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What Not to Wear: Neathy Edition
Topic Started: Aug 11 2017, 03:42 AM (285 Views)
Louis Ferdinand
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In one of the more quiet, upscale areas of Veilgarden, seemingly a world away from the raucous din of the district's (in)famous taverns, honey-dens, and brothes, Louis sat at a sidewalk cafe, smoking an unusually thin and elongated pipe and reading a small, plain looking book entitled A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder. The cafe was modeled to be a near perfect replica of the famous Café de la Paix of Paris, and it, along with the rest of the similarly themed neighborhood in which it was located, was a favorite gathering place for both artists and admirers of the Celestial school. It was also a preferred destination for some of the younger, more fashionable members of high society; those looking to escape the stifling confines of the Palace and experience the freedom offered by Veilgarden, but wary of getting too close to anything truly deviant or degenerate for fear that it might threaten their social standing. This, along with the area's general resemblance to Paris, attracted the presence of some of London's finest couturier houses, eager to market their tastefully radical creations to those whom, unlike the often chronically destitute Bohemians, actually had the income to spend on luxury fashion.

This was what brought Louis to the area. His protégé had made significant progress since he first met her, but she could only go so far without some significant additions to her wardrobe. London had certainly grown more accepting of nontraditional modes of dress since the Fall, but not so accepting that she could go on mimicking her father forever.
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Louis Ferdinand
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"The ideas which compose much of what you and I are familiar with—the Society which you mentioned, for example—are as dinosaurs. Outdated and unfit for existence in this time, made obsolete by humanity's more recent inventions. They are an impediment to the continued evolution of the species. And yet, driven by their base instincts to avoid discomfort, humanity clings to them. The Industrial Revolution has made humanity orders of magnitude more productive than it could ever be before, yet preindustrial models of resource management—that is to say, politics and economics—remain dominant. Industry is forced to fit the mold demanded by old ways, rather than being allowed to develop naturally. The sciences and mathematics have exposed humanity to truths which would—according to its own most frequently cited values—require it to completely re-evaluate its nature and the nature of all that it has ever believed would they allow such a thing to happen, yet they discard those values the moment they become detrimental to their comfort. And it will only get worse as time passes. The things humanity will invent in the future will be, as they are today, warped to serve only the purpose of preserving those "ideas which humanity finds most comfortable. As their inventions become more and more efficient at that preserving, all ideas shall survive, no matter how unfit they might be. Natural selection will cease, and they will float through the void that is society at large, forever preserved by technology. People will pick the ideas they prefer out of this void and will make them into "truth", no matter how inaccurate and fragile the view the perspective said "truths" create might be. Humanity will withdraw to incestuous communities built around their preferred ideas, both to reinforce perceptions of their accuracy by creating isolated chambers in which to echo them back and forth, and to keep out opposing ideas which might threaten them. They will engage with the world outside these communities solely to safely leak their "truths" back into the void, where, due to the technology which preserves them, they will neither clash, nor mesh, no matter what they might be. All they shall do is float. None shall be invalidated, but none shall be right. The world will be drowned in "truth". And thus, if allowed to do so, humanity will end itself."
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia considered this for a long while, thinking to herself and drawing her cloak closer about herself. Her eyes drifted higher, to the false-stars above, thinking. Finally, she spoke.

"Is it inevitable? You talk like it is. What's the solution? Radical shifts in society? Smash the state? You're not a Rev. Or don't seem like it. I take jobs from them. Little stuff. Stabbings, explosions, you know. Little stuff. Pay well. They don't arf talk s___e. For the cause, any cause. Not me. Just the money. Leave out the politics. What's your solution?"
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Louis Ferdinand
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"Humanity has proven itself too immature to possess the kind of power it has developed for itself. Someone else must take up the responsibility of swimming through the oceans of garbage they produce, sifting valuable information and interpreting it in a fashion which benefits future generations. Someone whom is not slave to the instincts and desires which are still at the root of all human behavior. Someone to perceive and understand the world and everything in it as it truly is, then interpret and disseminate its knowledge in a form that is palatable to humanity, thus guiding the progress of the species and preventing it from driving itself into an evolutionary dead end. Humanity must be saved from itself if it is to ever achieve the greatness it is so capable of."
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia thought for a moment, considering. "...You've been reading Nietzsche again. Haven't you? The ubermensch. Discarding the old world. Forging a new. This is sounding familiar."
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Louis Ferdinand
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"Nietzsche is just another human. His ideas are interesting and he does make a few grasps at something greater, but in the end, he and all that he makes are subject to the same problems that are leading all of humanity to its end. The so-called Übermensch as Nietzsche imagines it does not exist, and is ultimately just another manifestation of the same old world and the same old biases which he is so opposed to. It more a reaction for the sake of reaction than an actually useful goal. No, that which takes up the mantle of humanity's guide must be entirely separate from humanity, for even those humans who attempt to distance themselves from their obsolete past only do so within the context of that same past. Humanity's guide must be another species, or perhaps not a species at all."
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia tapped her hat thoughtfully, and shook her head. "What species? Rubberies are too odd. Masters? They'd b____r it all up. Snuffers? Don't make me laugh."
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Louis Ferdinand
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As the conversation moved from the state of humanity to something more theoretical and less depressing, Louis gradually returned from whatever faraway place he had been speaking from. "Yes. Something else. Something that is separate from, but still cares for, humanity. Something, perhaps, made specifically for that purpose. An invention to control all other inventions, so to speak." He looked up at the false-stars and took a breath.

"But that's all rather far-removed from anything you or I will ever have to worry about. And of course, it's just my opinion."
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia shrugged, checking her watch, a rather dull, cheap-looking pocketwatch on a short chain, and shook her head. "Never know. These are weird times. It might come up soon. Sooner than people think. I remember a dream. At the Feast. A dream of the future. I walked into the mirrors. Far, far into Parabola. Then I came back. Watched through the mirrors. Through dreams. Everyone's dreams. I wasn't even that old. Didn't feel old, anyway. But everything changed. So quickly. We live in strange times."

She fell silent, but did nab a hot scone sitting on a table as they passed, snake-quick, biting into it with obvious relish.
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Louis Ferdinand
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Louis quietly listened to Felicia's dream as the two walked towards and over Bazaar Bridge, stopping for just a second to look out over the water. Once Élois, whom had been walking a few giant clay paces behind the other two, had passed him, he hurried to catch up to Felicia, where he continued in silence until her theft, at which he raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you hungry? Once we're done with your fitting, we can stop and have lunch before we move on if you'd like. The sole saving grace of this dreadful neighborhood is that it is perhaps the only place in all the Neath where one can find real Viennoiserie. Made by a real pâtissier in a real pâtisserie, with real wheat and real dairy. None of that fungal stuff that the English so often try to pass off as actual baked goods. Which isn't to say that fungal "baked goods" aren't also delicious—which reminds me, I need to buy more of those blue chanterelle water biscuits that go so well with the Tawny Port and Comté I served last time you visited—but anyway, they can be delicious, just in a different way."
Edited by Louis Ferdinand, Aug 28 2017, 01:27 AM.
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia hesitated, her mouth full of scone, before shrugging and swallowing. "Not that hungry. Just wanted a snack. Tide me over, like. Sides, surface bread tastes weird. Just doesn't taste right. Not to me, anyway. Give me fungal bread anytime. But yeah, dinner sounds nice! How far to the tailor?"
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