I’ve decided that I will take Amaranth Star’s offer. I’m short on leads for finding my mother on my own, and I owe her for putting me in contact with my dad. I think she genuinely wants to help me, and help defend the world, too. It seems pretty obvious that defending the world against an alien invasion is the right thing to do. I just can’t get Watchmen out of my head. Maybe it really just doesn’t matter. Maybe I’m just shooting myself in the foot if I think about it too much. I don’t think a catastrophic world event is really going to unite the nations of the world. It’d just be another Cold War with a bigger war on top of it. I don’t want to see that happen but there’s only so much control that I have over the situation. Powers get caught up in politics the same as anybody else. We may want to shut it out, ignore the rhetoric, but it’s there and it changes out lives the same as anyone else. A person who could topple an entire building with a punch can be toppled just the same by a lawsuit. It’s only by the grace of the governments of nations that dangerous people are allowed to live and work. It’s only the fear of what would happen if we dangerous people were cut loose that keeps us friendly with the authorities. It is only on the trust that we’ve built by policing our own, by the rhetoric of “good guys” and “bad guys” that we’ve stopped a war from happening. It won’t last forever.

Already the rumors are spreading about the number of American heroes involved in the Niigata quake. Already, my mother’s professional name is being slandered. The news of the fight being brought to American soil has already reached the public. Ms. Star was right about that. It’s simultaneously increasing tension between the crime fighting community and the government and keeping things status quo. They’re asking us to enlist in the military. National defense. There are a lot of people I know who have already agreed, and others who have always been with the government. I don’t know how much better it will be signing up with a UN organization, though. I’d like to say that it doesn’t matter, that all I’m trying to do is find my mom and bring her home. But it does matter. Every action that we heroes–we celebrities–make is watched with star-struck eyes or criticizing grimaces. There has never been a time I’ve wished so strongly that the point of Watchmen hit home with everybody. If it did, then my mom would probably be at home.

Tonight, I will be dreaming that my mom’s at home, that her years of training with a sword have culminated in a moment cutting a chicken breast into strips. Tonight, I’ll be floating up to reach the top shelf, where we keep the fine china. Tonight, a special guest is coming over, and we’ve got over a decade-and-a-half to catch up on.

Watchmen, Chapter 12: A stronger loving world, Page 19, Panel 7

I know I’ve used the terms “good guys” and “bad guys” on this blog. The truth is that those terms are cop outs. The world isn’t full of opposing forces colliding with each other, just individual elements that combine to make a whole. That whole is both–no, is neither beautiful or ugly. It’s hard to break these dichotomies. We are raised to see the world in pairs, and it’s a hard habit to break. This is a thing that even Veidt doesn’t see. He thinks that he has his victory, that the world has been saved by his actions. As readers, we have the ability to see outside of the narrative world. In our world, an action like Veidt’s wasn’t necessary to stop the Cold War. There was the fall of the Berlin Wall and then the financial collapse of the USSR. The threat of an immediate nuclear war has receded. Although these events occurred after Watchmen’s publication, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to believe that Moore and Gibbons thought there was another way for the world in Watchmen to unfold. It didn’t unfold in a different way, of course, because they were presenting a particular message. Even with the end of the Cold War, have we not seen our share of conflicts? Genocide? Inhumane captivity?

Let me pose some questions, then: Do you think that Veidt’s world would be any safer than ours? Would you trust a man who stood stunned when a peer told him “Nothing ever ends?” (Watchmen, Chapter 12: A stronger loving world, Page 27, Panel 5) I have trouble considering Veidt the smartest man on Watchmen’s Earth, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be the wisest.

Watchmen, Chapter 12: A stronger loving world, Page 27

If nothing truly ends, there is no ultimate good and no ultimate evil. The choices that we make may be solutions to particular problems but they cause their own issues to arise afterward. We as individuals are not wise enough, nor strong enough, to make the world a “better” place. All we can do is to make it a different place. We don’t even have to kill half of New York to do it, either. Just living, just having lived, a person accomplishes change. All we have are our wishes to help those close to us, perhaps the world-at-large, get along. For a man like Veidt, that may mean sacrificing thousands of lives or more. I couldn’t do that and I would try to stop him given the chance. No matter whether I despise people like Veidt, no matter how I may call him a villain, a “bad guy,” all I can do is follow my convictions as he follows his.

Adrian dreams of swimming towards a hideous something (Watchmen, Chapter 12: A stronger loving world, Page 27, Panel 1) and we as readers are aware of what that something is–the Black Freighter. We are lead to make this parallel and it’s a fair one to make. We can all imagine being so convinced of the truth of something that we are blind to its consequences, that we accept them as inevitable. It’s easy to see our paths leading to the edge of a precipice, and it’s easy to understand that any time we walk towards the edge, blindness is a danger. This blindness, however, does not necessarily lead to apocalypse. It may lead to tragedy, to people dying, but as long as there are people who survive, time marches on and memory tells our tales. None of us are above this, regardless of how special we may be.

If nothing truly ends, then there are no true dichotomies. There are no absolutes. Believing in absolutes usually only leads to tragedy and death. No amount of tragedy and death can make the world any better than it is. There is no solution to make a stronger loving world. If that is the case, do we have any need for superheroes? Aren’t superheroes and supervillains just synonyms for ultimate good and ultimate evil? If so, then there are no superheroes or supervillains. There are just people who do what they believe in, seperated only by perception.

When I arrived, she met me outside the doors. I came as myself. No disguises. I’m sure her agency has a file on me, considering how my mother was a member. I still don’t understand why she never told me. Why she kept saying that she was looking for dad when he was a co-worker. Maybe peer is a better word.

As I came up to her, she waved. I offered a handshake instead. This was a business meeting. I wanted to make sure that she understood that. Besides, she looked the part of a corporate already: Hair up, pinstripe jacket and skirt in a purple so dark it was almost black, white blouse. Heels. Some of the women in our occupation wear high heels when they’re out fighting crime. I never quite understood that. Even the ones who go around floating and flying. I can’t imagine being particularly active in high heels. At least Ms. Star didn’t seem like she was going to tackle a bank robber, but the shoes seemed out of place on her somehow.

The faint glow about her that I had seen that night was nearly impossible to make out during the day. It was only in the shadows, with a fair amount of squinting, that I could make it out. On the back of her neck, of all places. That night at the office building was ever-present in my thoughts. She was probably more powerful than me. More powerful than anyone I’d ever met. The mill amongst heroes was that she had single-handedly stopped a fifth plane during 9/11. Actually, they say she used both hands. By flying headlong at it and grabbing onto the nose. She literally stopped it . . . and carried it back to the airport after subduing the terrorists. Any person who could actually stop a passenger plane in mid-air with her hands was someone to be feared.

We made our way to the Delegates’ Dining Room. It was just after 2 pm, and it had just closed to the public. We were alone, except for the waiter, who knew to keep his distance when not serving our food. I wasn’t particularly hungry since I had had lunch before arriving. I politely ordered a pasta.

“I want to be candid with you. Your mother and I met on a number of occasions, though never on assignment. She’s a good woman and I’m sure she’s a good mother, seeing how you’ve grown up.”

“Where is she?” I understood her politeness but I wasn’t here to talk about my home life. I was here to talk about getting my mother home. “You know she’s alive.”

“There’s no way to be sure.” She paused as the waiter brought us our drinks. A glass of red for her, a Coke for me. “We’ve gone through the wreckage at the site. None of our agents’ bodies could be found. We can only assume that they all managed to reach the other side of the portal.”

I took a sip, letting the fizz dissipate in my mouth.

“We’re pretty sure she went through the portal to destroy it from the other side. We don’t know where that other side is, though.” She swirled the wine in her glass. The legs were long and ran slowly.

“So that’s it, then? You’re giving up on all of them?”

She shook her head, raised her glass and took a small sip. “There’s the other reason why I invited you here.”

It was all that she would say before our meals arrived. She began carving into her steak medallions and I picked at my pasta.

“If you’re going to ask me for something, you shouldn’t make me wait,” I said.

“Not hungry? You need to keep healthy if you want to help us find your mother’s taskforce.”

I put my fork down and pushed aside my dish. We were finally down to business.

“And what exactly do you need me to do?”

“An invasion is imminent. What your mother did . . . it will only delay them. There are reports of another base. It’s on American soil this time. I need talented agents and officers for what’s to come. People I can trust to do the right thing. We’re still reeling from losing our best in Japan, so I’m forced to recruit who I can. You’re a natural choice, of course. If you want to find your mother, like we do, then help us.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. What do you need me to do?”

She continued to eat for a moment before answering.

“You will be under my direct command. Fight when I call you to fight. Otherwise, I need you to travel. The site in Japan, our operations base at the second site, our offices here, and Agent Cormier, who spends most of his time in Europe. He is organizing portal research there.”

“Agent? You mean my dad? How exactly does he fit into this?”

“He’s my eyes abroad. I need you to be my ears. There’s a lot I can’t go into here. I was willing to share this much with you because the word is already out. You see, I won’t have you spying on an extraterrestrial enemy–that’s impossible. This is an international situation that has, due to geographical chance, become a quiet national crisis. American Powers are getting involved, both government and . . . independent. Other countries as well. There’s a lot of politics involved. I want you to keep your ears open right now, spread the word that the right thing to do now is for everyone to co-operate. If this turns into a jurisdiction war, we won’t need an invasion to destroy us.”

I nodded and sipped at my glass for a while.

“Is that it?”

“Not quite. But that’s it for now.”

Again, I nodded and we both stood to say our farewells.

“One more thing,” she said as I turned to leave. “There are a lot of people that don’t think too highly of your mother. For the destruction in Japan, as well as a number of other things in the past. I don’t know how you feel about your father right now, but he’s under a lot of pressure. I’m hoping you’ll contact him. He needs the help. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I can send someone else. Just let me know.”

I didn’t turn to face her as I nodded again. There was a lot on my mind.

Obviously, that’s all I can discuss. It’s already a lot of shocking news, I’m sure. Still, she never told me to keep it secret. I’m not really sure how much I can trust an organization that has hidden so much from me. At the same time, if all this is correct–and I’m going to investigate it–then Ms. Star is right. When it comes down to it, individual heroism, nationalism, international politics . . . if we get stuck on these ideas, we won’t need an invasion to bring about destruction.

There has been a strengthening resolve, especially in America, that no punches should be pulled in order to combat “evil” throughout the world. Protecting “the American lifestyle” has taken priority over United Nations mandate. Corporate interests have taken over even the interests of the American people. To make it clear, I’m not bashing Americans: I have many friends and even family that live in the US and they are good people. But, you see, that’s the key: They are people, like the rest of us in the world. What scares me about America–the rhetoric of the nation America–is this insistance on pre-destination. Even those who would blow me off for saying so likely believe that they have the right to defend their nation, that their nation is just, that the just are superior, and finally, that the superior must protect (perhaps even spread) their culture by any means.

Removing the equation of Powers from US military defense, the decrease in deployed and stockpiled nuclear weapons will actually be counterbalanced by an ability to manufacture an arsenal if necessary:

The administration’s work to restore a modern infrastructure includes, among other things, three ongoing initiatives:

(1) planning for a Modern Pit Facility to restore the nation’s ability to manufacture plutonium parts for nuclear warheads;

(2) an advanced concepts program to enable scientists and engineers at the national nuclear weapons laboratories to retain critical skills and to provide the United States with means to respond to new, unexpected, or emerging threats in a timely manner; and

(3) enhanced test readiness.

Completion of these programs and the realization of a responsive infrastructure will offer opportunities for the United States to reduce further the nuclear stockpile secure in the knowledge that the nation has enhanced its capabilities to respond to possible future challenges to its security.

Sincerely,

Linton F. Brooks
Administrator

USInfo: U.S. Plans to Reduce Nuclear Weapons Stockpile Substantially

There is also the recent increase in Private Military Company usage, especially in the conflict in Iraq. Not only is this a case of civilians involved in combat situations, but that states are held accountable for the actions of the PMCs they employ without a well-structured international guideline.

In the case of PMC involvement in Iraq, holding employees of PMCs accountable for their actions proved difficult for the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) because of CPA Order 17, which stipulated that “contractors [including PMCs] shall be immune from the Iraqi legal process with respect to acts performed by them pursuant to the terms and conditions of a contract or any sub-contract thereto.” Since the termination of the CPA, Iraqi efforts to keep a closer watch on PMCs have proved difficult. In May 2005, erstwhile Deputy Interior Minister Adnan Asadi sent a letter to PMCs operating in Iraq, warning the companies that if they continued to disobey local laws, “the cancellation [of PMC licenses] will be circulated to all state offices, with the aim of shunning any dealing with [PMCs].” However, such threats have often been disregarded; the Washington Post reported in September 2005 that Iraqi citizen Ali Ismail was shot at by PMCs while in traffic. It therefore seems clear that it is a duty of the US government as well as the Iraqi government to rein in the PMCs.

Kwok, James “Armed Entrepreneurs: Private Military Companies in Iraq”

The ability to generate a nuclear arsenal at a moment’s notice and the ability to deploy armed civilians without proper international regulation? This doesn’t sound so different from the situation in Watchmen to me. That any other nation with the wealth to field the same abilities can does not comfort me at all.

If certain people in powerful positions within the US government truly believe America’s own Exceptionalist rhetoric, then it will only take another nation with sufficient firepower and a conflict of interest to cause another international ordeal, as Iraq has shown (whether or not you believe that there have been weapons of mass destruction housed there with the intention that they be used to attack Western powers). In the worst case, the Doomsday clock could be started all over again, though I hope no such thing ever occurs.

This extends too to the role of the superhero: With the highest concentration of Powered citizens in the world, yet another arsenal could be called into play by the United States. It will only be a question of where an individual Power’s allegiance lies. Powered citizens are no less exempt from rhetoric and politics, and in many ways, they would not be so much different than the PMCs that are fielded today. With what right does an exceptional individual judge whether they should side with one nation over another? It is only their own personal right to do what they believe in within the guidelines of the law: But what happens when both law and rhetoric promote fervent righteousness and ideological superiority? Again, I can only criticize the rhetoric that can hold people enthralled. Any ideology that promotes superiority of a person or people over another should be kept at mental arm’s length. If it nests in heart and mind, the only thing that separates a hero from a villain is social acceptance.

Look upon your works, ye mighty, so that we may not fall into despair.

When I arrived in Niigata Prefecture, Japan, many areas still looked as if a war had broken out. After a number of inquiries, I was guided to the Kashiwazaki Kariwa power plant. Apparently this Cormier was in charge of a security detail consisting of mostly Japanese military and a contingent of UN sanctioned superheroes. Something wasn’t right. Why would the UN send Supers? A disaster recovery team, perhaps. A delegation of nuclear experts to aid with the plant’s recovery, maybe.

I was barred from entering the site by the security detail. I mentioned my name. I mentioned Amaranth Star. It was no use. They wouldn’t let me past the gate. I could have flown past them and snuck in or something. Instead, I decided to return to Tokyo, rattled but not devastated by the quake. I took the appearance of a 32 year-old reporter, investigating the aftermath of the earthquake and the state of the nuclear power plant.

That night, I woke to a presence in my room. A presence that was familiar to me: A voice in my head made corporeal. The previous host to my symbiote was a villain named Argus. Not many of his memories have been accessible to me and I’ve always thought that a blessing.

But a notorious supervillain was standing by my bedside. One that my mother was supposed to have brought to justice only after a long and painful battle. A sudden movement, I thought, and I would be dead, and perhaps dozens of innocents who were sleeping in the adjacent rooms.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” he said. I can hear the words echoing in my mind even now. I stayed silent, watching for any opening to surprise him.

“You’ve come about your mother,” he continued. His voice began to tremble. His shoulders sagged, and moonlight glanced over his shoulder through the window. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

No doubt, you could imagine my surprise. But the most surprising thing was yet to come. Even now, I don’t know what to make of it.

“Your mother was here. At the epicenter of the . . . the quake.” He turned away. I remember that much. I think we were silent for a long time. He sat on the edge of the bed. He was dressed in a suit. He looked like a businessman, though snide remarks about the business world and villainy didn’t come to mind at the time.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he whispered. Maybe he didn’t whisper. Maybe I was hearing his thoughts. “I’m afraid it might be too much to take, especially right now, but I want you to understand that this is coming from someone you can trust. Someone who loves you. It’s coming from your father.”

I didn’t understand. My mom had been searching for dad for a long time. I never understood why. He was scum. He left us before I was born. Was this his messenger? Had he come to contact me after all this time?

No. I swallowed the lump in my throat but it came up again. Dad?

He nodded once. A slow, titanic nod, and my heart sank. I couldn’t even be angry. He was right in front of me but I wasn’t angry. I knew he had revealed himself for a purpose, and no lesser reason would have brought him to me. Mom.

“I wanted to tell you myself. Your mother led a containment force underground. There was a lead about an alien invasion. Considering . . . her experience with . . . . There was a portal to their homeworld. An entire base. She and a hundred other UNP agents found a way into the portal.” UNP? My mother never said she was registered as a UN Powers.

“We lost contact but . . . we’re still exploring the site. We’re sure the quake was caused by the portal’s destruction. We’re also sure the enemy planned an attack on Kashiwazaki Kariwa. We were lucky just to keep the plant from exploding. A few of us, including Amaranth Star were sent to support your mother initially, but we were diverted to the power plant when we heard about an odd device hidden near one of the reactors.”

He was silent again. There were only the sounds of Tokyo at two in the morning–and whispers.

I don’t know what time he left. One moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I went online to book a flight home. I decided to fly myself home instead.

For chapter 10 though, I only have two things to say:

1) I love Bob Dylan songs, and;

2) Notice the many, many pairs (and #2s) throughout the chapter, from the first shot (Defcon 2) to the pairing of President and Vice-President, straight through to the two “riders” of Nite Owl and Roschach approaching Veidt’s Karnak. If anyone ever wondered why Veidt chose such an insecure password, I think it was just so Moore and Gibbons could throw in the “rider” “II” joke (Two Riders Were Approaching 20.7). That’s just my opinion.

In any case, the idea of dichotomies–two opposing (or contrasted) forces–runs throughout Watchmen. As the world of Watchmen nears apocalypse, should we begin to wonder whether this mindset of dichotomies is the best to approach the world? Should we really occupy our time thinking of “us versus them” scenarios when for the most part, all everybody wants is to get along in life? By creating polar dichotomies, we create a pair of exceptional states, one of our selves and one of our opponent’s. Often times however, because we create polar opposites, we also have as many things in common as not, just like in a positive and a negative of a photograph. Although dichotomies, and the larger function that is categorisation, have their uses in logic and rhetoric, they are tools that can just as easily destroy bonds and people. Care should always be taken when operating a dangerous power tool.

For Dr. Manhattan, time itself is a narrative where he is both a character in it and an audience member. He has concentrated only on seeing the overall narrative, and like with many summaries in TV Guide, the synopsis just doesn’t sound very interesting. For him, watching one SitCom is like watching all others. Blandly predictable. Yet because he is as much part of the audience as he is the narrative, he can be far more active if he wishes. He himself says that “The details are vague” (The Darkness of Mere Being 17.2). Though there is a fluid substance in the form of narrative, it is the reader, the audience, that allows for konkretisation (Iser, The reading process: a phenomenological approach)–the realisation of meaning. As Jon asks Laurie, “What do you want to be in the bottle?” (The Darkness of Mere Being 10.2), a narrative can be contained, even defined as a certain substance (a fluid), but it is up to the interpreter to actualise specifics into being.

If any reason can be given for Laurie realising that the Comedian was her father, it can be that she has taken the narrative in her life (a narrative framed by the larger narrative of Watchmen) and has made an interpretation that makes so much sense that she cannot deny it. This is the way we not only understand stories, but how we understand our lives: “We’re all blind, stupid things, stumbling through our lives . . . hopelessly lost in the fog.” (The Darkness of Mere Being 19.4) Instead of making our lives meaningless, this unknowing, this impossible narrative that we call life allows us to create our selves, finding our own meaning and purpose where, in the bigger picture, we may seem insignificant.

Thank you all,

SK

Watchmen, Chapter 8: Old ghosts, Page 1, Panels 1-2

There is the bottle of Nostalgia on Sally Jupiter’s table being mirrored by Hollis Mason’s statue for his community service.

Watchmen, Chapter 8: Old ghosts, Page 11, Panels 1 & 6

The transformation of a roughly vaginal (sexual, creative) image to the face of a monster. Sexual imagery opposed by a monster of psychic (intellectual) power, strengthened by the references to brains on page 12, panel 1 and Rodin (his famous “The Thinker” sculpture) on panel 3 with Hollis Mason making a pumpkin into a Jack-o-lantern.

Watchmen, Chapter 8: Old ghosts, Page 22, Panel 1

The calendar being changed. Time passing. October was an owl, November a hawk catching a sparrow. Wisdom is replaced by war mongering.

Watchmen, Chapter 8: Old ghosts, Page 28, Panels 1-3

Hollis Mason killed by thugs who mistaken him as the new Nite Owl (Dan), killing him with his own statue. The reference to “The Thinker” connected to the Jack-o-lantern is modified to show how intellect becomes shattered in madness.

With the reference to Rodin’s “The Thinker,” it is important to note that this famous sculpture was originally meant to be a small piece of a larger work called “The Gates of Hell,” where it depicts Dante pondering Hell for his great work “The Divine Comedy” (known often as “Dante’s Inferno”). The statue of “The Thinker” was made around 1880, near the end of the century, when there was much pre-occupation with the end of humanity and the return of Jesus (fin-de-siecle).

Rorschach / Walter Kovacs - Rorschach test / perhaps Ernie Kovacs?

The Comedian / Edward Blake - Shakespearean Fool, Batman’s Joker? / William Blake?

Dr. Manhattan / Jon Osterman - The Manhattan Project / ?

Ozymandias / Adrian Veidt - Ramses II / Conrad Veidt?

Moloch / Edgar Jacobi - Ba’al / Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi?

Gunga Diner - Gunga Din by Rudyard Kipling

More names will be added whenever new information is found