Archive for May, 2019

Rings of Fate S4xE4 – Mars – Resolve

Motes of dust danced calmly in the beams of light. Undisturbed for ages, except for the actions of the cultists some decades ago, the alien ship just sat there like a sleeping dragon.

Nothing had eroded it, no flows of water, no winds. When it had been set down, there must’ve been a cave to the outside, long since closed off. Perhaps it had been buried. Either deliberately or accidentally.

If Kurt had to guess, he’d wager that it had been left behind either as broken, or as a stash for late survivors. It was his impression that the ship was of Harpy origin, therefore it stood to reason that they might have left it for others. Even if he could talk to a living Harpy, he doubted they’d have any answers for him. Information has the habit of being forgotten over the ages, especially if the ages were millions of years.

Even digitally recorded information would be lost after such a timespan.

On his tablet he was listening to some music from the transmission receiced through the MISR, a metal band called Icy Void Of Fire, that had formed on the ship Destiny.

He liked their style, their lament for the lost home they never knew and the challenges of deep space. The melancholic, yet occasionally brutal sounds in their songs spoke to his mood.

The martians sure could use some brutality in the coming days and weeks. After all, the linkers were on their way to Mars to pick up their brethren, his wife Maya among them.

The only positive thing he could see in that, was the fact that she would no longer suffer from the disconnection brought on to the linkers by the suppression program.


A pause between two songs reconnected him with his tasks at hand.

The ship.

On all fours he crawled into the opening, which once had been a hatch on the outside of the ship. “This is Doctor Kurt Braun, recording the first proceedings of the alien ship discovered in the abandoned settlement of Valles Marineries. I must note again, that I strongly recommend a public investigation into the fate of the settlement. The official declaration is not making sense, any longer.” He crawled on until he came to a turn. There were letters smeared on the walls, shaky writing, by someone who just had learned to write. Children.

The cult had used children to investigate the ship.

Valles Marineries had been a settlement, officially it failed due to a famine, but the algae plants were still running when he entered the settlement a week ago.

It was run by a cult, and it stood to reason that they neglected food production, or consumption, or it was supposed to work on a reward basis. But the details of the settlement’s demise were sketchy.

“Section A” he read aloud, noting his findings about the child like writing only in his mind. “Moving on to the aft section.” His curiosity for the engineering of the vessel drove him onward. What was the original power supply, how did it move? Was there a computer core still salvageable? If so, could it be hooked up to one of their computers or not?

If it could, the cultists surely would have tried. He crawled on, hoping they had not damaged it.

Passing by Section B at an intersection, and continuing straight onward to the back of the ship, he noticed that the layer of dust became thicker at a certain point. In the cone of light from his head lamp the cloud of dust he unwillingly and unavoidably stirred up grew more intense.

Hope began to swell up in his mind that the cultists never went back there. “Section G”, or at least did not frequent the back as much.

If they didn’t, it also stood to reason there was nothing back there. Resting for a moment he glanced over his shoulder. The hallway, if one was Harpy sized, lay in darkness. Only lit up by his headlamp.

“This place is sort of creepy.” He mumbled, squinting his eyes he tried to remember to delete that statement from the log. Supressing coughing and a sneeze he moved on in the direction of the back. He began noticing that there were doors to the sides of the hallway.

A few had been forced open partially so one could peek inside.

Living quarters.

Forming a series of cuss words in his mind, he crawled on, hoping to find an intersection, so he could turn around.

After a few minutes he found what he had been looking for. Crawling partially into the crossing hallway he intended to crawl back and then follow his path back to the front. Enough of the dusty interior for one day, he decided. The itch in his nose was enough to convince him that the threat of death from Linkers without uncovering the secrets of the Harpy ship first, was not so bad.

He was about to turn back when his nose told him of something else than dust.

Horrible stench reached his nose.

If someone died in here back in the day, they must have decomposed decades ago, the dry dust of decades turning them into a semi mumified state. What is this stench? Intrigued, although disgusted, he continued on. Intensifying with every meter the stench soon told him that it was not decomposition he was smelling.

It was feces!

“Hello?” He shouted. No reply.

“I’m noting a stench of feces in this ship, fresh feces. Perhaps the cultists have left a child in here that was able to survive on its own? Moving in and out of the ship, to get food and then return to a narrow shelter where it felt safe. The child could still be alive today, being an old man or woman.” He paused his movement to send his recordings so far to his computer.

Leopold would find it of something should happen to him.

Fighting the urge to sneeze and cough Kurt continued his way, the ground remained covered in a thick layer of dust, but the smell also lingered there. Modern Harpy ships are alive, what if this one is too, and I’m smelling it’s feces?

Dismissing the idea right away, since any life in the ship would have died millions of years ago due to the lack of nutrition, he moved forward, his heart pounding to his throat.


Letting out a scream of shock, Kurt bumped his head on the ceiling of the hallway. Somethimg had shrieked at him from the side. Between a cryogenically hidden Harpy agent, an old person, a linker or a midget, he would’ve never guessed that he smelled the feces of rats. Overcoming the heart attack moment he crawled on, ignoring the rat that had shrieked at him. “Rats. There are rats aboard this ship. Inadvertently the cultists must’ve let the rats into this ship. This of course poses a hole new series of problems. Cables, any potential biomatter left by the Harpies, chewed on in the better version of the worst case, completely eaten or eroded by feces and urin in the least favorable. Continuing on. Section H3.” He read the smeared words on the wall.

After a while he reached a room large enough for him to stand upright. “Engin” read a graffiti on the wall. From another opening on the farside of the room a series of cables and hoses led into the room. Most were lying around without being attached to anything, but a few were. “I have reached the engine room. The cultists sure were here.” He stretched, enjoying the size of the room. Parts were missing, he noticed.

Clean work, not something anyone did in a hungry haste. The original owners of the vessel had dismantled parts of it, the cultists tried plugging their cables into the open sockets. In most cases without luck.


“We were told it was a ship of the gods.” Erika Olafdottir raised her eyebrows. An old woman had come to the station, wanted to speak with someone who had seen the Valles Marineries settlement.

“A ship of the gods?” Either the old lady was insane, or genuinely one of the last survivors of the settlement. “Our parents worked day and night, we did too. It was said that the gods had come to us, and that their technology was embedded in our genes, which is why our technology must be compatible with theirs.” In her eyes Erika could see that she was resentful of those days. “Clearly, it was not. Food was withheld, as we didn’t make any progress. It even went so far that the plants were shut down, or barricaded. Until some of the adults revolted, but that was too late. Many were starving, too weak to work.” Her gaze clarified. “I’m having a difficult time speaking about it, but I heard that the settlement was reopened, so I hope that you are investigating the ship.”

“We are Mrs. Klopek.” No one had let the word out that an alien ship had been discovered in the abandoned settlement. So at least that part of her story made sense.

“Good. And I hope you’re blowing it up.” Shaking her head with a maniacal snicker, she added “But you won’t. It is too intriguing, too valuable. I understand.”

Straightening her expression again she looked Erika straight in the eyes. “It won’t fly. Ever. The gods, or what ever built this ship, made sure of that. Vital parts are missing, and our technology is far from compatible, or sophisticated enough.”

Nodding and typing Erika agreed with her. “Can you tell me more about the cult? Official reports to this day claim a food shortage responsible for the downfall of the settlement.”

“We were told the same thing. That the plants had either malfunctioned or were reserved for his holiness. That our hazy memories of the ship were just a product of the indoctrination and the food shortage. But I knew it was real. I spent enough time in it to know.”


Dusting himself off Kurt enjoyed the relatively fresh air outside the ship. After getting used to the constant stench from the rats, and their droppings, he had spent two hours in the engine room.

“I have news for you.” Erika’s voice startled him. There were other scientists working in the facility, but he didn’t expect Erika to show up.

“Oh yeah? I was in the alien ship, it should be me who has news.” He hadn’t seen her since joining the team that had went to the settlement in search for the linkers, embraced her briefly.

“An old woman showed up in the office. News had revealed that we had tracked a number of linkers here. She is the last survivor of this settlement.”

Wide eyed Kurt listened to her words, and what she had learned from Mrs. Klopek.

“I concur on her testimony about it never flying again. But I believe we can power parts of it.” He showed the officer a few of the images he had taken of the engine room. “Computer and database might be salvageable. They have removed weaponsystems and propulsion, but with what I know of their technology, I can say it is not as old as we thought, but still ancient.” Explaining that, as far as he knew, the harpies did not have artificial gravity when they left earth, but had to use contraptions like the ships used to travel to RV-p296, he could surmise that the ship they dealt with was from after that era.

“Did they leave any of that technology in the ship?”

“I don’t know yet. We would need to dismantle it, but since they took weapons, propulsion and all, I doubt it.” Although far from being an expert on the subject, it was his firm conviction that the technology for artificial gravity inside the ship, could be used to build gravity engines for a ship.


“Crossing the vast distances in space is a time and energy consuming endeavour. With a gravity drive it is less of an effort, but still time consuming. Add to that a warping technology, and it eases on that front as well.” Spending the lunch together with Doctor Braun, Erika felt as if she had taken a university course on astrophysics and engineering in that hour. “You still need to invest a lot of energy into creating both the warping effect and the gravity field, but with the proper energy sources, that is not a big issue.”

A week earlier the messhall they sat in had been the stage for an incredible ruse. Meanwhile some people had cleaned it up, put tables and chairs upright and lunch was served to the scientists working on the ship. “Antimatter technology is frowned upon by our society, and until we fully understand what we are doing with this stuff and how to handle it, I completely understand and support the ban on it. But it is in essence the technology that was used for the MISR.”

He is married, I shouldn’t sit here listening to him prattle along, just to be in his presence. “So if we already have the technology, we are not really depending on finding it in the alien ship, are we?” Did I really just?

“Well, I was hoping to find it, because it might be better, further developed, but in essence, you’re right.”

Smiling Erika ate the last bite of her lunch. The local algae plants had been tested for their nutritional value and found perfectly fit for sustaining a human. Some of the plants had been compromised by rats and mice, but the others that were running, were fine.

“So, do you think Mrs. Klopek is genuine?” Erika opened her tablet in replying that she had a background check running. “She checks out. The children rescued back then had been reintegrated under new names, but what I can follow up makes sense. About six months after the settlement was abandoned, she shows up, age six, adoptive daughter to the Johnsons, later married to Hans Klopek, two children, Peter and Fiona.” She turned the tablet around for Kurt to glance over the details.

Again turning it back to herself she was saddened that the fates of the rescued remained a secret. Their true identities were not revealed, even in light of the new developments, that information had not been declassified. “Perhaps I can speak to Kinsey. He green lit the MISR program, he might declassify this too, at least to the police for background checks.”

Looking at the time he turned around to the large hole in the wall.

The controls for the accelerator had been covered, not to protect them, but to ensure no one turned them on by accident. “I must continue working on this ship.” Although eager to uncover the mysteries of the ship, Erika clearly heard the tone in his voice that told her of his unwillingness to return to a dusty crammed environment, with hundreds or thousands of rats. Their feces, their fleas could infect him with deseases, paired with the dry dust, it could also cause respiratory problems. Plus, it was damn uncomfortable.

“Use a drone.” A mix of question and confusion in his expression he turned his head back to her. “A remote controlled drone, driving around on a few wheels, extendable arm? We have a few for bomb defusal.” Seeing that he hadn’t access to one she said that she’ll see to it that he be lended one before returning back to her assignment.


Returning to a deskjob after the excitement of the linker incident was a relief at first, but then faded into utter boredom.

Erika was not enjoying that aspect of her job anymore. But it had to be done. People who came in these days were asking about relatives who were linkers now. Either they had fallen, or they were in custody for a crime committed, or in detention where they huddled together in groups.

Also inquiries about the upcoming visitation by the linkers, the plans and whether they needed more people willing and capable of fighting came in hourly.

She didn’t like where the public opinion went concerning this, it pointed towards war. They could neither fight, let alone win, a full on confrontation with the linkers. President Kinsey had mobilised all forces and put them on high alert, but he knew as well as everyone else, who thought about their situation rationally, that their position was hopeless.

The linkers could arrive with one ship, or a hundred.

With one ship, they stood a chance of defeating them, marginal but it was there. More than one ship, they were toast.

“Thanks for the drone. It comes in handy, I think I’ve got dust lungs. Doctor said I should stay out of the ship for at least a week.” The short message brought a fond smile to Erika’s lips, again she had to remind herself that Doctor Braun was married. To a linker, but still. His wife was going to stay with them for a while, after her departure he would grief for her.

Still he’d be married.


The screen that came with the drone was relatively small, but it had a feature to link it with a pair of digital glasses. Which Kurt Kurt didn’t have. Aboard the ships and on the Equatoria colony everybody had glasses.

On Mars they were a rarity.

Still he made progress the second day of using the drone. It dragged a cable behind it, in addition to its own cable for power supply, he had outfitted it with a connector moddeled to fit into one of the sockets. Having to work with other scientists and engineers was a relief.

He had no idea how the connector was built, someone else had designed it after his images and measurements. First he feared working together with others. People who were brilliant minds were not always team players, but he found them to be a perfect team, and himself fitting in nicely with them.

“Is it in yet?” A man sat down next to him. “Not yet. You built it?”

“Yes. Can’t wait.” Excitement rang in his voice. Suddenly the man jerked around to Kurt. “Dean Michaels.” He introduced himself. “It’s an honor to meet you, and work with you.”

“The honor is all mine.” Kurt smiled, wondering why the man was so honored. The Braun’s were known for being borderline mad scientists, not someone who one is honored to work with.

“I gathered as much knowledge about the MISR as I could after it was revealed, and I am very interested in how you did this.”

Turned away from Dean, Kurt rolled his eyes. “I just built on preexisting twchnology. The Ark1 used the same science, I just improved on it.” A luxury they didn’t have with the Kismet, but I had time enough.

On the monitor they watched the extendable arm reach out, with the cable in the claw. It plugged in, and retracted the arm. Momemts later over the mono speaker they heard a low humming noise spread through the engine room. Baffled, and with a lot of joy building up inside the two slowly faced towards one another.

“We did it!” Dean exclaimed, suddenly displaying a broad joyous smile. “You did it. I just plugged it in.”

The cable they had just connected to the ship functioned as a power cable only, to find out what they just had turned on, further investigations were necessary.


Wearing an uncomfortable mask over mouth and nose Kurt found himself back in the ship a mere two hours after the ship had been supplied with power. They could’ve used the drone again, but navigating it was slow, and every cable had to be dragged in separately, he pulled three behind him. And a series of connectors, if needed he could hook up his tablet to the ship. A task the drone could not perform.

A few meters behind him was Dean, also wearing a mask. In Kurt’s case it was to prevent further damage, for Dean it was precaution.

The tracks in the dust led directly to the engine room, they followed them, and soon could stand up straight again. “I’ll go to the bridge, you’re welcome to join.” Kurt announced after they laid out their cables neatly on the ground. “Think I’ll try my luck down here.” Dean smiled underneath his mask.

Both were glad to have the masks, as they had kicked up quite a lot of dust in the corridors.

Winking at Dean with a knowing smile Kurt left through another exit to the engine room. He hadn’t found the bridge yet, but Mrs. Klopek had given a vague description of the layout, so he should be there in no time.

As with all else on the Harpy ship, the controls on the bridge were covered in dust, but by comparison, far less than anything else that Kurt had seen so far. Only decades worth of dust, instead of millions of years.

A few cables from outside had been leading here, but some wise guy had pulled them out when they started investigating the ship, the tracks in the dust however should’ve been a good way to find it sooner. But his arrogant mind had thought of the engine room as a better place to start.


Underneath the, relatively, thin layer of dust he saw so, e activity. Lights were on, and touchpads were active.

Although a Harpy flyer once had been captured, he hadn’t had the time to study those reports in detail, so it was very fascinating for Kurt to study this technology first hand.

Blowing away the dust revealed the alien nature of the technology before him, although technically the Harpies were as terran as the humans.

A holographic projection extended fro, the now dust free console, displaying a language he couldn’t read. “Dean? We have some activity here. I believe the computer is back online.”

The holographic display showed the same writingnas before, didn’t change. Intrigued Kurt looked at it. There were letters, or symbols, floating in front others in the back.

Mesmerised Kurt took a picture of the scene. “Great news, Kurt.” After celebrating their success in turning on something on the ship Kurt and Dean had decided to call each other by their first names. “Shall I come up there?”

“If you want, but be warned, it’s crammed in here, sending you a picture.” After the picture had been sent, Kurt opened the translation program that had been in the transmission from RV-p296. “Computer, identify vessel.”

The tablet worked for a moment, then made some guttural sounds. For a moment Kurt wondered whether his tablet, or the translation program, were broken. But then the ship reacted, guttural sounds stemmed from the console he had blown the dust off.

“Gahani, exploration vessel.” The symbols in the hologram changed, another snapshot followed.

A wide grin formed on Kurt’s lips. “Dean, this will be the second most informative day in martian history.”


Knowing that the mission of the Gahani was to evaluate earth’s capability of supporting Harpy life, but obviously had returned in an ice age, Kurt crawled through the narrow corridors back to the engine room.

Gahani had been damaged by an asteroid shower, and was landed on Mars. According to a few hints hidden in the ship’s database, the crew would have preferred earth, but were closer to Mars at the time. To his disappointment there had been no logs left, other than the facts why it was left on Mars.

Upon arrival of a rescue party, the ship was stripped of power source, propulsion, weapons and medical facilities. Another note in the database that had not been wiped, that was done so that any potential enemies of the matriarchy could not gain access to technology that could be used to destroy them. Patriarchists? Other factions? Aliens the human race knew nothing about? Kurt pondered while approaching the engine room.

A light shone in there too now, that was not part of the lighting that had come alive as they entered the ship again.

Finding Dean staring at a holographic display much like the one on the bridge, Kurt swung into the engine room, eager to stretch. “What did you find?”

The other scientist did not react. “Dean!” Startled the called jerked around.

“They’re here.”

“The Harpies?” Kurt thought that Dean must’ve studied the history of Gahani too, got lost in it. Shakimng his head Dean pressed a button on the tablet in his lap, he replayed the last translation he had done. “Unidentified vessel detected.” After a moment of thinking about it Kurt hoped that the ship was picking up his antimatter stash in geostationary orbit above Olympus Mons. “Display position of vessel, relative to planet.” Kurt flipped open his tablet’s cover.

The holographic display changed, showing a curved horizon, there was a dot above a bulge. Olympus Mons and his satellite. Another dot appeared further out, much bigger than the satellite. “Linkers.” Dean closed his eyes.

“Computer, are communication systems active?” Kurt squinted, asking that question. “Affirmative.”

Grinning fiendishly Kurt pressed a few buttons on his tablet, a plan began to form in his head.


Silently the ship entered orbit above the pitch black planet. Only a few lights illuminated the ground, too tiny to be picked up from orbit with out technological aid.

Suddenly a large dish lit up in the crater of Olympus Mons, as well as a few airlocks at the base of the humongous mountain.

A series of small ships detached from the saucer shaped vessel, with the four compass like arrows. But they stayed close to the mother ship.


“They’re calling for you.” Somewhat relieved to not have to deal with the linkers, President Kinsey looked at Kurt. The days in whichvhe would’ve perceived this as an insult to him being president were gone. Burned out by the entire linker business.

Reluctantly Kurt stepped in front of the video screen. He was still covered in dust, dirty and grimy.

“Welcome to Mars.” He stared at the young woman on the screen. It was a new face, but the lifeless expression was the same. “We hope your journey was a pleasant one, the local time is 1632, please register all and every technology or bio matter that you have brought with you at customs.”

The woman with the brown curls did not even flinch.

“So, you have activated the suppression signal and retained your humor.” Emotionless she spoke very pronounced.

“We have. Attempts to shut down the signal will be fruitless. You can instruct your people to land and pick up your kin, or you can withdraw. Either way, we make the policy.”

“We could easily annihilate your civilisation.”

Kurt nodded. “And lose our genes, or do you plan on digging up our remains to retrieve what is left of the genetic material?”

A forced smile appeared on her face. “You drive a hard bargain, as our ancestors phrased it.” Smile vanishing she seemed to ponder for a second. “Agreed. Have our people standing by the airlocks at the base of the volcano.”

The transmission cut off. Kurt looked to Kinsey. “I have a bad feeling Doctor.” Shrugging Kurt turned away, heading to the cellblock where Maya had been incarcerated.

Before she left, he had to see her. Obviously Leopold had the same idea. Too many people were involved and afflicted by the entire linker ordeal than it remaining a secret.

Dozens of people gathered, including Leopold’s girlfriend, Tracy, who had to see off her parents. They had been with the other linkers in general detention, on the other side of the detention complex.

Together with his son, Kurt approached the cell in which Maya was held. For a short moment the lights flickered, but everything returned to normal the next moment.

In the eyes of the detainees Kurt saw relief.

They were reconnected to the collective mind. “Alright. Time for plan B.” He knew that this would come to pass. In their signal the linkers had sent another virus with the express command to wipe out the suppression program, into the martian network. He sent a short message to Dean.

“Maya, Honey?”

“Doctor Braun, so good to see you. Undoubtedly you know that we,” she stopped talking, began sobbing the next moment, demanding in a crying voice to be returned to the collective mind. Later he would reveal to Leopold that through the alien ship they had reestablished the signal, while blocking incoming transmissions to the ship.

That way, neither the linkers themselves nor their virus, could shut it off. Power failures in the colony would not affect the settlement’s power supply which functioned autonomously. “Mum? Have a safe trip. Maybe you could contact us from time to time?” Leopold tried to maintain his cool fassad, but inadvertently began to cry. “I love you Ma. Don’t go.”

Kurt squeezed his son’s shoulder. “I wish you would stay with us, as an individual. But if yo really must leave, do so, knowing that we love you, with all our hearts.”

Maya stopped her frantic sobbing, stard at her family intensely. For a fleeting second Kurt thought he saw his wife’s true nature shine through. “Get. Me. Back. To my people!” Leopold turned away, hugging his father. Not able to stand the hissing of his mother the young teen left.

“Be careful up there.” He warned. Turning away too.


Just as planned, the linker ships landed, docked with the airlocks on the surface of Olympus Mons. Groups of armed officers oversaw the departure of the men and women who were joining the other linkers.

Only as the doors to the crafts opened did Kurt understand why the martians were of such high value to the genepool of the linkers. A few generations of living on a planet with lower gravity had changed them already. They had grown larger than the people from terran gravity. Normal growth rates in lesser gravity produced taller beings.

Perhaps it had already affected their DNA on a level that was only obvious to the linkers. Watching them depart from a monitor in the comfort of his quarters, with Leopold having himself locked up in his room, Kurt felt sad, but also relieved. Normally a murderer would receive the death penalty. If it was a premeditated or intentional murder.

Maya and the others were allowed to live.

Not wanting to dwell on her fate further Kurt shut off the channel, turned to the feed from the MISR. It had arrived at RV-p296, broadcasting the friendly signal of being sent by Doctor Kurt Braun.

“Your use of antimatter technology is a violation of Equatorian and Martian laws.” An Admiral appeared on the screen. If his memory served him right it was Admiral Benjamin Fuller.

Should he reply, or leave the Admiral believing that he sent a message to be received later? “You are correct Admiral. I violated laws, but I had authorisation. Please be patient with our replies in the near future. We just had to deal with some not so distant relatives of our people, the DEHumans.” Having decided against letting the colonists believe their message would take time to be received was a decision that brightened his day a little. Benjamin Fuller’s face was priceless. “You’ll receive a report on the outcome as soon as they have successfully left Mars and are at a safe distance. In the already sent data your scientists should be able to find research on quantum entanglement. If they already looked at it, you might have heard that this is ready to implemented, and as you can see, it is. Originally we planned on requesting permission to send the relay to your colony, but after retaking it from linker influence, we wanted to ensure it was safe. Please understand that measure.”

Baffled Fuller stared at the screen. “This is live?”

“Instant interstellar transmission. Yes.” Kurt smiled only now remembering the dirt on his clothes, he’d tell the Equatorians all about the latest developments the following days and weeks.

Now all he desired was to be able to sleep. Which would be the moment the linkers were far away.

A glance at his tablet told him that the president and the senate wanted something from him. In light of the almost invasion by linkers he had a hunch: weapons! Perhaps even antimatter weapons. “Well, I hope you and your people will overcome this crisis. Until then, we remain with the best of wishes. Admiral Fuller, out.”

I will need those wishes, Admiral. I will desperately need them. “Doctor Braun, out.” The transmission returned to a live video feedfrom the MISR, viewing RV-p296 from orbit. How he wished he’d be able to go there as quickly as he could flick the channels.

Beeping from his tablet told him of news. The linker landing crafts had left the ground, according to the sensors in his antimatter stash satellite, the main vessel did power its engines. Readying them for departure.

Finally, he smiled, sleep.

Social media ain’t for us

Social networks have turned people into shittier friends.

That’s my conclusion after going off of Facebook and not doing much on Mastodon for a few days.

We have our connections, and acting on the “assumption” that our audience is there, we send something out into the aether and giddily await reactions.

We do not actively seek out our friends: “Hey, how are you? Got time for a coffee to talk about stuff?”
No, we act as if we are on a stage, we await reactions, and we react.
We perform.
We perform the initial action, and we perform the reactions.
It’s the same across all platforms, not just Facebook, but also Mastodon, and of course Instagram, Twitter, MeWe, Tsu and all the other garbage heaps too.

Social networks make us (more) asocial.
Social networks aren’t for us (people).

We are social animals.
We, once, needed the group, the tribe, to survive:
Loners died. Groups thrived.

It is engrained in our genes, that we need a group. Our friends, our family, our tribe, our people.
But because today (read: current times) it is harder to maintain friendships (full time employment, separated by many kilometres, different life choices [f.e. kids vs. no kids], ever shifting and expanding ‘tribal’ landscapes, etc.) we *could* use social media as a crutch, as an add on.

But this add-on has become full on bloat-ware that is now taking over the entire system.

People have shifted their entire lives into social media, they are always on, always available (except when asleep).
Which I find highly disturbing.
Which, incidentally, is only adding to my decision to kill all my Facebook and Google related stuff, and limit my Mastodon time.

If I want to scream into the void and wait for any reactions, I’m doing it on my blog. (Or I’d go to a comedy club on stage.)

But I’m done with social media. It is asocial. It has taught me that.
I noticed that I have become a shittier friend, and I’ve seen this happen to other people as well: Be seen. Be seen seeing.
But I don’t want to be an actor on a stage receiving attention at the speed and value of a Like/Fav/RT/mention/etc.
I want REAL connections; conversations – even digital – but not over an eavesdropping service that finds ways to insert itself and sabotage the entire thing.

No thanks.

Whatever you do out there, take care,