A P P E A R A N C E

peyton stands 5'6" (slouches to 5'4"), 135 lbs, all muscle all the time, strong even on her own.

peyton has hazel eyes and an everchanging assortment of haircolors, three tattoos, six piercings, seven scars. freckles on her back. runner's legs. feminine hands.

peyton keeps her hair short. sometimes she remembers to style it. don't get your hopes up.

peyton wears canvas sneakers, beaded necklaces, ammunition belts, jeans with holes at the knee, button-down army shirts, and [sometimes] boy's ties.

peyton lacks T & A and wouldn't have it any other way.




peyton is none of the above & all of the above --


seething, intense, and owed her due.

A government's function is nothing other than to secure lasting peace for its citizens, averting the horrors of war which so devastated the proud nations of the Old World. Already we have seen the causes of war: greed, dissention, nationalism, and factionalism being key factors; the avoidance of which a utopian system must be in constant progression towards.

In any systematic change, there are those who resist, stubbornly, the greater good; who fail to see the inherent value in a sacrifice of one's immediate aims for the security of the whole. Stubbornness being, perhaps, a human factor, it must be said that resistence will exist to some degree, that selfishness, greed, and pride cannot be eliminated entirely from a civilization from birth. If this is the case, the utopion system must work towards the removal of these factionalist qualities for the greater good of the society. Those who cannot be convinced of the dangers of factionalism, dissent, and sedition must be culled from the whole the way a cancer is removed from the body under the hands of the surgeon. And why shouldn't they be? For these parasites are the beasts which eat upon the whole, the tolerance of such traits in any civilized group almost always leading to conflict, as it so terribly did with our ancestors.

These parasites, unconvinced, cannot be allowed to remain in the body of the utopian system, free to create instability while still reaping the benefits of a truly reformed society -- they must be cut off like the hand of the guilty thief, curtailed like weeds in the garden. It is an unpleasant fact, but as truism states, truth hurts. For the body to survive the cancer must be removed.

I do not pretend that surgery is pleasant, only that it is necessary. The means of such a surgery are for others to debate -- the means of rehabilitation my subject and concern as a citizen. For an ancient question remains: are the sons and daughters to suffer for the sins of their fathers? Being that the continuous evolution of the utopian system is bound to leave children in difficult home situations -- children whose talents should not be left to waste and ruin, whose minds must not be rotted by those who refuse to work for the peace and security of society.

You must see that in order for the surgery of a cancer to be most effective it must be cut in such a way that it does not continue to grow. No intellectual with a spark of humanity would suggest that such children suffer the fates of their seditionist parents while their minds remain at an age in which reform is possible, indeed, plausible. Such an act would be remarkably cruel, indeed, the exact opposite of the flawless system for which we aim. Yet they cannot be left to fester and seethe.

These children, the wounds of the surgery, must be given proper rehabilitation in which they can recover. Orphanage halls must be available to children of every age -- from infancy to their aptitude entrance exams for undergraduate study -- orphanages in which children are raised according to the following excellent principles:

First, in an environment with discipline. Being the children of those selfish, rebellious individuals, these youth must be brought up in a schooling system which encourages community solidarity. It is fortunate indeed then that one of the most practical housing systems, in terms of cost, can be used to build such a feeling of community. I speak, of course, of the communal housing system which is to be employed in our orphanages this very year, wherein students will share a large wing. In such a communal wing, youth will develop the feelings which our society cherishes: brotherhood and cooperation. There will be no secrets from young friends in such a place; hidden agendas will be rendered, of course, impossible.

I must emphasize the need for practicality in such a system, in schools which avoid unnecessary luxuries and rule with strong hands and zero favoritism. Youth who grow up in such a system would of course learn to go without the petty, unneccessary luxury goods which so divided the wealthy in the past -- in a system of pure utility, greed will be curtailed like a plant forbidden to see the sun. Education will, of course, happen in accordance with the latest AU aptitude guidelines. Children monitored from every age for attitude, intelligence, and skill at any manner of tasks can be guided into careers appropriate to their intellects, encouraging efficiency and culling waste.

Like the children of our regular citizens, it is quite possible that many of these young people may not be in fact prepared for our undergraduate education at the age of eighteen. At that time, we can provide a working recommendation into many practical fields, those careers of which our society runs upon. Guaranteed a job and clearly benefitting from the security of our orphanage system, it is highly unlikely that such a youth would continue to harbor resentment or feelings of disillusion.

It is obvious, in fact, that such an educational system would not only reform these potentially wasted youths, but may in fact produce some of the brightest minds of our wonderful cities -- young men and women with practical wants, experienced in the actions of cooperation and brotherhood, lacking in greed, and guided to the positions within our society in which they may operate most efficiently.

I suspect, years from now, that they will thank us.

For starters, I was born, according to my papers in a little clinic, one of those ones for poor people, shortly after sunrise on October 27th. I had a mother for exactly eleven minutes before the operating surgeon called time of death, causes resultant of pregnancy. I looked him up, too. His first delivery. How unlucky. I didn't have a father on record, and my freshly expired mother wasn't keen on sitting up to explain the details, so I inherited her last name and got a first name that I like to think was from one of the nurses, because I bet the fucking doctor passed out. I weighed seven pounds, one ounce, and the first thing I did to inconvenience everyone in society was refuse to die.

Sorted, as many children are, into the AU Orphanages, these are the things normal children learn of which my coursework was, suffice it to say, abbreviated:

what it is like to be kissed on the forehead, read to at night, and sung to sleep, to play sports with one's father, to share nightmares with one's mother, to have someone sincerely believe that there's a monster under your bed at night, to post one's terrible drawings of a dinosaur, a small car, and a smiling sun on the fridge, to bring home good grades, and to have someone kiss your wounds and say, "there, all better."

Fortunately I was able to reap the benefits of such a practical and excellent education, receiving education in the following subjects extensively:

how to be completely sick of oatmeal the consistency of snot, how to hate sandwiches, how to fight for your right to sleep in your own bed, how to break a nose, how to outrun the people who wish to break your nose, how to pick scabs, how it feels to have broken ribs, how to get beaten by your teachers, how to deliberately fail it, how to pickpocket, how to trade, how to barter, how to tell the truth, how to lie, when to do both, and how to talk back anyway.

I guess you could say I flunked out with my jobslip in my backpocket and four of my closest friends. Our first collective purchase was a baseball bat, our second was a crowbar, and the third thing we did was throw those guarantees of manual labor being your goddamn electrician, your plumber, your janitor, building your cars, your subways, your buildings, and throw them the fuck away. Then we started smashing your windows. We made a name for ourselves because it seemed like a good joke at the time. I think Jake was stoned. I learned how to do that, too.

I learned how to sleep in parks. In my mind, I did exactly what the orphanage wanted: on the outside, I got even better at all the things I did on the inside. Sometimes we were together, sometimes we weren't, and one lonely month, around one particularly vicious turn of the underground, I reached into the overcoat of a particularly well-dressed man and took the wallet that would keep me alive this week. I apologized to the man who'd just made a donation to my charitable cause while he berated me, and on the way out, a young man by the name of Riley Chang caught my wrist as I took the stairs up to the sun.

I shared a flat with Riley and three more of his mates for a couple of years, until he got Thalassa, and I just kept learning, just like the program intended. All sorts of useful things, like, "what are the ingredients of a proper martini?" and "No thanks, I prefer my vodka straight" and "do you have a warrant?"

What can I say, I excel at everything I'm taught; so when Thalassa came into his hands a bit after that, well. I just kept mixing those drinks.

The only difference it's made is that my roof doesn't leak, anymore.

A C T I V I T I E S

arson, pranking, vandalism, petty theft, soccer, pickpocketing, illegal and inopportune displays of fireworks, playing slip-n-slide on thalassa's wood floors upstairs in her socks, lockpicking, general mischief, city park campouts, mayhem, public nuisances, private pleasures, running, bartending


GIVING BACK EXACTLY WHAT I'VE GOTTEN.

S T R E N G T H S // W E A K N E S S E S

[+]
wits
speed
pickpocketing
mayhem, malcontent, & mischief


[+/-]
humanity
failure
mixes some damn good bevs


[-]
anti-academic
impolite, improper, impatient, & inopportune
fearless to the point of stupidity.