displeasure, then released a growling sigh of exasperation.

Storming off in feeble frustration, Brit-Zal began shifting mode and mood to shut down their ire.

Dwelling on the inconvenience and letting the anger linger was not only unproductive, but detrimental in its psychological toxicity.

They felt a little bad about having been so harsh in their reprimand, but they recognized that being nice and pleasant was not going to make it clear that such unprofessional ineptitude was not acceptable. Even if, ultimately, their fury did not succeed in delivering their awaiting package. The kiosk clerk should be made abundantly aware that such incompetence and methodology are infelicitous. That they were definitely not ok with the ineffectual attitude. Although Brit-Zal occasionally indulged in fleeting ill-tempered outbursts, they was not prone to belligerent disposition; but if briefly playing the part makes their point, then so be it. Expecting someone, they believed, be capable of doing the job a person is stationed to do is not unreasonable.

As Brit-Zal propelled down the space port concourse, they are inexplicably compelled out of their self-recrimination to suddenly stop before going around a corner… avoiding a collision with a Denebian coming the opposite direction. Carrying a small suit case, the Denebian continued on its way, as Brit-Zal resumed course to where ever their self is going.

The Denebian, however, slogged over towards a pair of Arcadians awaiting its arrival.

Known as a finder throughout non-aligned worlds, this particular Denebian was called — roughly translated — Detective 33.

Placing the suitcase on a table there, Detective 33 opened the case to present its contents to its recipients. One of the Arcadians lifted the cylindrical petri dish containing what resembled a moist pink sponge, holding it up for examination with the other Arcadian… then setting it gently in the case. Closing the case, Detective 33 silently bowed in acknowledgement of meeting concluded, and slogged off without the case or any words passing among them.

No word for “debt” exists in Denebian vernacular; all relations are conducted as non-compulsory giving. They refer to this as “barter-non-leverage”.

Arcadians have no concept of gift or theft; in accordance with a spirit of conciliatory altruism.

For Arcadians, there is no taking, only receiving; transactional interactions do not occur.

Cultural standards of altruism for both species abides gratitude minus gratuity. “Thank you” is assumed/ implied; “please” is never an issue.

Assumption of debt does not confer or confirm transference of debt. No promise never made can ever be kept or fulfilled. Nothing is owed if nothing is promised.

This is exactly what’s so pernicious about the morality of debt:

If history shows anything, it is that there’s no better way to justify relations founded on violence, to make such relations seem moral, than by reframing them in the language of debt — above all, because it immediately makes it seem that it’s the victim who’s doing something wrong.

What does it mean when we reduce moral obligations to debts?

Instituting or insinuating debt is an act of violence, of oppression, of coerced submissiveness and servitude.

To assert or demand recompense or restitution is an imposition of dominion and authoritarianism.

Contriving another into a beholden position is a violation of personal freedom & dignity.

Ethically, we may desire for others to compensate us, but we cannot require or mandate expectations of obligation. If others want to repay us in some way — of their own volition and initiative, that is just; but not motivated by fear of retribution or contrition or extortion.

If someone enacts compensation, let it be conducted in accordance with what is volunteered, not what is imagined or insisted as owed.

Saying that we owe another implies that — at least temporarily and tangentially — we are OWNED by another, to some extent. Which is why the concept of debt as transactional ought be abolished.

As the Denebian goes along its way unencumbered, Time Agent Wa’HA’te’né watches alone, as she waits for a messenger to bring a message. Her attention is pulled to a Deltan male who appears at her side and sits, blocking her view of passersby. The two of them sat quietly staring at each other a few minutes, each apparently waiting for the other to say something first.

“I am not she,” spoke the Deltan, “I am her daughter, and you… are my father.”

Wa’HA’te’né leaned back and looked sullenly down at the table between them, sighing deep and slow. Nothing more to say and mission accomplished, the Deltan stood nonchalantly and departed into the crowd. What is said is very rarely merely what is said; so much happens between the lines.

At an adjacent table, a baffled Orion man inadvertently overheard, but — lacking context — assumed he had misunderstood, or content lost in translation. Mentally shrugging, he swallowed the last of his drink and pushed away from the table; flowing from the Café crowd into the concourse crowd. If you can convince yourself that you are the hero, then anything you do may be justified, sanctified.

Noticing in passing, as he did so, an eccentric looking man — who may or may not have been Terran, exotically attired, book in hand, stridently striding in the direction of the shuttle bay… and seemingly talking to himself… in words the Orion could not discern. Of course, “eccentric” and “exotic” are subjective inferences. An artifact, a concept, an event which incites an epiphany or revelation transpires that had nothing to do with said artifact, concept or event.

There are those who pretend that a significance did not happen, or was not significant… so as to not have to deal with its ramifications, repercussions. And those who accept the significance to a degree that it is normalized to a point of common place complacency, of irrelevance.

And those who internalize the significance as a galvanizing catalyst for… whatever.

There are also those who mistake mundane for significant; in either direction.

We do not or can not always recognize a significance until after the fact; maybe not ever.

A few light years from this port of call: Two sub-space phenomena overlapping and mutually feeding each other across space-time… erstwhile generating a consciousness that revealed itself to the enigmatic humanoid in the pages of the carried book. That consciousness communicated — to him — through the book; its avatar or vessel of conveyance. Guiding him toward the ephemeral confluence.

One anomaly formed in the past/present — as yet undetected and unknown by anyone other than him, then projecting or reflecting itself the future… creating a temporal tether-bridge. What this person (incidentally named Nootan Spidell) did not know is that Wa’HA’te’né is also aware of its presence — though not yet of his presence, nor the mind coalescing in that book.

Janesian Meta-Physics deals with interstitial and intersectional relations of general & vague versus detailed & specific terms of engagement.

Basis of psi-optics: fringe science regarding cosmic sub-harmonic neural network of psionic tendrils/ vines through which sentient minds may sub-consciously connect & communicate.

Conduit conveying sudden/ spontaneous arrival or flow of insight/ inspiration; as if dictated/ directed from a source beyond or outside ourselves. Consciousness is ubiquitous… it is not in us, we are in it.

Energies resonating within 3/6/9 factors tune into psionic frequencies of mental & emotional consciousness, and the remaining sequence concerns physical properties.

Potentia/ Actua dichotomy manifesting not as opposites but in symbiosis, in met-modernistic tendencies, rhythms, algorithms. Formed at the boundary between two media with different particle-wave motion properties.

What we contrive as The End or The Beginning is merely a sequential step in a continuum process. But that sequence need not be linear.

Our question is not where, but when…

The Center is present. We start NOW — which is five minutes ago and five minutes to come.

And neither. Begin/ End are simultaneous/ symbiotic/ synonymous.

The Center IS HERE… which was and will be THERE.

All that is in transition/ motion is also fixed points along a spiral mobius.

If particle is in motion, its position is transient/ in flux. Inverse IS equally true. It can have no static prospect, only dynamic. Time/ moments (measured) are that particle.

Meanwhile, inside one of the parked space ships that Nootan strolls past, a motley crew of five altruistic adventurers plans their next escapade. They have just been commissioned to rescue/ smuggle a family out of Tlingon occupied space, through a militarized zone.

Regrettably, the Tlingon invasion has reignited the old habits of Us versus Them belligerence; even within the United Federation of Planets — — who would like to regard themselves as exhibiting more evolved and refined sensibilities than that.

A compulsion for punishment and revenge has too long polluted civilized society, too often conflated with justice, inciting tendency for assuming offense. A disgusting, primitive inclination to assign blame, to invent or imagine enemies. And to penalize them for disagreement of non-compliance or disparagement. An enlightened conceptualization would enable and appreciate anodyne attitudes which encourage redemption, rehabilitation, magnanimity of leniency.

Above such mundane or petty motive, Anne Vangard — captain of this ship, this crew — has no personal grievance with Tlingons, their desire for Imperial conquest. She does not fault Tlingons for being driven by their cultural imperatives, any more than she does any other sentient species. Ultimately, no one can be held exclusively responsible for their actions; everyone is subject to cause and effect, influenced by external forces beyond their control or consideration. As the humans say: no man is an island.

There are always extenuating circumstances, always contextual nuance to reconcile.

At the center: Forgiveness (if you know what that means).

Because we are all vulnerable. No one is impervious.

Merely existing incurs programming by stimulus input generating experiential conclusions and compositions.

As we gain more knowledge & understanding of psychology and sociology, we realize a need to revise our societal models and mechanisms, adjust cultural norms to accommodate.

To increase or enhance contextual comprehension about a species, yet neglect to alter attitudes in accordance is ludicrous.

Whatever we have learned about behavioral and psychological patterns must be applied, internalized; macro and micro levels. Benevolently.

The most fundamental awareness is now easily and casually we are indoctrinated, programmed, manipulated… which requires us to concurrently comprehend and compensate for neuro-plasticity, as well as conformity compliance/ conversion.

In order to learn from these lessons, observers need distance, a degree or sense of detachment, a disconnect between self and ideas. Individuals not complicit or conforming with group-think are what will foster social innovation and advancement. Standing against and changing tides of opinion and ideologies. They defy and disrupt pressures and assumptions facilitating and fomenting group-mind reactions. Individual consciousness in relation to collective herd mentality.

In ideal society, we would be taught how to identify/ examine mass ideas, how to resist the pressures of them so we can think for ourselves, to choose for ourselves.

An intelligent, forward looking society would do everything in its power to produce such individuals. Instead of suppressing them.

With this repertoire, Anne Vangard astutely and perspicaciously guides her crew to connive and cajole their way through impediments to achieve their mission objectives. Everyone has psycho-social pressure points and proclivities that may be utilized to maneuver them.

Elsewhere, in the docking bay, port security is escorting Fong Pak Mara — a sibling trio of Arkenite spoken word poets — Na’M, Zo’M, and Be’M — who are scheduled for appearance the next night in the space port’s entertainment sector.

Na’M, the youngest, wrote spoken word essays performed as dialogue between two characters performed by her elder brother and sister. Their social commentary existed between dramatic comedy or comedic drama; the main focus of their current show throughout the non-aligned worlds examined the Federation war with Tlingons. The best way to defend and defuse against the burden of conflict is to laugh at it, to be able to mock our troubles and transgressions.

Normally, the head of port security would have their underlings handle such mundane chores, but the head of space port security is a big Fong Pak Mara fan.

Everything we encounter is a prompt or prop to recognize and then revise and refine what we believe.. and then, by extension, to create a framework of ourselves through which we engage and influence our conceptual/ perceptual experience of reality as we shift definitions.

Having one’s paradigm transmogrified does not need to be traumatic. And making someone feel better is not always synonymous with what is best for them. Maybe what they actually need is awkward and uncomfortable truth; sincerity over serenity. But changing minds is not innately good; depending on what they are changing to, and why. Any thoughts post-anything are bound to differ from thoughts pre-anything. Not always, in all ways, having anything to do with the transition or duration. When we realize/ discover that something existed while we thought/ believed it did not, it necessarily rewrites the past in altered awareness. When what makes sense no longer makes sense to us, because the context has transfigured — or because it actually never did make sense.

The head of space port security reciprocates a friendly hand gesture greeting with a near by dock worker.

That dock worker is never seen again.

Why this particular person disappeared is no secret… they just never told anyone. Power dynamics can be deceptive and transient; someone’s willingness or vulnerability to be a pawn that looks/ feels like a king. This person’s aim was for dramatic effect; but intention played out neither dramatically effective nor effectively dramatic.

An enduring duration can bestow an illusion of consistency, of constancy, of certainty.

Moving along, inside a storage closet they pass on the way out, the corpse of an Orion boy has yet to be discovered. Scrawled in blood above the inert body are Orion glyphs which — depending on contextual translation — mean either “I was here” or “Here I am”.

This was neither the first nor last occurrence of that scene; merely the first one to be discovered.

The reluctant investigator attached to this case would concede this as not only a kind of lie, but also a kind lie. If you can find a way to reframe a lie so there is some sense of truth in it, that ceases to be a lie. Most people see the green leafy parts above ground, unaware that there is a tuber below… assuming the green bit to be the whole. But the investigator knows.

Most people are compelled to prove a thing exists by simply believing it exists, developing an addiction to looking for justification and validations everywhere. The public generally likes to think that anything in the public eye “belongs” to them. And when this becomes public, both the series of corpses and the investigator will belong to the population of Rigel system.

Every piece of the puzzle has been accounted for, except THAT piece… which is to say that NO pieces have been accounted for. There will be a shadow of sensation, an impression of knowing that somewhere, something was waiting to be found.