2023-08-15: .toxic positivitY
- Cutscene: .toxic positivitY
- Cast: Yuliana Kafim
- Where: The Silent Castle, Kaffeklubben Island
- Date: 2023-08-15
- Summary: Yuliana sends out a message about gratitude to her followers -- namely, when it is and isn't warranted. Her own personal gratitude journal is... similar, in some ways, and strikingly different in others. (CW: Cults, coercive control)
"I miss you," is the message Yuliana offers to the camera, all clad in black robes and a golden winged headdress as she spreads her hands towards everyone. Some of the Silent Calling will have never met her -- Yuliana's appearances in Federation-controlled countries have been terribly sparse -- but she's really quite effective at establishing parasocial connection, even where no true relationship exists. She is image and icon, the Silent Calling's living jewel.
"Today, I would like to dwell on the concept of gratitude," Yuliana starts, warm and conversational. "Too often, the undeserving demand our thanks. Have you ever been in that situation? An unreasonable family member, or an inconsiderate friend...? Or perhaps you were mocked by the very systems which govern you. Perhaps the Federation wounded you, as all the while they claimed to be working in your best interests. It happened to me." Yuliana's expression darkens, impassioned as ever, as she relates: "The REA mocked me, even as they employed me and mine as secret enforcers. All the while, they told me to be grateful! Even as they treated me as their anti-Newtype labrat!" Her fist impacts with the table; it's not an uncommon story. The Silent Calling have been vocal and explicit about the Federation's ongoing involvement with human experimentation... and their secret lust for Newtype soldiers.
By this point, it's even how they pull in some of their members. Yuliana's fierce and frank disclosure of her experiences in the REA provide shelter for many who had no place for their questions, their anxieties, their wounds.
(Help is available. They offer outreach, to those whose consciousnesses have been torn open. They offer hope, with the claim that they can live a normal life again. It's too much, isn't it? The Federation asked too much...)
And again Yuliana echoes it, underlines it, repeats the concepts as they so often do: "The Federation asked too much of us. Those who lost family, neighbours, classmates -- and those who were taken! There are people who will claim gratitude from you without deserving a scrap. If someone threatens your life, your way of life, your convictions -- they are less than nothing! I do not speak of those who cast doubt and disarray on your lives. I speak not of these cruelties." Effortlessly, she ties doubt in with destruction. It is effective because she barely dwells on it.
"But the cruel rumours about us are unfounded in fact," Yuliana ties her statements with the descriptor, smiling sympathetically. "They say we are solipsist, as if it were some great crime. They don't understand that peace must begin within ourselves... and they've little appreciation for the human right to privacy. But I understand that it has been difficult," she sighs, overburdened, shoulders falling just so. "I've heard our Callers speaking of feelings of unconsidered isolation, frustration, even lowered self-esteem. There's nothing that troubles me more, for we know that holding oneself in esteem is a vital part of health and wellbeing."
Yuliana's hands curl at her heart. "So I thought, today, we should meditate on those in our lives who deserve our gratitude -- those people who support and nurture us, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Though each of us is self-contained, we all are interrelated. We all depend on each other... not only in our family, but in your personal families, your friendships, your mentors and your students. I ask you: who supports you?"
Her gaze lingers on the camera, for a tender, smiling moment, before she goes on. "I am grateful, of course, for each and every one of you; it's thanks to your willingness to listen that I feel even I am capable of making a difference, for this world's people. It is your choice to be here which strengthens me, your decision to hear the Calling and understand the importance of silence. I could not share my visions with an empty room... I'm so glad you're with us." And she sounds glad, her hands spreading again.
"I am grateful, as well, to my own dear friends and allies, who helped our High Priestess rescue me from the ravages of the REA. Those who would support me through those wretched times... are surely worth recognising." Even so, she doesn't linger on them overmuch.
"And I am grateful to our High Priestess," Yuliana goes on, her smile growing warmer still as her hands clasp at her heart again. "Ever has she defended me, as she protects us all. She holds me as I receive my sacred communion, and it is she who makes sense of me -- and, my visions," a subtle little trip over her script, the words written contrasting with the words crafted. She doesn't linger on it. She will decide it is genuine, when it comes time to edit the footage. "We owe everything to her wisdom and her forethought, my Callers, for without her I would be senseless. And truly senseless, now, after the Republic's betrayal... it was our High Priestess who ensured I would not meet a fate worse than death at the Federation's hands, you know." They know. She's told versions of the story many times. And she doesn't need to act in the slightest when the sheer weight of her love trembles her words: "She saved me."
A moment's quiet; she smiles, to the camera. "Yes... there are many worth your gratitude, aren't there? Think on this, on those who support you to achieve your desires. Meditate on your gratitude, and do not allow the sceptics' cruelties to scar your inviolable soul. You are -- all of you -- beautiful. I'll see you again..." And with that gossamer invitation, the camera cuts.
Another message, sent into the world. Another message for those who would grasp salvation with both hands. Another message, and perhaps, one day, they will be ready.
(And this is a message sent to the faithful -- though outsiders are able to access it, given enough persistence and willingness to sign up for mailing lists. Curious parties may wish to use a burner account; it isn't spam if you sign up.)
...---...
Some time after the recording, Yuliana's put her ceremonial winged tiara away; she still frequently wears those black robes around the Castle, though, these days. They're... comfortable. They suit her. And she matches her wife.
Yuliana isn't with Elisa right now, at least; her wife has important magic to see to, and Yuliana is thoughtful enough to let her concentrate. (Yuliana must practice thoughtfulness, at least as far as her wife is concerned.) Instead she leans against their green pet tiger, Sokrovishche, holding a tablet in her hands, all opened to the word processor where she writes her diary.
She keeps one, you know. Elisa encouraged her to get her thoughts out, during her long recovery from the REA's crimes. And it's... easier, digitally. The program can correct her spelling. Since it's been trained on her, she calls it carelessness, it recognises when b was meant to be d and when m was meant to be n. And of course Elisa has access to her profile and the files she stores there; she's the one who had the idea to volunteer the information, after hearing her dear wife worry about whether she was focusing on the right things in her treatment.
(Of course the permission extended to perpetuity; Yuliana could never keep a secret from her wife.)
I told them of gratitude, is what she writes, today. Not that I want them to get the wrong idea... but I can't be raising ungrateful children, either. Well, it's not as if it contradicts our principles, really. So long as they appreciate Elya...
If only I had an hour longer to speak! Though naturally much of this is private, but I could spend endless time speaking of her kindnesses. I know I am unique in receiving them; of course I am not fool enough to say she treats this world as she treats me. But isn't that the most wonderful part? Of everyone forced to live here, she chose to accept my offer... you know, any woman would feel special.
Yuliana sighs, all too fond, and echoes warmly to Sokrova: "You know..?"
Sokrova rumbles, and nuzzles her arm with his broad face.
"Hahaha..." She lifts her hand, to pet him, in a brief pause from her writing. Part of her must know that the processor registers these pauses in input; she's used Twin Tiger software all her life, she's perfectly aware of how programs betray the people using them. But it's not a problem, and it's not worth thinking about, either.
Really... she's done so much for me. I know that I, another pause in input, though this is briefer, still, need treatment after what they've done, but there's no way I could accept some whitecoat poking at me, now. There's no way! But Elya, she is so patient and so loving, she always knows what's best for me. It's so much easier when she administers it... of course needles frighten me to death, but she'd never harm me. When I wake from my seizures, or when I wake to blindness... it's terrifying, but Elya's always there for me.
Even when all I wake to is my madness... you know, it's frightening. I know I am blessed, of course. I know I am the only one who can do this. And I know She is concerned for me, but... it hurts so much. Particularly now, now I see so clearly, now I see so often, now I see in such detail. But Elya's never made me feel inadequate for being so ungrateful to receive Her revelations... I know she wakes me, when they're too hard on me. I know, I hear her voice... I can't make my mind settle on it, too much a tempest, but I hear her. I always hear her. Even though I know the visions She grants me are so important to us, Elya's always cared about my wellbeing. Back at JOSH-A, I could have torn myself open, could have opened the Gate for her, but she wouldn't accept me coming to harm at all...
Oh, I feel so wretched, forgetting that devotion even for a moment. I can't believe I was so worried about... about what? EMPTEAR bringing me to harm? Just because her heart is built from so much Voidframe, spidering through her veins? It's ridiculous. Elya built the Threshold Queen to protect me. And if I'd just talked to her, I would have known she knew I was struggling with EMPTEAR's inputs! She knew, and she was working to solve it! Much as the program has to work overtime, now, to correct Yuliana's spelling errors. Her dyslexia flares with her grief. Rita did give me a beautiful trinket to try and make up for her crime, but... I can't quite forgive her, yet. If there's anything I could never be grateful for, it's that woman's self-centred selfishness! We're not the same at all! We're not the same, but Rita insisted it would happen to me, and I hurt Elya that badly!
Sokrova rumbles, with more concern, as he noses at the tears leaking down Yuliana's cheeks. She takes another break to hug him, before she gets back to her thoughts.
I'm just grateful that my wife is so understanding. You know, I'm so often thoughtless... I don't think about other people's feelings. And maybe that's fine, most of the time, but I regret it when I thoughtlessly hurt my dearest zhenushka. Another pause registers. Well... honestly, that's not the only time I regret it, sometimes, but... it hurts to be wrong. It hurts to be embarrassed, too. So even if it bothers me, it's not something I can really... I mean, it's hard to deal with it. But if it's for Elya, I'd bear any indignity. Any grief! And she makes it so easy on me. She's so forgiving, and so understanding. It's really a relief. You know, I get so scared when she goes away... I don't know where she goes, but I'm sure this world is just intolerable, to her. Sometimes, even though she's beside me, she's nowhere to be found. When I'm what's bringing this world's pain to her... I can't bear it. I know this is an imperfect world, but it's where I am, most of the time. And I want to be with her! I can't bear to be apart from her! My worst nightmare is to be torn from her, kept from her, separate from her! But... she always comes back to me. She always comes back, even when I hurt her.
You know, I'm so grateful that she takes the effort to move in this world, just for me. She never moves carelessly or thoughtlessly... you know, I must be so special, that she puts her arms around me, strokes my hand or my hair or my cheek. I've always felt so honoured... it took so long pursuing her for her to lay a hand on me the same way, but perhaps it was that very wanting which lets me appreciate it as much as I should, now. When I'm in her arms, my heart soars... no grief of this world can touch me, with her hands laid on me instead. Really, sometimes I feel a little foolish... the way I'm always so easily distracted. You know I almost walked right into a lamp-post, once, because I was too absorbed with admiring my beautiful wife? Of course Elya saw it, and shifted my path. She's wonderful!
Yuliana's accounts proceed to detail just how wonderful and special and delightful her wife is for another seven pages. (Without any more long pauses, where her mind struggles over the words. It's so easy to speak of her love.)
She mentions no one else, in gratitude or otherwise.