Tsaimath
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DLM, Bk 5 - Ch 18
🕑 Added 2021-10-29 19:48:43 +0000 UTCAn ancient philosopher had once said that ‘homo homini lupus’, that the worst predators facing humans, were other humans. The events after the panel-discussion exemplified that principle in stark tones, as a feeding frenzy was triggered in which countless people and institutions came out and made their opinions known, ripping into participants and bystanders, oftentimes ignoring the circumstances and singling out one party to make their point.
Everyone, from progressives to conservatives, from liberals to religious types, the knives were sharpened and plunged into their targets. Not only along the expected lines, with conservatives backing the conservative Senator and the progressives supporting their candidate, it was far more chaotic than that. Of course, with our close proximity to the whole mess, neither Brightstar nor I were spared, though I was getting more attention, due to my active involvement in showing everyone the events in question and providing a large amount of information regarding the background and the involvement of the Lopez.
Maybe it was for handing out that background-information that a lot of journalists were focusing their attention on me, as my actions had implicated some of their ilk, while also doing the job they were supposed to be doing, making them look doubly bad in the process. Their ire was stoked even more, when international media-outlets picked up on the story and journalists from New Brunsburg, some of whom had connections to the Greene’s, jumped in on things, adding fuel to the fire, turning a dumpster-fire into a raging blaze.
But not all attention was focused on me, to my surprise Senator Murphy was targeted heavily as well, even though his only crime was infidelity to his wife. In my eyes, that was something that should be solved between his wife, him, maybe their attorneys and close family, not dragged into the court of public opinion. My opinion was not shared, resulting in everyone and their grandmother weighing in on the matter, some daming the Senator to hell, others offering his wife to help her return the favour, it was a massive, steaming mess.
Similarly, the Lopez were under fire as well, as they should be for masterminding and funding the conspiracy that had led to the current scandal. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, their detractors focused on their dense network of acquaintances which, according to some, gave the appearance of impropriety. No words about the actual conspiracy and their actions to create and fund it, no, the censure was focused on appearances.
Last, and in this case also least, was the fire that Brightstar took. Personally, she got off quite well, at least publicly. On the other hand, the American Superheroes as an organisation took quite a bit of fire, with various law-enforcement organisations criticizing them for getting involved in a conspiracy against parts of the executive branch, though none actually put it in those terms, again, the focus was on the appearance.
It was as if the perception of events was more important than the actual events, that appearance shaped the discourse to a greater extent than facts. Madness. Or maybe I was the insane one.
Ultimately, Technica, Anath and I simply stepped back, leaving the whole mess behind. There simply was nothing to be gained, none of us saw a way to turn the situation into anything but a complete mess. And so, instead of trying to keep me involved in the situation, we returned to Accord Island, leaving the aftermath of the conference and the conspiracy to Mordred and Pheronica. Neither actually knew anything about my methods or sources, meaning they would be unable to let anything slip, even if they wanted to. Mordred knew most about me, but even he only knew me as Technica’s apprentice and as a skilled fabricator. From those, he could extrapolate some, but nothing that I considered to be overly confidential.
“So, what did you learn from the experience?” Technica asked, once we were at altitude and travelling back home.
“That people are stupid?” Anath threw in, before I could answer, causing both of us to let out amused noises.
“She is not wrong there.” I agreed, a grin on my face. “But I would not quite say that they are stupid, or at least not stupid in the colloquial sense. Humanity as a whole might be, following the adage that a mob is only as intelligent as it’s least intelligent member, but then, all of us are part of that superset.” I mused, trying to verbalise my thoughts in coherent form.
“How do I put it, the conference itself was interesting, though I think the problem there is that a ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach is required but simply not possible. It would be foolish to think methods developed to deal with mundae humans would work on some of the extreme Powered. The opposite if true as well, a method for such an extreme Powered would turn a mundane into mincemeat, if such a method could even be formed in the first place. The physical resistance of a powerful Atlas is just one example, especially those who have a sub-power that gives them regeneration or resistance against commonly used drugs.”
“I agree and sadly, the media likes to focus on those extreme cases, which means they get a lot more recognition and thus public interest. What they forget is, for every Anath, there are a dozen or so lesser Atlas, to say nothing of an extreme case like Bidzill. Those twelve, at least the ones amongst them who turn criminal, should get priority, but they don’t.” Technica shrugged, before adding, “Though that might simply be because those twelve can simply be dealt with by using ordinary weapons, for someone like Anath, you’d need military hardware, and not the kind commonly sold to law enforcement.”
“Anyway, I didn’t actually ask about the conference, though it’s good to know that your thoughts mirror mine in that regard. No, I wanted to know what you think about the mess, as you like to call it.”
“That people are stupid?” I echoed Anath’s earlier statement, getting a laugh from her and rolled eyes from Technica.
“More to the point, that there are a dozen or so legacy-media groups out there, all spinning the facts they present in a slightly different light, leaving out small details, or putting the focus on another part, possibly deliberately, possibly because of an unconscious bias. That gets reinforced as those who are interested in those conclusions and agree with them, are more likely to work with a similar set of biases, lending their voice to that narrative. And that is only in the legacy-media, when looking at commentary and discussion online, things get even more messy, multiplying the biases and the spin put on information by orders of magnitude.” I mused, shaking my head as I thought back to the way I had created the presentation I had shared on stage and the way I had done my best to put the Lopez in a particular light, to make people connect the dots in the way I wanted them to be connected. Not because I had positive information that the dots actually were connected along those lines, but because I was convinced that they were. Just like all the media, they had their own conviction that the various dots had to paint a specific picture, so they focused on the dots that fit that picture.
I went quiet as I considered that train of thought. Had I overlooked some information, because I thought I knew what picture to draw or simply taken the information I had discovered and stopped looking once I had the information that fit the picture I considered to be true? Even with Galatea helping me, the sheer amount of information that I had filtered was incredible, and that was only the information I had available. When taking in the total amount of recorded information, even Galatea would not be able to filter it, not without setting up even more computing power and even then we would run into diminishing returns before we could fitler all recorded information. And that was only what was recorded, mostly in digital form, when considering how much potential information there could be, I could feel a headache coming.
“You are suddenly quiet.” Technica prodded, likely noticing that I was lost in thought.
When I explained my conundrum to her, she simply nodded, as if she had been aware of that the whole time.
“You always need to remember, Humanity as a whole is made up from billions of individuals, all with a slightly different point of view. Many share some of their field of view, oftentimes shaped by their cultural upbringing but not always. But all those humans want the world around them to make sense, so they put everything into mental boxes and put a label on those boxes. And from those labels, from the few, incomplete datasets that form the basis of the label they put on the box, they extrapolate to the whole content of the box.” she explained, getting a nod in response.
“Let’s take you for example. When growing up, the Man who had the greatest impact on you was most likely your father, right? Your concept of what a man is, took on traits that are completely unique to him and from that concept, you projected out, making it difficult for you to trust any male. Or maybe you project those qualities on individuals you mentally label as “Father”, which doesn’t need to refer to your father, just to the category you mentally create. I don’t know how your mind works, or which categories you subconsciously use, but everyone has those categories and labels, and for everyone the associated traits are slightly different.”
She went quiet with that, letting me think about it. It was such an obvious thought, but how could I prevent myself from putting superficial labels on people, unless I wanted to have a complete dossier on everyone I met. But even that would not work, as there was a limit to the information that could be known of a person, especially as the traits that made up a person could be in constant flux.
Labels were needed, but accurate labels were impossible. What a headache.
