[b]Somewhere in a book that almost nobody has read:[/b]

The acquisition of the Hecatoncheires special project came faster than any of its senior management could prepare for. BlackSun’s had learned from their failure to acquire the space fountain, and suffered from the loss of all contracting bids made in its construction. [CEO Aaron Scwarz]’s actions cannot make any sense from the perspective of a business decision, and cannot be understood through the lens of the profit motive. Instead, it has to be seen as a matter of honour - honour being understood as an injury to dignity that can only be healed through a projection of force.

The removal of NASA management from Cape Canaveral reflected that brutality. BlackSun security forces breached and cleared the control center with ballistic shields and stun batons, with the pretense of quelling a riot. This was done in the minutes [i]before [/i]their official offer was made, preventing any chance of resistance. The Siege of Canaveral was not a force for pacification, but of violent occupation and conquest.

It is because of Lorraine Ferris that we have an accurate accounting of the events. As BlackSun technicians cut the security cameras and blasted signal jammers through the installation, causing irreparable damage to sensitive receiving equipment, Ferris sent out an alert for all employees to begin recording on their phones, and either conceal them on their person or hide them as best they could. Despite the coup only lasting half an hour, almost three hundred of hours of footage would eventually be logged as evidence for the prosecution. Some footage is obscured by air vents, some by coat pockets, and one particularly intrepid signals analyst - David Beagle - hid his phone inside the staffroom microwave.

[Photograph of a goateed man in a checkered shirt posing with his phone in a microwave giving two thumbs up.]

Most went quietly. Haunting are the images of Hypatia Ahmadi leading her teams out of the building in a show of non-resistance. Three times she returned to the depths of the chaos, to negotiate surrenders free of the violent retribution that characterized the Siege of Canaveral. Passing on the left, rows of engineers, technicians and administrative staff walk the hall in single file, as a stream of armor-clad stormtroopers moves past two abreast on the other side. It was a calculated move. Ahmadi’s groups were made up of those not able to fight, whatever their reasons, while deep at the heart of Mission Control, MIles Singh led the resistance.

[i]From The Shadows of a Black Sun Chapter 4, “The Withering of the State”, by Fiona Weiss[/i]

[b]November:[/b]

Singh does not give the reaction you would hope. He dusts himself off and straightens himself achingly.

“It’s not lost on me that, if you prepared all this, then you came here ready to trust me.” Why does he sound like he’s trying not to kick a snake that slithered onto his sandal? “And I didn’t doubt that you were [i]capable[/i]. But this doesn’t change what I said, does it?”

A weary, weary sigh. “You’ve got a just target, so I’ll help you with it, because it’s the right thing to do. I would have thought it would be Dog coming to me with something like this, always seeing the need to destroy to create. But when you’re done burning the weeds, what will you sew for harvest? If you just want to burn until it’s done, then there’ll be no end to the burning. The weeds always grow back faster than anything good, if you don’t grow something else in their place.” But then he’s patting his pockets again, fishing for something. “You don’t have to answer now. I just want you to think about it.“

He is charitably interpreting “revenge upon human civilization” to mean “civilization as it exists” and not “civilization as a concept” or “end all human life”. If this is a mistake on his part then it may be unwise to correct him. 

He pulls out a bizarre pair of asymmetrically framed glasses, covered in intricate whirls of saturated colours, bright and tacky plastics. It looks like someone ran a barcode through a 3D printer just to see what would happen. “But I think we’re overdue some catching up. So many problems caused by me being a stranger to you. You barely know me at all. Tell me, what’s the worst gig app right now? Let’s go replace all the executive’s chairs with whoopie cushions, and put herring in their coffee machines. Then you can tell me all about what you came here to ask me about. And maybe, if you're good, I'll show you something very special.”

Leaving some colours behind to rifle through his study might be useful, but it seems like it might not be what good girls do.