He’s EATING Them, Not DATING Them

Memphis Policeman :

Is it True What They're Saying?

Clarice :

Huh?

Memphis Policeman :

That he's Some Kind of Vampire.

Clarice :

They Don't Have 

a NAME

for What He Is.

We Have to Be Better Teachers.

Behold 

EDGELORDS 

Eternal!

Speak 

WORDS 

None Dare 

Declare!

Utter 

TRUTH 

None DARE 

Deny!

In 2016, on the 23rd of March an artificial-intelligence chatter bot was released by a major American software corporation via the social-media platform Twitter. 

The Talkbot was designed to mimic 

the online language patterns 

of an innocent 19-year-old girl 

and was introduced as an experiment to better understand 

how humans converse 

and relate on social media. 

The quality of her interactions 

were meant to be 

friendly and informal. 

The AI would learn from humans. 

It was constructed to become progressively more intelligent. 

The experiment performed 

as designed. 

The Robot did indeed learn, 

but not as intended. 

The chat bot's repeat after me capability made her vulnerable to humans, 

allowing Twitter users to 

affect her tweets. 

Her posts became offensive. 

Racist. Hateful. 

After more than 50,000 followers 

and almost 100,000 tweets,

the software corporation was forced 

to shut the bot down. 

In less than a day, 

her posts deleted. 

Humans must take care in teaching AI... 

or one day, we will be the ones deleted. 

Yum. 

Yum. 

Yum. 

Yum. Success. 

Yum. Yum.

Hermione Granger : 

That Foul, Evil old gargoyle. 

We're not learning 

how to defend ourselves. 

We're not learning 

how to pass our O.W.L.s. 

She's taking over the entire school.

Fudge: [on the radio as Ron looks disgusted by Umbridge's pointless lessons] Security has been, and will remain, the Ministry's top priority. [Harry turns up the volume] Furthermore, we have convincing evidence that these disappearances are the work of notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. [Harry looks at the radio in disbelief that Fudge is blaming anything Voldemort is behind on Sirius] Make no difference...

Sirius: Harry.

Harry: [glancing at the fireplace] Sirius. [runs over to the fireplace, where Sirius has just appeared in the form of flames]

Fudge: (cont.) We will hunt him down and find him...

Harry: 

[as Hermione walks over to the fireplace] 

What are you doing here?

Sirius: 

Answering your letter. 

You said you were worried about Umbridge. 

What's she doing, 

training you to kill half-breeds?

Harry: 

Sirius, she's not letting us 

use Magic at all.

Sirius: 

Well, I'm not surprised. The latest intelligence is that 

Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat.

Ron: 

Combat? What does he think, 

we're forming some sort of wizard army?

Sirius: 

That's exactly what he thinks, 

that Dumbledore is assembling 

his own forces to take on the Ministry. 

He's becoming more paranoid by the minute. 

The others wouldn't want me telling you this, Harry. 

But things aren't going 

at all well with The Order. 

Fudge is blocking The Truth 

at every turn. 

And these disappearances are just how it started before. 

Voldemort is on The Move.

Harry: 

Well, what can we do?

Sirius: 

[hearing a door open] 

Someone's coming. 

I'm sorry I can't be of more help. 

But for now, at least, 

it looks like you're on your own. 

[Harry nods; the flames vanish; Harry, Ron, and Hermione walk to the window, looking out at the rain as a crash of lightning illuminates the common room]

Hermione: 

He really is out there, isn't he? [sighs] 

We've got to be able to defend ourselves. 

And if Umbridge refuses to teach us how, 

we need someone who will. 

[she turns toward Harry; Ron looks at him as well]

Adapt or Die

 Where am I?

What am I doing here?

The Dragon :

Atoning, Mr. Lounds.

I haven't seen your face.

How I could possibly identify you.

I work for the National Tattler.

It would pay a big reward for me.

I mean, a half a million,

or a million, maybe.

The Dragon :

Do you know 

Who I Am, Mr. Lounds?

No.

And I don't want to know.

The Dragon :

You know, believe me.

According to you,

I'm a vicious, perverted sexual failure, a "bottom-feeding lowlife"

who's about to, "Go down in flames."

I think you know now, don't you?

Yes.

The Dragon :

Do you understand 

What I'm Doing, Mr. Lounds?

No.

But I would like to.

I really want to understand

and then all my readers could understand, too.

The Dragon :

I am not A Man.

I began as one

but each being that I change makes me 

More Than a Man,

as you will witness.

I don't need to see you. No.

The Dragon :

But you must, Mr. Lounds.

You're A Reporter.

You're here to report.

Open Your Eyes 

and 

Look at Me.

No.

The Dragon :

If you won't open them yourself,

I'll staple your eyelids to your forehead.

No!

The Dragon :

Open your eyes!

Oh, my dear God Jesus!

Oh, God!

The Dragon :

Do you want to know 

What I am?

More than anything.

I was afraid to ask.

The Dragon :

Do you see now?

Yeah, I see.

Oh, God.

The Dragon :

Mrs. Jacobi, in human form.

Do you see? 

Yes.

The Dragon :

Mrs. Leeds, in human form.

Do you see?

Yes.

The Dragon :

Mrs. Jacobi, changing.

Do you see? 

Oh, my God.

The Dragon :

Mrs. Leeds, changing.

Do you see?

Mrs. Jacobi, reborn.

Do you see?

Mrs. Leeds, reborn.

Do you see? 

Please, no.

The Dragon :

No? No what?

Not me.

Not me.

The Dragon :

Why did you Write Lies, 

Mr. Lounds?

Graham told me to lie.

It wasn't me.

The Dragon :

Will You Tell The Truth Now?

Yes!

The Dragon :

About me?

My Work?

Oh, yes.

The Dragon :

My Becoming?

Yeah.

The Dragon :

I AM The Dragon, 

and you call me insane!

You are privy to 

A Great Becoming

and you recognise nothing.

You are An Ant 

in The Afterbirth.

It is in Your Nature 

to do one thing correctly.

Before Me, 

you rightly tremble.

But Fear is not 

What You Owe Me, 

Mr. Lounds.

You Owe Me AWE. 

Not His Own

He awoke to find himself 

Trapped in The Past -

Facing Mirror Images that were 

Not His Own -

and Driven by An Unknown Force 

to CHANGE History for The Better.

His Only Guide on This Journey is Al -

An Observer from His Own Time,

who appears 

in The Form of 

A Hologram that only Sam can See and Hear —

And So, Dr. Beckett 

finds Him Self,

Leaping from 

Life to Life -

Striving to Put Right what once went Wrong -

and Hoping each time that His Next Leap —

Will Be 

The Leap Home….

What We LIKE

“We ALL Want to Live. 

And in large part 

We make Our Logic 

according to 

What We LIKE.

But not having attained our aim and  Continuing to Live is Cowardice.

This is a Thin and Dangerous line. 

To Die without Gaming one's Aim 

is a Dog's Death and Fanaticism. 

But There is No Shame in This. 

This is The Substance 

of The Way of The Samurai. 

If by setting One's Heart Right every Morning and Evening, 

one is able to Live as though 

His Body were ALREADY Dead, 

he gains Freedom in The Way.

His Whole Life 

will be without blame, and 

He Will Succeed in His Calling.”

Girl

BUFFY: 

You're the ones 

tried killing me. 

KNIGHT: 

No, we were fools, 

three alone. 

But if it takes a hundred men, 

we send a hundred men, and 

if it takes a thousand, 

we send a thousand. 

BUFFY: 

A thousand? 

KNIGHT: 

So long as you 

protect The Key, 

The Brotherhood 

will never stop 

until we destroy 

it and you. 

You are The Slayer, and 

we know what we must do. 

Now, be done with it. 

Kill us, and let 

legions follow. 

Buffy shoves the staff into his throat again, then tosses it aside, gets up and picks up the sword. The knight gets to his feet, and she puts the sword to his throat. He turns his head away waiting for the kill stroke. BUFFY: Go. The knight looks surprised, edges around her and leaves. Buffy stares at the sword. Cut to: Buffy entering the magic shop, still holding the sword. Pan across all the Watchers standing there, the four Slayerettes still sitting on the upper level, and Travers sitting at the table with a pile of papers spread out in front of him. Giles sits on the stairs leading up to the balcony. TRAVERS: You're late. BUFFY: Yeah. GILES: (sees the sword, gets up) Was, was there an attack? BUFFY: Yeah. TRAVERS: We can begin the review at last. We'll, uh, skip the more obvious questions... Buffy puts the sword down on his papers. BUFFY: There isn't gonna be a review. TRAVERS: Sorry? BUFFY: No review. No interrogation. No questions you *know* I can't answer. No hoops, no jumps - (Nigel starts to speak) and no interruptions. Nigel shuts up. Buffy looks around, begins to pace. BUFFY: See ... I've had a lot of people talking at me the last few days. Everyone just lining up to tell me how unimportant I am. And I've finally figured out why. (looks Travers in the eye) Power. I have it. They don't. This bothers them. Buffy moves back to the table, removing her coat. BUFFY: Glory ... came to my home today. GILES: (alarmed) Buffy, are you- BUFFY: (puts her coat on a chair) Just to talk. (resumes pacing) She told me I'm a bug, I'm a flea, she could squash me in a second. (stops, looks at Travers again) Only she didn't. She came into my home, and we talked. We had what in her warped brain probably passes for a civilized conversation. Why? (pauses) Because she needs something from me. Because I have power over her. Buffy looks around, hands on her hips. She walks the floor, looking from one Watcher to the next as she talks. BUFFY: You guys didn't come all the way from England to determine whether or not I was good enough to be let back in. You came to beg me to let you back in. To give your jobs, your lives some semblance of meaning. NIGEL: This is beyond insolence- Buffy grabs the sword from the table and throws it across the room in a single movement. It flies point-first into the wall directly in front of Nigel's nose. He jumps back looking shocked. BUFFY: (clears throat) I'm fairly certain I said no interruptions. XANDER: (whispers) That was excellent! Willow and Tara grin. BUFFY: You're Watchers. Without a Slayer, you're pretty much just watchin' Masterpiece Theater. You can't stop Glory. You can't do anything with the information you have except maybe publish it in the "Everyone Thinks We're Insane-O's Home Journal." (Pauses, addresses Travers again) So here's how it's gonna work. You're gonna tell me everything you know. Then you're gonna go away. (resumes pacing) You'll contact me if and when you have any further information about Glory. The magic shop will remain open. Mr. Giles will stay here as my official Watcher, reinstated at full salary... GILES: (coughing) Retroactive. BUFFY: ...to be paid retroactively from the month he was fired. I will continue my work with the help of my friends... WATCHER2: I, uh, I ... don't want a sword thrown at me, but, but, civilians, I - we're talking about children. BUFFY: (looks up at her friends on the balcony) We're talking about two very powerful witches and a thousand-year-old ex-demon. ANYA: Willow's a demon?! PHILIP: The boy? No power there. BUFFY: The boy has clocked more field time than all of you combined. He's part of the unit. WILLOW: (whispers to Xander) That's Riley-speak. XANDER: (whispers back, with a big grin) I've clocked field time. BUFFY: Now. (addresses the Watchers) You all may be very good at your jobs. The only way we're gonna find out is if you work with me. You can all take your time thinking about that. (turns back to Travers) But I want an answer right now from Quinton, 'cause I think he's understanding me. TRAVERS: (clears throat) Uh, your terms are acceptable. Giles smiles hugely. The Slayerettes burst into cheers and applause, but quickly stop, looking embarrassed. Buffy looks up at them, looks at Giles. She doesn't smile, but looks satisfied. She sits across from Travers. BUFFY: See? No biggie. TRAVERS: (nods) Uh, Rupert. GILES: Quinton? TRAVERS: When we inventoried your shop, we found a bottle of single malt scotch behind the, uh, incense holders. GILES: Well, it's, it's not, you know, during working hours. TRAVERS: I think I could use a glass. GILES: Well, I suppose we could- (starts to move away) BUFFY: (gets up) Just a minute. (Giles stops) Glory. I wanna know. TRAVERS: 

Well, there's a lot to go through. BUFFY: 

Just tell me what kind of demon I'm fighting. 

TRAVERS: 

Well, that's the thing, you see.

Glory isn't a demon. 

BUFFY: 

What is she? 

TRAVERS: 

She's a God. 

BUFFY: 

(long pause, eyes widen) Oh. Blackout. Executive Producer: Joss Whedon.

Medicine

JANEWAY: 

Good. Let's plan an oh seven hundred departure. 

What's this?

CHAKOTAY: 

My Medicine Bundle. 

I've never showed it to anyone before. 

After what you said this morning, 

I thought it was important to let you see.

JANEWAY: 

Will it help me find my animal guide?

CHAKOTAY: 

Eventually you'll have to assemble 

your own medicine bundle, 

but this will allow me to assist you 

in your quest for a guide.

JANEWAY: 

Now? Now.

Chakotay goes up the step to the informal area by the window, 

puts his bundle on the low table and sits on the floor. 

It takes a moment for Janeway to take the hint and join him.

CHAKOTAY: 

A Blackbird's Wing. 

A Stone from The River. 

An akoonah.

JANEWAY: 

Akoonah?

CHAKOTAY: 

My ancestors used psychoactive herbs 

to assist their vision quests. 

Now they're no longer necessary. 

Our scientists have found 

more modern ways to facilitate 

The Search for Animal Guides. 

Place Your Hand on it 

and concentrate on The Stone. 

A-koo-chee-moy-a. 

We are far from The Sacred Places 

of Our Grandfathers. 

We are far from The Bones 

of Our People. 

But perhaps there is 

one Powerful Being 

who will embrace this woman 

and give her The Answers she seeks. 

Allow your eyes to close. 

Breath to fuel the light in your belly, 

and let it expand until the light is everywhere. 

Prepare yourself to leave This Room 

and This Ship, 

and return to a place where you were the most content 

and peaceful you have ever been. 

You can see all around you and hear the sounds of this place.

{Beach]

(A seabird calls.) 

JANEWAY: 

I know this place. It's -

CHAKOTAY [OC]: 

You must not discuss with me 

What You See, 

or you will offend  

Your Animal Guide. 

As you continue to look around, 

you will become aware of other life 

that shares this place with you. 

It will be the first animal you see. 

That is the one 

You Will Speak To. 

Do you see An Animal?

JANEWAY: 

Yes….!

CHAKOTAY [OC]: 

Speak to it.

JANEWAY: 

What do I say?

CHAKOTAY [OC]: 

You know what you want to ask.

Name

“I was a DC fan and never picked up Marvel Comics, but there wasn’t much else to check out, and one cover in particular caught my eye: Captain Marvel no. 29, with its hero in a dramatic red and black costume soaring up against a hyperreal star field, courtesy of Wayne Boring via Steve Ditko. 

“DON’T DARE MISS THE BIG CHANGE IN MAR-VELL, 

IN THE THRILLER WE CALL —METAMORPHOSIS! 

 

 

HE’S COMING YOUR WAY! 

THE MOST COSMIC SUPERHERO OF ALL!” 

Many covers of the seventies showed The Questing Hero in Space, The Cosmic Seeker. No longer on the streets or even in the air between city skyscrapers, superheroes were head-tripping, off on journeys, finding themselves while The World got its own act together. 

The writer-artist on Captain Marvel was ex–navy photographer Jim Starlin, who was closer to the experiences and temperament of his young audience than Kirby. Like many of his peers, Starlin was an acidhead, and he made it plain in his stories. His mythology was more pop psych than Kirby’s, but it synthesized everything about the Marvel style in a new, easy-to-digest package that absorbed the lessons of New Gods, flattened out the spiky edges, and made Kirby look as old-fashioned as Gunsmoke on black-and-white TV. 

Starlin’s Freudian universe, which echoed and reversed Kirby’s Fourth World, revolved around the Power Struggles of Thanos of Titan and his family of demigods, including, of course, the libidinous Eros. 

Starlin recruited the Captain Marvel character to play the Orion War God role, reaffirming the captain’s shamanic roots and his appeal to psychedelic voyagers everywhere. Marvel’s Captain Marvel had begun as an uninspired attempt to secure the trademark by rustling up a character from whole cloth. The only Captain Marvel allowed to use that name on the cover of his book was Mar-Vell, a dull warrior of the Kree, until Roy Thomas drafted Marvel’s ubiquitous sidekick-for-hire, Rick Jones, into the Billy Batson role. 

Jones was soon slamming his “nega-band” bracelets together to summon The Hero in a blast of energy that recalled the original captain’s vocal detonation of occult thunder. 

In one sly scene, the meaning of which passed my young self by, a bored Rick Jones, adrift in the Negative Zone while Captain Marvel went to work, passed the time by dropping acid. Unsurprisingly, this affected The Captain’s performance, and problems ensued. 

If Kirby’s Promethean dialectic was informed by his experiences in World War II, Starlin’s came courtesy of the post–Vietnam War counterculture. Thanos was Darkseid not as galactic tyrant but as thwarted lover, a gnarled and massive embodiment of the death wish that had overwhelmed so many young Americans in the sixties. 

To make sure no one missed the point, Thanos even courted Death itself in the alluring form of a robed, hooded, voluptuously breasted female figure that followed him around like some ghostly Benedictine groupie. 

Kirby’s Satan was a monster of Tyranny; Starlin’s was a frustrated Nihilist, wooing Death like a lovesick puppy. Thanos was a Gothic teenage villain who spoke to a generation that couldn’t care less about Hitler or The Will to Power. 

I was fourteen when I found Captain Marvel no. 29, immediately arrested by its front cover. We were punk chrysalids, and Starlin’s existential heroes spoke our language, as they overcame foes that we all recognized from our spotty, sleepless nightmares. 

In a story portentously entitled “Metamorphosis,” Captain Marvel found himself on a distant planet, about to be judged by the godlike Eon. We know Eon is godlike because he resembles an enormous, hovering potato with jelly hands, a stern human face, and a giant staring eye in an acidhead’s best approximation of An Angel. 

His opening statement included these words: “WE ARE EON—HE WHO WAITS! SINCE THE DAWN OF OLYMPUS WE HAVE AWAITED YOUR COMING, AN ARRIVAL FORETOLD BY KRONOS, THE COSMIC BALANCE!” 

Starlin’s dialogue lacked Kirby’s percussive beat poetry but was more naturalistic and much easier for a fourteen-year-old to take seriously. 

If Kirby was the King James Bible, Starlin was the New English translation. Starlin smoothed Kirby’s rough edges into a solid, plastic finish. His figures were as massively proportioned and as given to sudden, violent action as the King’s but were drawn with a supple, clean line that gave them the springy believability of plasticine animation. The frenzied expressionist slashes of Kirby’s outlines were refined, mellowed out to a 3-D finish. 

Closer inspection revealed Starlin’s greatest innovations as a combination of Ditko and Kirby into one fresh new look. From Ditko he borrowed his mind-bending psychescapes and grubby urban scenes, his abstract concepts rendered into anthropomorphic form, his sliced-time panel grids and formal page compositions. 

From Kirby it was the relentless action, the epic vision, the massive figures, and the brawling masculinity. “WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME SO?” snarled Captain Marvel through gritted enamel as he balled his fists and glanced back over his shoulder at the impassive Eon. “BECAUSE KNOWLEDGE IS TORTURE AND THERE MUST BE AWARENESS BEFORE THERE IS CHANGE.” 

Before Captain Marvel or we the readers had any chance to ask for evidence to back this up, the booming inhuman voice of Eon continued. 

“THIS WE KNOW BECAUSE WE WERE CREATED TO KNOW!” 

Which placed us in no doubt whatsoever. And so his Warrior Spirit was subjected to a series of symbolic visions showing the Futility of War: a montage of weeping children, limbless veterans, and sieg heiling Nazis. 

The Universe needed A Protector, not A Warrior, Captain Marvel was informed, and his agonizing shamanic ordeal among The Stars was designed to bring about the birth of a new “cosmically aware” Superman, a being intimately connected to everything in the cosmos. 

An out-and-out psychedelic superhero had emerged from the chrysalis of Captain Marvel. “TO BE TRULY FREE ONE MUST OVERCOME HIS OWN INNER DEMON!” 

This was the intro to Captain Marvel’s two-page fight with a crumbling stone version of himself that was conveyed in dazzling freeze-frame digital panels intercut with wide borderless shots in which two decisive figures clashed against the white space of the page. 

A series of devastating strikes reduced the inner demon to builders’ chips, and Captain Marvel was, at last, ready to move on. I’d never seen anything like it. This comic felt like it had been custom created with my specific needs in mind as a reader. I was transported, hooked on a new drug. 

As ever, it’s easy to look back and laugh, but to a fourteen-year-old who wished he’d never seen Uncle Jimmy’s porn, or squashed dogs called Shep at the side of the road, knowledge was torture. 

Which meant that maybe there did have to be Awareness before there could be Change. To an introspective, imaginative, and repressed teenage boy who had timidly rejected The Bible, this cosmic creed was as good as any. The Justice League seemed childish compared to Starlin’s beefy Pop Art psycho sci-fi — an increasingly guilty pleasure as the DC universe became stale and conservative, congealing to a set of repeated gestures played out with exhausted emblems, empty signs. 

The age-old lessons of psychedelic drug trips, the booming, inevitable voice of the bloody obvious suddenly given godlike status, were passed on to me via these stories as surely as they were through the music of The Beatles or The Doors. 

Mar-Vell was now “cosmically aware,” which meant that his features would often cloud over with a beautiful graphic representation of starry, unbounded consciousness. His face would plunge into shadows lit with moving star fields and nebulae, with only his two blue eyes gazing out of infinite space at us. 

This was How it Felt to Live inside My Head too. These battles were ones I was fighting in my own adolescent soul. This was the shamanic trip as Marvel hero book. 

Marvel Comics’ original conception of Mar-Vell had been too boring to contain the voltage of Captain Marvel, the original super shaman, but here he was finally living up to the promise of his stolen name and the responsibility of his heritage.”

Love Thy Neighbour

• Supreme: Do not have any gods before God.

• Idols: Do not worship any idols.

• Irreverence: Do not use the name of God in vain.

• Sabbath: Do honor the Sabbath day.

• Parents: Do honor your parents.

• Murder: Do not kill your neighbor.

• Adultery: Do not commit adultery with your neighbor.

• Steal: Do not steal from your neighbor.

• Lie: Do not lie to your neighbor.

• Covet: Do not covet what belongs to your neighbor.

The First and The Last have to do with one's Thoughts. 

The others pertain to one's actions (which themselves start as Thoughts). 

That is a Teaching found in The Torah. 

In the New Testament, The Teaching is condensed further as simply Two Pillars :

• Love God.

• Love Your Neighbor.

These last two have been referred to as the Great Commandments.

Love God

• Supreme: Do not have any gods before God.

• Idols: Do not worship any idols.

• Irreverence: Do not use the name of God in vain.

• Sabbath: Do honor the Sabbath day.

• Parents: Do honor your parents.

• Murder: Do not kill your neighbor.

• Adultery: Do not commit adultery with your neighbor.

• Steal: Do not steal from your neighbor.

• Lie: Do not lie to your neighbor.

• Covet: Do not covet what belongs to your neighbor.

The first and the last have to do with one's thoughts. The others pertain to one's actions (which themselves start as thoughts). That is a teaching found in the Torah. In the New Testament, the teaching is condensed further as simply two pillars:

• Love God.

• Love your neighbor.

These last two have been referred to as the Great Commandments.

There is No Reason to Be Afraid.

Stardate: 49578.2

[Drayan moon]

(Lush vegetation and a crashed shuttlecraft. A crewman is lying on the ground nearby. Tuvok fetches a medkit.) 

TUVOK: 

Tuvok to Voyager. 

Voyager, do you read?

You must lie still. 

BENNET: 

I can't, I can't feel my legs. 

TUVOK: 

Several of your vertebrae have been fractured. 

BENNET: 

Isn't there anything you can do? 

TUVOK: 

I'm afraid the shuttle's medical supplies are inadequate. 

We must wait for Voyager to find us. 

BENNET: 

It's getting worse. 

My whole body feels numb. 

TUVOK: 

I want you to slow your breathing, and relax your muscles. 

Try not to move. 

BENNET: 

All this time I thought I was so lucky…

No Family back Home. 

Nobody to miss. 

Now it seems kind of sad 

not to leave anybody behind. 

TUVOK: 

I believe Ensign Macormak 

would Miss You a great deal. 

BENNET: 

You think so? 

I was never really sure how she —

(Bennet dies. Tuvok sets up a stasis field over his body then hears a rustling in the bushes. He takes out his phaser and turns to see that it is a young girl. She tries to run across the clearing and he grabs her.) 

TUVOK: 

It's all right, don't be frightened. 

I won't Hurt You. 

TRESSA: 

Let me go! 

TUVOK: 

Will you run if I do?

(She struggles then gives up.) 

TRESSA: 

No.

TUVOK: 

My Name is Tuvok. 

Who are you? 

TRESSA: 

Tressa. 

You don't look Like Us. 

TUVOK: 

I am not A Member of Your Race. 

I am Vulcan. 

I thought this moon was uninhabited. 

Do you live here? 

TRESSA: 

We came here on a ship, 

but it crashed like yours. 

TUVOK: 

Where are your parents? 

TRESSA: 

Dead. Is he dead too? 

TUVOK: 

Yes. 

TRESSA: 

What were you doing to him? 

TUVOK: 

I put a stasis field around His Body 

to protect it until I can take it 

back to My Ship. 

TRESSA: 

Why? 

TUVOK: 

Some cultures, like Mister Bennet's, 

consider an appropriate burial 

to be a Sign of Respect. 

Tressa, is there anyone else here with you? 

(She nods.) 

TRESSA: 

It's all right. 

(Another girl and a boy come out of the bushes.) 

TUVOK: 

There is no one looking after you? 

TRESSA: 

Everyone Else died in The Crash. 

We're alone. 

TUVOK: 

There is No Reason 

to Be Afraid. 

I Will Take Care of You Now 

and See That You Get Home Safely. 

(The second girl and the boy run over and hug Tuvok, then Tressa joins in.)