It is time for me to come forward.

For months now, I have been reluctant to reveal the truth of what I am holding. I have held back because of fear, because of my own experience, and because of the knowledge of what could happen if this falls into the wrong hands... again.

In the months since I came into possession of a certain object, I have wavered in uncertainty -and in my own praxis- between self-enclosure and escape. I have hidden in a wintry, depopulated zone in one of the world's greatest metropolises. I spent most of the winter holed up in my residence, working on an esoteric piece of art and fearing what the outside world held for someone in possession of what I had. I cycled the breadth of my metropolis, always glancing over my shoulder. I even fled south, only to be pursued by single-minded chasers who may very well have been agents of the man from whom I recovered the object.

After all of this, I realized that there was no recourse in escape. I would have to come forward with what I had. My only safety could be in the support of concerned individuals who are also horrified at the potential collapse of the sf0verse itself.

What you have heard is not true.

I am in possession of the hair of Ian-Kizu Blair.



--

It all started months ago, when I was newly active on SF0. I received a message from a mysterious stranger inviting me to partake in the search for the fugitive Rubin Starset, who was attempting to sell the hairs on the international black market. I was informed that he would be arriving in New York in about a weeks' time. I prepared for his arrival by informing myself about Starset's habits during his voyage in Europe. At the time of the rival, I felt as prepared as I could to confront the fugitive on my own turf.

There was only one problem. The GPS tracking device that I was using to follow him was woefully imprecise. At best, it allowed me to see the block he was on-- a serious detriment in a city where a single block can contain dozens of business and hundreds of residences.



Thankfully, I was in luck. Only an hour or so after Starset's arrival in the city, I noticed that the GPS tracker had updated. He was somewhere immediately west of Washington Square park in Manhattan, an area that I know very well. I thought about it for a minute, and remembered a bit of information about the man that had stuck with me:



Rubin Starset likes vegan restaurants. I knew two things from personal experience:

1. After a transatlantic flight, people usually prioritize one of two things: food or sleep.

2. West 4th Street immediately west of the park is home to two of the best vegan restaurants in the city, Red Bamboo and Vegetarian Paradise.

With the aid of the other members of the Commoners' Lottery Commission, who promised to stay home and watch the GPS, I grabbed my bike and rushed out the door. It was about a half hour's fast ride into the sunset from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and as I raced into the city I worried that he would have left when I arrived-- it was already getting late. I locked up my bike and rushed to Red Bamboo (I went there first because it is better). I glanced in to see that the restaurant was already emptying out, and the Starset was definitely not there.

I walked over to Vegetarian Paradise next. The restaurant has large windows up front, and I had a good view of the whole restaurant from the street. At the back table in a large group, I saw the distinctive red hair of my quarry! My heart raced as I contemplated my next move. I was nervous because I didn't know what would happen. How was I supposed to actually get the hair from Rubin Starset? I waited outside, glancing in occasionally and probably scaring the couple at the table nearest the entrance. In addition to my nervousness, it was cold and I had to pee.

Rubin Starset and his friends took their time finishing their meal, paying up, and getting out. I pretended to be on my cell phone, and got my camera ready. As they walked out, I followed them a few steps down the block before pretending to loudly and suddenly end my call. Then I called out to Rubin. The conversation went something like this:

twine: Hey, excuse me!
Rubin Starset: Oh, hi.
t: Sorry, but I think I recognize you from somewhere... have you ever been to Burning Man?
RS: Oh, yeah. I think... I remember your face.*
t: When were you there?
RS: Every year for the past five years.
t: I was there about two years ago. Do you remember the bicycle dragon?
RS: Yeah, I think I have pictures of that!
t: Cool! Yeah, I helped make that.
RS (after an awkward pause): Oh, okay, cool. Hey, let me give you my card.
(RS gives me the card pictured below. There's another awkward pause, possibly exacerbated by the fact that I was still trying to take pictures of him).
t: Great. Oh, and I have another question: do you have any hair for me?
RS: What... oh, shit.

Then a battle ensued, in which I successfully absconded with the hairs so maliciously stolen by Starset.



I returned to the Lottery Fortress, wiping the sweat off my brow after a disaster nearly averted.


--

My only question is: whither the hair? Should I destroy it? Return it to its creator? Keep it forever?

I welcome your advice and support, and especially invite the counsel of Mr. Kizu-Blair.

-twine

*I have never been to Burning Man. The bicycle dragon just sounded likely.