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Look, I still want to go for peace on this. I don't want to attack these people, they have lost a whole fucking world of shit already. So I am going to ask for something.

I want a story from your past. Something I can share, something that makes you you. Stories were important to them. Past experiences were important to them. It shouldn't give away anything on the ship, just something that is important to the past. Your past. If there is art you can do, a particular talent, something that is creative, give me this. A picture. A recording.

If you're not interested in avoiding a fight, just go do whatever. Lick on a gun barrel for twenty minutes. Warning, they taste bad. But for the ones that want to try? Do me this favor. Avoiding a repeat of Cadacus Primary is why I asked for this job in the first place.

[He'll... try to avoid arranged marriages this time.]

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You really think that's going to be what turns the tide in our favor? We're not people to them, we're monsters.

Acting like monsters is not going to help either.

No, it won't. But cutesy little anecdotes won't either.

I didn't say cutesy.

Mine has to do with dead children.

All just to make us seem like we could be one of them

No. They cared about histories other then their own. The past was legitimately important to them, and it should be similarly important to us. Their main goal in running us off after the theft was to restore balance. The laws, the rules of their people, were meant for that. Their world was a peaceful one before it was gone, because they cared of past and future and balance.

Now, if you seriously just want to fight go plan to fight. That is not what I am doing here.

I guess I've had too many experiences with people not caring about people like me. It doesn't make sense to me. But if this is the tactic you want to take, maybe I can come up with something to share. I just don't expect them to care.

You know, I have been stabbed in the back and betrayed time and time again. I've had my own neighbors try to kill me during the war.

And I still manage to go out and talk to people. Because not every single person is an asshole that needs to be put down.

[Just... some of them.]

So for that? It's worth trying.

[ He can't hear her sigh, but he will be able to gauge the delay in her reply. It's taken her a while to write this out. ]

I was important to someone once. In some ways he needed me a lot more than I needed him. We got into a situation before we came here, one where I was being held captive, and he sacrificed himself to free me. The thing is the way he did it, it let to me being taken out too. And next thing I knew, I was waking up here, and he just acted like being able to see me again was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But we didn't talk about it. We didn't talk about anything pretty much ever. Then last month, I got sick, and I was dying, and he said he loved me. And I couldn't even return the favor before he disappeared.

[ She's slapped a private filter on this, which is kind of odd, for someone who's sharing a story to be retold. But she's sharing this with Niko, not with everyone on the ship. ]

[Let it be known (like it isn't already) that the last thing Liquid wants to do is avoid a fight. But there's no fun in a fight he'll barely get to participate in.

And hey, maybe he wants to tell a story, even if his throat hurts and his stomach hurts and he keeps coughing and his voice is weaker than it'd normally be and occasionally he sounds like he's dying.]

A long long time ago, in a time called 'the nineteen eighties', I met my best friend. I was twelve, and I'd never had a best friend before, so it was certainly a bit of a surprise. Actually, I'd never really had a friend before, now that I think about it, but when you're so busy being in charge of things, that sort of thing goes to the wayside. Had a whole army, but none of them were exactly friend material. Never felt like I could trust them, anyway.

Anyway. We both ended up having a bit of a similar goal, although he really got the idea from me. Well, mostly. There's a lot of complicated stuff about all that I learned later, but at the time, things were easy enough. We went on a nice joyride.

Didn't go so well in the end, but you know what? We tried. Turns out a couple of kids and a giant tank still aren't exactly the solution to patricide, but oh well. Meet someone suddenly. Try to kill your father. Forge a friendship to last a lifetime. Named my dog after him, actually. My friend, not my father.

[That was more of a short ramble than a story but Liquid doesn't care. He's sick.]

If you have a chance to go back to be with him when we make it to wherever we're going, would you? Or are you not going to take the risk, and just carry that little bit with you?

[It's a genuine question, because for someone who really wants to live and someone who really wants to love, that sort of decision is almost impossible to make.]

[Liquid sounds like he's going to die. Someone needs to bring this man some chicken soup and ginger ale or something, damn.]

Did you and your friend stay friends?

...Man, do you need something to feel better? You sound like you have the plague, friend.

Like I said, he needs me more than I need him. We're both dead where we came from. When he disappeared from the ship

[ There's a gap, as though she's hit send too early and been undecided as to how to continue after that. ]

I worry that he's just gone forever. But I can handle that fact about him better than he ever would have handled that fact if it was me.

[Did someone say SHARING MEMORIES? Sign Elle the fuck up.]

You know... I really... I really hope this helps. There have been times, back home, where... Learning someone's story has made... It's -- changed everything. Even if it doesn't really change their minds? I hope all of these stories will at least makes them stop long enough to... think. I guess that sounds like... some kind of, overly optimistic, idealistic thing to say. But, sometimes, people really do just need... to -- take a moment and stop... and think. Sometimes, it doesn't help. But, sometimes...

Like... [Elle is fidgeting with her Pip-Boy dial, and it can be heard quietly clicking in the background.] Well. My best example of this, it's... really personal. But I think it's important to share.

There was... this town. Before the Great War, it was called Hopeville. [She may or may not have named her puppy after it.] And there used to be a military base there. But after the War -- where all the countries nuked their enemies, you can imagine how that turned out -- The military base didn't matter any more. People were building a town there. It was a good place for it, because it was on a route where lots of people would come through to trade. And there was a man who... started to feel like it could be his home. His tribe had been absorbed by a militaristic, slaving group called the Legion. He'd wandered almost all of his life, and wanted something to believe in. And he started to believe in this little town.

But... A courier came through, carrying a package intended for the town. It had markings on it that matched the flags found in the military base. But it turned out that device... It called out to nukes that were underground. And they went off. The little town was wiped off the map. The earth was broken open, and even the sky was torn. There've been endless storms there ever since, winds so harsh and irradiated that it can... mark people. The man who loved Hopeville was the only survivor, because he wore the Old World flag on his back, and medical robots thought he was a soldier, so they saved him.

That courier? That was me. I brought that thing there. I don't think I knew what it did, from what I heard, no one did. But I'm still the one who did it. Accidental or not, all of those deaths, all of that destruction, I had a part in it. Even if I don't remember it, because... I -- Because afterwards, I was... shot in the head, and I lost all my memories. But that doesn't make any of it go away.

The man who loved Hopeville, he knew I was that courier. He actually almost took the job that got me shot, but when he saw my name next on the list, he backed out. He hoped that maybe, it would kill me. Because he's like the Cada... Cadacans? The people from Cadacus Primary. He wanted revenge. I took his home away from him. And when I survived, he decided that he needed to do the same.

He called out to me, from Hopeville. He called me to come and meet him at the end of the road. In reality, what he wanted was for me to bring a robot to him. Just like before. Only this time, he'd use that robot to send nukes out to destroy my home. And... He knew who I was. He was the first person who did. There wasn't anyone I had met in my travels who knew my history. But he... he did. And I needed to know. But that need is exactly... what almost ruined everything. It gave him exactly what he needed... to destroy the people I'd been getting to know.

But, along the way? I found tapes he recorded. Tapes he made for himself, then threw away. He talked about his history. He talked about the symbols that had been taken from him. The symbols that mattered to him. He tried to act like the tapes didn't matter, since he threw them away... But. He made them, didn't he? That means it mattered. And because I knew his history, I was able... to talk to him. I was able to understand him. I was able to show him that symbols can change. They don't always die. They don't always just fade away. Even if the original meaning gets lost... They can evolve. They can live through us. And as we grow and change... so do they.

We... We're actually friends now, if you can believe it. [She laughs a little, sheepish and awkward.] He... He really... taught me... a lot. Things like... How, even if you don't remember doing something, even if you didn't mean doing it, that doesn't mean that -- you aren't still responsible. How you can mean well, but still do such great harm to someone. But also... about symbols. I taught him how we define them, but... He taught me how they define us. How, everything we fight for, believe in, everything that hurts us, challenges us... They all come down to symbols.

And... There's something he said, something about home. [Her voice softens as she begins to quote.] "Home isn't where you're born into this world. Can be a place of mind, a moment where you know who you are, the history of it. And they can be places you breathe life into."

He'd said... That it was part of my message, the one I carried with me, whether... it was intended, or not. Because... People are like couriers. We carry our symbols with us. We all carry messages for other people -- that mean different things for different people... Messages we don't even realize we're carrying.

... um. ... sorry. I guess... that was kind of long. But... yeah. That's... That's why I -- really hope this helps. [It's a lame finish, but she's never very good at endings.]

[Oof, that word choice.]

maybe it's black and white thinking like that that gets us in these messes in the first place.

You can't say whether the other party is thinking in black and white, though, can you? Only yourself.

agreed. which is why i'm a little wary about assuming too much about these people. i'm not too hot on 'em either, but i wasn't there when this went down. neither were you, if i'm remembering right, and i usually do.

niko was. gotta give the guy some credit, gun licking aside.

No, I wasn't. But I just wanted to get it established that this course seems weird to me.

[This is gonna be kind of short.]

Wait, that's what fucking happened?! I fucking quit on that asshole!

Thanks. It is a good story.

Good explanations of how things go helps.

I'm... I'm glad.

I know the circumstances aren't entirely the same, but -- they're... I feel they're similar enough that, maybe, if people hear that it is possible to talk this kind of thing through... Maybe, it'll help give people hope we can get through this without... things getting worse.

It can be hard to believe. But... I think it's possible.

I'm going to be pretty stubborn about this.

The stories are not all that I'm looking into. Don't worry.

[Liquid's not going to die! That's what this is for!]

We did. Parted ways after a bit, but we met up again in the end.

...For a while, anyway.

[He's quiet for a moment, and then he laughs, which almost turns into a coughing fit.]

No, this is the thing that's supposed to stop me from having the plague. I'll be alright.

I think it's a good thing. This... I think this is a good idea.

I hope, if the stories aren't enough, that... whatever else you find, works out. I don't know if it'll be worth much, but -- I'm... willing to do what I can... to help.

Speaking from experience, this kind of thing doesn’t usually work when someone’s made their mind up. [Plenty of Zam’s targets had done the same kind of story-telling trying to talk their way out of execution or capture. It never got them far.]

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