X File Quotes

The Truth is out there

The Senior Council--" "Couldn't find its heart if it had a copy of Grey's Anatomy, X-ray vision, and a stethoscope.

Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it.

Scully was doing the driving, which she preferred. Mulder knew only two speeds: fast and faster.

When I was doing preliminary research on this case, I remembered the story about Tlazolteotl.' [Mulder] glanced at the old archaeologist. 'Am I pronouncing it correctly? It sounds like I'm swallowing a turtle.

Frohike... had a long-standing crush on Dana Scully, but basically it was all talk. Mulder suspected Frohike would turn into a jittering mass of nerves if Scully ever consented to go out with him.

The 'medium' is unaware of its attractiveness, that's all. Everyone loves comics. I've proven this to my own satisfaction by handing them out to acountants, insurance brokers, hairdressers, mothers of children, black belts, pop stars, taxi drivers, painters, lesbians, doctors etc. etc. The X-Files, Buffy, the Matrix, X-Men - mainstream culture is not what it once was when science fiction and comics fans huddled in cellars like Gnostic Christians dodging the Romans. We should come up into the light soon before we suffocate.

Scully,' [Mulder] said, his voice quiet and serious, 'with the... unorthodox explanations I often find when studying the evidence, I know you're always skeptical-but every time you're at least fair to me. You respect my opinion, even when you don't agree with it.' He looked at his hands. 'I don't know if I've ever told you, but I really appreciate that.' She looked at him and smiled. 'You've told me, Mulder. Maybe not in words... but you've told me.

On the Television Show The X-Files “So, the woman and the dopey-looking guy screw, and then they look for aliens—or they just screw and sometimes aliens follow them?

Mulder gave a crooked smile of welcome. 'Sorry,' he said, 'Nobody down here but the F.B.I.'s most unwanted.

Scully liked neatness and order. This office was her notion of a nightmare. She had no idea how Mulder ever found anything he wanted. But he always seemed to.

They engrave those callsigns on your coffin when you get X-ed out. Last thing you wanna picture when you imagine your send-off is a bunch of fellow Cyclone drones standing around toasting the death of "Lieutenant Sugarpants.

I want us to cool down for a while before we end up on horses' said Scully. 'What?' Hank asked. 'A definition of confusion.' Mulder explained, hands clasped behind his head. 'He jumped up on his horse and rode off in all directions.' He winked. 'Scully likes wise sayings like that. She hoardes fortune cookies you know.

I'm okay,' [Mulder] said, shifting over to make room for Scully. 'Just thinking.' 'Out here, that'll get you pneumonia.' 'Is that a doctor's truth thing?'... 'No, it's cold, that's what it is. God, Mulder, why can't you ever have a mood someplace warm?

Any files I give to the model are downsized (typically 800x1200 pixels)... By not giving out my high resolution files, they cannot be used without my knowledge.

The truth is out there, but so are lies.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I reflected that odds were that not a lot of clandestine meetings involving mystical assassination, theft of arcane power, and the balance of power in the realms of the supernatural had taken place in a Wal-Mart Super Center. But then again, maybe they had. Hell, for all I knew, the Mole Men used the changing rooms as a place to discuss plans for world domination with the Psychic Jellyfish from Planet X and the Disembodied Brains-in-a-Jar from the Klaatuu Nebula. I know I wouldn't have looked for them there.

You're supposed to be sleeping' Mulder didn't jump, didn't turn his head. 'The day you figure out how to turn off my brain Scully let me know.' He shook his head, but carefully. 'Amazing isn't it?' 'Your brain?' She leaned her forearms on the railing. 'It's okay but I wouldn't call it amazing.

It's hot,' [Mulder] said, dropping on the bench beside [Scully]. 'It's July, Mulder,' Garson reminded him. 'It's New Mexico. What did you expect?' 'Heat I can get at home. An oven I already have in my apartment.

If I quit now,... They win!

Scully could see that Mulder might be a nice guy. Well-meaning. Talented. With his heart in the right place. But his head was definitely screwed on wrong.

That'll take some finagling,' she told Mulder. 'I'll keep watch, then,' he said. 'You go downtown and see what you can finagle.

Really?' [Scully said]... 'And you think that makes sense?' 'It does to me.' [said Mulder]. 'Of course it does,' she said flatly. 'Whatever was I thinking of.

...she kept hoping Mulder and Scully would kiss each other well and good. Having a relationship vicariously through fantasy and excellent scripting was all Aggie had at the moment - and to be honest, it wasn't all that bad. Her imagination was always better than reality...

I didn't know you were a techie, Mulder.' said Scully... 'I used to fool around with ham radios when I was a kid,' Mulder said, not looking up from his work. 'Let me guess why,' said Scully. 'Ever succeed in making contact with a spaceship?'... 'No,' said Mulder. 'But it wasn't from lack of trying.

And the...' [Mulder] stumbled several times, making [Scully] smile, before he managed, 'Sangre Viento?' He winced when he heard himself; his Spanish was still lousy.

Scully and I will be back to relieve you in eight hours if Tooms doesn't show,' Mulder promised. 'Right here.' 'You got it,' Kennedy said. Then he added in an undertone, 'Spooky.

I’d been expecting someone so nondescript he was practically invisible, maybe the Cancer Man from The X Files, but this guy had rough, blunt features and wide blue eyes, and the kind of presence that leaves heat streaks on the air where he’s been.

Scully-' 'I screwed up.' Her hands again. 'Damnit, I screwed up.' 'Nope' [Mulder] said... 'If I was dead, then you would have screwed up.' She saw the grin. 'Then I'd have to haunt you.' 'Mulder that's not funny.' 'But you don't believe in ghosts and goblins...

Mulder looked down at his partner. 'Please get better,' he said. 'I'm going to need all the help I can get.' He might have been crazy, but he thought he saw her head give a tiny nod. He'd have to wait and see.

So you and the lovely Agent Scully are going down to investigate?' Frohike said, sounding hopeful. 'Yeah, we leave for Cancun tomorrow.' 'Our tax dollars at work,' Langly snorted. 'I'd love to see Agent Scully with a healthy tropical tan,' Frohike said. 'Down, Frohike,' Mulder said.

[Mulder] slowed as he approached the front walk, slipping his left hand into his pocket to wrap around his gun. Front or back? Wait for Scully, or do the stupid thing and go in on his own? He had no realistic alternative.

Mulder, I want you to meet your new assistant. Special Agent Dana Scully, Fox Mulder.' 'An assistant? Nice to know I'm suddenly so highly regarded.' Mulder turned to Scully. 'Who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?

The truth might hurt, but it's the only thing that matters.

If coincidences are coincidences, why do they feel so contrived? Words by Fox Mulder on the X-Files

Mulder had too brilliant a record to be dismissed as a loose cannon. His bosses had to find another way to protect their peace of mind. They did. They made Scully his partner.

President Donald Trump is the canary in a coal mine. A babbling asshat from a galaxy far, far away.

I have to admit, this place gives me the creeps.' [said Scully]. 'The creeps?' said Mulder with a smile. 'Just because a bunch of big, strong men cleared out so fast they didn't finish their food? And then vanished into thin air? Don't be silly. I'm sure there's a nice scientific explanation. Oh, sorry Scully. You're the one who's supposed to be telling me that, right?

Mulder stumbled, and Scully grabbed his arm to steady him. He smiled at her wanly. 'Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?' 'Since when did you ever think I was helpless, Mulder?' Never, he thought; never.

Dr. Blockhead's mocking face was solemn for once. 'Modern science is wiping out deviant strains of the human form,' he said. 'In the twenty-first century, genetic engineering will do more than merely eliminate Siamese twins and alligator-skinned people. It will make it hard to find a person with even a slight overbite or a large nose. I can see that future and it makes me shudder. The future looks like- him' Dr. Blockhead pointed at Mulder. 'Imagine going through your whole life looking like that,' said Dr. Blockhead. Mulder shrugged. 'It's a tough job- but someone has to do it.

So, Mulder,' Colton spoke in a mocking tone. 'What do you think? Look like the work of Little Green Men?' 'Gray,' Mulder said seriously. 'What?' Colton asked. 'Gray,' Mulder explained. You said green men. A Reticulan's skin tone is gray. They're known for their extraction of human livers due to a lack of iron in the Reticulian Galaxy.' Colton looked confused- as though he couldn't tell whether Mulder was joking. 'You can't be serious,' he said. 'Do you know how much liver and onions go for on Reticulum?' Mulder asked Colton.

Scully nodded. Of course. It made sense. Complete sense. No question about it. Mulder was perfectly sane in telling her all this. And she was perfectly sane in listening to it and nodding and urging him to tell her more. It was the rest of the world that was- She doubled over as a wave of laughter hit her. Mulder looked at her and started laughing too. They stood there in the cemetery in the darkness and the drizzle, laughing their heads off. 'You know we're crazy,' Scully finally said. 'Of course we are,' Mulder gasped out.

But it appears that I am willing to put up with many things for the sake of Jamie Watson. He is fond of watching old episodes of The X-Files, which is, to the best of my understanding, a show about a rather appallingly dumb man who is nevertheless very attractive, and aliens.

It smells like... I think it's bile. Tooms must have taken it from his victims' livers.' 'Oh,' Mulder said. He sounded a little sick. 'Do you think there's any way I can quickly get it off my finger without betraying my cool exterior?'... Mulder hastily wiped his hand on the floor.

The late nights binge-watching The X-Files on the couch they picked out together, the early mornings making toast while they’re still too tired to speak, the kids who will earn their first scars in the backyard and badly practice instruments at inconvenient times, and the way their favorite candle’s scent will gradually infuse the walls so that every time they come back from a trip, exhausted, and dump their bags inside the door, they’ll smell that they’re where they belong. All those moments throughout the days, weeks, months that don’t get marked on calendars with hand-drawn stars or little stickers. Those are the moments that make a life.

Mulder' she said gently. 'They don't want you involved. They don't want to hear your theories. That's why Section Chief Blevins has you hidden away down here in the basement.' Mulder didn't seem at all hurt by this. 'You're down here too,' he pointed out cheerfully. Scully slumped in her chair... Couldn't he ever take no for an answer?

Besides, you have to remember that the thinner air out here slows down the intellectual process, the result of less oxygen flowing to the brain.' He grinned and looked at her sideways. 'Is that a doctor thing?' 'No that's a Scully thing... The doctor thing is, get some sleep... or you'll be useless in the morning.' He nodded as he waved a weary good night over his shoulder, sidestepping a garden wall just before he tripped over it. Another wave- I'm okay, I know what I'm doing- before he disappeared into the passageway.

I have to pick up Mulder from tae kwon do,” she says. Yes, her son is named after David Duchovny’s character from The X-Files.

File us under Theory X. Not reality, not delusion, but a phenomenon awaiting proof.

Nazis put this amazing metal, impervium, to use for the first time in airplanes of the German Air Force. I

agent to believe in UFOs. The files in question are FBI file numbers 62-83894-383, 62-838994-384 and 62-83894-385. Their date is 11/7/57 to 11/8/57. They

German saucers and field propulsion, Pentagon Aliens and

The Sartors knew something of the Indrid Cold saga. They knew Indrid’s “contactee,” Woody Derenberger, and their daughter-in-law, Darla, is mentioned often in John Keel’s The

Welcome to the X-Files meets The Twilight Zone meets the Information Superhighway.

The Truth is Out there

that one guy from The X-Files.

Please explain to me the scientific nature of the whammy.

You may believe yourselves rid of your headache now, and maybe you are... but you've only done it by cutting off your own heads.

Keep your eyes open, Fox Mulder,” the Major called after him. Before Gimble shut the door, Mulder heard the Major say one last thing. “The truth is out there.

They vanished in the same forest without a trace. Not one of them was ever found or heard from again.' 'And you suspect what?' Scully asked. 'Bigfoot maybe?' 'Not likely,' Mulder answered deadpan. 'That's a lot of flannel to choke down. Even for Bigfoot.' Scully sighed. She should have known better than to joke about Bigfoot to Mulder. Bigfoot wasn't a joke to him.

All of the stray asbestos fibers would certainly have been removed with meticulous care. The contractors were, after all, government employees. That thought sparked uneasiness in him all over again.

I'm sure they just felt more comfortable talking to me.' 'Why would I make them so uncomfortable?' Mulder asked. Scully faced him, hesitating... 'It's probably because of your... reputation.' 'Reputation?' he echoed, sounding puzzled. 'I have a reputation?' Mulder was deliberately giving her a hard time... 'They feel your methods, your theories are...' 'Spooky?' Mulder guessed. 'What about you? You think I'm... spooky?

Mortimer Lindquist seemed to have finally given in to the inevitable. I'd seen him with a bad toupee, and with an even worse comb-over, but this was the first time I'd seen him sporting a full-on Charles Xavier.

With his bare hands Mulder dug at the loose earth. After a minute, he said, 'I've go it. I just have to pull it out and-' He got no further. He and Scully were blinded by a high power flashlight. When their vision cleared, they saw the sheriff looming over them, brandishing an ugly-looking .45. 'May I ask what you're doing?' he growled. Mulder held up what he had found in the earth: a piece of raw potato. 'Exhuming your potato,' was all he could say.

powered by a series of Coler “free energy” devices, the “Magnetapparat” and the “Stromerzeuger.” The output of this second device was used to turn a Van de Graaff generator. This energy was directed into something called a Marconi ball

Most of the time your employer doesn’t really care about your career. All you are to them is a skilled and loyal resource. So don’t expect HR to regularly track a file marked “X’s Career.” Grasping this harsh reality should be the beginning of change.

A - ALPHA B - BRAVO C - CHARLIE D - DELTA E - ECHO F - FOXTROT G - GOLF H - HOTEL I - INDIA J - JULIETT K - KILO L - LIMA M - MIKE N - NOVEMBER O - OSCAR P - PAPA Q - QUEBEC R - ROMEO S - SIERRA T - TANGO U - UNIFORM V - VICTOR W - WHISKEY       X - X-RAY Y - YANKEE Z - ZULU

fields is Dr. Raymond Bernard. He is controversial not only for his research on the inner earth, but for his mysterious disappearance as well. Bernard spent many years searching South America for entrances to underground civilizations he believed existed beneath the surface.

Scully, you're a doctor, for God's sake. You gonna tell me you actually go along with this s---?' [said the Sheriff]. Mulder held his breath. 'Sheriff,' [Scully] answered in her most official, neutral voice. 'I have never known Mulder to be so far off-base that I would dismiss everything he says out of hand.'... Thank you Scully, Mulder thought with a brief smile. I'd rather have a resounding 'Absolutely and how dare you,' but that'll do in a pinch. On the other hand, the day that 'Absolutely and how dare you' actually came, it would probably kill him with amazement.

You know,' he said as they made their way down the hall, 'I appreciate the support, Scully, but I don't need defending. Not really.' She looked up at him and sighed. 'Oh yes you do, Mulder.' He looked back blankly. 'Trust me,' she said, patting his arm. 'On this one you'll have to trust me.

I understand the CIA has bigger stuff to do than figure out why some guy’s manual on do-it-yourself hair restoration got jacked up, but is it so much to ask that we could get a little FBI/X-files attention when some honest-to-goodness, real live, supernatural, ghost shit goes down? I think not.

I’m supposed to hire two more team members out of whatever law enforcement branch I can entice them from, but I haven’t really bothered. Seeing as how every case I have is like a bad episode of The X-Files, but without the actual monsters, aliens and government conspiracies, I just don’t see the need to deal with more personalities.

The Tender Place Your temples , where the hair crowded in , Were the tender place. Once to check I dropped a file across the electrodes of a twelve-volt battery -- it exploded Like a grenade. Somebody wired you up. Somebody pushed the lever. They crashed The thunderbolt into your skull. In their bleached coats, with blenched faces, They hovered again To see how you were, in your straps. Whether your teeth were still whole . The hand on the calibrated lever Again feeling nothing Except feeling nothing pushed to feel Some squirm of sensation . Terror Was the cloud of you Waiting for these lightnings. I saw An oak limb sheared at a bang. You your Daddy's leg . How many seizures Did you suffer this god to grab you By the roots of the hair? The reports Escaped back into clouds. What went up Vaporized? Where lightning rods wept copper And the nerve· threw off its skin Like a burning child Scampering out of the bomb-flash. They dropped you A rigid bent bit of wire Across the Boston City grid. The lights In the Senate House dipped As your voice dived inwards Right through the bolt-hole basement. Came up, years later, Over-exposed, like an X-ray -- Brain-map still dark-patched With the scorched-earth scars Of your retreat . And your words , Faces reversed from the light , Holding in their entrails.

now know about the involvement of Union Carbide in the Manhattan Project, the TNT Area, Area 51, and the Roswell Crash (where Carbide glue was found), we can assume that “nukes” and “saucers” were the exact same project. After Carbide’s Tech Center in South Charleston, West Virginia built the first atomic reactor in the late 1920s, and had

I love you, Kayla Martin. I want to spend the rest of my life wondering what will happen when I turn on the microwave. I want to explain the X-files to you in bed every night and replace cabinet doors that are dented from your feet.....I want to go to sleep at night knowing that you're puttering around in the other room inventing something that will baffle and confuse me.

A smile spread over Dr. Blockhead's face. 'But where are my manners?' he said. 'What a bad host I am. Let me offer you a little refreshment.' He picked up a jar, opened it, and held it out to Scully. 'Is that what I think it is?' she asked. 'The finest assortment of living crickets money can buy,' said Dr. Blockhead. 'And all quite recently captured. If you don't believe me, read the expiration date on the label.' 'I believe you,' said Scully, still peering at the contents. She reached in and picked out her cricket. Then she put it in her mouth and crunched down. She smiled at Dr. Blockhead. 'Thank you so much for the treat,' she said. Then she gave him a dazzling smile and walked away. 'That Scully,' said Mulder, shaking his head. 'She's just full of surprises.

show from the last 20 years, look out for a detective by the name of John Munch. Always played by the same man, Richard Belzer, he was originally a character on Homicide: Life on the Street, before joining the cast of Law & Order Special Victims Unit. But there’s more; he has also been seen on episodes of The X-Files, Arrested Development, The Wire, 30 Rock and many more - always the same actor as the same character. Weird, but amazing nonetheless.

Ray, we don’t have much time,” I said. “We need to access the EDA intranet node hidden here in the store. It’s an emergency.” Ray only hesitated for a split second. “Behind the UFO poster on the back wall.” I turned and located the one he was talking about—a framed reprint of Mulder’s “I Want to Believe” poster from The X-Files. I took it down, revealing what appeared to be a small titanium safe embedded in the brick wall behind it, with a keypad at its center.

Tell me, have you done much circus work in your life?' [asked Mulder]. Nutt drew himself up to his full height. 'And what makes you think I've ever even gone to a circus, let alone been a slave in one?' he demanded... Finally Mulder managed to say, 'I didn't mean any offense.' 'Offended? Why should I be offended?' Nutt demanded. 'It's human nature to make quick judgements of people based only on their looks. Why, I have done the same thing to you.' 'Have you?' said Mulder. 'And what have you concluded?' 'I have taken in your all-American face, your unsmiling expression, your boring necktie. I have decided you work for the government,' Nutt said. 'You are- an FBI agent.' 'Am I really?' Mulder said. 'I hope you get my point,' Nutt said. 'I want to show how stupid it would be to look at you as a type, rather than as an individual.' 'But I am an FBI agent,' Mulder said, showing Nutt his badge. There was a loud silence. Then Nutt said, 'Sign the book please.

Mulder strolled into his office whistling. It was the kind of day that began with a gorgeous, unreal sunrise... he was half-afraid he was dreaming... It took a second for him to notice Scully in his chair. 'Morning,' he said brightly. All he needed now was a generous supply of sunflower seeds, and things would be perfect. Scully reached down beside her, and tossed him a plastic bag. He caught it against his chest one-handed and held it up. It was a half pound of sunflower seeds. He smiled. A sign; it had to be a sign.

Paul thought about straight people occasionally, not that he personally knew very many people he could really call straight. Straight culture, he guessed he meant. Movies, books, songs - especially songs - tv shows too, he surmised, not that he watched tv, except for X-Files, which at least switched up the butch/femme dynamic. Men and women alike confounded Paul, they were so rulebound. Straight people seemed confused by each other, so anxious to find camaraderie within their gender, so startled by differences between their bodies, always pinny explanations for the inevitable gulf between humans on chromosomes.

Subject: Some boat Alex, I know Fox Mulder. My mom watched The X-Files. She says it was because she liked the creepy store lines. I think she liked David Duchovny. She tried Californication, but I don't think her heart was in it. I think she was just sticking it to my grandmother, who has decided it's the work of the devil. She says that about most current music,too, but God help anyone who gets between her and American Idol. The fuzzy whale was very nice, it a little hard to identify. The profile of the guy between you and the whale in the third pic was very familiar, if a little fuzzy. I won't ask. No,no. I have to ask. I won't ask. My mother loves his wife's suits. I Googled. There are sharks off the coast of the Vineyard. Great big white ones. I believe you about the turtle. Did I mention that there are sharks there? I go to Surf City for a week every summer with my cousins. I eat too much ice cream. I play miniature golf-badly. I don't complain about sand in my hot dog buns or sheets. I even spend enough time on the beach to get sand in more uncomfortable places. I do not swim. I mean, I could if I wanted to but I figure that if we were meant to share the water with sharks, we would have a few extra rows of teeth, too. I'll save you some cannoli. -Ella Subject: Shh Fiorella, Yes,Fiorella. I looked it up. It means Flower. Which, when paired with MArino, means Flower of the Sea. What shark would dare to touch you? I won't touch the uncomfortable sand mention, hard as it is to resist. I also will not think of you in a bikini (Note to self: Do not think of Ella in a bikini under any circumstanes. Note from self: Are you f-ing kidding me?). Okay. Two pieces of info for you. One: Our host has an excellent wine cellar and my mother is European. Meaning she doesn't begrudge me the occasional glass. Or four. Two: Our hostess says to thank yur mother very much. Most people say nasty things about her suits. Three: We have a house kinda near Surf City. Maybe I'll be there when your there. You'd better burn this after reading. -Alexai Subect: Happy Thanksgiving Alexei, Consider it burned. Don't worry. I'm not showing your e-mails to anybody. Matter of national security, of course. Well,I got to sit at the adult table. In between my great-great-aunt Jo, who is ninety-three and deaf, and her daughter, JoJo, who had to repeat everyone's conversations across me. Loudly. The food was great,even my uncle Ricky's cranberry lasagna. In fact, it would have been a perfectly good TG if the Eagles han't been playing the Jets.My cousin Joey (other side of the family) lives in Hoboken. His sister married a Philly guy. It started out as a lively across-the-table debate: Jets v. Iggles. It ended up with Joey flinging himself across the table at his brother-in-law and my grandmother saying loud prayers to Saint Bridget. At least I think it was Saint Bridget. Hard to tell. She was speaking Italian. She caught me trying to freeze a half-dozen cannoli. She yelled at me. Apparently, the shells get really soggy when they defrost. I guess you'll have to come have a fresh one when you get back. -F/E

Amazon made its first 10x improvement in a particularly visible way: they offered at least 10 times as many books as any other bookstore. When it launched in 1995, Amazon could claim to be “Earth’s largest bookstore” because, unlike a retail bookstore that might stock 100,000 books, Amazon didn’t need to physically store any inventory—it simply requested the title from its supplier whenever a customer made an order. This quantum improvement was so effective that a very unhappy Barnes & Noble filed a lawsuit three days before Amazon’s IPO, claiming that Amazon was unfairly calling itself a “bookstore” when really it was a “book broker.

Security is a big and serious deal, but it’s also largely a solved problem. That’s why the average person is quite willing to do their banking online and why nobody is afraid of entering their credit card number on Amazon. At 37signals, we’ve devised a simple security checklist all employees must follow: 1. All computers must use hard drive encryption, like the built-in FileVault feature in Apple’s OS X operating system. This ensures that a lost laptop is merely an inconvenience and an insurance claim, not a company-wide emergency and a scramble to change passwords and worry about what documents might be leaked. 2. Disable automatic login, require a password when waking from sleep, and set the computer to automatically lock after ten inactive minutes. 3. Turn on encryption for all sites you visit, especially critical services like Gmail. These days all sites use something called HTTPS or SSL. Look for the little lock icon in front of the Internet address. (We forced all 37signals products onto SSL a few years back to help with this.) 4. Make sure all smartphones and tablets use lock codes and can be wiped remotely. On the iPhone, you can do this through the “Find iPhone” application. This rule is easily forgotten as we tend to think of these tools as something for the home, but inevitably you’ll check your work email or log into Basecamp using your tablet. A smartphone or tablet needs to be treated with as much respect as your laptop. 5. Use a unique, generated, long-form password for each site you visit, kept by password-managing software, such as 1Password.§ We’re sorry to say, “secretmonkey” is not going to fool anyone. And even if you manage to remember UM6vDjwidQE9C28Z, it’s no good if it’s used on every site and one of them is hacked. (It happens all the time!) 6. Turn on two-factor authentication when using Gmail, so you can’t log in without having access to your cell phone for a login code (this means that someone who gets hold of your login and password also needs to get hold of your phone to login). And keep in mind: if your email security fails, all other online services will fail too, since an intruder can use the “password reset” from any other site to have a new password sent to the email account they now have access to. Creating security protocols and algorithms is the computer equivalent of rocket science, but taking advantage of them isn’t. Take the time to learn the basics and they’ll cease being scary voodoo that you can’t trust. These days, security for your devices is just simple good sense, like putting on your seat belt.

Dana?' [asked Garson]. She nodded to show him she was listening. 'Why does he call you Scully all the time? I mean, you do have a first name.' 'Because he can,' she answered simply, without sarcasm, and didn't bother to explain. Just as it would be hard to explain why Mulder was, without question, the best friend she had. It was more than just being partners, being able to rely on each other when one of them was in danger, or when one of them needed a boost when a case seemed to be going bad; and it was more than simply their contrasting styles, which, perversely to some, complemented each other perfectly. What it was, she sometimes thought, was an indefinable instinct, a silent signal that let her know that whatever else changed, whatever else happened, Mulder would always be there when he had to be. One way or another.

Marc walked down the jet way, blinking into the rising sun. He dug in the bag for the USAF-issue sunglasses that he habitually carried and wiped them clean. Lucy was waiting at the foot of the ramp, dressed in the same kind of almost-neutral clothing as he was. She was peering at a sheaf of paper maps, and among the sheets Marc saw a blow-up of the satellite image he had provided to Rubicon, the errant picture salvaged from the comm files. ‘We can make this by late afternoon if we hustle,’ she told him. ‘A helo would draw too much attention. We’ll take the highway.’ She jerked her thumb at a battered Land Rover parked in the shadow of the jet. Malte, the taciturn driver, was in the process of loading the 4x4 with two equipment cases, one labelled with a red stripe, another with blue. ‘Is he coming with us?’ Lucy shook her head. ‘Just you and me, pal.

The late nights binge-watching The X-Files on the couch they picked out together, the early mornings making toast while they're still too tired to speak, the kids who will earn their first scars in the backyard and badly practice instruments at inconvenient times, and the way their favorite candle's scent will gradually infuse the walls so that every time they come back from a trip, exhausted, and dump their bags inside the door, they'll smell that they're where they belong. All those moments throughout the days, weeks, months that don't get marked on calendars with hand-drawn stars or little stickers. Those are the moments that make a life. Not grand gestures, but mundane details that, over time, accumulate until you have a home, instead of a house. The things that matter. The things I can't stop longing for. There's only one place that feeling exists for me, only one person with whom I belong.

By the time I got down there, Bird was standing to the left of the backstop, near the warm-up area, smiling at Brandon. It was obvious he was trying not to get caught smiling at her, that he was supposed to focus on the game. I scooted over until I was standing behind the dugout. Jason was still messing with his gloves. I was surprised the Velcro still worked, that it hadn’t worn down until all the tiny sticky teeth were gone. “Hey, Jason,” I said. “Awesome no-hitter.” I was vaguely aware of someone gasping and someone else moaning, as Jason came up off the bench fast, spun around, and stared at me like I’d morphed into something from The X-Files. The guy who’d gasped, Chase, put one knee on the bench, so he could talk to me in a low voice and still be heard. “You’d better go.” “Why? What did I do?” “You never talk to the pitcher when…” He shook his head. “You just never talk to the pitcher when--” “I just wanted to congratulate him on a good game--” “It’s not over ’til it’s over,” Chase said. “You jinxed me,” Jason said, crouching down in the corner, pressing his palms against his forehead, like he’d been struck with a migraine headache.

In the nineteen sixties and seventies, there were people in all the democratic countries who didn’t have any real power, and they started going to the people who did have all the power and saying, “All these principles of equality you’ve been talking about since the French Revolution are very nice, but you don’t seem to be taking them very seriously. You’re all hypocrites, actually. So we’re going to make you take those principles seriously.” And they held demonstrations and bus rides, and occupied buildings, and it was very embarrassing for the people in power, because the other people had such a good argument, and anyone who listened seriously had to agree with them. ‘Feminism was working, and the civil rights movement was working, and all the other social justice movements were getting more and more support. So, in the nineteen eighties, the CIA—’ she turned to Keith and explained cheerfully, ‘this is where X-Files Theory comes into it – hired some really clever linguists to invent a secret weapon: an incredibly complicated way of talking about politics that didn’t actually make any sense, but which spread through all the universities in the world, because it sounded so impressive. And at first, the people who talked like this just hitched their wagon to the social justice movements, and everyone else let them come along for the ride, because they seemed harmless. But then they climbed on board the peace train and threw out the driver. ‘So instead of going to the people in power and saying, “How about upholding the universal principles you claim to believe in?” the people in the social justice movements ended up saying things like “My truth narrative is in competition with your truth narrative!” And the people in power replied, “Woe is me! You’ve thrown me in the briar patch!” And everyone else said, “Who are these idiots? Why should we trust them, when they can’t even speak properly?” And the CIA were happy. And the people in power were happy. And the secret weapon lived on in the universities for years and years, because everyone who’d played a part in the conspiracy was too embarrassed to admit what they’d done.

joke around—nothing serious—as I work to get my leg back to where it was. Two weeks later, I’m in an ankle-to-hip leg brace and hobbling around on crutches. The brace can’t come off for another six weeks, so my parents lend me their townhouse in New York City and Lucien hires me an assistant to help me out around the house. Some guy named Trevor. He’s okay, but I don’t give him much to do. I want to regain my independence as fast as I can and get back out there for Planet X. Yuri, my editor, is griping that he needs me back and I’m more than happy to oblige. But I still need to recuperate, and I’m bored as hell cooped up in the townhouse. Some buddies of mine from PX stop by and we head out to a brunch place on Amsterdam Street my assistant sometimes orders from. Deacon, Logan, Polly, Jonesy and I take a table in Annabelle’s Bistro, and settle in for a good two hours, running our waitress ragged. She’s a cute little brunette doing her best to stay cheerful for us while we give her a hard time with endless coffee refills, loud laughter, swearing, and general obnoxiousness. Her nametag says Charlotte, and Deacon calls her “Sweet Charlotte” and ogles and teases her, sometimes inappropriately. She has pretty eyes, I muse, but otherwise pay her no mind. I have my leg up on a chair in the corner, leaning back, as if I haven’t a care in the world. And I don’t. I’m going to make a full recovery and pick up my life right where I left off. Finally, a manager with a severe hairdo and too much makeup, politely, yet pointedly, inquires if there’s anything else we need, and we take the hint. We gather our shit and Deacon picks up the tab. We file out, through the maze of tables, and I’m last, hobbling slowly on crutches. I’m halfway out when I realize I left my Yankees baseball cap on the table. I return to get it and find the waitress staring at the check with tears in her eyes. She snaps the black leather book shut when she sees me and hurriedly turns away. “Forget something?” she asks with false cheer and a shaky smile. “My hat,” I say. She’s short and I’m tall. I tower over her. “Did Deacon leave a shitty tip? He does that.” “Oh no, no, I mean…it’s fine,” she says, turning away to wipe her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I just…um, kind of a rough month. You know how it is.” She glances me up and down in my expensive jeans and designer shirt. “Or maybe you don’t.” The waitress realizes what she said, and another round of apologies bursts out of her as she begins stacking our dirty dishes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Really. I have this bad habit…blurting. I don’t know why I said that. Anyway, um…” I laugh, and fish into my back pocket for my wallet. “Don’t worry about it. And take this. For your trouble.” I offer her forty dollars and her eyes widen. Up close, her eyes are even prettier—large and luminous, but sad too. A blush turns her skin scarlet “Oh, no, I couldn’t. No, please. It’s fine, really.” She bustles even faster now, not looking at me. I shrug and drop the twenties on the table. “I hope your month improves.” She stops and stares at the money, at war with herself. “Okay. Thank you,” she says finally, her voice cracking. She takes the money and stuffs it into her apron. I feel sorta bad, poor girl. “Have a nice day, Charlotte,” I say, and start to hobble away. She calls after me, “I hope your leg gets better soon.” That was big of her, considering what ginormous bastards we’d been to her all morning. Or maybe she’s just doing her job. I wave a hand to her without looking back, and leave Annabelle’s. Time heals me. I go back to work. To Planet X. To the world and all its thrills and beauty. I don’t go back to my parents’ townhouse; hell I’m hardly in NYC anymore. I don’t go back to Annabelle’s and I never see—or think about—that cute waitress with the sad eyes ever again. “Fucking hell,” I whisper as the machine reads the last line of

Mulder: When convention and science offer us no answers, might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility? Scully: What I find fantastic is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there. You just have to know where to look. Mulder: That's why they put the I in FBI.

A quest is only over if you give up.

Who still watches The X-Files? I thought that went out with the nineties.” “Blasphemy!” I say. “The X-Files will never go out of style. It’s like The Twilight Zone or Kolchak: The Night Stalker. They’re immortal.

Even when you no longer believe in ghosts, you can still believe in being haunted.

They started The X-Files over the summer. Dorry loved it so much she dreamed about it. It made Dorry want to grow up, because the world was big and strange and exciting, and as long as you had your true partner— and you loved each other so much you couldn’t even, like, discuss it—you would live to fight another monster. You might meet a miracle.

Creating a Simple Installation Script Create a script to install a list of software packages: Open a new file with a .sh extension: nano install-software.sh Add the following lines to the file: #!/bin/bash sudo apt update sudo apt install -y gimp vlc firefox Save and close the file (Ctrl+O, then Ctrl+X). Make the script executable: chmod +x install-software.sh Run the script: ./install-software.sh Final Thoughts

One of Carter's strengths as a writer—the strength that arguably made this entire show possible—is his ability to write absolute bullshit with a straight face. And he keeps on writing it, with such conviction that you might start doubting yourself for doubting him.

meta-morphosed

Stereolithography (SLA) is an additive manufacturing process that belongs to the Vat Photopolymerization family. In SLA, an object is created by selectively curing a polymer resin layer-by-layer using an ultraviolet (UV) laser beam. The materials used in SLA are photosensitive thermoset polymers that come in a liquid form. SLA has many common characteristics with Direct Light Processing (DLP), another Vat Photopolymerization 3D printing technology. For simplicity, the two technologies can be treated as equals. A laser beam is directed in the X-Y axes across the surface of the resin according to the 3D data supplied to the machine (the .stl file), whereby the resin hardens precisely where the laser hits the surface. Once the layer is completed, the platform within the vat drops down by a fraction (in the Z axis) and the subsequent layer is traced out by the laser. The resin that is not touched by the laser remains in the vat and can be reused. This continues until the entire object is completed and the platform can be raised out of the vat for removal. Support structure is always required in SLA. Support structures are printed in the same material as the part and must be manually removed after printing. The orientation of the part determines the location and amount of support. It is recommended that the part is oriented so that so visually critical surfaces do not come in contact with the support structures

Not even this entire can of dry shampoo on my head can save me from the dark hole of depression I’ve managed to dive into, headfirst, as I stare at my bedroom wall eating fun-size Snickers bars in an X-Files onesie.