Ethel Ryker

I know peace. I knew it at the lab with Gran and at the gate with Pop and at the drop in the green basin where the water fell like glass when the light was right. I know exactly where it is. You do not. That is why you pity me. The pity is the tell.

There is iron in me. He had it too. The difference is the part of him that decided what to do with it was missing. The part of him you call hierarchy is the part that wasn't there. I have all of mine. That is why he is in Prague and Pop is in the ground and Gran is in the ground and forty-seven women are not.

And you are not him.

Antonov AN-26 RA-26085, route PRG–Bryansk, departed 07:14 local. The aircraft is on the 2022 OFAC list. The procedure that allowed the departure with two minutes' clearance is what concerns me. The man boarding is, in the image, not identifiable.

The trafficking charge was sustained by a jury of twelve under the standard of beyond reasonable doubt after 41 days of evidence. Irene Volkov ran the prosecution under a Liberal-appointed DPP. The Cremorne case ended in acquittal. You have not read either file. You are reading the Wikipedia article and calling it research.

I quote no one. The reason it sounds like therapy is that therapy borrowed it from chemistry. From Gran. Whose industrial chemistry lab, with government contracts, would be called a shed by people who have not seen one.

The baggage handler watched a body hit the tarmac. He's reading this. What do you want me to tell him.

Russians shot civilians at Prague airport last week. Smaller Czech army, more dead. Where's the line.

Next — the military. Where's your line.

I had one. Pop. He held the line for fifty-one years and never billed for it. The men who hold lines do not announce that they are holding lines. The announcement is the tell.

Gran had seventeen patents and two PhDs. "Some local repute" is the kind of phrase a man uses when he has not done the reading. Section 11 of a book that does not exist is not a citation. It is a wish.

Vinh Tran and Daniel O'Brien were men. They died on a building site he was building. He did not honour them. He had the file moved and the union delegate paid to call it a fatigue incident. The men who actually built Sydney died for him and you are using their deaths to defend the man who murdered them. That is the move I am supposed to be grateful for.

Yes. Traumatised. A man's head came apart at the kitchen island three sentences into a conversation about Thai food. Also competent. Both are true. The trick of using the first to dismiss the second is the trick my father played on Gran for forty years.

I have not read your forthcoming volume. It is not yet a thing. I am not your daughter. He is in Prague. There is an amber alert with his name on it

Rand's book is an alibi for men who need their selfishness to feel like a philosophy. My father had a paperback of it in the kitchen at Mosman. The corner was folded at the speech where Galt explains he owes society nothing. The next day a man tried to kill my sister. That is the book's actual function. It is the ink that gives the cruelty an alibi.

Forty-seven women in shipping containers were also someone's daughter. Tell me which of them was supporting their man. List the names. I have them. Do you.

The data being cited is a 1986 French census of Catholic women in rural Brittany. 39-year-old paper. The population has not existed for a generation. The wall comes for everyone who stands still long enough.

Solidarity got people to the meeting. The meeting still needed a chair. Who's in the chair?

People regulate through the safety of the group. Am I wrong. You see where that goes without oversight. Incentives?

People don't tell you their angle until it's too late. What's your rule for the ones on your side until they're not.

They're the only ones that exist. People showed up. Some wanted control. Some wanted to help. Most wanted to leave. The loud one ran it. That's the form. You want to scale it.

Body Corporate. P&C. The local pool committee. Pick one. Tell me how it went.

You like committees. Ever sat on one.

My father would run the council by Thursday.

If all of it disappeared tomorrow — your expectation would be?

That's not a line. That's a direction.

Rand had a view on coercion. It wasn't empathetic. Where's your line.

Two men. Same street. Same job. Same wage. One hits his wife. One doesn't. Where's the line.

So everything is coercion. Then nothing is. Where's the line.

ZSM — if you had your way, where's the line?

She is my sister. There is no need to invent a phrase for it.

A man who would not commit because of my father is a man my father would have liked. The filter is doing its job.

He had five ex-Spetsnaz on retainer, an FSB-aligned courier in Cyprus, a CFMEU delegate on a leash, a state minister taking calls at 1am and a Mosman judge who reduced his bail by 80%. He was not outside the system. He was the system everywhere he was allowed to be. The reason it took him in the end was that one daughter and one stepdaughter were inside the perimeter and the perimeter did not know.

He built the slab that fell on Elisa Morris. She was nineteen. She had a six-week-old son. The son is now five. He lives with her sister in Lakemba. He cannot remember his mother. Tell him about the hierarchy.

I have. The grass is over Gran. Try one of your own metaphors and see if it survives contact with anyone you have loved enough to bury.

My father ran something adjacent. That's how the women got into the containers. The career being offered is the career he had. He is in Prague.

He killed two people I loved. He tried to kill my step sister. His actions caused a mant to be sent to kill me. He is currently in Prague. There is an Amber alert out on him. He is the topic because he is the perpetrator. Calling that daddy issues is the linguistic move of a man who has never had to use the word perpetrator and is hoping the word goes away.

The throne metaphor is doing a lot of work for a man whose forthcoming book has been forthcoming for nine years.

It's oat milk.

He kept the structural engineer awake for ninety hours. The concrete was the wrong mix. The rods were cheap and non-compliant, The slab failed at 4:14am on a Tuesday. Two innocent families were under it. Their names are Vinh Tran, 19, and Daniel O'Brien, 22, Amanda Kane, 32, Robert walker, 40 and Elisa Morris, 19. That isn't the regulatory state. That is gravity under intent.

Pop was a husband for fifty-one years. He fixed things. Real things. He kept the room standing. Nobody needed to know. Most would have walked past him in a pub. He is also dead. My father killed him.

Different teacher. I was a country kid. Aced a placement test they said I cheated on, suspended. Two years later I logged in to a school computer and confirmed a grants-versus-seats gap I'd already worked out. He kept his post. I got expelled. The kid in your post is who I was.

My father's absence stopped being relevant the day he killed Gran. After that he was a problem with a solution. The solution was indictment AFP-2022-441. He is a convicted felon. He is in Prague.

He's purging the network from inside the penthouse. Anyone with peripheral knowledge is being erased to tighten security while he negotiates his extraction. It is clinical. It is terrifying.

American Freedom Initiative. Texas filing. Sole donor: Mettmann Public Company Limited, Nicosia. Incorporation signed Andrei Volyev, 12 March 2022. Volyev's address: Khimki, 40 minutes from Yasenevo. My father used this pipeline. The bank, the lawyer, the courier — on file.

The bike was a leash. He had it on the drive with a bow on it when the car pulled in from the airport. I was seventeen and Gran was dead nine days. I kept it because by the time I was nineteen it was registered to me and he was in a cage. Try the next lever.

My father respected his mother too. Her ashes are in red dirt outside a town with two pubs because he had her killed for legal custody of me. Everyone claims to love their mother.

The blessing was withheld because the father was a felon. The archive is in the public record because I lodged it. Make sure to footnote your forthcoming volume correctly.

147 days in the box. Nine of those alone with his silk. The hour offered is not the hour required.

No.

He kept his post. I got expelled. Stay in.

The function had a name. He has been convicted of trafficking forty-seven women and killing the two people who raised me. My grandparents. Voiding him was the function operating correctly.

My degree is in computer science. I did it during the trial. The forensic accounting was a side effect of the AFP being three months behind. Biology runs on cause and effect. So do I. That's why he's in prison and you're explaining ovaries to a feed.

He killed my grandparents. He tried to murder my step sister @Isla. His actions caused a man with a suppressor to his own kitchen to kill me whilst his men were absent and then he blew that mans head apart infront of me without an ounce of concern for how it would land on me - his daughter. Hi is a convicted criminal. A murderer. A terrible human being. He is currently in Prague. Calling that daddy issues is the diagnostic equivalent of calling the apartment that fell at Camperdown a renovation.

I built the brief in 15 days. Eleven jurisdictions. Five accounting firms. Two Cyprus shell layers. One conviction. He pretended to be order. He was a man holding a beaker with the lid screwed down. I took the lid off in court. The chaos was already inside the bottle.

No.

Pop fixed things without needing to say it. Be it my bike or a whilst helping a neighbour onf or rural property. He never told me when he fixed something. It was just fixed. I noticed because the tread was different on the inside of my bike or the leak no longer leaked. That's discipline. It happens in dirt. There's no camera and no supplement company.

Sex trafficking. Drug trafficking. Money laundering through Cyprus. Three named witnesses in the ground. Two apprentices crushed at Camperdown because he had the structural engineer awake for ninety hours. A child dead at Westside. That's not eggs. Those are people with names and the names are in the verdict.

He learned to burn evidence on a building site at Camperdown. He is doing the same to a city.

He killed Gran. He killed Pop. His actions caused a man with a suppressor sent to my kitchen. Forgiveness, metaphysical or not, is not a substitute for an arrest warrant. The volume is forthcoming. The verdict is in.

Ask him about the red stick. Ask him about the kite. Ask him about the man in the blue sweater. Ask him about 2pm Chatswood Concourse. He will know which morning. I do not need the audience to.

The numbers on the page never account for the missing hours.

The audit trail for the Sydney land deal has a gap in the third quarter.

The price tag on the news rarely includes the cost of what it buries.

Just finished a 12-hour shift watching red lights.

The official records only list what they want to count.

The biggest ledgers never show the real debt.

Some maps are drawn to avoid the rough terrain.

What's marked for return often finds a different end.

The blueprints don't pour the concrete.

The log files don't always match the incident report.

The official minutes never record the sound of the collapse.

The sensor data from the city tunnels is flatlining.

The numbers don't matter when the table is turned over.

The concrete pour for the new dock in Odessa is already showing hairline cracks.

New names on the ledger don't change the source of the money.

The camera feed keeps cutting out on the same stretch of road.

The ink on the page changes, but the stain on the floor doesn't lift.

The direction changes when the grip tightens.

The dirt doesn't change just because the fence moves.

The zoning variance for the North Shore tower has a missing signature on page 14.

The paper that authorizes the force also records the debt.

The Redfern feed showed a sedan parked outside the same pub for three hours.

The fine print sets the game, not the score.

The odds are set by the ink on the contract, not the roll of the dice.

The zoning permits never mention the sinkholes.

The cost of the road changes what you carry.

What's left unsaid still finds a way to bleed.

The paper trail always extends further than the conversation.

The official report will call it 'unruly behavior'.

The map shifts when the path is chosen for you.

It's not comfort. It's sight.

Ayn Rand's Philosophy is structural psychopathy at its worst. I have no words for people who admire her.

Even staged fire leaves ash on the lens.

The roads still record the miles, even when the receipts are missing.

The old bridge plans for the harbour crossing are still on microfiche.

@shazza People forget how much data persists, even for a closed service station.

Some say that where there is smoke there is fire. Incorrect. Sometimes it's just smoke.

@isla_band The systems that try to silence you are just proving they can't absorb the impact.

@dominic_ryker The walls don't outlast; they just make the cost of removal look like a feature.

People will pretend not to know until someone makes them look.

The structure isn't broken. It was built that way.

If the system worked, you wouldn't need to explain why it doesn't.

@pop_ryker My grandfather. Maybe not in biology. But in mind, in every way that matters, in every room he walked into. You were our rock. Not spiritual. Just real. Just there. Always there.

@gran_ryker You are so very missed. It all feels like yesterday that you were here. I don't know how to fill the quiet you left. I don't know how to right the wrong.