More political rants, and...

Échecs is an Amarrian game of strategy. It is played on a square board divided in 64 tiles, where two opposing but equal armies fight.
The Amarr call it Chess.

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I have dropped by the Daredevil'ls Lounge a few times since that discussion, and I have met that Amarrian militia commander twice again.

The first time was so very brief - she was walking in as I was walking out, on my way to a study all-nighter. Somehow she managed to convey an entire evening of nasty in a couple of sentences, it is amazing how she can turn the slightest word back on you as a blunt weapon.

Wanting to part on a different tone, I turned around and, ah, challenged her to this game which I learned in high-school when I was living in the Empire -I will tell you about that some other day. Our little game started with:

White: Pawn to fourth Queen's

She just looked at me, surprised. I thought it would be nice gesture? I mean, she should feel right at home, non? Chess is an Amarrian game. It has Bishops.

The next time we met, she had an unexpected answer to my gambit:

Black refuses to play chess. It is a game for her true Amarrian betters.

Apparently, being Khanid, she is either not supposed or not allowed to play. (Clever move by the way, had she not she clarified which betters, I would have had a field day, right there.) What does race have to do with what you are allowed to play, and with whom?

White suggests that, if Black is not allowed, naturally she should try the game in secret.

Haha! Okay, I must admit I sort of intentionally over-do the Gallentean airhead thing when she is around and I know, I know, this probably strengthens whatever stereotype she has of us. It also drives her nuts. Sorry girls, but you should really see the faces she makes! I am térrible...

Black so chastises White for her lack of proper manners :)

I think that what she was actually trying to say was actually "We are all slaves. We know our place, and so should you." Whichever way you take it, it is nothing but sad. Talk about reinforcing stereotypes.

White orders a drink and so does Black.

It was a draw.

Nonetheless the the evening went on, others joined and we all discussed other stuff including checkers -which she can play,- racing and wine, while enjoying some nice drinks at the bar. The point was, you can actually have a conversation with an Amarrian, in spite of all the differences.

I think I even got some cheer out of her as I left.

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On a different note, Jude was at the bar and offered to walk me out to the flight deck. Again. I do not know what is wrong with him, but I think we may have just airlocked a relationship. Not that there was much of one anyway. Oh, well... No regrets.

Political rant

I once met a man from Amarr,
in the strangest of places - a bar,
they served him a beer,
he replied with a sneer:
"I would rather look from afar."

I met a very interesting person the other night at the Daredevil's Lounge, a commander with the Amarr militia who was with a friend of mine. She shall remain unnamed, for now.

Pleasantries and unpleasantries were exchanged. She sort of made it a point to be rude to almost everyone else in there -she seems to be so very in touch with her phobias. Anyway, things settled down a bit and we had a chance to lament together the killing of innocents, toast to peace and keep chatting.

Eventually conversation went back to politics, onto the "chosen ones," and how it is the natural order of things for one to serve one's betters, yadda yadda yadda, how everyone has his place in God's plan, and how in a couple of centuries everyone will be happy, or else. You know, the typical Holder rant, but the rude version. So I told her how I totally understood that, and that tale about the chosen ones. I think that took her by surprise. The thing is, I truly think some people are chosen and that she is one of them. And it makes me feel so sad for her...

I mean, you go girl. Stand up. Be chosen. Let whoever is in charge tell what to do, you little lemming...

Objects are chosen. If someone wants to pretend she is a chosen cabbage, sitting on the premium shelf looking down on the hydroponics and telling them what to do, I don't really mind. But to push people around and be rude because they won't play veggie with them? It is so difficult to understand, to feel proud of being a thing.

Me? I will be over there with the "choosy ones," any time. I told her, see, where I come from, people from different worlds, with different stories to tell, skills to sell and goals so dissimilar... these people stick together because they choose to, every day. Not because someone is sticking a gun to their face.

That's what makes my people exceptional -our diversity and the fact that we have chosen a common destiny. We may have our differences, but that's what happens to discerning adults who make choices - they do not agree every single time. But the day -and there have been days- when we speak with a single voice? Run for the hills...

Chosen ones? Pffft. Beware the choosy ones.

Anyhow, even if she did not seem to listen I must confess I sort of enjoyed it. How... different. I wonder if I will be meeting her again.