Neeson

This isn’t just a story of Paris, this is a story of dedication, perseverance, morals, and, of course, love.

R and I went to Paris. We walked around and took some pictures in front of things people take pictures in front of.

We ate macarons.

We had fun.

But then we were stopped at night and they took him away.

In the morning I got a phone call. It was the people who took R. They told me that I could have him back if I denounced the freedom I’d worked so hard for and publicly supported ACTA, SOPA, and the Belgian Copyright Society’s attack on library volunteers. I would have to give up on Open Education, and let all my occupational dreams and plans die if R was to live. I knew he wouldn’t accept that.

The river, which had led so many people so many places, led me to the only choice I knew I had.

The people who took him didn’t know about how my father trained me.

Or my kung fu. (I apologize to actual practitioners of kung fu. I know it is serious and has a rich tradition. My dad did, for realsies, kung fu.)

I went after them.

I triangulated R’s cell phone signal and it led me deep into the sewers of Paris.

Getting in was hard.

And dangerous.

Down there, I found R! (He was happy to see me.)

We set off a trap.

We emerged from the sewers, but there was no moment of respite. We were attacked by the enemies. I defeated them easily.

Finally we could breathe.

It turned out that the kidnappers were actually pretty nice people. We talked about it and I learned that they too were being blackmailed. They were pawns in the game.

I had a lot to think about. I could have just let it end there, but they could not get away with this. They could not be allowed to go after anyone again.

Nothing could stop me.

I met the leader of the Malicious Enforcement of All Noticeable IP Exercise Society. Even though we were in public, he attacked.

With his defeat, we could really celebrate.

Which we did it with macarons.

A special thanks to Dafydd Harries, Guy Lunardi, Rob McQueen, and Rob Ochshorn.

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