[hider=Picture]
[img]https://www.pillowfights.gr/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/pwlina823.jpg[/img][/hider]

[center][h2][i][color=D6FFFF]Dr. Parker Howland, M.D.[/color][/i][/h2][/center]
[center][color=D6FFFF]41 | Male | 6'1" | AB+[/color][/center]
[center][b][color=4155D4]Genius[/color] [color=D6FFFF]|[/color] [color=0B5394]Accomplished[/color] [color=D6FFFF]|[/color] [color=5C1C8D]Superficial Charm[/color] [color=D6FFFF]|[/color] [color=8D1B6A]Manipulative[/color] [color=D6FFFF]|[/color] [color=9A203E]Sociopath[/color] [color=D6FFFF]|[/color] [color=990000]Terrorist[/color][/b][/center]

[color=D6FFFF][h3][i]General Information[/i][/h3][/color]
[center][color=A0A0A0][i]"Doctors heal people. But who heals society?"[/i][/color][/center]

[color=D6FFFF][b]OCCUPATION:[/b][/color][list]
[*][color=D6FFFF]Practitioner of Psychiatric Medicine[/color]
[*][color=D6FFFF]Campaign Health Oversight Committee Board Member[/color][/list]
[color=D6FFFF][h3][i]Psychological Profile[/i][/h3][/color]
[center][color=A0A0A0][i]"They taught me to understand and treat the problems and traumas deep within people. What is society, but a collective of people? My actions are a natural extension of my practice."[/i][/color][/center]

[hider=Goals][color=D6FFFF][b]PERSONAL GOAL:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]We must restore the purity of the human psyche.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]CAMPAIGN GOAL:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]The council of a single polity is ultimately irrelevant; no outcome of the election will change society at large. Access to the campaign is merely a means to a greater end.

My goals in this campaign are tertiary to the passing question of who wins the vote. This period of heightened political tensions is potentially useful. While the system is not itself threatened by this instability, instability is a necessary prerequisite for change. I can use this political race to destabilize the comfortable status quo, and with it, show the masses that Futility can be opposed. My goals are nothing less than the inspiration of total revolution. My means for accomplishing this must involve the powers of the system being employed against one another. It is possible to turn the players of the system on one another through strategic provocations; with intelligent application of selective pressures we may use the system's own powers against it. Corporations will destroy each other. Politicians will discredit one another. And ultimately people will come to see that it isn't a matter of [b]which[/b] side is wrong, but that [b]every[/b] side is wrong.[/i][/color][/hider]

[hider=Personal Philosophy][color=C0C0C0][i]	I have already come to accept that my personal philosophy will be misunderstood. My actions will be denounced as criminal, as insane. This is nothing more than the system’s means of self-defense. After all, what is a criminal but one who takes actions that the system has deemed unwanted? It is the refuge of the terminally shortsighted to confuse criminality with morality.

	I am not a petty murderer, or a madman. I am a healer of the mind. The nature of my speciality is to address the deep-seated root causes of pain and suffering and eliminate it. Healing the minds of patients is often - indeed, always - a painful and ongoing process. So it is that healing the minds of society must also be painful. Just as my patients inevitably come to me only once they cross some final threshold of discomfort, so too must society be pushed beyond that boundary before it will tolerate the painful process of positive change.

	What I find remarkable about my patients is that the vast majority of them can be described in the same way. My patients come to me because they are distressed. They are distressed because they no longer fit comfortably with the system’s needs. Rather than question why the operation of the system places unbearable psychological demands upon them, they accept their distress as being their own failing. In truth, distress is the natural reaction to a situation which is intolerable. Distress is the red flag that warns us of danger, and the system relies on socializing us into blaming the flag for the danger it symbolizes. Distress is to be resolved at its source, not medicated away.

	Throughout history, those who most radically changed their society have always been demonized. Take the example of Julius Caesar, or Napoleon Bonaparte. Both men gave their lives to sweep away a corrupt and decadent system. Both men were consequently reviled by those who gained from that system. And both men, and countless other visionaries throughout history, met their end because they failed to appreciate one significant fact - that their true enemy was not found in political opponents, or rival nation-states, or enemy generals on the field. Their true enemy, [b]my[/b] true enemy, is of a higher order. That is what it means to oppose Futility.[/i][/color][/hider] 

[hider=Political Philosophy] [color=C0C0C0][i]	Partisan politics is nothing more than the means by which the system sustains itself. By diverting the energies of those motivated to seek change among a range of options the system deems acceptable, the system ensures that no change of a higher order may occur. This is the insidiousness of democracy. We have been given a false choice between five bad options.

	The Neo-Transhumanist Party is of course the most sick of the system’s options. The NTP’s platform represents nothing more than a complete and willful surrender of one’s own psyche for the perceived ease and comfort of cybernetic society. Such surrender of personal autonomy is rooted in a deep-set assumption of inferiority, a self-hatred of man-as-animal that must be corrected technologically. The NTP’s useful-idiot supporters willingly turn a blind eye to an undeniable and self-evident truth: that its actions are not for their benefit, but for the benefit of those above them in the system’s hierarchy. 

	The HyperHuman Party would more aptly be named the AntiHuman Party. After all, a society dedicated to the alteration - what they term “advancement” - of the human form cannot logically also be devoted to humanity as it is. In truth, the HyperHuman Party and the NTP pursue the exact same goal: the proliferation of cybernetic society. They differ only in means. The HyperHuman party masquerades as “spiritual,” wrapping the NTP’s cause in historically-ignorant misinterpretations of eastern mysticism. Whatever one’s opinions of the teachings of Confucius, or the Buddha, or the Shinto faith, it is undeniable that the HyperHuman Party’s philosophy does little more than dress up as their ghost for its own amusement. I am not a religious man, but I shudder to think what the Buddha would make of the HyperHuman Party’s insatiable craving for ever-advancing biotics and augmentation. While chanting his name, they in the face of the Eightfold Path and its renunciation of power, wealth, and material desire.

	The Central Party is an artifact of a previous time, clinging desperately to the system’s old ways of self-sustenance in the forms of nationalism and bureaucracy. The Central Party hypocritically stands for both “A Greater America,” in their words, and for maintenance of status quo - this dichotomy is a naked example of what Orwell called doublethink. A simple examination of their agenda and platform is enough to discredit them. To become greater, a society must by definition surpass what it has already achieved. Logically, it follows that this cannot occur through the means by which that society has already progressed; without change, progress becomes static. To attempt self-improvement through the embrace of what has already been is logically impossible. It has been said that the definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result; to this end, I can only conclude that the Central Party is insane.

	The Pirate Party foolishly makes noble demands via the very means by which those demands are robbed. So-called “hacktivists” blindly embrace and indeed advocate for the very tools of their oppression. Their very nature is self-defeating. Privacy is impossible in a society where everything is connected. Freedom of speech is impossible when everything is monitored. These so-called pirates claim to fight corruption with their thousands-dollar computers bought from the very firms that cause the corruption they claim to fight. The mechanisms of democracy are obviously unworkable when they themselves acknowledge - indeed, claim with some pride - the idea that everything can be hacked. In short, the Pirate Party is a party of prisoners who cheerfully advocate for the manufacture and proliferation of shackles.

	Many would assume that I would advocate for the Neo-Luddite Party. After all, they rightly identify cybernetics as a corruption of the human body and mind. They correctly denounce our reliance on cybernetics as a threat to our very humanity. But the problem becomes obvious when the flaws of democracy are considered: a democratic system will only allow alternatives that the system deems acceptable. Ask a Neo-Luddite how technology is harmful and he will often give a fair explanation of the problems of cybernetic society. Ask a Neo-Luddite about the means by which technology causes these problems, however and he will respond with a befuddled stare or a mindless ramble about the “good old days,” or a hate-filled rant about augmented people which typically stems more from class-based jealousy than concern for the human mind. At its best, Neo-Luddites do not wish to reject the system, but merely return it to a previous stable state. This ignores the example of history showing that such a previous state leads directly to the system’s present state, and reveals the Neo-Luddites as fools incapable of learning from history.

	When all options are foul, the response of the coward is to hold their nose and select the least-foul option. This cowardice is how Futility is maintained, and before this battle can be fought, society at large must first come to realize the battle even exists to be fought. [/i][/color][/hider]

[hider=Other][color=D6FFFF][b]SECRETS:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]Obviously, all of my activist actions are secret. This is not done out of shame, but rather necessity; the system of course devotes much of its efforts to correcting aberrant behavior as a means of sustaining itself.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]FEARS:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]I fear nothing less than the total obliteration of the human soul. What truly scares me is how so many of my patients fear the mundane - death, bees, car accidents, infidelity, crime - yet comfortably accept the existential threat to mankind Futility has posed. Why is it we fear the simple robber or the inevitable end of life, yet we unhesitatingly accept the extinction of human will?[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]REPUTATION:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]I work hard to cultivate a good social reputation in the Twin Cities Sprawl. I have been active in the medical community for over twenty years, and have seen thousands of patients in my time as a private practitioner. My philosophy of medicine is the embrace of a holistic approach, and my patients know me well for caring about them beyond giving them a pill and sending them on their way. I have published many peer-reviewed papers on the importance of recovery and personal insight in the process of psychiatric care, which has distinguished me from my fellow practitioners; a majority of whom focus most on achieving and maintaining a stable status quo primarily through medicine alone. I routinely volunteer for charitable causes in the Twin Cities Sprawl community, attending fundraisers or working shifts at understaffed community clinics.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]LIKES:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]Classical music, hiking, academic challenges, fava beans and a nice Chianti, reading, model aircraft and rocketry, historical documentaries, engaging dramas.[/i][/color] [color=2E2C2C][i]And if we’re being honest, sappy romantic fiction.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]DISLIKES:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]Cybernetic society, drug abusers, empty socialization, naked immorality, willful ignorance, pop music that substitutes autotune for talent, pineapple on pizza.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]QUIRKS:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]I do not have ‘quirks’. I am a rational and well-reasoned individual fully capable of controlling my behavior and actions as however I find necessary. I typically lack the emotionally-driven impulses of many people; petty jealousies, lusts, and desires that give other people their 'quirks' all mean little to me.[/i][/color][/hider]

[color=D6FFFF][h3][i]Background Information[/i][/h3][/color]
[center][i][color=A0A0A0]"I imagine, if you know who I really am, you were expecting some kind of Hollywood cliche about my life. Child abuse, therapists, drugs and alcohol, torturing animals as a kid, school records indicating a bright but socially isolated child… We all know the story, don’t we? Reality is often disappointing."[/color][/i][/center]

[hider=Howland's Origins][color=C0C0C0][i]	I was what the system would deem a profoundly normal child in most respects. I was born without complications in a local hospital on a warm spring day in May, 2023. Though I did get very good grades from kindergarten all the way through medical school, I neither graduated magna cum laude nor failed or dropped out. My mother was a server administrator for a small media distribution firm in Los Angeles, and my father works as a CPA and financial advisor. I have an older brother, John, who works as the office manager of a local data-analytics firm. I have a younger sister, Jennifer, who works as a detective for the SCPD’s burglary division. They are both married with children as well. Between my entire family, I don’t believe any of us have a more serious offense than the occasional traffic ticket or citation for online copyright infringement.

	Ah, you caught that I said ‘was’, did you? Very well, no life is completely normal. My mother was killed during the 2035 riots, when rioters set fire to her employer’s data center. I suppose that was a profound moment of my life; though it was not so due to grief. That was when I began to notice how unhappy society truly is. As any reasonable individual does, I sought answers to my questions as I grew older and wiser. Why would people be so unhappy in a society where one’s basic needs are so thoroughly fulfilled? Why is it that the technological marvels of the cybernetic age never seem to actually improve our lives? Why does it all seem so...futile?

	Based on the answers I came up with, I decided to seek a life of helping others heal from their most profound discomforts; I sought to heal those upsets that lead normal, everyday people to riot, loot, and murder. I met my wife, Sarah, while I was studying psychiatry in medical school. Ours is a relationship of convenience; she came to rely on my insights for her own academic success, and her family’s wealth made it easy to stay ahead of the expenses of medical school without draining my parents’ savings or spending all my time working. Our first child, Theresa, was born in 2045; her brothers David and Leo followed in 2046 and 2048. Theresa aspires to join the United States Space Force as a pilot. David wants to be a doctor like his parents. Leo wants to play video games. ...I’m still teaching that one.

	And...that’s all. That’s my “origin story.” I’m not from another planet. I was never subjected to torture. I am not criminally insane. I was not bitten by a radioactive llama. In reality, those who oppose the system don’t have lurid, exceptional backgrounds that explain their aberrant behavior. I merely asked questions based on my observations of the world, and considered the implications of the answers to those questions. The inevitable result of a thorough, honest consideration of our society leads me to one simple logical conclusion.

	Cybernetic society must be destroyed.[/i][/color][/hider]

[color=D6FFFF][h3][i]Operative Information[/i][/h3][/color]
[center][i][color=A0A0A0]“It’s surprising how much one can accomplish with a basic knowledge of biology, chemistry, and psychology. Add to that a simple will to act on one’s convictions, and anyone can change the world if they truly wish to do so.”[/color][/i][/center]

[hider=Equipment] [color=C0C0C0][i]	Though I do carry an extensive first-aid kit and samples of fast-acting, short-term psychiatric drugs for immediate medical intervention in an emergency, I bring little equipment with me other than my mind when I’m at work. About the only piece of technology I use on a daily basis is a no-frills cell phone, so that my family and my patients can always reach me in an emergency. While I wish it were still possible to find uni-task devices like the flip-phones of old, I’ll settle for a smartphone with much of its so-called “smart” features disabled and its GPS chip physically removed. To protect the privacy of both myself and my patients, I keep it offline and connect only to my office’s network, via an encrypted VPN.

	I own four pieces of real estate in the Twin Cities area. My home, a modest two-story condominium in a middle-class district in The Bay, is small by the standards one might expect for a household with the income of two doctors. It is, however, sufficient space for a wife and three children, and conveniently located with respect towards private schools, public transportation, and the highway leading outside the city.

	My practice, a private mental-health clinic just a few blocks from my condo, is a small building adjacent to a credit union on one side and a firefighting and ambulance drone platform on the other. Aside from myself, my business partner Dr. Hiroshi Saitō works in our offices as a clinical psychologist, and we often refer our patients to each other during treatment. I have a small number of employees as receptionists, assistants, and the like. Due to the time demands of the campaign trail and my other activities, I have recently hired a certified psychiatric nurse-practitioner to offload much of my less-complex, more stable caseload.

	My retreat, as I call it, is a small lakeside cabin well outside of town. Nestled deep in the woods, my “lake” is in fact a manmade reservoir originally intended for a now-abandoned industrial park not far away. While I have stocked the “lake” with koi, the water is sadly much too polluted to allow for fishing; the cabin needs state-of-the-art filtration systems just to draw potable water. But this curse is also a blessing; if it were not for the land’s pollution being too extensive to be worth cleaning up, the whole land probably would’ve been bulldozed in favor of yet another shopping center by now. The cabin is where I go to escape the constant assault of the senses the city can be. I go there to be alone, and often spend time hiking the land with my wife, launching model rockets and flying remote-controlled aircraft over the lake with my daughter, and boating with my sons. Of course, there’s another purpose as well…

	The abandoned industrial complex next to the woods - I own it, as well, having quietly acquired it for pennies on the dollar through a number of shell companies. The site of a toxic spill back in the 30s, the land is worthless from a development perspective. Its few buildings are run-down and condemned by the city. It hasn’t had running water in three decades. While it has electricity, it lacks a usable land-line data connection, as it was built with old standards and never upgraded. All of this makes it more unattractive for commercial development than buying pristine land, but it makes it quite useful for my...other work. It is hours away from anyone who could overhear or witness any illegal activity. Its buildings give me a quiet place to work, be it a small cabin for holding individuals or a locked-away lab for synthesizing explosives or poisons. A fence with rusted signs warning of toxic waste and some chemical dispensers distributing a faint but harmless odor and enough agents to induce minor headaches and dizziness to those unaccustomed to it keep any potentially curious souls or homeless people away, and its remoteness means anyone who does show up is immediately suspicious. Finally, its proximity to my cabin means I always have an excuse to be coming or going in that direction, just in case it’s needed.[/i][/color][/hider]

[hider=Skills]
[color=D6FFFF][b]Medical Doctor:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]I’m not an M.D. for show. While I’m specialized in treating the mind, I have enough medical experience to treat general illnesses and injuries, and I can apply emergency medicine if need arises. I can also typically get my hands on some controlled substances without too much suspicion.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]Superficial Charm:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]I have always found people easy to read. It’s a simple matter of logical deduction and personal observation to determine what to say and do to get on most people’s good side and convince them to do what you want them to do.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]Chemist:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]Explosives, drugs, poisons - these things are easy to make for yourself with a few basic tools and compounds, if you know how.[/i][/color][/hider]

[hider=Flaws]
[color=D6FFFF][b]Technologically Deficient:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]It is difficult to avoid technology in a cybernetic society. I may be intelligent, but no human can do mental math as fast or complex as an electronic brain can. There’s no denying the little inconveniences one faces when they’re disconnected from a connected world.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]Emotionless:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]I know what emotions are. I know how to express the emotion I wish to show. I know how to recognize them in others. But I don’t seem to actually feel them, or if I do, they don’t change the way I think and perceive the world like they do for others.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]Secret Life:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]My family, my employees, my associates - they don’t know what acts I really engage in. It’s an isolated life, and it requires keeping a lot of secrets.[/i][/color]

[color=D6FFFF][b]Non-Combative:[/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][i]Violence will most certainly be necessary. The system uses violence to sustain itself, and we must use violence to combat it. But I, personally, am not terribly skilled in such matters. I know which end of a gun goes bang, and I know how to throw a punch. That's about it. It's important to be realistic about one's capabilities, and I know I'm no match for your typical thug, security officer, or soldier in a direct confrontation.[/i][/color][/hider]

[hider=Notes]
[color=C0C0C0][i]	...I’ve told you quite a lot, haven’t I? I don’t usually talk this much. Ah, well, you won’t remember it anyway. Now take this pill and lie back; it’ll all be as a fading dream soon...[/i][/color][/hider]

[hider=Relationship Table][table=bordered]
[row][cell][color=D6FFFF][b][right]Character Name[/right][/b][/color][/cell] [cell][i][color=D6FFFF]Relationship[/color][/i][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][b][color=D6FFFF][right]Sarah Howland[/right][/color][/b][/cell][cell][i][color=FFE5FA]"I first met Parker as a study partner in med school. I remember how intelligent and sincerely charming he was. Since then, he's been a wonderful father to our children and a wonderful husband. He always seems to know exactly what to say. He's always there with a warm smile or a sweet gift. And he honestly, truly cares for people - our family, his patients, everyone."[/color][/i][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][b][color=D6FFFF][right]Lott Ramana[/right][/color][/b][/cell][cell][i][color=lightgray]"It is so difficult to find a good doctor, and Dr. Howland is truly a [b]good[/b] doctor. He was recommended to me by someone on the campaign trail. I owe that person a drink. Before I met him, I didn’t think I was going to make it in this scene, like, really, I was not going to make it. He’s helped make things easier, well, him and his prescription did anyway. Whenever my nerves start twitching and my heart starts racing, I know that control is just one ingestion of two small pills no more than six(ish) times a day away. Sometimes I think to myself how wonderful it would be to be that person who recommends Dr. Howland to some other lost soul, because then they would owe me a drink—while I’d still owe Dr. Howland everything else."[/color][/i][/cell][/row]
[/table][/hider]

[hider=Scene]	[color=C0C0C0]“Do you think I am a sadist?”[/color]

	An inaudible mumble was his captive’s only answer. The man stared, glassy-eyed, at the blank walls past his tormentor. He doubted his captive could speak, anyway. His voice had long since gone out from all the screaming. Only the buzz of a single fluorescent bulb overhead  and the song of thousands of crickets filled the remote cabin.

	[color=C0C0C0]“I am not a sadist,”[/color] his tormenter insisted. [color=C0C0C0]“I derive no pleasure from this.”[/color]

	Carefully applying a scalpel and forceps, his tormenter carefully pulled another bundle of nerve endings free of their metal contacts, pulling metal wire down the entire length of the man’s augmented arm. The room was filled with the loud rattle of metal links slamming against one another, as the chains that held his arm tightly to the blood-soaked boards underneath strained with his instinctual, futile struggle. The man began to hyperventilate from the pain, gasping for breath.

	Ordinarily, a surgeon would never attempt microsurgery using hand tools - but preservation of function wasn’t really his goal, in this instance. “Do you see this?” his tormentor asked, pulling free an extremely fine, delicate thread, about the width of a human hair. [color=C0C0C0]“Do you know what this is?”[/color]

	The man let out a long, ragged breath, shaking in place. [color=C0C0C0]“This is a chain of afferent nerve fibers. It connects your body’s nociceptors to your spinal cord. Thousands and thousands of these line every part of the human body. It is what proves we are alive! Without them, you could feel nothing.”[/color]

	He paused, carefully setting the delicate strand aside. [color=C0C0C0]“...except it isn’t. This is a metal wire.”[/color]

	It had taken hours, but finally, the last of the nervous connections had been carefully removed. The cybernetic arm lay on the board, bloody, fully severed, reduced to its true nature - a lifeless hunk of silicone, plastic, and metal. His tormentor stood slowly, carefully, taking the artificial limb and setting it aside on a table. [color=C0C0C0]“Your body’s nerve endings were ripped from their natural housing and wired into this… [i]thing[/i]. How did this happen?”[/color]

	It was a rhetorical question. One didn’t blunder into Amalgamation’s most advanced bio-active cybernetics by happenstance. This mockery of living flesh would have taken an advanced cybernetics lab hours to implant, ensuring each nerve fiber in the man’s arm was carefully mapped into place, preserving the sensations of touch, temperature, proprioception, and myriad others all within an entirely artificial limb.

	With his voice completely worn out, the man could only manage a low, long moan, choked with sobs. His glazed-over eyes sluggishly turned to follow his tormentor, as he carefully placed the scalpel and forceps back on the surgical tray next to him, where all of his tools were neatly arranged. [color=skyblue]“Hhhh…”[/color] he rasped, unable to speak.

	[color=C0C0C0]“Hm?”[/color] His tormentor turned to face him. [color=C0C0C0]“...Is it hard for you? You’ve probably had an Electronic Brain longer than you can remember. They are quite resistant to external interference! But once you have internal access to the body’s central nervous system, it really is quite easy to short out such a device with even a small electrical impulse.”[/color] He sits on a stool, a look of curiosity in his gray eyes. [color=C0C0C0]“Is it hard for you to think clearly?”[/color]

	[color=C0C0C0]“That’s truly a shame,”[/color] he continued, after a moment. [color=C0C0C0]“Me? I’m used to it. All that I’ve learned, everything I think, are my thoughts, my intelligence. You...you haven’t relied on your own intelligence in decades, have you? The brain is just like any muscle. When you don’t use it, it atrophies. In a way, I’m sparing you. Even this isn’t nearly as bad as a slow, psychotic death by SPECS.”[/color]

	The mention of death brought a new struggle from his captive. He shook his head slowly, sadly. [color=C0C0C0]“I’m sorry. You’re going to die here. Too much of you has been...replaced. When I remove the rest of your cybernetics, your remaining body won’t be able to sustain life for more than a few hours. Maybe a day.”[/color]

	With that, the man grew still. Even with his compromised cognition, the resignation of impending death was easy to register in his eyes. [color=C0C0C0]“Now then. I’m going to take a quick break and sanitize my workspace. After that, we’ll start on your other arm.”[/color][hr]

	[color=C0C0C0]“Dr. Parker Howland, M.D.”[/color]

	He smiled, waving a hand through his short, sandy-blond hair. Amusement danced in his gray eyes. [color=C0C0C0]“It’s a wonderful evening, isn’t it?”[/color]

	Indeed it was. The city’s neon lights cast everything in a warm, multicolored glow. The vibrant hum of people filled the air with an electric energy, people filled with anticipation for the public debate. Representatives from each of the major campaigns would be in attendance tonight, to inform the voting public of their stance on the major issues in the run-up to the 2064 elections.

	The security checkpoint was busy, as well. Dozens of minor staffers were coming and going, and they needed their IDs checked virtually at every turn. The security guard’s voice was bored, that of a man whose sole ambition at present was to get through the end of a long shift at work. [color=4965FF]“Which campaign do you work for, Dr. Howland?”[/color]

	[color=C0C0C0]“Ah, I work for the Twin Cities Health Department, actually. I’m on the board of the Campaign Health Oversight Committee. I’m here to coordinate between local medical facilities, emergency services, and the campaigns’ own medical staffs. Our job is to ensure everyone is able to access city services during the-”[/color]

	[color=4965FF]“Yeah, yeah, whatever,”[/color] the guard said, handing back his ID badge. [color=4965FF]“Look up.”[/color]

	Howland obliged, smiling upwards at the lens of a conspicuous security camera.

	[color=4965FF]“You’re on the pre-approved list,”[/color] the guard said with all the emotion of describing drying paint. [color=4965FF]“The venue’s security system will recognize you and let you through to the backstage area. If there’s any secured areas the door doesn’t open for you, it’s not a glitch, you’re just not allowed in there. Next!”[/color]

	[color=C0C0C0]“Thank you for your help. Have a good night.”[/color] He took his ID badge and tucked it into his shirt pocket. Thankfully, the inside of the venue wasn’t nearly as crowded, with security controlling access and directing the public to the open seating areas. The inevitable throng of reporters inside weren’t particularly interested in a public official, and Howland walked past them with only a friendly nod of greeting. Just inside the entrance, he knew, would be plenty of virtual resources to direct newcomers and campaign staff as to where to go, but Howland ignored them. Instead, he made his way to the larger, lower-class of the venue’s catering rooms. Long years of experience had taught him the best way to orient himself at a large social function. 

	Standing around a table, drinking soykaf and eating cheap finger-foods, were a large gaggle of young staffers. Interns, volunteers, assistants; regardless of [i]which[/i] campaign they worked for, they were all more or less interchangeable, and they invariably had more in common with each other than with their bosses. Lacking in real work to do, finding a congregation of them wherever catering services could be found was always a sure way to orient oneself by listening in on their un-guarded conversation.

	[color=FF00FF]“...Mayor Gatch is sure to have his hands full this time,”[/color] a girl with pink hair was saying.

	[color=00FF00]“Nah, that’s what they said last time,”[/color] a spiky-haired twenty-something shot back, cynically. [color=00FF00]“Does anyone even remember Campbell, now?”[/color]

	A skinny kid with glowing cybernetics in his eyes looked away, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned over information only he could see. [color=yellow]“Who?”[/color]

	[color=00FF00]“[i]Exactly![/i]”[/color]

	Pink-hair shook her head. [color=FF00FF]“Yeah, but have you seen the news lately? That Amalgamation lobbyist who was found dead - they said every single one of his augs was ripped out of him and he was just left to die like that.”[/color]

	Spiky-hair tilted his head. [color=00FF00]“...So? Shit happens in the Reclaim. Probably just some E-Drug junkie looking for shit to sell for a quick fix.”[/color]

	Pink-hair threw her hands up, an unmistakable [i]how do I get through to these people?[/i] gesture. [color=FF00FF]“You think some stim junkie kidnapped an Amalgamation executive strapped to the nines with their best augs and pawned them off to some street ripper? I think I see why the Pirate Party doing so poorly in the polls if [i]you’re[/i] their best and brightest.”[/color]

	Howland smiled at that. [color=C0C0C0]“...it was Apex, that’s where the smart money would go.”[/color]

	Pink-hair turned, pointing at him. [color=FF00FF]“Exactly!”[/color] She looked back at the others with some triumph.

	Cyber-eye nodded. [color=yellow]“The old man’s right. Who would want a live example of Amalgamation’s best augs? Their direct competition. The police are gonna pin it on some local street tough, declare the case closed, and suddenly get a [i]very large donation[/i], you mark my words.”[/color]

	Howland laughed. [color=C0C0C0]“I’m not sure [i]old[/i] was necessary in that sentence.”[/color] All three of them gave him a look, more-or-less in unison. [color=C0C0C0]“...ah, well, I didn’t say it was inaccurate...hmph.”[/color] He turned, to help himself to a complimentary cup of cheap soykaf. [color=C0C0C0]“I’ll remember this when you lot all turn forty.”[/color]

	[color=FF00FF]“You’ll long be senile with SPECS by then,”[/color] Pink-hair teased.

	They laughed, and Howland settled in, laughing along with them. He had plenty of time to get to work, but it was the small, human moments that always proved the most valuable.[/hider]