Serq Kitsursagi's Questionnaire

Powell River, British Columbia. My father moved us here a few years ago when his father was hospitalized with leukemia in order to be closer to him near the end of his life. He's since returned to the island, but I have elected to remain in my grandfather's old condo. Powell River is a quiet town, with little in the way of urban amenities. Despite - or perhaps because of - its proximity (and ferry) to Vancouver Island, it hosts little more than a population of around 15 thousand and an overused hospital. Many people that live here have moved here in retirement, as its infrastructure, while lacking, is designed with the aged population in mind. The people here are nice, and modern necessities are aplenty (if a touch on the gouging side), so I've seen little reason to move. I attend a marketing course online to "further my education", and appreciate that most of the people here are a touch out of touch with pop culture. It's.. quaint. I like it.

Most of the money I have on hand is residuals from my "grifts", as it were. I have a part time job at the liquor store in the name of keeping up appearances, but I try not to maintain *too* much wealth - easier to give away the excess than hire an accountant. I try to live humbly, not out of any desire of prudency, but with the hope to seem less like I have something to hide. I recognize how it may seem counterintuitive. I try my very best to present myself as the tired-looking kid with the weird eyes that spends their Friday nights at work, and I've yet to be given reason to suspect I am viewed otherwise.

Humanity is divided. That fact cannot be disputed. Decades-long conflicts have been left to stew, and now more than ever they are flaring up. Arbitrary lines in the sand blind ordinarily-sane people from morality. I should like to fix that. Create a monoculture. I do not think any one nation or people have a superior way of life, so I would not besmirch that - rather, form an overarching culture that precludes but does not reduce them. A way to bind everyone to prove that we are - in fact - one species. I hope I do not have to harm anyone to show the validity of my cause, but I will protect my ideals to my last breath. I will not be stopped.

Not really a specific event, but the most defining thing I have learned is that you can just lie on the internet. I know it is not exactly treading new ground, but the fact that it is so easy and so many people will believe you is a very fascinating thing. I have used that fact to my advantage, but likely will cease in the future. It is a powerful feeling, to have so many hang on to the lies you tell, so I can see why politicians do it. Does not make it okay, though. I would say that learning that and having those experiences have made me a more conscientious person.

Ashford Quintana, my neighbor. They live in the condo next to mine, and were good friends with my grandfather. Most of his possessions I do not have use for I have given to Ashford. I can't say I know them all that well, but I always greet them and attend whatever functions they try to invite me to.

Bradley Kitsursagi, my father. I have not seen him as of recent, but we speak over the phone frequently. As I've said, he thinks Powell River holds too many memories, and I can't really blame him for not wanting to live in his dad's old house with me. Last I checked, he was somewhere near Victoria. He moves a lot.

Claire Estuar, my... Partner, as it were. In life, not crime. I would call her the closest person in my life, though geographically she would be the farthest. Our relationship is strained, as most long-distance ones are, but we make it work. I have little else to say about it.

It was a childhood, man. I don't know what to tell you. I was small and then I got larger. There's trauma there. There's always trauma there. That's how it is. I guess it was pretty lame that I had superpowers and had to hide that fact for fear of safety? A lot of things suck that's hardly the worst thing that's ever happened to anybody so I kinda just locked in. I guess I fit in? Out of necessity? Blending in and whatnot? I just kinda went to school and went home dawg, I don't know what to say. My dad's pretty cool. He tried his best. Seems a little vindictive to hold every mistake he made as a parent against him. Obviously he wasn't necessarily ready to be a parent, but who is? He did what he felt he needed to. I'm not complaining. I mean, I guess I am. But not that much.

What the sigma kind of question is that?

Yes, maybe. I don't know. It's weird. Not really any of your business but I guess that's a valid question.

Claire is... Nice. Claire is a very nice person. I enjoy talking to Claire. Recently there has been some friction in our already strained relationship because of. Well. Yeah.

I feel a little guilty about not sharing Contract shit but also it feels kind of mandatory? Like there's a reason there's so many Contractors and literally nobody has heard of them. Probably not a good one, either. Better to keep my mouth shut for both of our sakes. I hope.

Turning into a frog or something.

For most of my life, it was being exposed. As alien. Every visit to a figure of authority, every strained request to see me, every night not spent in my own bed. It was all I could see. All I could imagine.

I grew out of it, and grew more confident. Then I made it a game. Put on an act. Pretend to be alien in every way except the one I actually am. It worked, for a bit. Then the game ended.

Now, a new game has begun. I'm as alien as I've ever been, in the most literal of interpretations. I have to cover up when going out, for fear of bandages coming loose. I made an eye patch out of a cute frog print because I felt the need to be a smart-ass, damning any sense of subtlety. I'm not sure what I'm even afraid of any more.

Death, I guess.

Not in a mortal way, of "oh no big scary grim reaper stay way!" But closer to it being a mild annoyance. The game would be over once again, and I'd have to start over with a new one.

I really don't want to start over.

Under a false-bottom drawer in my nightstand there is one of those gimmicky locked diaries that need the key. All of the locks are the same, of course, so it's not very secure since anyone could just buy another. In that diary, that I specifically called a diary since I had no insecurity about it being called a diary instead of a journal, I would write. Obviously. I got it when I was maybe 10, and I made a ritual of writing in it on a monthly basis. It's not particularly big, and I'm pretty close to the last pages at this point, but it's something I'm glad I haven't grown out of. I have turned the first of each month into a day of significant retrospection, as I often go through every entry until that point. The problems I have that seem so minor in hindsight. The things I put off that became great causes of stress down the line. It's very enlightening.

The biggest problem in my life right now is that I'm currently turning into a frog. I don't know if you noticed that. But I'm turning into a frog. Have I said that I'm turning into a frog? Because I'm turning into a frog. And it's a problem. Probably the biggest problem in my life.

The main issue is mostly visual. If I had an easy way of disguising the fact that I'm turning into a frog then it would not be as much of a problem since I would just be able to hide it. I can bullshit my way out of feeling the need to eat a bug or sit on a log but actually looking like a frog does make it hard to claim that I'm not a frog.

Also the monthly death games are an annoyance but I did choose to participate in those so it's to a lesser extent. Consent and all that.

What a nothing question. What glimpses into my inner psyche is this giving you? Whatever.

I wake up. I shower before bed so I don't need to shower in the morning. I work afternoons/evenings so I can sleep in late. I usually get up around noon and then scrounge around for food. If there's food to be had I consume it, otherwise I go out to buy it. Benefit of having cash to burn. I don't drink coffee or tea or any caffeinated beverages ritually as a form of waking up, not that it would matter. Caffeine is only valuable past the mid-morning slump.

I don't really have any routines beyond not starving. It's not really something I put that much work into. After I get home from work I eat dinner then usually consume a media (video games or books or tv or movies) before showering and then going to bed.

Wow another question with absolutely no value. I sure am glad I get to answer these instead of just going on the death games cold.

I don't fucking care man. I'd wear a suit. Or a dress. Or both. Neither. Makeup. Or not. It does not fucking matter. It does not matter at all. There's nowhere special for me to be other than bed. Sleep time.

I like being in bed. I would rather be in bed than somewhere special. I'm not sure what "somewhere special" would look like for me but if we discount bed then it really could be anything.

To humour the question, I would probably take a shower and put on clean clothes like everyone else. There's nothing exciting about basic societal expectations. It would take me less than an hour to get ready because I am not particularly stressed by my appearance. Despite what people may assume.

Man, who cares?

I'll probably buy a slice of cake from the grocery store and eat it while consuming significant quantities of alcohol and doomscrolling. I was already kind of a drinker but the new heart has definitely increased my intake. I know American liquor tends to be pretty weak, so it's not been that much of a stressor since it's used to drinking bread-flavoured soda rather than actual beer which means I don't need 100 a day. I didn't really drink much before I started working at the liquor store. I guess the convenience just got to me. Whatever.