2016: The Iowa Primary, Explained

It’s that time of the year again.

Yup. That time of the year.

Lemme tell you something. Where I come from, Iowa? Pretty much nobody cares about us most of the time. Nothing much happens around here, that’s for sure. I suppose I might could’ve dig up some news around here someplace, but this is Iowa. Why’d we want to go looking for a commotion? It just isn’t sensible.

Yup. I reckon you guys have all seen the news by now. The presidential elections are coming up, and we’re the first state that gets to put the constitution’s “power to the people” thing into play. This usually mean three things.

One, all the talking heads on TV couldn’t shut up about Iowa for about anywhere from, my reckoning, a month to a year. We go from your average American state to some mythical magic-land where suddenly our every move and motive become scrutinized. You’ll hear numbers. You’ll hear “polls” and “trends” and “frontrunner.” Ignore them. They’re just words. They don’t mean much.

Two, all of a sudden you get a bunch of politicians wandering about the neighborhood, shaking hands and kissing babies and attending state fairs and whatnots. In an attempt to be more like you so you like them enough to at least give them your vote, they’re gonna do everything from trying to shuck corn to eating pork chops to whatever it is that’s “your” thing to do in your home area. Meanwhile their people canvas the entire state and try to get you to vote for their person of choice, and you may or not be sent letters, e-mails, or phone calls about donating money to their cause. They’ll do this a whole lot until the day of the primary, where then you’ll never see any of ’em again until maybe four years later if they’re gonna run again.

Maybe they’ll show up once or twice again for the presidential election itself. Maybe. But really I wouldn’t count on it.

Now, this is Iowa. People are generally pretty nice about the whole thing. If you politely tell ’em no the first time, they usually won’t come bother again. If you live somewhere where they’re more persistent, though, lemme share with you a trick my sister uses. Before the election season heats up, Jer goes out and buys a big boatload of those little flag thingies with pins on the end. She sticks the lot of ’em right up her lawn and all around the hedges, and that sends a signal loud and clear. Clear enough that she usually don’t get bothered at all.

Now, she tells me the secret’s that you can’t just put one up in your lawn. People are gonna think that you might be worth a shot and try to pester you even more so they think they can talk you out of it. Stick ’em all over your front lawn. Make it an eyesore. I guarantee you people’ll be steering clear.

Three, I’ve never seen one day of good weather on primary day. Ever. Now, fine, it’s something you just gotta do every four years, but just don’t complain too hard if there’s a freak blizzard. Some of us have to brave the freeze, you know?

Now,  I know some of you guys here aren’t from around here, so here’s how it works. Here in America, before we elect the president, we have a thing called the primary election, which is basically the big political parties decides which one of their candidates they wanna push out and have that guy or gal run for president. The big two in America now are the Democratic Party (The democrats, dems, “liberals”) and the Republican Party (The republicans. ‘cons. “conservatives”. You’ll also see “GOP”).

Kinda a color thing, too, but you’ll hear “red state” and “blue state.” You’ll honestly see plenty of red white and blue around these times anyways, but what these words mean is that there are some states that tend to vote for one or the other. Generally, democrats are “blue,” and republicans are “red.” The democrats use a donkey as their symbol, and the republicans use an elephant.

Anyways, Iowa has what we call a “caucus.” A caucus is basically a bunch of people from a political party coming together to decide a leader for that party. For us Iowans, our process is not that common among other states. For one, we don’t allow absentee ballots. You literally have to get up, put on your pants, and go to one of the hundreds of sites depending on which one of the thousand-something districts you live in to vote for a particular party’s candidate.

Secondly, the caucus thing? That’s where half the fun is. See, each precinct has representatives, and they will make last-minute arguments to try to get you to vote for the guy that they’re standing for. While the democrats and the republicans do thing a little differently, the general gist is the same. They will talk to you. Your friends, your neighbors, you’ll see them. You’re with them. You will be yelled at, words will be exchanged, and they will quite figuratively tell you, “come and vote for my guy.”

Yeah, it’s complicated. The Republican side’s a bit easier to get. People show up. The precinct captains make their speeches, then you cast a secret ballot for the guy you wanna vote for. Sometimes even the candidates themselves are there, too. The democrats? Each voting precinct gets a number of caucus delegates based on how big the Democratic voter was during the last two elections were. Then, depending on how well each candidate does in the caucus itself, get assigned to the candidate in proportion. Kinda like a mini-version of America’s electoral college.

What’s more, the democratic caucus is open. How it works is that when you go to one of these precinct sites, you first go to a corner based on your candidate. So, with this election, we’re gonna see Hillary, Sanders, and O’Malley voters all in different corners of the room. If a candidate doesn’t get more than 15% of voters in his corner, those voters are free to go home. Generally what it means is that the other candidates can try to grab these voters, and this’d be on top of the usual lobbying and jostling and shouting and talking and persuading voters.

Yeah, fun times, but unfortunately, I won’t be there myself. I’m on active duty around this time. This year is a bit special, though, since the Democrats and the Republicans are both offering exceptions to active-duty military service members, Iowans living overseas, or just those who have trouble trekking through a blizzard to get to the location.

I’ll be honest. I don’t like the pandering. I don’t like politicians. I especially don’t like politicians that tell me what I should hear or thinks he know exactly what I want to hear. As a responsible citizen of any country, much less American, it’s your one job to actually know what’ll be running your country. I don’t care if you support Donald Trump or Bernie Sanders. I only pray to God that you have a good reason for why you support either of them. That’s all. You owe it to no one but yourself and your country to stay informed.

Go vote.


 


 

Morgane: Team effort?

K9: Yeah, team effort.

Morgane: You wanna actually take this one, Sima?

Sima: Okay!

So, at the beginning, I didn’t really know what I would be drawing. For one thing, I live in China. I have no idea what an election looks like, much less a primary. So at first, I baidu’d (translator’s note: CHINESE GOOGLE) up some stuff, and then I drew a chibi-Iowa staring at a large ballot box.

I wanted to draw Iowa and her sisters first, but then I thought, maybe we can tie this in a bit more with contemporary events. So I asked Morgane to tell me a little more about each of the candidates, and I went drawing.

Morgane: Ignore the legitimate possibility of at least some of these guys being part of Pacific lore proper thanks to how our fairies work in principle, it was a real challenge for me to explain to Sima about our American memes. I’m sure a lot of you might know some of these already, but if you don’t, I’ll explain in the forums.

(I know I can’t really say nice things about my own team, but of course I love it. I think this is great. And, as Iowa noted, we’re not politically affiliated with anyone. We’re just reflecting on an impression of things, based on some “hard” evidence like polls! xD)

I’ll give you one thing to start, though. Please google, “Donald Trump AMV: Attack on Mexico.” (Should be on Vimeo) I think you might get why we decided to drew Trump this way. 😉

Sima & Co.: Anyways, a big thank you to our readers. We wouldn’t have gotten this done so quickly (really, it got finished in about a day or so) without you guys. 🙂


衣阿华与衣阿华初选(中文)

◇ TIME LINEResults from Iowa >

2016:衣阿华与衣阿华初选

又到了那个时候啦。

是啊,就是那个时候。

我告诉你啊,我老家衣阿华州,是个无人搭理的地方。基本上安安稳稳,啥事都没有。没事也好啊,啥人都不惹。但你知道嘛,我们这里大概每四年会热闹一次。对啦,对啦。就是我们美国大选。你看现在已经开始了。现在你打开电视想不看到IOWA四个字母都难~

美国大选选什么?选总统啊!但美国是这样,选总统前首先要选总统候选人,而我老家衣阿华州是第一个可以决定总统候选人的州。总之我给你保证,我们这里这段时间会发生三件事。

第一。电视上的那堆知识分子啊政治分析家啊什么的突然间会如同发现新大陆一样的开始八卦各种关于衣阿华人民的事情。我们会从普通美国人(并且我们不少是农民哦)摇身一变成为类似于外国人甚至外星人一样的异种生物。你会听到各种神奇的专业词汇,举个例子,”voter demographic” (选民构成),”trends” (趋势),”polls”(意念调查),等等等一系列的各种你平时听不见的词汇。

别理他们。真的。那些东西都没啥用。至少我感觉没啥用。该谁被选上还是谁被选上的。

第二。你突然会发现好像到处都有政客出现。一堆你从来不认识的人会过来找你握手啊或者亲吻你的婴儿啊或者来你家做客啊什么的。平时乡亲们的日常活动也突然成了这些人的习惯。不过,无论是剥玉米也好还是啃猪排也好,他们的目的很明确的。他们要你的选票。并且不光是他们。他们的一大票小弟们都会跟过来,给你发邮件啊,写信啊,上门来找你捐款啊等等。直到初选过后,他们都不会松懈。然而你知道初选过后会发生什么吗?对。这些人会立马蒸发。你连影子都见不到的。

(我也理解吗,因为衣阿华州本来人就不是太多,所以大选的时候基本上没人理我们。所以政治家的手段,俺还是比较清楚的。是的~)

咳咳。总之,咱这是衣阿华州。咱这里的乡亲们,还算是蛮有礼貌的。你有礼貌的告诉他们说,别来烦我,他们一般会知趣而退的。但你如果想要点保险的话,我告诉你我妹的技巧。大选季节开始前,杰尔会先扔个钢蹦,然后按照钢蹦的选择她会买一堆那种可以插在你家前院那种的小旗。对,然后她会在她家前院把小旗插满,密密麻麻的到连草地都看不到。她告诉我,秘诀很简单。插一个或者两个不管用,因为那些说客会把你当作可以说服的目标。你如果不想被烦的话,就一定要拿出(或者装出)骨灰级别粉丝的架势。

第三。下大雪。我保证初选那天天气肯定是糟糕透顶的。不过我感觉这个还好啦。毕竟是四年一次的仪式。冻一冻就算冻吧。

我知道你们这里可能有些朋友对我们的风俗不太了解。美国选总统前一般有所谓的“初选,”就是我说的这个Primary。美国呢,主要有两个大政党。民主党和共和党。我想说其实这俩家伙都不是啥好东西。或者确切来说,都有些好官员,但总体来讲你可以从今年美国人民的反应来看,大家都认为这帮家伙们糟糕透了。

当然,我们这里口语中的“蓝”州和“红”州一般指那些比较偏向于某个党派的州。一般来说,民主党是蓝色,驴的标志,以及所谓的“左派”。而共和党呢,一般是红色,大象的标志,以及所谓的“右派。”我估计我可能等大选的时候会再拉几个伙伴来给大家科普科普 – 前提是你们感兴趣的话,呵呵。

好啦,来解释下我们这个Caucus到底是什么。我查了下字典,发现中文有两种翻译。党团会议或者干部会议。我想可能还是第一个比较准确吧?我来稍微描述下这个过程,然后你来看看哪个翻译的比较对,好吗?

从定义上来讲,这个Caucus就是一个党派内的人民来一起来做个决定,来推荐出一个代表党派的候选人。大多数别的州,你过去投个票就完事了。我们衣阿华州啊,不一样。真的不一样。首先我们有个规矩:只有你在场你才能有投票权。所以上面我抱怨天气你可以理解了吧?大冬天的你需要穿上裤子,离开你温暖的小家,然后(有些地方)跑老远老远才能到达一个固定的选票位置。我们称呼为“区。”

当你来到你的选票区后,好戏上演了。衣阿华州的规矩是每个区都有个“头头”,就是在你那个选区里替他们愿意支持候选人拉选票的人。他们会在这种最后一分钟的关键时刻来试图说服选民们来投他们所支持者的一票。我妹说真应该改名成衣阿华马戏团。我不反对。真的。首先你附近的人都是乡亲,邻居,甚至家人。大家都是熟人,所以本来就有一种亲切的感觉。其次,大家都有发言权,所以大家经常会因为各种各样的小事而闹个面红耳赤。台上人也许还在讲呢,台下就开始骂起来了。这热闹度,不亚于你上任何一个新闻网站后点开下面评论区看到的反应。

共和党和民主党都是这样。民主党相对更复杂点。共和党最后投个票,完了。民主党那个是直接把你轰到屋子的固定角落里面然后数人头的。也就是说你到底支持谁,大家都能看到哦。

(民主党在衣阿华的那个系统有点鸡毛蒜皮的注重细节,但基本上是每个区按照人口有固定的区选票,然后按照区的选票以及候选人的比例来算整个州给这个人多少个选票。你理解成个迷你版美国大选就好啦。

另外,他们有个小规矩,就是如果候选人的支持率不超过屋子里面的15%话,那那个候选人会直接被判断出局。选择支持他们的选民可以立马选择回家,但他们也可以选择“加入”屋子里面剩下的候选人的阵营。当然我不用说,屋子里要有这种事情的话,很显然主要的那些大牌候选人的人都肯定会试图拉人吧?)

嗯,大概就是这样。

先稍微解释下,毕竟现在这是个科普贴。我如果没记错的话,州内参加大选和先选的比例差不多,能有三分之一的人出来就算不错了。而考虑到我们州那一千多个区里面绝大多数是500人以下的区,你就不难理解为什么有些区域会选择合并了。一来,没人。二来,其实大家都很懒。真的。你别听那些党派的说客们把这个过程吹的天花乱坠,他们自己党派内能有20%的人出来投票就已经算奇迹了。

然而,如果是这样的一个逗逼过程,为什么突然媒体这么曝光呢?要你问我啊,我认为是他们吃饱了撑着没事干。我知道理论上来说我作为舰娘不应该表示任何政治观点,但你知道,现在美国大选就是在做秀。你看见哪个国家一年半之前就开始煽风点火的开始搞热度了?又哪个国家直接以亿的单位数来投入各种广告呢?

然而你知道,现在时代变了。因为网。因为信息的发达。美国选民可以说是越来越年轻。而这些年轻人是否能出去投票,我想,会决定美国的将来。

我说句实话。我不喜欢他们那种来拉选票的方式。我感觉好假。我更不喜欢那些政治家们来我面前撒谎,告诉我他们认为我应该听到的信息。我认为作为一个称职的公民 – 不管你是什么国家的,你都有义务以及责任,来了解你的家的实际情况。因为这不光是我的家。这也是你的家啊。

所以我不管你支持谁。川普也好,山德斯也好,我只希望你有一个属于你自己的支持他们的原因。你不欠我以及国家什么,但你欠你自己一个问心无愧。

出去选吧!

司马:其实一开始的时候我还是挺不知如何下手的,主要的原因嘛~我们这边并不施行普选,幸好有莫根酱和大家帮忙,要不然我只好靠想象力来画了~~~

最开始的时候我仅仅画了一个迷你的小衣望着巨大的投票箱,尝试了下颜色感觉不太好,后来突然想到如果用正常比例的小衣外加她的三个mini的姐妹似乎会有意思的多~最后就想到了与其用她的姐妹不如把几个候选人放在旁边好一点,于是问题来了:候选人都是谁啊?….于是在莫根酱的帮助下我了解到了每个候选人,然后就马上画出来了我感觉也许符合他们各自的个性的梗吧。

(莫根突入:

大概是这样。很多上面的梗都是美国的网络文化以及恶搞梗。如果各位感兴趣的话我可以跟司马来更细致的解释。但我认为最好的解释,还是用视频。

https://vimeo.com/144912446

看完这个我估计你马上就懂为什么川普是进击之巨人的梗了,噗)

所以在这里还是要谢谢大家对我的帮助,没有你们我也不会如此迅捷的完成这张画~~


The Iowa Primary, Explained(En)

◇ TIME LINEResults from Iowa >

From Action Report #1: The History of STEC (4)

STEC Archives, Audio Documentation Division
Curator signature: [Classified]
Format: Audio recording, magnetic sound recording
Object: Recording, Fragment, Statement of Cmdr. Conrad Wallace
Location (if known): Unknown. (White House?)
Time (if known): September 21, 1950.

I thought Savo was bad. But as you can see, the losses we suffered are catastrophic. Even now, to speak plainly, our ability to interdict and intercept the enemy has been severely curtailed. Mr. President, I know from our correspondence that you’ve read all of our reports and commented extensively on them. I just want to stress the nature of the disaster and how serious the appearance of that thing is for our own national security. 

(Identified as Harry S. Truman) I know. Again, like I’ve told the boys from the press, if you ever pray, pray for me now. I’m absorbing what I can, and there’s an awful lot of it that I don’t understand.

Mr. President, I understand –

Drop the Mr. President. This discussion is between Harry Truman and Conrad Wallace, two concerned Americans about our country’s future.

Yes sir. 

So what have you boys & Iowa found out?

A few things. First, I would like you to look at this report here. 

The one from the army, yes. I must have gone through that five or six times already. The only thing that I got from that, was that the only unusual thing was a complete blackout on land with no visibility. None whatsoever. Is this true?

Yes, sir. That’s the first thing I’d like to bring up. Here are aerial recon photos taken based on the last call from the 8th recon. As you can see, visibility was normal. Resolution was fairly good. No sign of any sort of black-out or darkness as we can see. However, given the consistency of the reports from air, ground, and sea, it’s pretty reasonable to conclude that the men are seeing something in the field. Whether it’s an “impenetrable fog” or “black mist” or “sudden darkness”, what matters is that it cuts off visual perception of the target and severely disrupts all form of communications. 

Hold up a second. That doesn’t make sense. Let’s say that this thing’s making the darkness. Okay. So why isn’t it attacking under cover of darkness as well? Why is it giving our boys a chance to shoot back?

Iowa thinks that it’s purely intimidation. 

I’ll be honest, sir. The only reason why we won that one was that we got lucky and the monster got cocky. According to Iowa, who claims to have fought these monsters before, their typical mode of attack IS more or less brute-force. After seeing what it did to our ships and our men, I don’t doubt her for a second. 

Damn bastard. Against what we’ve got in our arsenal, it’s functionally invincible.

Yes sir, and I am of the opinion that the men of the 8th knew that. You’ve read the latest briefing on the matter?

Only what’s been on my desk so far.

We were able to retrieve a number of items from the 8th recon. 

*Silence, then an audible intake of air*

Yes, sir. They realized that it was a trap almost immediately after they’ve sighted the enemy. It wasn’t just the 8th and the marines that were trapped in there. The Koreans had entire divisions in the area, but by the time the 8th reached some of their fortifications, it was too late. 

Too late … for our boys, too.

Yes, sir. If we can take solace in the matter, it’s that we have certainty on at least one thing the enemy can do. It has the ability to disrupt communications. The 8th was able to only send out one message requesting an evacuation, after of which all of their radio transmissions became garbled nonsense. 

It was bait.

Yes sir.

And we took it because of course. Of course! We had no idea that it was there. For all intent and purposes we thought it was Kim’s men hitting us.

Yes sir. The 7th fleet did what we would have done under normal circumstances, and we sent a relief force immediately. Our men were well-trained and well-disciplined, and it was our own discipline, ironically, that sealed the fate of that entire task group. 

In hindsight, had we even hesitated for perhaps half an hour, we might not have lost that carrier. I might not have sent eight thousand men to their deaths. But … what happened happened. 


It is impossible to talk about STEC’s early history without Conrad Wallace.

Consummate, meticulous, and coldly analytical (possibly influenced by his engineering degree), Wallace was a perfect fit for the Navy. He was never one to raise his voice, but his imposing height (6’10”) placed him literally heads and shoulders above his colleagues. His command was characterized as bold, favoring decisive actions and steadfastness after a decision has been reached. While his service in WWII was remarkable in itself, today, Wallace is better known as one of the founding officers of STEC.

Being the unfortunate man who happened to have been in charge of the 7th’s relief task force, it was natural that the spotlight was placed on Wallace. Congress, in dire need of a scapegoat, pinned the blame on the veteran officer. In a frenzied reaction that perhaps saved the man’s career more so than anything else, a general court martial was ordered. Yet the case against Conrad Wallace was so thin that three investigating officers recommended dismissal, a fourth resigned inexplicably from the case, and the last completed the Article 32 investigation only reluctantly out of a sense of duty for due process.

By the time the charges against Wallace fizzled out, he was already comfortably settling into his new role. Truman had appointed him along with a select core group of officers to a fledgling organization called the Special Task and Evaluation Command, or STEC for short. According to STEC’s own legends, the president noticed Wallace’s obsession for the abyssal fleet, and approached him with an offer, promotion included, so that he would be legally authorized to lead the organization. Wallace, true to his personality, turned Truman’s offer down. He wanted neither leadership nor authority. He just wanted to get to the bottom of it and do his part, whatever it may be.

To Wallace, the abyssal threat was more than just a matter of doing his duty or protecting his homeland. This threat was personal, and his service a simple debt of honor, to be repaid on behalf of all the men that were lost under his former command. Furthermore, as commanding officer of the relief operation, he was as close as anyone could get to the center of the event. Even if Truman did not approach him with the mission, it is probable that he would have volunteered for it. Conrad Wallace was not one to sit on the sidelines. Never was.

Yet the first mission Wallace received was an impossible one. STEC’s goals, on paper, was to establish a logistical and support infrastructure to counter future abyssal operations. To do this, STEC first needs to know what exactly the abyssals are capable of. That question soon became unanswerable for one reason: the abyssals were functionally unstudyable.

Whether an intentional design or not, the “corpse” of the abyssals have a tendency to dissipate into fine particulate matter. This “decomposition” occurs within minutes to seconds, making the study of abyssal components or weaponry all but impossible. Wallace had known this to be a possibility based on the information he obtained from aerial observers and Iowa’s own testimony, but he was unwilling to throw in the towel until all the tests came back empty. And empty they did. Whatever material the abyssals were made of, their disintegration was so complete that no remains could be found, and none of the wrecks recovered showed anything beyond what was ordinarily found in the environment.

So Wallace turned to his next best source: people. Out of the handful of survivors he did manage to rescue from that day, only four remained out of the original group who met with Iowa on that day. All had taken their own lives or died under unusual circumstances. Of the four that were still living, one was in a vegetative coma, and the rest were institutionalized. Despite having access to the new Veterans Administration (VA) Hospitals and the best medical care to veterans at the time, American psychiatry at the time overwhelmingly focused on psychodynamics and applying psychosomatic medicine. The psychotherapeutics of the time, applied and designed for relatively normal individuals suffering from relatively benign states, had no answer to these poor individuals touched by the abyssal fleet.

In an era where medical practitioners were still grappling with the fundamentals of mental health, Wallace correctly deduced that the survivor’s mental states were intrinsically linked to the abyssal attack. He quickly funneled what available manpower STEC had its disposal towards the confirmation of his hypothesis. Over the next few months, Wallace’s men documented and interviewed hundreds of men who were involved in some way with the abyssal incursion. The results were chilling.

Consistently, those who were found to have been involved in the mission reported sensations of dread, as if something has gone wrong, though few could explain what the feeling actually entails. Radio and comms personnel furthest from the action were not exempt, as they report a sensation of gloom or depression. Ground troops nearest the area reported a haunting sensation of abandonment, with several commenting that the despair was enough that the thoughts of ending their lives was up for consideration. Pilots flying near to where the abyssal was located overwhelmingly reported a desire to turn back, and those who were willing to admit it stated frankly that the urge to crash into the ocean was strong as they approached their destinations.In each and every case, the sensations were the same. What’s more, almost all interviewees report a wide scattering of various psychological malaise, ranging from insomnia to hallucinations to downright psychosis. The only thing constant was that in all the severely affected individuals, recurring nightmares were persistent. As symptoms worsened, the nightmares would increase in intensity, too.

It then became clear to Wallace that some key component was missing from his understanding of the events. With what evidence he had gathered, there was a simple hypothesis: the potency and the frequency of these effects is a function of the exposure and the proximity to the abyssal in question. The closer or the longer the exposure, the greater the effect is. This sensible explanation was contradicted by the data he had on hand. In fact, the biggest anomalous datapoint was Wallace himself. Despite having been in contact with the abyssal during the entire incident and even having heard the “scream,” Wallace did not experience any of these symptoms. Neither did a sizable portion of his staff or fellow officers.

Despite the fact that he had no operational hypothesis, Wallace nonetheless completed a through report on his findings and delivered it to a number of key individuals, one of whom was General Paul Hawley. Hawley concurred wholeheartedly with Wallace’s recommendations, and soon, the vast resources of the VA medical system were directed at finding an appropriate treatment.

Unfortunately, it seemed that whatever it is that affected the survivors was beyond the powers of modern medicine. Every now and then a particular methodology or prescription would seem to dampen the effect, but the nightmares always seem to return with a vengeance. In most cases, the treatments simply didn’t work. While it is not to say that these treatments were completely ineffective (in fact, many of them would become the foundation for future medications or treatments available to you, dear reader), there was nothing that seemed to offer a permanent solution to the issue of nightmare.

As reports – almost all negative – flooded back to Wallace’s office, the man grew despondent. In his desperate quest for a cure, the former Commodore moved into STEC’s newly built offices so that he could have his hands on data first thing in the morning. Finding a solution to what he saw but could not understand became a greater personal obsession, and as he worked harder, his health correspondingly declined.

Finally, it reached the point where Wallace realized that it was no longer constructive for him to work as he did. Taking the first long vacation in years, Wallace decided to take two month off from STEC and spend more time with family. It was then that the solution to his query hit him – in this case, literally via his own institutionalization.

Wallace himself remembers little of the vacation itself. Only that the first two weeks were full of family joys and much-needed rest. What he knew, however, was that he seemed to have spaced out for a brief period of time as he went outside to get the morning papers the following day. When he came to, he was securely strapped to a hospital bed. The nurse on attendance told him that he has been a gibbering wreck for the last two weeks, where he would slip in and out of consciousness fighting nightmares that only he could see. The medical team tried all sorts of protocols and medication to sedate him, but nothing worked. At least, up until now, anyways. He seemed to have cured himself.

Even as the experience slowly flooded back into his mind, Wallace’s initial reaction was closer to measured elation than jaw-dropping horror. Now, at last, the data made sense. What still didn’t make sense was what triggered the episode. To that query the nurse shrugged. It seems that the medical team, too, was asking the same question, and they were just as in the dark as he was. In any case they would like to keep him for observation for a couple of weeks at least, and the nurse offered him a pile of diversionary materials – mostly books, papers, cards, and notes from well-wishers – as he waits for an update from the medical staff.

Seeing no obvious reason to leave, Wallace took the offered bundle. Almost immediately, however, he recognized something unusual sitting on top of the stack. It was a stack of pages torn from the hospital’s guestbook, signed by many of his colleagues and dated two days ago.

Instantly, something clicked in his head.

Electrified, Wallace flipped through the pages. Sure enough, there it was. A simple “Please be well soon” written in a simple and unadorned hand.

He realized that he had forgotten one thing when he was factoring his initial hypothesis. All this time, he and his staff officers have been working in close proximity with a ship girl. Is it any wonder, then, that he and the men at STEC did not feel the effects? If the ship girl could fight off the abyssal, might she not also hold secrets to curing the affliction?

In fact, it all made sense now. How could he not have seen it before?

One hurried phone call to his wife and eight hours later, Conrad Wallace was on a plane bound for California.

This time, things will be different.