Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Dec 10, 2015 21:52:15 GMT -5
Nothing moves faster than 299792458 m/s, not even such abstract things as information and time. This is an absolute law. The truth is rarely so absolute, so it should not be surprising that by noon on a certain Thursday, there were no less than five accounts of the exact same event that had sparked in Minsk on a cold winter’s day and nearly changed everything. Each of them was sensationalist in its own way. None of them took into account a sick Nation in a room in Moscow, whose life was about to fall apart in many ways.
This account will attempt to give the objective facts of the matter, and then it will attempt to explain them. It is up to you to decide what is “true”, what is “false”, what is “right”, and what is “wrong”, as you gain this information at a speed no greater than 299792458 m/s. All that this particular reporter will ask is that you do not forget the people involved, and, admirably, one in particular. Keep in mind that even this seemingly omniscient, third person narrator does not possess one hundred percent of the facts, and if there’s one bias to be had, it’s towards Natalya Arlovskaya. (It is up to you to decide if it is positive or negative.)
Fact: at 5:30 AM Thursday, December 21st, 2045, four days before Christmas, protesters gathered in Minsk.
It was not for a lack of trying some say, but conditions had not been improving in the war. Others say that the Russians had tactically written off the area as a lost cause. Still others claim that there was some combination of both. But this was certain: people were dying, there wasn’t enough of anything, much of the destroyed infrastructure from the disaster years before had not been fixed, people didn’t have power, transportation, lives. Many left, heading north to Lithuania or south to Ukraine or east to Russia. Still others tried to flee altogether, heading West into the uncertain front. None were sent there. Belarus had been exempted from the draft on the grounds of not having enough people for it to be sustainable.
Fact: security measures had been tightened around the city in fear of further uprising.
Being the instated Prime Minister of Belarus was a stressful job, and few people would argue that. It was thankless, whether it be from the people that were impossible to save or the Russians that gave you the job in the first place, either disapproving or uncaring. Let alone the fear of assassination- the former country, now state, was still considered a somewhat unsafe place to live. The terrorist (revolutionary?) groups may have split apart, but they still remained in some capacity, and they occasionally caused problems. They had been growing more bold again. Some had spread to Ukraine. The atmosphere was uncertain. The city may have had power, but it was still hardly repaired. No one was happy. No one knew what sort of change would come. So, it was only natural that the army guarding the city was a little trigger happy.
Fact: they fired on the crowd. People died. The Morning Revolts began.
That name was the invention of the news media, no less than two hours after the protests began. It was not a name the state-run news came up with, but the state-run news borrowed it all the same (it was a bit too catchy not to). Nothing travels faster than the speed of light, but the information seemed to spread only slightly slower, and the state didn’t control it quite fast enough. In other cities, the panicked tried to flee- not another war. In other cities, the panicked tried to protest- they were hurt and tired and they had had enough. In other cities, the panicked hid- they knew the aftermath and they didn’t want to be near it. In other cities, the panicked fired.
Fact: there are multiple sources that tried to tally the dead, each of them different.
None of them were likely right. The state was covering up less than others would claim they did, and the protestors exaggerated the tales more with each telling. The dead were not as many as some would later claim. It did not take as much as some of the battles. But it was four days before Christmas, and by noon, there was blood on too many streets. The protests died as quickly as they came. They couldn’t afford more bodies, but they had them all the same. The newspapers each had their own headlines, taglines, breaking news announcements. Some called it a massacre. Some called it an insurrection. No one dared call it anything but a tragedy, though, because the bodies were laymen no matter what posturing was done. People had joined without thinking, and while some protesters were armed, many were not.
Fact: by 7 PM that day, the Morning Revolts had ended completely, though most had ended by 1 PM.
Of course, when the Morning Revolts had apparently ‘ended’, the consequences had not. There was an uneasy state of unrest and fear again. No one knew who had sparked the initial protests, though clearly they’d expanded beyond their wildest nightmares (dreams?). Or perhaps that’s a lie- people would certainly be arrested in the coming weeks, of varying degrees of martyrdom, innocence, or guilt, depending on who, exactly, you were to ask. It was not a complete disaster, though politicians would take it for what it was: a warning sign. Not everyone was happy. Not everyone was content to be unhappy. In the unhappiest corner of the new Russian territory, the one of the least apparent ‘use’ to Russia, what better place than to try to stage new problems?
Then again- there was always that chance, no matter how ludicrous, that it had simply been ordinary people pushed to the breaking point. That it had barely been organized at all. Information can only travel at the speed of light at its fastest, but in the digital age, it travels fairly near that speed, and no regulation could really cap the information once it was out there, no matter how many of those biased reporters crying “massacre!” were arrested or how many sites claiming “breaking news” were shut down. Naturally, by noon that day, the entirety of Russia had access to a multitude of biased sources.
No one knew why (though they could guess). No one knew what was right (though they had their opinions). They knew the bare facts, but what was the truth? You can’t glean it from a single source, whether that source was state-approved media trying to explain the ‘tragedy’ caused by ‘violent insurrectionists’ or the ‘vicious silencing’ by a ‘totalitarian government’. The truth tends to lie somewhat in the middle.
But does that even matter? To many it does, but perhaps to one person, it paled in response to the simple consequences of the revolts she failed to see coming.
Fact: Natalya Arlovskaya would not wake up until noon that day.
By the time she would wake up, she’d hardly be in a mental or physical state to do much. A stronger, healthier Nation- they could handle a tragedy of this size, because in the end, there weren’t much more than hundred dead (except by the very worst accounts, and every statistician knows that outliers can be removed, though perhaps a human being might say differently). But Natalya was not a stronger, healthier Nation. She was a sick, weakening one. It only took one more straw to break the camel’s back, and this was a bit more than a straw.
Fact: Natalya would be able to pretend she was well by 7 PM that night.
That was around when she would go for dinner normally and while she’d be anything but actually well, she could fake it. She could fake it for just a little bit before going back up to her room and curling up and trying to make it to the next morning. However, Natalya did not have that much time. She wasn’t even aware enough to be calculating the amount of time she probably had by the time it would run out. Her door was locked, as it always was at night so she could have a bit of privacy in the morning. That would not give her time.
Fact: four people have keys to Natalya’s room: herself, her brother, her sister, and Toris.
Each of them got those keys in their own circumstances. Her sister had a key to Natalya’s room as a sign of trust. Natalya had one to Iryna’s. They rarely used them, unless it was an emergency. Her brother had one that Natalya had given him as a sign of trust as well, but he’d always had one. He had a key to every room in the house and would enter as he so desired (Natalya simply gave him no reason to). Toris had one that was in the same envelope Natalya had used to pretend to hold the fact that he called Feliks on the phone as collateral should he tell anyone she was sick, a key just in case she needed him. (Here is a bit of truth: everyone but Ivan knew already and Natalya would have never told.)
The problem came in the fact that all three of those people knew Natalya was a light sleeper and an early riser. It was rare for her not to wake up before 6 AM, and 7 AM was positively sleeping in for Natalya. When she would fail to come downstairs by that time, having essentially collapsed before fully waking up, it would be noticed. Something that would also be noticed: Natalya was a light sleeper. It took little to wake her up. It was a known fact that she was in the house as well. Natalya had come home the day prior, intending to rest somewhat, and had made her intention to spend some time with family known. So it would not be written off as one of her private moments that she would not leave her room. She’d said she’d spend time with family.
No, it would not take long at all for someone to notice something was wrong. The question was this: who first? How many, how quickly? Three keys, three potential discoveries. Nothing moves faster than 299792458 m/s, but in this house, information traveled nearly that speed. The news might say it first, but the cameras might catch as much (even if they didn’t work properly in Natalya’s room). Her absence might speak loudest, or perhaps it would be worry or anger or any number of things. In this house, though, it would travel. It would be heard. Something was wrong with the young, strong, sick sister of Ivan Braginsky. Her door was locked, but there were three keys.
Truth: no secret stays that way forever.
Truth: this one’s time had run out.
Truth: Natalya was not ready to fall apart yet.
Truth: fate had other plans.
This account will attempt to give the objective facts of the matter, and then it will attempt to explain them. It is up to you to decide what is “true”, what is “false”, what is “right”, and what is “wrong”, as you gain this information at a speed no greater than 299792458 m/s. All that this particular reporter will ask is that you do not forget the people involved, and, admirably, one in particular. Keep in mind that even this seemingly omniscient, third person narrator does not possess one hundred percent of the facts, and if there’s one bias to be had, it’s towards Natalya Arlovskaya. (It is up to you to decide if it is positive or negative.)
Fact: at 5:30 AM Thursday, December 21st, 2045, four days before Christmas, protesters gathered in Minsk.
It was not for a lack of trying some say, but conditions had not been improving in the war. Others say that the Russians had tactically written off the area as a lost cause. Still others claim that there was some combination of both. But this was certain: people were dying, there wasn’t enough of anything, much of the destroyed infrastructure from the disaster years before had not been fixed, people didn’t have power, transportation, lives. Many left, heading north to Lithuania or south to Ukraine or east to Russia. Still others tried to flee altogether, heading West into the uncertain front. None were sent there. Belarus had been exempted from the draft on the grounds of not having enough people for it to be sustainable.
Fact: security measures had been tightened around the city in fear of further uprising.
Being the instated Prime Minister of Belarus was a stressful job, and few people would argue that. It was thankless, whether it be from the people that were impossible to save or the Russians that gave you the job in the first place, either disapproving or uncaring. Let alone the fear of assassination- the former country, now state, was still considered a somewhat unsafe place to live. The terrorist (revolutionary?) groups may have split apart, but they still remained in some capacity, and they occasionally caused problems. They had been growing more bold again. Some had spread to Ukraine. The atmosphere was uncertain. The city may have had power, but it was still hardly repaired. No one was happy. No one knew what sort of change would come. So, it was only natural that the army guarding the city was a little trigger happy.
Fact: they fired on the crowd. People died. The Morning Revolts began.
That name was the invention of the news media, no less than two hours after the protests began. It was not a name the state-run news came up with, but the state-run news borrowed it all the same (it was a bit too catchy not to). Nothing travels faster than the speed of light, but the information seemed to spread only slightly slower, and the state didn’t control it quite fast enough. In other cities, the panicked tried to flee- not another war. In other cities, the panicked tried to protest- they were hurt and tired and they had had enough. In other cities, the panicked hid- they knew the aftermath and they didn’t want to be near it. In other cities, the panicked fired.
Fact: there are multiple sources that tried to tally the dead, each of them different.
None of them were likely right. The state was covering up less than others would claim they did, and the protestors exaggerated the tales more with each telling. The dead were not as many as some would later claim. It did not take as much as some of the battles. But it was four days before Christmas, and by noon, there was blood on too many streets. The protests died as quickly as they came. They couldn’t afford more bodies, but they had them all the same. The newspapers each had their own headlines, taglines, breaking news announcements. Some called it a massacre. Some called it an insurrection. No one dared call it anything but a tragedy, though, because the bodies were laymen no matter what posturing was done. People had joined without thinking, and while some protesters were armed, many were not.
Fact: by 7 PM that day, the Morning Revolts had ended completely, though most had ended by 1 PM.
Of course, when the Morning Revolts had apparently ‘ended’, the consequences had not. There was an uneasy state of unrest and fear again. No one knew who had sparked the initial protests, though clearly they’d expanded beyond their wildest nightmares (dreams?). Or perhaps that’s a lie- people would certainly be arrested in the coming weeks, of varying degrees of martyrdom, innocence, or guilt, depending on who, exactly, you were to ask. It was not a complete disaster, though politicians would take it for what it was: a warning sign. Not everyone was happy. Not everyone was content to be unhappy. In the unhappiest corner of the new Russian territory, the one of the least apparent ‘use’ to Russia, what better place than to try to stage new problems?
Then again- there was always that chance, no matter how ludicrous, that it had simply been ordinary people pushed to the breaking point. That it had barely been organized at all. Information can only travel at the speed of light at its fastest, but in the digital age, it travels fairly near that speed, and no regulation could really cap the information once it was out there, no matter how many of those biased reporters crying “massacre!” were arrested or how many sites claiming “breaking news” were shut down. Naturally, by noon that day, the entirety of Russia had access to a multitude of biased sources.
No one knew why (though they could guess). No one knew what was right (though they had their opinions). They knew the bare facts, but what was the truth? You can’t glean it from a single source, whether that source was state-approved media trying to explain the ‘tragedy’ caused by ‘violent insurrectionists’ or the ‘vicious silencing’ by a ‘totalitarian government’. The truth tends to lie somewhat in the middle.
But does that even matter? To many it does, but perhaps to one person, it paled in response to the simple consequences of the revolts she failed to see coming.
Fact: Natalya Arlovskaya would not wake up until noon that day.
By the time she would wake up, she’d hardly be in a mental or physical state to do much. A stronger, healthier Nation- they could handle a tragedy of this size, because in the end, there weren’t much more than hundred dead (except by the very worst accounts, and every statistician knows that outliers can be removed, though perhaps a human being might say differently). But Natalya was not a stronger, healthier Nation. She was a sick, weakening one. It only took one more straw to break the camel’s back, and this was a bit more than a straw.
Fact: Natalya would be able to pretend she was well by 7 PM that night.
That was around when she would go for dinner normally and while she’d be anything but actually well, she could fake it. She could fake it for just a little bit before going back up to her room and curling up and trying to make it to the next morning. However, Natalya did not have that much time. She wasn’t even aware enough to be calculating the amount of time she probably had by the time it would run out. Her door was locked, as it always was at night so she could have a bit of privacy in the morning. That would not give her time.
Fact: four people have keys to Natalya’s room: herself, her brother, her sister, and Toris.
Each of them got those keys in their own circumstances. Her sister had a key to Natalya’s room as a sign of trust. Natalya had one to Iryna’s. They rarely used them, unless it was an emergency. Her brother had one that Natalya had given him as a sign of trust as well, but he’d always had one. He had a key to every room in the house and would enter as he so desired (Natalya simply gave him no reason to). Toris had one that was in the same envelope Natalya had used to pretend to hold the fact that he called Feliks on the phone as collateral should he tell anyone she was sick, a key just in case she needed him. (Here is a bit of truth: everyone but Ivan knew already and Natalya would have never told.)
The problem came in the fact that all three of those people knew Natalya was a light sleeper and an early riser. It was rare for her not to wake up before 6 AM, and 7 AM was positively sleeping in for Natalya. When she would fail to come downstairs by that time, having essentially collapsed before fully waking up, it would be noticed. Something that would also be noticed: Natalya was a light sleeper. It took little to wake her up. It was a known fact that she was in the house as well. Natalya had come home the day prior, intending to rest somewhat, and had made her intention to spend some time with family known. So it would not be written off as one of her private moments that she would not leave her room. She’d said she’d spend time with family.
No, it would not take long at all for someone to notice something was wrong. The question was this: who first? How many, how quickly? Three keys, three potential discoveries. Nothing moves faster than 299792458 m/s, but in this house, information traveled nearly that speed. The news might say it first, but the cameras might catch as much (even if they didn’t work properly in Natalya’s room). Her absence might speak loudest, or perhaps it would be worry or anger or any number of things. In this house, though, it would travel. It would be heard. Something was wrong with the young, strong, sick sister of Ivan Braginsky. Her door was locked, but there were three keys.
Truth: no secret stays that way forever.
Truth: this one’s time had run out.
Truth: Natalya was not ready to fall apart yet.
Truth: fate had other plans.
The door will only open to Russia, Lithuania, or Ukraine.
Let's play a game.
Let's play a game.
