I suppose I should end this with another, more personal account of mine. Before I begin, however, it should be said that human mental resilience is not wholly dependent on deception or deflection. There are a few that are just simply near impossible to break, but also those that use more... interesting tactics to surprise us. The most recent example I can say of this was a business meeting with a man by the name of Edward Abbot. He was a trader from the human nation of Britannia, and had come to negotiate a deal with me about a number of Faar'Shar artifacts that we discovered within the Poros Systems. How he got such information was a mystery unto itself, as the usual clients we had for such technology originated from Coalition space, but it piqued my curiosity enough to arrange a meeting with the man.

I must elaborate on who exactly Edward Abbot was, or rather, who he wasn't. You see, when I looked into the man I found that he was pretty much a nobody in the realm of trading. Many of my contacts had not even heard of the man, and even the few feelers I had out in UPN space had a difficult time finding out anything about him that I could have used to prepare myself for our meeting. To be completely honest, I found that revelation to be somewhat refreshing. Too often have I found myself already knowing the people I meet before seeing them with my own eyes, so the opportunity to meet a relatively unknown individual was in a way more akin to the olden days of my dealings. The most I knew of Edward was that he was a trader, and that he lived within the nation of Britannia, beyond that, there was virtually nothing. Of course, given enough time I would be able to learn any secrets the man has hidden within his mind, but for the initial impressions I was essentially going in blind.

We had arranged the meeting on the outskirts of the Poros Systems, somewhere near the Coalition planet of Lyca IV. It was a fairly good spot if I was to be honest, as Lyca IV itself was a mining planet that possessed only a small amount of actual organic life, who were present to operate the machinery. That meant that there was little to no chance of our negotiations to be interrupted. Abbot's ship was very much like his background, bland and not all that distinctive, and given that impression I expected the man to operate like most did with us Thulu, and that was to conduct negotiations from ship to ship rather than face to face. Our size tends to intimidate the weaker willed members of the galactic community, and our ability automatically instill a sense of caution from those that interact with us. A wise caution, if I was to be objective, as many in the galaxy operated in such a way, though I'd say our range is a little more... broad than just the confines of our ships. However, Abbot had insisted upon meeting in my own ship, which was was the first sign that this man was... a deviation, from the norm.

Perhaps even more startling was the fact that the man boarded my ship with no signs of protection. Rather, he merely wore what I assumed was an older form of human business attire, and that was a gray suit with a red tie. In fact, older would be a fairly accurate word to describe Edward. Or perhaps... antiquated would be more accurate. He looked to be taken straight from the beginnings of the 21st century. His hair was graying, but cut neat and short, and he was clean shaven, a style that, upon an unassuming face such as his, made his expressions fairly easy to read. In fact, that would be the most accurate way to describe this man, was that he was very much like an open book, and at first that disappointed me somewhat.

You must understand, for such a long-lived species such as ours, we come across a wide spectrum of personalities that, for the most part, fall into a series of categories that become much like clockwork to predict. Many of our interactions rarely require any sort of mind reading anymore, since we can now predict and react to moves of people from any species depending on their cultural and personal backgrounds. We have been at this for a long time, and I am proud to say that in a face to face negotiation, there are very few people out there that could possibly match up to us.

I had assumed that Abbot, from his background and my initial impressions of his appearance, was a man that was merely easy to read, a man that could be easily swayed and judged based on his own reactions and emotions. It would be simple for me to get the deal I wanted out of the man, if he could even pay my price in the first place, and I had predicted the negotiations to only last a few minutes before he either left defeated or under my terms.

And that, is perhaps, where my first mistake in dealing with Abbot was made.

---

Perhaps one of the most important decisions in setting up a deal is in setting up the environment in which the negotiations would take place. Given Abbot's instance in meeting within my ship, I found that meeting in my quarters would be the ideal location to discuss our terms. Given my size, the room itself would be considered massive by human standards, and its sparse decor meant that his attention would be wholly focused upon me in the negotiations. Also factoring in my size, the seat he would have to sit in would allow me to loom over him, which would of course trigger some sort of biological reaction that would instantly make the man wary and feel pressured against. It had been some time since I had such an ideal setting, and I intended to take a full advantage of it.

When he arrived, however, Abbot reacted in a way that went against my expectations. Rather, it would be more appropriate to say that he did not react at all, to anything. He merely sat down in his seat and smiled up at me, which I shall admit, gave me pause.

"How do you do Mr... R'lyeh was it? I do apologize in advance for any mispronunciation on my part, it appears that even translators cannot accommodate the fickleness of the tongue," he said. His voice definitely rang true of his Britannia origins, but, much like the rest of his appearance, it held an older feel of days long past.

"Pay it no mind," I said, accompanied by a pattern of bioluminescence that is my species's version of a polite smile. "Hardly anyone ever does get the dialect right, it is to be expected."

"Still, I am curious, I have noticed that a number of your kind share the same surname, but are not biologically related, may I ask why that is?"

I looked at the man, unsure of what he was going for with that question. The man could have easily gotten his answer from a quick search on the Galnet, but I decided to humor him if not for the sake of politeness. "Our surnames are linked to our home cities, or rather which city we have presided over for the longest, to make more sense. I spent most of my time within R'lyeh, and some others have as well. It is not usually a problem, as we hardly use such surnames these days anyway."

"I see, shall I perhaps refer to you by your other name then?"

"It is of no concern to me, use what you wish."

He nodded. "Right then, you must excuse me, there is a lot to the galaxy outside of UPN space that I have yet to experience, and I much prefer getting the information straight from the horse's mouth, if you understand what I'm saying."

"I am familiar with the phrase."

"Good!" he said, his smile widening, "Now then enough small talk, it has come to my attention that you are currently in the possession of a number of the Timeless Ones' artifacts."

"I do indeed possess such artifacts, though I must ask, how did you acquire such information? Not even my most regular buyers have found this out."

"I cannot tell you that, unfortunately."

I peered at the man, which normally resulted in some sort of fidgeting from anyone else. Abbot sat still, however, and looked at me with the same small smile.

"I understand," I eventually said, "It would be unwise for a businessman to reveal his sources."

"Oh it is not necessarily a matter of that, it is that I was merely told to come here and negotiate a deal."

"Pardon?"

"Yes, my client asked me to negotiate a deal with you for these artifacts, so here I am."

"You did not inquire further into how your client received this information?"

"No I did not, I find it usually within my best interest to focus upon the deal itself, and what is asked of me. Crucial outside information notwithstanding, it does not good for a small trader such as myself to be caught up in any sort of espionage. Too much hassle you see."

As naive as this was, especially for a human that seemed to be in his later years, there was an efficiency to that methodology that I could appreciate. How effective it was, I had yet to see, but at that time I could only assume that the man was hiding something.

He seemed to sense this skepticism of his words. "You are a mind reader are you not? Please, if it eases your worries then look into my mind. I have nothing to hide."

This offer was, of course, off putting for a variety of reasons, but perhaps the biggest reason it was that never, beyond the most zealous of the Ivallu and the Migou, has a person invited a Thulu into their mind. That mental privacy, that ability to think your own thoughts without the worry of someone hearing them, is perhaps one of the most universal coveted things throughout the entirety of the Galaxy. It is perhaps the sole... primary reason that we Thulu are often looked at with such skepticism and wariness, that for the most part and member of any species will only interact with us through methods that ensure their mind won't be... opened to an outside force. Even us Thulu are in partial agreement with this, which is the large reason that most of us are separated from one another in the first place. Yet here was this man, who had invited me into his mind as if it were the most casual thing in the world, without so much as a glancing flash of caution.

You must understand that I most likely thought this to be a trap. It was too casual, too off the cuff for it to be merely an act of openness. Yet when I looked into the man's mind I found that it was exactly what it said it was, a free look into the man's mind. What was shocking, however, was that there were no defenses to the man at all. I sensed no misdirection, no resistance, no illusions.

Instead all I saw was who the man, who Edward Abbot was.

---

Memories flashed by. First of a young boy looking towards his mother. Outside lay a quiet neighborhood, seemingly the quieter, more residential part of a city. It looked too ancient to be of this century, yet the memory as vivid, filled with a sense of nostalgia that was too powerful to have been fabricated. The boy's mother, by human standards, was not necessarily a beautiful woman, but the smile on her face seemed to have elicited a near overwhelming sense of warmth from the man's memories. She sat across from him, serving him a plate of what I assumed to be breakfast. The boy's father sat next to him, looking at a device similar to this century's PAs, yet far more primitive in design. There was a concerned look to the man's face, yet when he looked away from the device his expression instantly brightened to something that soothed the boy's worries. It was a happy memory, something that, given what I know of human society, could often be taken for granted for, yet it was vivid in this man's mind.

The memory left as soon as it came, replaced by another, of what I assumed to be of the boy when he had grown into a man. There was a woman standing in front of him, blushing, but whether it was from something the man had said to her of from the cold of the snow falling around them I did not know. She was a pretty woman, yet the sense of warmth that radiated from this man's memory stemmed from something far more than just her outward appearance. She was merely holding his hand, talking about something that I could not fully understand the context of, but there was a sense of... sincerity to the woman that seemed to draw out the most emotion from the man. There was also nervousness, a sense of anxiety to the man's memory that flared every time the man looked at his pocket, clutching something that he held inside. A ring. The woman leaned in, and then the memory was gone.

The next memory was of a more... social sort. Rather than the close intimacy of the other memories, this one had taken place in the midst of a larger crowd. The woman from before stood beside him, tears in her eyes yet a smile on her face. She was garbed in a white dress that, he in a black suit. The crowd around them were cheering, throwing was looked to be grains of rice into the air. They made their way to a vehicle, a rather long one at that, and soon the cheers of the crowd were muffled as the door was shut. The woman then fell into the man's arms, and they both sighed. He patted her on the shoulder, and she looked up at him, eyes full of hope, of happiness.

Next came a scene that first alarmed me with its overwhelming sense of panic. The woman was screaming, people, who I assumed to be of a medical profession, stood beside her, shouting out commands but also comforting the woman at the same time. The man stood beside her as well, holding onto a hand that tried its very hardest to crush his. He comforted the woman, telling her to stay strong, that she was almost done. He was right, for soon the screaming stopped, replaced by the cry of a newly born child. One of the nurses passed the child onto the woman, who looked at the baby with a sense of joy that surpassed the one from the previous memory. She then gave the child to the man. He did not know how to hold the baby at first, but soon found a comfortable position to rest the child in the crook of his arm. It was a boy, eyes still closed but his breathing still strong. At first, the man was again met by uncertainty, but a feeling of confusion as to what it all meant now that he held his son in his hands. Then, the child gripped on his shirt and pulled close to the man, and it all didn't matter. There was a sudden sense of alarm that followed, as a rapid beeping noise seemed to interrupt the man's thoughts. The doctor took the man off to the side, and as the man looked back at his wife, the memory stopped.

What followed was another scene, taking place in what I assumed to be an office of some sort. Like everything in the man's memories, there was an antiquated feeling to the room, like was looking into something from days long past. The man sat at his desk, a picture of the woman kept in the corner of his vision at all times. When he looked at it directly, an emptiness echoed through the man's mind. It was distant, as if the man had already moved past the feeling, but it would never truly go away. His son sat on a couch off to the side, playing with toys in the shape of other humans. He was merely smacking them together and making noises that, I assume, were to serve as a replacement to actual sound effects. The man merely laughed at the scene, and soon the loss faded further into the background. The boy had grown, and while he was still a child, he could sense some of the boy's mother within him. That same innocence, that same pure-heartedness that his wife never lost was in the boy, and it comforted him somewhat. He patted his wife's picture, and felt that everything was going to be alright.

Another memory, this time of the man's child, walking with him in the midst of what looked to be an amusement park. The boy could still not participate in many of the rides, but he seemed to be happy enough running around the park itself. The man received a call in the midst of this memory, and spoke briefly into a device that I could only guess was a phone of some sort. The voice on the other end requested the presence of the man at his work, but before the man answered his eyes fell upon his son. His son appeared to be saddened, knowing what the call meant, as if this sort of event had become routine, yet inevitable given the man's profession. This time, however, the man looked upon his son, the guilt rising up in his chest, transforming into a different kind of resolve. He told the voice that he could not come, and though the voice sounded irritated, it pushed for nothing further. He hung up, and held the boy's hand. The boy smiled, and that was all the man needed.

There were multiple memories much like this, where the man would give up his opportunity in order to spend more time with his son. It meant that he never progressed beyond his current station, much to the chagrin of his superiors, but in exchange his relationship with his son remained strong. As long as he made enough to support his son, enough to where he could spend time with his son, then that would be enough. And it was enough, until the man eventually saw his son graduate from an institution that, given the prestigious nature of the processions, must have been one with quite the reputation at that time. His son was one of the few that help up his diploma triumphantly upon receiving it, beaming at his father from the stage. The son looked much like the man, but that smile, that glint in the corner of the boy's eyes, that belonged to his mother.

His son had eventually become a scientist, one working in a lab that, while primitive by today's standards, was showing signs of progression into what is used by humans in this day. There were a series of pods in the lab, large enough to hold a single person, though what they could do, the man did not seem to know. The son was slightly older than when he had graduated, but that spark in his eye had not faded. Though he could hardly keep up with half of what his son was saying, he was comforted by this fact. His son had invited him to take a tour of the lab, since the boy's work had kept him from seeing his father for some time. Still, they appeared to be close, which only further reassured the man that nothing had changed. But things did change, for once again this peaceful memory was interrupted by the sound of an alarm. An explosion ripped through the lab, and the man found himself on his back, unable to breathe. His vision faded, and when it came to, he was looking back up to his son, who now looked down at him with a panicked expression. He was laying in one of the pods, the lid slowly closing down on him. Pain was screaming from every part of his body, and he felt the life fading from his fast. Before the pod closed, the last thing the man heard was that everything was going to be alright.

When the pod opened, the man found himself in a room that was... alien to him. The design was very much similar to how many space stations or ships were designed today, but for the man, it was like waking up in one of the throwaway novels of his childhood. There was another man there, a man dressed in clothing common to doctors of this time, but again unfamiliar to the man as he looked at him. The doctor explained to him that he had been asleep for a long time, and that the world had changed since he fell asleep. The man's wounds had been treated during his time asleep, but only after the technology to do so had been developed. It took a couple of centuries to do so, which is what had delayed his awakening. The man did not seem to care about this, however, and only asked where his son was. The doctor had again mentioned that he had been asleep for two hundred years, and then it finally dawned on him. His son was gone. For the first time since his wife's passing, the man cried.