Denial

I mentioned a conversation I had on the Summit. I suppose I should probably go into it. Like I mentioned earlier, this sort of pertains to the thoughts I was having a few days ago, about how being a pod pilot makes everything you do have so much more of an impact, or something.

I was speaking to a few people - A DUST Operative, a very old Caldari pilot, and a some others - about how Capsuleers behave. (Well, actually, this was at tail end of a spectacularly and frustratingly long dialogue about who has more freedoms between Capsuleers and the Mercenaries (For reference, I was arguing for the ones who can fly), but that's a story for another time.) We were talking about how most of the people there seemed ludicrously laid back, casual, and unintellectual considering their occupation and the amount of power they have, and how bizarrely Capsuleers behave in general, when I suddenly realized something.

I don't consider myself a Capsuleer. Even though I am one. And have been. For months.

Why is this?

I talk to Capsuleers more then baseliners, as of late. I spend hours a day communing idly on the Summit and other channels, conversing with a couple over mail, and even occasionally bantering with some of the ones lurking about the system I'm in. (Better to know the sharks before they try to swallow you, right?) And, of course, I spend most of my time doing Capsuleer things, usually in-pod. In fact, I'd estimate that at this point I'm in the blasted thing for the better part of my waking life. It is the obvious reality.

Yet... I still do not count myself amongst their ranks, in spite of it. Despite my involvement, I feel like an observer, not a participant. Very close to their world, yes - To the point of pushing my hands and face against the glass, like a curious child immaturely peeking into the business of her elders - But still, utterly, in my own. In the one belonging to the rest of humanity.

I suppose the reason for this is that I simply cannot believe it. Though I know I am one, part of my brain simply refuses to accept it - Considers it so impossibly absurd that I could have risen to to such a level, as I spoke the other day. To possess such incredible power and wealth...

...No, that's not the reason. It might be a part of it, but it isn't the one that really matters.

I was about 15 - Give or take, I can't quite recall - When Capsuleers, in the modern definition of the term, first began to emerge. I already knew a fair bit about the technology (My uncle was a Capsuleer before they developed the cloning tech properly, and managed to last a couple years before getting killed) but still, the whole affair was... Bizzare. Chilling. I remember seeing the entire thing unfold from the perspective of a normal, if somewhat well-off and thus more easily privvy to cluster wide news, person. The first reliable cloning tech being perfected. The early stories of them devastating whole fleets by themselves. The tremendous booms of wealth as their efforts began to flow back in the State.

 And shortly following, the accounts of the first few turning to piracy, then more, and then entire alliances of outlaws being formed, carving empires for themselves amongst distant stars... The tales of bloodshed on such a scale that it would make Omir himself blush, perhaps.

All while I lived as any other teenager did, more or less, keeping to myself and studying the teachings of the sect, idling my days away without true care for such matters. They seemed, and were, impossibly distant from me. As far and untouchable as the most distant and fleeting of lights in the heavens. ...Yet just as terrifying, were they ever to be close.

 I talked to Silias Vitalia today - The blooder woman who holds parties for people more important then I am, if I remember - And she spoke of how it is the nature of our kind to kill. She mentioned "Bodycount", casually, and said that such is not a result of Capsuleer Dementia. It is simply how we are. How we should be. That I should embrace this nature, just as a bird should fall from the nest to test it's wings. As if it was something inherent. Obviously inherent.

It is not just her, either. Everywhere I look, I am reminded that this is how Capsuleers are, as surely as the fish swim and the clouds crawl across the sky. The mercenary I talked about earlier (I can't recall his name, for some blasted reason) called me - Well, called us - "Gods of destruction". At the time, I thought it was absurd. Melodramatic. To the point it must've been a joke. And it hurt me, more then it should have.

...But, in truth, a few years past, I would likely have called myself the same, in perhaps only slightly kinder terms. Without a hint of irony, and with a great deal of resentment.

I do not see myself as a Capsuleer because I do not truly accept what it entails, what everyone knows it to entail. The power, the fear... The death, on a scale so massive that I cannot comprehend it on an emotional level at all. The callous disregard for life and the affairs of lesser beings, if not from ill intent, then from simple ignorance of their own actions.

I don't want to think of myself of that. I cannot be that. I may have killed, but I have done so only in self defense, doing everything I can to avoid combat. And I have counted every life I have been forced to take... Around 860, at last count... So that I do not succumb to the cognitive dissonance that seems to plague all pilots. So that I do not become as they are. What they are.

I am different to them. All of them. I know I am.

Or am I simply in denial? It's not as if I'm somehow obligated to keep doing this. I've almost accomplished what I set out to do, what my father asked of me. And I have seen much of the stars, enough to satisfy anyones sense of wonder and curiosity. People pointed out - If I was truly sickened by this life, I could simply stop. I would stop, rather.

Would I not?