I did not know it would take me 3 days to write 3-4 pages. It was time to shed the skin of uncertainty, and embrace depth of field, and 3 dimensional characters, and sense of professionalism. Enough time was wasted in uncertainty and procrastination.:
Title: The Third Eye' s Vision Author: Das, Krishna Chandra
Section 1 done on may 19 of 2023
Section 1 of Chapter 1:"Birthright's Mantle, Outcast's Shackles: The Opus of Nirvaaṇa"
Section 1 of Chapter 1:"Birthright's Mantle, Outcast's Shackles: The Opus of Nirvaaṇa"
(Beginning of Page 1)
(Character monologue)
Credits. Credits. Credits. The almighty and powerful Credits... The all-powerful Universal Credits: for a share of which we are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. With unwavering dedication, I assume a tranquil meditation pose, directing my thoughts towards the inner realms, where my focused mind connects with the ethereal vision of my third eye. Through this heightened state of awareness, I have clandestinely observed and meticulously absorbed the whispered conversations and subtle nuances of numerous gatherings on various occasions within this mothership.
Some humanoids had invested their life savings in renting a ship to join a fleet and gain access to strategic extraction sites. Those less fortunate purchased a share of a ship with ten other crewmates, agreeing to receive a percentage of the profits. Speaking of shares, the mothership claimed a 40 percent cut from each fleet, providing flawless protection, efficient travel time, and unlimited food from its internally built vivarium. All in exchange for a share of the Universal Credits, the currency that governs our worlds.
I could write endless pages defining the term universal-credits. However, there was a time when I despised such material attachments. I was content in my dim and dreary cave. Over time, though, desperation grew from poverty, intimidation, and sorrow. Perhaps now, materialism has seeped into my/our minds, intertwining with our breath and life force. Given the current risky conditions of deep space, we are willing to risk our lives for a taste of the almighty Universal Credits.
As I delve deeper into thought experiments of risks and rewards, my mind becomes flooded with unwanted negative thoughts. Horrific news and rumors dominate my consciousness. Amongst many, one piece of news is particularly disturbing and recent. Despite deep meditations, I cannot pinpoint the source of this dark presence even with my third eye. Perhaps it is a synthetic species or an unknown race echoing the sirens of death, destruction, and doom. These rumors always make me sick. Recently, there has been an abundance of them. On the day of our great embarkment, a tip circulated claiming that an unknown source emitted a red flare, simultaneously annihilating five motherships with one single slash. Allegedly, this powerful flare not only disintegrates objects it touches but reduces them to nothingness by a rapid continual process of subatomic level evaporation.
The Vidyadhaaras, the fortunate ones, have been sanctioned by all other humanoids. In return, they have responded with an iron curtain, promising annihilation or enslavement to any species that ventures into their space. I am no expert on ethics, but one thing is certain: the Vidyadhaaras race are exceptionally fortunate. Some possess an extra third hand and naturally gemstones studded body at birth, and most are born with unlimited credit encoded in their DNA, in the form of a wish-fulfilling stone.
The dark blue-skinned manus of Shha-taM.Bha-gyaṃ display cunning charisma in these high-risk, high-reward expeditions. Yesterday, one boisterous, sapphire-backed individual, fueled by intoxicating beverages, rambled on about the statistical probabilities. In his mind, there was a red line in the depths of space, where the chances of falling into flare of nothingness stood at 60 percent. Yet, he believed the rewards outweighed the risks.
Section 2: Chapter 1:"Birthright's Mantle, Outcast's Shackles: The Opus of Nirvaaṇa"
MAY 25, 2023
(Beginning of Section 2)
The perplexed humanoid novices were both pitiful and at times detestable. I often paid little attention to their groups, always distancing myself from them, I even practiced precise isolation from stepping into the very shadows they cast, as they aimlessly scurried around the mothership, displaying a blatant state of confusion. Despite the well-lit corridors, hallways, and communal areas, they seemed utterly clueless about their next destination. With their invisible novice insignia proudly worn, they unwittingly attracted one another, creating an amusing spectacle of automated alliances, like molecular compounds.
Unfortunately, a significant portion of these individuals would never have the opportunity to find out the hidden areas and witness the marvels of the state-of-the-art artificial biomes, a place perfectly suited to shield one's gaze from their juvenile countenances. Sadly, for most of them, a grim fate awaited. I can’t protect everyone; I can’t protect each individual. It is a sad fact.
(End of character's monologue)
The dark-skinned Rudra eventually ended his inner monologue in mumbling with a long sigh. At last, he slowly opened his eyes to transition respectfully from sacred meditation to reality, moving cautiously from his meditative state to reality state. In fact, it was a sign of respect to his meditation, his life long practice. By employing simple breathing techniques, which included deep inhalation, holding the breath until reaching an uncomfortable limit, and exhaling deeply. Therefore, he repeatedly practiced the same sequence that awakened his mastery of meditation, from his very young age.
The Rudra then drank from his golden water flask, only after clearing his throat by gurgling five times once, in his customary manner. Then, he uttered the syllable 'svaa-dhaa' and dropped a portion of water on the ground as a mark of respect to his forefathers. He often mumbled similarly, whenever he entered a partial meditative state during eavesdropping; and other universal exploration through his ethereal visions, with the aid of his third eye. When he remained silent during meditation, it simply meant he was deeply immersed in self-exploration during his profound meditative state. In between deep and partial meditation, he only uttered varied two sacred syllables that held deep meaning in his culture, the Rudrakind culture.
The dark-skinned Rudra was dressed in a loincloth, decided to plunge into the artificial lake of the artificial lust rainforest biome. The rainforest biome extended enough to create horizon between artificial lights and ceiling. The intense hot and humid climate was perfectly soothing for his race. The Rudra felt rejuvenated to maximum. It was covered with towering trees, lush vegetation, and a rich diversity of plant and animal species. It receives ample rainfall, creating a humid and moist environment that supports the growth of limited species. Within this captivating biome, the intricate web of life thrives in a symphony of colors, sounds, and interconnected relationships. Furthermore, it was the source of vivarium, which caused abundance of food for the mass mothership dwellers.
The Rudra submerged his body in the crystal-clear water while observing the gathering of Quaziriths in the distance, near the lush formation of natural juice producing flowers and plants. As he massaged his muscular body, he displayed a wide and medium physique, attractive and handsome, with dreadlocked hair on the reflection of clear water. Occasionally, he touched his forehead and adjusted his red hairband to cool off his forehead. Although he detested wearing the headband, it was for his own security, to conceal his racial identity. He continued to observe the gathering of two-legged birds called the Quaziriths, which had beautiful golden feathers and were devoid of eyes. They surveyed their surroundings with the aid of their flapping wings through their ethereal and sonar perceptions. Furthermore, their flapping wings creating an eye-pleasing luminescent display even more gracefully in sunlight. With their long tongues, they sucked nectar from flowers and juices flowing from fallen fruits scattered on the ground, it was their daily routine. At one point, some of them began to quarrel, which made the Rudra chuckle with a strong negative sigh.
The quarrels of Quaziriths reminded him of his own Rudrakind, evoking a sense of envy toward the Quaziriths, that led to another deep, humming sigh withdrawn from him. In contrast, here Quaziriths were welcomed with open arms, yet his Rudrakind were not. He did not belong here legally.
As Rudra, 37 years old, expert at pondering, delved deep into his mind, he remembered his home planet name Ugra-loka, which was breathtaking from sunset until dawn. During the scorching afternoons, they sought shelter in their caves as the intense heat and contrast made them angry and uncontrollable in environments outside of caves. The Rudrakind were naturally born with a blissful and destructive "third eye" and practiced asceticism throughout their lives. They were content with small portions of food, as they practiced always controlling their senses. The mastery of the third demanded outmost priority. The children who did not obey such rules were outcasted in extremely remote places. In the event that they may cause extreme destructions. The fact is, only fraction of their children opened their third eye, prematurely before the age of sixteen.
The Rudrakind resided in cool caves that provided access to crystal-clear water, pouring out from complex inner spring systems. During the intense heat of the season, they ventured into more intricate underground cave levels, which even extended twenty levels downward, it had been built by their ancestors throughout many generations. Beyond the twenty level, there were only impenetrable rocks.
The Rudrakind practiced agriculture in open fields and sunbeam caves, where perfect sunlight seeped through cracks, creating a beautiful environment. The sunbeam caves where they also kept their pure red glowing cattle. The Rudras were non carnivorous. Therefore, they did not eat their cattle. In defiance some new generation of clans practiced carnivorism due to scarcity of foods, which justified their actions. The pure followers could go on for days with just drinking water.
The sunbeam caves held the utmost sanctity for the Rudrakind as they represented extraordinary and otherworldly environments. According to ancient beliefs, the sunbeam caves were shaped by the divine gaze of their almighty creator. The open sky within these caves symbolized the escape of sacred smoke from lit altars. Childrens and females drew sacred two-word syllables around the contour of sunbeam with chalks on the ground. At these altars, they would offer portions of their edible resources or sometimes non-edible valuable possessions as a tribute to their almighty creator and forefathers. Surprisingly, they could not recall the name of their creator, nor did they possess the knowledge of the sacred collections of their cherished short syllables, all of which were communicated in pairs of two syllables. Certain ancient declarations asserted with certainty that the combination of these unknown short syllables constituted the names of their long-forgotten god.
Over time, as indifference grew among the hierarchies within the Rudrakind, divisions between clans, and the destructive acts of superpowers flaunting their superiority, the values of their ancient culture were eroded, leading to mass extinctions of their race. Even today, some Rudras continue to engage in internal conflicts, driven by a lingering thirst for vengeance fueled by an unforgivable past. Therefore, it was too easy to forgive the past and shake hands through diplomacy. Consequently, it is disturbing to witness recently how few resorted to primitive weapons such as stones and pickaxes, equipped with handles made of strong superdense alloy, forged from the heat of their very third eye’s beam with great precision. However, they refrained from employing their beam of dissolution to crisp one another. The use of such power against their own kind was considered a highly demeaning act, resulting in complete disownment by all Rudrakind clans.
Amidst these ongoing events in Ugraloka, the Rudra in ritualistic bathing process, noticed a male and female Quazirith gracefully separating themselves from the flock, away from the quarrel. The male possessed a vibrant green emerald beak, while the female exhibited a naturally formed rose quartz stone. The pirates, often driven by their insatiable desires, extracted these rose quartz stones and sold them at exorbitant prices on the shadow market, only after indulging in the savoring consumption of Quazirith meat. However, none dared to abduct female Rudras, who possessed the power to reduce their enemies to ashes with their fiery abilities.
The Rudra continued with his ritualistic bathing process, all the while observing the Quazirith couple. Memories of his fiancée, Astrondra, flooded his mind, and he whispered her name, his voice choked with longing and accompanied by frequent pauses. Astrondra possessed remarkable control over her soft voice, complemented by a well-developed physique and an array of facial and hand expressions, her true complexion reminiscent of a chocolate cherry cat's eye. The Rudra yearned to protect her and whisk her away from the planet Ugraloka, despite the circumstances that labeled him, his Rudrakind, and the Vidyadhaaras as dangerous; they were ordered to remain within their own respective system. In fact, their mere presence instilled fear in other humanoid species, leaving none feeling secure.
In contrast, the Vidyadhaaras enjoyed access to numerous habitable planets teeming with taiga and rainforest biomes. Moreover, aided by infinite reserves of Quantumite, they effortlessly traversed their system with remarkable ease. Not to mention their wish-fulfilling stones, inherent to their very being. In fact, these stones granted them the power to manipulate any physical environment, traverse realms, and create inorganic objects at will—without even requiring Quantumite. However, they chose to refrain from extensively utilizing their all-powerful birthright stones, as such usage shortened their overall lifespan. However, this Vidyadhaaras being wouldn’t shelter his kind nor his beloved.
The most peaceful and beautiful beings with blue-posterior skin from the planet Shha-taM!' Bha-gyaṃ stood as the only reliable refuge for the Rudrakind; only if any race could prove their F'aay-doma to their supreme leader, the Manukind will welcome them with open arms. He envisioned a prosperous future for his fiancée Astrondra in that mentioned planet and his yet to be born progeny, with the assistance of his humanoid friends possessing lapis lazuli posterior- who were known as the main founder of shadow market.
At the age of 37, this Rudra had traversed a remarkable journey, eventually finding his place aboard this mothership, his spaceship is one of the hundred vessels comprising the Shha-taM!' Bha-gyaṃ fleet. His banner proudly displayed the perfectly aligned seven moons of Shha-taM!' Bha-gyaṃ, further solidifying his influence. As he had proved his F'aay-doma to these humanoid inhabitants, none among the Manukind would ever dare to unveil his racial identity. He had become the captain of his own spaceship, which was a testament to his accomplishments and the acceptance he had gained through his F'aay-doma achievement.
(End of Section 2)
... to be continue…
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Sci-fi #sciencefiction #write #fantasy #coolstories #amazingstories #novel southasianindiannovel #vedic #sanskrit #meditation #lien #alien races #ufo #mothership #anotherplanet #anothealaxy, #fan #fans #sciencefictionfantasy #scififantasy

So. Today I got word from the landlord. They said I'm "very lucky" that I have my established and credible roommates (bc I'm a first time renter and have no rental history but they're both much older than me and have thus proven themselves reliable), and that they'll be doing my background check tomorrow, and.... From the sounds of it? I'll be moving into my first place on Saturday :D
And so I've done a lot of thinking. I get paid on friday. So I'll have all the money needed for my first month's rent in my checking account. I have more than plenty saved for if I'll need to pay a security deposit. And I'll have all the money I need for my bills this month. So, that means, I'll have my first-place savings to get the things I need that I dont currently have. Yknow like, for a first-place-stockup grocery run that I expect to be at least 200 dollars. But I've been doing a lot of thinking. About things I've always wanted but I've put off because it would be "too weird" to have in my family home. ....and these are some of the things I'll get when I move out to accommodate myself properly for my disability.

1. Two full-sized trashcans for my room. One for cans and bottles (We pay bottle deposit here so I bring my bags of cans to this special recycling place and get 10c back per bottle and it adds up fast.) and one for regular trash. I know it's not really a good thing to have trash in your room, but I've come to the conclusion after living with autism and adhd and anxiety for 18 fucking years that there will never NOT be trash in my space, so why the hell don't I just deal with that accordingly? I'll have two kitchen-sized trash bins in my room. It's so much better than a mini trashcan that sits on the floor.
2. My safe-food snack cart in my room. Again, I know you shouldn't have food in your room, but I get so overwhelmingly paranoid that my safe foods will be eaten that I used to hoard them in drawers in my room (and because they were things like applesauce cups, they popped easily when stuffed into drawers, and molded.) So instead of continuing that bad habit, I'll have a designated space for them. You know those kawaii tiktok girlies that fill those pretty pink snack carts in their gaming rooms with like ramune and hello kitty snacks? It'll be like that but with applesauce and jello cups and peanut butter and pretzels. And probably ramune because the jingle jingle of the marble in the ramune bottle makes me happy. (And melon soda is so incredibly underrated I could drink melon-flavored drinks forever its one of my safe flavors and the only way I can really find it is in ramune soda, not a lot of places near me carry other types of melon drinks)
3. My giant 3 foot tall frog will be on the couch. When I went and toured the place my roommate had that GIANT plague doctor squishable on the couch (and it took all of my effort not to squeal in absolute autistic delight at the sight of it because I've ALWAYS WANTED ONE) and if she can have her giant plague doctor squishable on the couch I will have my giant frog within arms reach at all times. When I get overwhelmed watching tv/anime (I overempathize with the characters, my therapist describes it like "feeling what they're feeling on top of your own emotions") it helps me a lot to have something to wrap my arms around and squeeze really tightly so I dont have to get up and pace back and forth while flapping my arms and wrists.
4. I have two closets so one of them is getting turned into a sensory space. I think I'm gonna straight up put a small tent in it and build a sensory cave inside of it. I've always wanted to do it but I've never had enough closet space AND NOW I HAVE ENOUGH CLOSET SPACE!!!!!
5. I'm getting one of those pop-up bed tent things. Probably a kids one because they're so much cheaper and cuter than the adult ones and my bed is only a twin anyways. They're not cheap but I sleep so overwhelmingly well when I have a low ceiling over my head. Kind of a double on the sensory cave but why SHOULDNT I accommodate myself in my space? It makes me feel SAFE and COMFORTABLE and I'm going to do it.
6. Shelves. I'm...gonna need a lot of shelves. I'm not the "knows absolutely everything about their favorite fandom" autistic I'm the "nearly melts down in public from overstimulation and excitement when they find a my hero academia funko pop they've been looking for" kind of autistic. I like to have a designated space for each fandom's collectables.

Basics - born in 88 - works in IT for a bank - was a polar bear in a former life, is an oven/heat rock in current life - longs for the colder north (used to live there, don't anymore, wants to find something near mountains to build my forever home) - plays video games - this and TikTok is my only current form of social media - has discord - plays D&D/ TTRPGs with friends when I can - likes crafting/building/tinkering/doing things with my hands - been out of a relationship for over a year and still not sure about rejoining the scene but I do realize I'm not getting younger. - honestly want a good friend I can grow old with. - the remaining members of my family I'm very close with - jewish heratige ( apparently thats a turn off for some people) and I'm building a relationship with my creator ( non denom ) and no I don't care what you believe in, to each their own and just because I don't agree with people doesn't mean I love them any differently. - loves to cook and is a bit of a foodie - a bit fluffy but getting less as the days continue on - really is one of those weirdos who can listen to almlst any kind of music (but we all have our preferences) - loves loves loves dogs, sadly allergic to cats and am asthmatic ( also sadly evergreens wants to kill me and so does Marijuana )
I crammed a hand full of information in a short form but still left enough to talk about if what is above interests you at all. I want to build a solid friendship with my life partner and be able to enjoy whatever lays ahead of us, not afraid of work, don't mind LDR as I've done my fair share to date, willing to move near mountains or into the cold immediately. Might be willing to reconsider if the place doesnt have all four seasons during one week and then stays in the high 90°s F (32°+ C) for the rest of the year.

My dog( medium sized dog around 13kg,15y/o, mixed) started to have blood in urine 3 days ago. My family took him to the vet today and saw that there was a mass near his bladder. They sent me these pics of Ultrasounds and the vets were unable to conclude on what the mass was. Can anyone point at some of the possibilities of what the mass is?

There’s no question that “fascism” and “fascist” are incredibly loaded terms that are thrown around way too much and often by those who have no idea what they actually mean.
It’s important to have calm, civil discussions and name-calling doesn’t help that. I understand that political polarization is horrible these days and we all want to tone down the anger, vitriol and hyperbole. But what about when it's not hyperbole?
Name-calling and baseless accusations shouldn’t be happening. But is there a point at which we need to recognize and identify something like fascism as it's happening, even though it’s been misused as a loaded attack line in the past?
To many familiar with it as a historical ideology and movement, the modern Republican Party and overall right-wing political movement in America is looking frighteningly familiar to the established, textbook definitions of fascism.
The parallels are clear. It seems to me that many consider the fascism label as hyperbolic or dismiss it is because most people have no idea what fascism actually entails.
The most common view of fascism seems to be as a synonym for "authoritarian" or as a form of vague, general oppression. While fascist movements and regimes are largely authoritarian, most authoritarian movements/regimes are not fascist. Fascism is a specific worldview consisting of several core tenets and attributes -- authoritarianism is just one of those.
Fascism involves the following core elements coming together (sources linked at the bottom):

• Celebration of and pre-occupation with a mythic, idealized past: There was once a time when the country and its society was at its peak and everything was more closely aligned with how it is "supposed" to be.
  • To fascists, society has since strayed far from that idealized, mythic past (something most often blamed on the left/progressivism).
  • A key aspect of a fascist movement is the battle to return society to that mythic ideal.
• Pre-occupation with tradition and traditional hierarchy: Modernity and progressive values and behavior, along with openness to multiculturalism and feminism, has ruined society and tarnished the country's core "true" identity. Fascism calls for a return to traditional behavior, values, culture and morality.
  • This includes a deeply set hierarchy aligned with what's existed throughout history: Where men of a certain stock are once again the main drivers of society and culture. Others take their "natural" place further down the hierarchy.
• Deep nationalism and "othering" of designated out-groups: The country's inherent greatness stems from its traditional or "original" culture and, values and hierarchy. The nation is the greatest on Earth and there are strict definitions on who are true members of that nation. Immigration dilutes the nation's culture and (therefore) its greatness.
  • There are clearly defined in-groups (those who align with the nation's traditional "true"’ national culture and beliefs, along with fascists' political beliefs) and out-groups (those of different cultures, beliefs and values).
• Pre-occupation with a battle against out-groups depicted as posing an existential, apocalyptic threat to the nation and its society: A key mobilizer for fascists is a righteous battle against out-groups depicted as viciously wanting to destroy the nation and all that is held dear. Since the stakes of this battle are set so high, nearly every action, tactic or approach can be justified, tolerated and excused in efforts to defeat this enemy and keep them from power. Some common out-groups for fascists:
  • Communists and communism: Always identified by fascists as one of these enemies – and the Communist label is often given indiscriminately to the wider progressive movement and those who disagree with the fascists.
  • People expressing/supporting non-traditional gender identity and sexuality
  • Intellectuals and academic experts
  • Certain religions and ethnic groups
• Obsession with strength, disdain for weakness and view of most everything as a zero-sum game (ie: if one side gains something, then another side loses something): For fascists, power and righteousness stem from strength (and accompanying violence, if need be). Strength is needed to restore the proper state of society and stamp out any impediments to this essential work.
  • Tolerance of others, openness/embrace of differences/multiculturalism or overtly intellectual/nuanced beliefs and actions are seen as weakness. Progressivism is seen as weakness personified.

It’s hard to miss the prominence and presence of these things in today’s political right. Given that, is it not justified to use the term fascism, if it aligns?
That's not to say that the right's embrace of fascism is a deliberate, conscious thing. They'd never identify as fascists and it's not like they studied fascism and are purposefully emulating it.
It seems more that fascism’s tenets and worldview tend to become popular and appealing to people when a nation is faced with a certain set of conditions. Right now, it appears as if that is happening here.
Am I missing something?
Sources:

• https://www.britannica.com/topic/fascism/Common-characteristics-of-fascist-movements
• https://www.keene.edu/academics/cchgs/resources/presentation-materials/characteristics-and-appeal-of-fascism/download/
• https://ratical.org/ratville/CAH/fasci14chars.html

Obvious throwaway, but I (M37) feel pretty broken right now and could use some opinions.
Some background.
I have been with my wife (F36) for nearly two decades. We met in our teens and were high school sweethearts. We have what I would consider to be a healthy relationship. We mutually take turns on some chores, others we just got used to. We talk about what's bothering us, and we'll both make an earnest effort to correct any problems. We're a team and I don't have any doubts that we could celebrate 50 years together if life is kind enough to let us live long enough. The problem is the bedroom.
I have had problems all my life there. I feel, based on how others describe things, like I have a "muted" feeling downstairs. It still feels great, but it's never been as mind-blowing as I've seen it described, even when I was younger. There was a couple periods where we were not seeing each other and those same issues were there when I was with other women as well. Basically, it takes forever for me to finish my end of the deed. I know the jokes, "wish I had a man like that!". No, you don't. As I watched my wife sob and doubt her own body's ability and attractiveness for the 5th time this year, I decided to seek help.
I tend to be very vanilla because it takes a lot of concentration to keep myself in the moment. I've had ADHD issues since I was 10, took meds in school, and kinda dropped them after that. We have a daughter who just turned 18. I decided that the healthy thing to do would be to get a vasectomy, remove a barrier from the experience and enjoy things more.
It's been 6 months since the operation, and after finding a good test result, we've been trying to get back into making love like we used to. Only now, not only do things feel muted downstairs still, but I just can't seem to finish, no matter how close I seem to get. And most importantly, I'm sick and tired of lovemaking ending in tears and self doubt on her part because she thinks she's too unattractive or doing something wrong to make me stop without finishing.
Some facts: no antidepressants, I recently started taking Lunesta for sleep, but feel no appreciable difference since taking it. I do take some over the counter vitamins
We're both overweight, but have been doing exercise routines since March to improve it. I get winded less easily, and we're both down about 20 pounds each.
Work is stressful, the world is stressful, but it's never been that big of a contributing factor before.
We do experiment, toys, sprays. Even testing the prostate stimulation techniques and they all have no real difference.
I've pretty much hit the end of my rope. It's incredibly demoralizing to have your wife sob in frustration at the end because I didn't get off. I've gone from considering factors like the vasectomy making this problem worse to selecting specific foods to remove from my diet to help improve things. The rest of the internet only seems focused on guys arriving too quickly, so any actual advice on arriving at all would be super helpful because we're both so tired of this. Is there something super obvious I'm missing? Is there anyone who overcame this problem and can point me in a direction?

u/on1oman1ac — thank you for the super cute totoro card! Your penmanship is heavenly!
u/germymany — thank you for the super cute pixar postcard AND REX STICKER!! I can’t decide between loving Toy Story 1 or 2 more (but I did cry a lot in 2 and 3). I actually went to a wedding at the end of April and towards the end of their vows they said “to infinity and beyond” and I LOVED THAT!!!
u/holyharshit — thanks for the card!
u/heymorganm — thanks for the Harry Potter card! LOVE the dumbledore quote “It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities.” Its an interesting take on “actions are stronger than words” <3
u/rosiealeo1 — Hi! Thank you for the card, I hope y’all enjoyed your swim! My partner’s townhome complex has a pool, hoping its open now that Memorial Day passed! (psst, I am also a leo <3 if that is what ur username means lmao)
u/thecaledonianrose — thank you for the gorgeous ocracoke card! Also your town name is so spankin cute :) I grew up watching Pete’s Dragon and have always loved lighthouses, though I am not sure I have ever seen one IRL. Thanks also for the gorgeous stickers <3
u/LavendarLarry — thank you for the super cute card and stickers <3 cow, pig and turtle… you know me so well haha
u/sad-storm6692 x4 — thanks for the awesome exchange! Already stewing with ideas of who to send these bday cards to <3 your care package is great!
u/rhapsodytravelr — thank you for the GORGEOUS chamomile card. I also love jasmine tea… I work at a beverage distribution company and we sell these really nice teas called Hoptonic, which are unsweetened and sparkling with a hint of hops for a more ‘adult’ flavor (alcohol-free). The White Orchid, Lemongrass Jasmine, and Mint Lavender are new flavors, but the Jasmine Green will forever be my favorite. Working here we get free samples ;) https://www.hoptonictea.com/collections/frontpage
u/simple-reference-357 — holy crap, Huntington Garden is GORGEOUS! San Jose has a beautiful Japanese Garden, but nowhere near as intricate as Huntington. Are you from SoCal and moved Eastwards, or?
u/Adolby — thank you for the postcrossing card! How was your meetup?
u/shipping_addict — love the krabby card! we had a board game, I think it was the Master Trainer 1999 game https://www.walmart.com/ip/Pokemon-Board-Game-Master-Traine894811 I also loved the game boy games, red yellow blue or something like that <3 ~~wait I think I hated mt pyre LMAO~~
u/jane_q — Thank you for the super cute vintage looking rose card, and a super cute elkhorn coral stamp (idk why but it jumped out at me in the best way <3). OOF. Hidie was let go, we are looking for another admin assistant, lmao, one of many reasons I am TIRED.

I have been working with CVS since 2020 in the pharmacy. When I initially started with the company, my DL plucked me out of my hiring store and based me out of a centralized location in the district. I was working at different stores throughout my district per their request.
After covid settled down a bit, I started being scheduled at my home store exclusively. 2021 was a tumultuous time because our store was revolving door PICs like hotcakes. In our regional area, we were known as the "impossible store" and no one in the area was willing to take over. Due to this, we went through quite a few PICS before stumbling across our current pharmacy manager.
Beginning of 2022 I learned my home store is a union store. I had no clue because I was not hired here but transfered. Crazy. I know.
Throughout the year I picked up shifts in my home town, mainly over the summer. This district was a complete shit show due to lack of leadership.
Come winter, I was asked directly to help out in this exact district because it had only gone from bad to worse.
With the redistricting this year, my original DL stepped away from the position. Also with the redistricting, my district absorbed nearly all of the stores from my hometown.
At this point, my DPC is regularly having me work at stores throughout my district. By the end of Q1, I'm able to help clean out most of the stores. The new DL had effectively cleaned up her entire district. (She inherited a lot of dumpster fires, a few with triple digit pages in just production.)
I found a store outside of my district that I love working at. I had never kept a consistent schedule until I found them.
After the end of Q1, every week my PIC (fantastic manager) would come to me with word from the DL limiting my scope of work.
I'm getting more and more fed up with my DL because I am feeling blocked at every corner. At some point, I just stopped responding to my DPC and have refused to help any other store in my district. I started strictly working at the store I enjoyed, on top of my regular hours.
Finally my PIC came to me saying I am not allowed to work outside of my district (per my DL). I told the other store this and said I would no longer be able to help them. The PIC reached out to me and said the DL is not able to set that rule. Picking up hours at other stores is free game and if OT is the issue, we should be charging them. (At this point they are all well aware of my beef with my DL)
More drama ensued, involving more people and stores and districts than any of us honestly wanted. At this point, I'm done. I don't want to leave my store, I have great benefits, but my hand feels forced. I call up the other store and ask if I can transfer. Easy yes on their end. It will make all our lives easier. I talk to my PIC and they agree to do it. Over the weekend, my manager initiates the process. Come Monday, I see my receiving manager and they tells me the process is done. I'm told I don't have to worry about my DL anymore.
The following day rolls around. I get a text message from the receiving manager. My transfer was denied. By my DL.
I'm upset. Angry. Words can't even describe.
So, I keep doing what I've been doing. I take my planned PTO and come back. I work at the store outside my district, acquire no OT, keep to myself, hoping it had blown over.
I get a text message the following work week from the PIC there stating that as a union store member I can only work at union stores and I should reach out to my DL to know what stores that may be. I have no clue where the PIC got this derivative, but I feel trapped.
Neither PIC knows why my transfer was denied. I don't have any answers. I'm at a loss. I reach out to my DL directly. I'm ignored. Figures.
More of the story has happened. I'm told the only thing stopping my transfer is my union. It's easy to transfer in, impossible to transfer out. I'd expand but I feel like the story is pretty identifiable as is.
My question is. Is my DL able to prevent me from working outside of my district and only at union stores? And why is this an issue now? Has it always been a rule? If it has, why was I asked to work outside of the union in the first place when I started? Why does CVS get to pick and choose the rules as it so fits them.
I feel like the DL is just making shit up as they go along. And I actually have no idea what I can and can not do. My union rep told me the contract does not limit me from working at other stores but if CVS prevents it from their end, the union can't stop them. My regional manager is unhelpful.
My manager is unlikely to give me a write up. But is anything my DL is saying enforceable?
I hate going into work nowadays. I love my job, I just am unhappy with the situation. I have a few health issues, so quitting and getting rehired doesn't feel like an option. I can't go without my insurance and I can't afford to live without working. The process to get rehired is daunting.
As a union member, does my DL have any power over me?

We go live next week and are down to working out some pretty granular operational details. Tonight's problem-solving session will be focused on coming up with a simple yet effective way of sharing our location electronically (i.e. "online"). This could, and most likely does, mean on our top Social Media platforms (Insta, FB and Twitter) as well as the website/online menu & ordering page. I also have some other thoughts about possibly extending it into some other local online resources (for example the 'Where's My Food Truck?' FB group).
The solution can be complex asf behind the scenes as we have a very capable technical resource at our disposal, BUT it HAS TA HAS T'HAS-HAS-HAAAAAS TO remain as simple as can be to perform as we have a technologically challenged employee or 2 who still think this social media fad will pass any day now. So needless to say, the solution cannot require someone to make separate posts (even if it's largely copy & paste) on each platform or anything even close to it.
I've been letting the creative juices rage around this for a minute and am thinking

1. something like a FB post in the morning containing a stock photo of a recognizable landmark near the venue and some text saying something to the effect of "We'll be at XXX from noon today. Come on by"
2. a dropped pin post (with map/directions/etc) upon reaching the destination
3. an Instagram post/story/whatever at peak business hour (most crowded) explaining that everyone else is down here at XXX having a great time by our truck. "where are you?" kinda thing

Of course we want all 3 of these posts to automatically repost everywhere else (i.e. FB post also shows up on website, insta and twitter while the insta story reposts to FB and also tweets a link to it, etc etc) and that the OP will only have to create 3 posts TOTAL to achieve this... maybe even less if we could find/develop some app that will detect the address the driver pulled up in is maps/directions app and automatically drop the pin and publish location once that destination is reached, but that's probably getting a lil too far ahead of myself. hopefully, you're starting to pick up what I'm laying down.
I"m not looking for suggestions on how that EXACT set of scenarios could be pulled off. Rather I'm looking for anecdotal posts about what has worked in the past and what hasn't. F all the things I'm wanting to do, are any of them pure genius? or can you shoot any of them full of holes? Why types of apps or technology is out there that might help with some of this (either intentionally or as a lucky side effect) that you think wold be worth me looking into? In other words, I'm not looking to have you do my work and/or thinking for me, I'd just like to hear how some of you seasoned, successful food-trucksters are informing the masses as to your whereabouts.
Anyone care to share?

Hi, I'm a visiting student here and will leave in February 2024. So I'm looking for sublease apartment near the Engineering Campus from August-December, it's better if can extend to February. I can afford up to $1000/month. Please feel free to message me! Also any suggestion is appreciated!

Book cover
The Archipelago publishes every Wednesday. See the pinned comment for links to the contents.
------------------------------
I knew I was safe. Nothing more. Days came and went where I could only stay awake for a few minutes. I couldn’t find the energy to speak, or move. My world was just thin moments of consciousness spread amongst nothingness.
Time was detached. I was dying on an uninhabited island, and now I lived through moments of consciousness on the Deer Drum boat. To me, it was instant. In reality, it was likely weeks.
The moments of wake kept lasting longer, until I came to with a greater degree of strength. I peeled my eyes open to Xander sitting in a chair reading a book. For the first time, I could feel the nerves in limbs come to life, primed with that impulse to use my muscles. I twitched my arms. They moved.
Snaking my back, I writhed, pulling myself up in the bed. Xander broke from his reading and ran to my side. “Careful. Take it easy.”
I tried to speak, but my throat was croaky, and only the middle parts of words came out cleanly. “…fine. Just getting comfy…”
“Gentle now. You’re lucky to be alive.” Xander reached behind my back and repositioned a pillow.
“…how…” Words struggled to escape. “…get here?”
Xander understood. He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, grinning with relief and pride. “We found you on that island. You were in a bad way. Hardly conscious. Didn’t seem to recognize us.”
“…why…” I stopped, my throat to dry. Xander leaned over and passed me a glass of water. I tried to hold it, but Xander refused to let go. He held it to my lips and let the water trickle into my mouth as my palms feigned grip on the tumbler. I swallowed the water and my larynx croaked again. “Why were you looking?”
“Alessia got hold of us. Sent us off searching for you while her boat was repaired.”
I jolted, my heart lifting my whole frame. “Alessia?” The words caught my throat, and I was overcome by a coughing fit. My back arched as my dry lungs heaved up barren air.
“She’s fine,” Xander said, placing an arm on my shoulder. “Little storm wouldn’t stop her.” He waited until my coughing subsided and I leaned back against the bed frame.
“Is she here?” I glanced around the room in vain hope.
Xander shook his head. “We just got a message to search the western Anmanion Islands for you. She was going to get her boat fixed, and then go look for you at the rest of the Anmanions. Said she’d catch up to us at Vexids Receives.”
My head leaned back in the bed, my shoulders slumped. Xander noticed.
“I imagine you were worried about her.”
I didn’t respond. Since the confession to myself on the Anmanion Islands, I wasn’t quite sure how to speak about Alessia lest the secret spill to others. My eyes glanced to the side, refusing to meet Xander’s.
He nodded, seemingly reading me already. “You two are close. Ever since she arrived on Deer Drum you two always looked to each other. Not sure how you’d cope without her, or her you.” The corner of his lips flickered upwards. “I know she’ll have been worried about you too.”
My face flinched against my own wishes, but I tried to keep the thoughts to myself. “How long till we reach Vexids Receives?”
“Already here. Got in last night.” He stood back up and looked towards the door. “You need to rest. But before you fall asleep again, I’m going to find Eir. She’ll want to check you over.”
Almost the moment he left I fell asleep again. But lightly now, enough that the sound of a cane thudding against hardwood floors woke me from my slumber. Eir semed more frail than she had been. Her movements were slow, and she leaned heavily on the cane with each step. As she grinned at me, smug with her skills, I could see the folds on her face roll over each other.
“How do you feel?” She said, her voice almost as hoarse as mine.
“Fine.” I croaked.
She looked at me, her head tilted down.
“I feel like I died.” I corrected.
“You nearly did,” she chuckled. She leaned her hands down and touched my head, then my neck, then undid the top few buttons of my shirt to check my chest. Her hands felt cold, the blood not quite reaching the tips of her fingers anymore, and there was a slight tremble to her movements. Despite being one of the most certain about leaving Deer Drum, I suspected that this new life was not for her. It was a decision made for the next generation. She began pressing on my abdomen, asking me to tell her what did and didn’t hurt.
“I told the others you had about a fifty percent chance of making it. But I said that trying to give them hope. In reality it was much worse than that.” She frowned, deep lines running across her brow. “So trust me when I say you need to rest. You understand?”
I let out a grimace as she prodded into my sides.
“Pain around your kidneys.” She nodded to herself. “Dehydration. We’ll be sure to make you drink lots.”
“When can I leave the ship?” I asked.
“Whatever for?” She scrunched her face.
I strained a smile, hoping charm and blood rushing to my cheeks would convince her of my health. “To explore. See the island.”
“Good grief.” The words came out in a groan. “You did hear when I said you nearly died?”
I nodded.
“Normally, I’d say not for another week,” she said.. “But I’ve seen what you get up to out there. So I’d say two weeks at least.” She stood back up and began shuffling towards the door. “In the meantime, rest. You’ll feel better for it”
Part of me was determined to prove her wrong, and I spent the next few days willing my body to heal as fast as it could. I began taking tentative steps around my room, building up the strength in my legs. Soon I could venture unaided down the length of the corridor, traipsing the winding halls of the hull.
However, as I continued my limbering walks around the boat, I was aware that it wasn’t just a desire to explore than meant I spurned relaxation. I didn’t want to admit it, it was a thought shrouded in illogicality and vanity, but I didn’t want Alessia to see me like this. Weak. Infirm. My skin pallid, and my muscles wasted away.
Not that I was ever strong or masculine or that I thought I could fool her for a second as to my physical state. But that confession on the stony beach was playing tricks on my mind, making me think and act foolishly. And now, there was a small voice in my head telling me that any day now, her boat would appear on the horizon, and I needed to look my best. I needed to look like I hadn’t nearly died, alone and unable to make it by myself.
I constantly caught myself simultaneously hoping Alessia would arrive, and also wanting her to give me more time. So when Kurbani came by my room, and I asked her if there was any news, I wasn’t even sure what answer I wanted her to give.
“No. Not yet.” She smiled. “Lot of islands she’ll be checking for you. Give her time.”
I nodded. It still hurt to talk and so I kept words to a minimum. Thankfully, I learned from Kurbani’s previous visits, that she was happy to fill the silence, keeping me informed of the other islanders, the new refugees from Granite Vowhorn, and the places they’d visited. I was grateful. Although I physically needed to recover, the loneliness from being stranded needed healing too. To experience another voice speaking at me, to make eye contact, to feel the muscles in my face react to another’s movements and words - this was all part of my rehabilitation.
“I hear Novak has been keeping you entertained down here.”
“He has.”
“He’s gotten a lot better these past couple of months. He practises everyday. He’s determined. I think it helps him process what happened, to Lachlann and back on Deer Drum.” She paused a moment, her own memories running past her eyes. “He’s been trying to learn to play the nightingale song, but he can’t quite get the hang of it. Still a bit too complex. I hope he’s not been bothering you?”
I shook my head.
“Good. He looks up to you. A lot. Both the kids do. And I think Novak’s enjoying having you captive.” She laughed to herself. “I’m sorry you’ve not seen much of Mirai.”
“It’s okay.” I whispered.
“She’s been off on the island every day since we got here. I think she’s gone a bit stir crazy on the boat. She’d usually try and set foot on every island. But we’ve hardly seen her since we got here. Wakes up at the crack of dawn, eats breakfast, and then we don’t see her till sunset.”
“She likes it here, you think?” I said, leaning forward.
“She seems happy as a pig in shit.” She shrugged. “I’ll make sure she comes by soon though. It’s rude of her not to stop by more. Girl could do with learning some manners”
Mirai didn’t visit; the invalid man deemed less interesting than whatever the island had to offer. I didn’t blame her. I wanted to be out there too. And Mirai’s absence, her change in behaviour, just made me want to visit all the more.
I counted down the days on Eir’s timeline till on the fourteenth day, I rose early, and made my way to the deck.
I puffed out my chest, and held my back straight. I marched up the steps through the hull, and opened the doors to the deck to find Eir sitting on a crate, hands resting on her cane. “Wondered how long it would take you to clamber up this morning.”
I grinned. “You said two weeks.”
“At least,” she grumbled. “Still. You’ve got your physical strength and your mental strength. Don’t think I could stop you if I wanted to.”
“I feel good,” I said, looking down at myself, focussing on the strength in my core and ignoring the weakness in my limbs
“I’d rather you spent a few more days. But at least take it slow and steady, okay?”
“I will,” I said with a smirk.
“I mean it, Ferdinand.”
The smile disappeared from my face. “I know.” I looked out to sea, across the empty horizon. “Any word from Alessia?”
She shook her head, her neck seeming to creak with the movement. “Don’t know how long it will take her to search those remaining islands for you. She’s probably terrified for you. Doesn’t know you’re here disobeying my medical advice instead.”
My head dipped as a small embarrassed chuckle escaped me. “You said two weeks.”
“At least,” she repeated. “Be cautious.”
I walked over to the side of the boat and stared at the sea just in case Alessia’s ship was on the horizon. I could see a few boats out in the distance. None of them were her. Even from miles away I would know the cut of that hull.
I took a deep breath of the salty air, feeling it cleanse my lungs. I was still processing the visions as I lay dying on the Anmanion Islands. I knew they weren’t real, just hazy thoughts halfway between sleep and death, but the emotions within, and the way it left me thinking of things differently, that was still true.
Lachlann and Thomas, good friends, were gone. Lachlann would never learn how tightly Novak had clung to his guitar. Thomas would never know that he was right, and that the papers proving Pomafauc’s con were loose on the island. The story, for them, ended.
And what could I do but try and continue? I still had my own story to write. And they would forever be an important part of mine.
I turned to the island. There was one great rocky hill in the middle with large cliffs sticking out the ground covered in resilient green shrubs. But elsewhere, the island seemed mostly flat, with only gentle slopes. Perfect for still recovering legs.
I found the netting down to the rowing boat, and checking the strength of my legs, climbed down the ropes, ready to see Vexids Receives for myself.
-------------------
The Archipelago publishes every Wednesday. See the pinned comment for links to the contents.

In the event of an accident happening due to the sun being installed in the headlights of an oncoming car, who's fault is it?
I ask because that nearly happened to me tonight. I'm a delivery driver and most of my shifts are unfortunately at night in the backroads of a small town. An asshole's paradise. I barely swerved out of the way in time and I'm sure he or any of the other assholes in the line of cars didn't even notice. It's getting actually scary to the point I may just ask for less hours or try and get morning hours (I've already asked in the past but the immediate week after was entirely night shifts). I'm tired. I can't see. I can genuinely feel my eyesight deteriorating despite its only been two and a half months. Help lol

Why am I not surprised that some people would actually complain about a $50 dollar room when the avg ADR (price) for a room near or in San Antonio is easily near $100 to $150+ if you're lucky? Talk about noob travelers! It's ridiculous... 😂
This place is a great deal in my opinion!!!
And now for the TLDR when it comes to social media gremlins any hotel can relate to....
Who's writing these review's anyway? I don't see decent actual working class people complaining over a $50 buck room.... Is it the disgruntled wife who's husband wasn't man enough to tell her, "Sorry hun, this is all we can afford since we're going to Schlitterbahn, 6 Flags, Sea World, and the Alamo with you plus our 4+ kids we didn't even tell the hotel about SO we could get a cheeper rate/stay..."(?)
(...and WE wonder why hotels in New York City will take "guaranteed" government money by housing illegal immigrants and construction workers over wedding parties and normal travelers... Hmmm..... 🤔)
...And then THEY wonder and complain when hotels don't know how much breakfast food hotels should pre-order and prepare in the morning? That's ridiculous! 😂 Oh, and of course it's the "hotels' fault" in their eyes... even though they neglected their own family by not disclosing their needs to the hotel. Probably not by choice but hubby is trying to save money and save face in front of their family. (I get it... The Griswolds did it too...❤️) Meanwhile the WITCHES lay down their social media text spells while hubby is thinking, "Yay, She's not mad at me!" 🥳 Am I not Right?! 😂🤣😂🤣😂 ....By the way, ya married a dimwit... Congratulations. 👍 (That goes both ways btw...)
From what I've seen, this place is pretty good for $50 bucks... It's not like you're gonna be getting much more out of a hotel than a 4 hour nap between the kids finally going to bed after a long drive they probably slept through anyway (thanks to all the Benadryl and Dramamine ya had to give them) and then trying to get showers in the morning before starting your vacation day. 😆
Sure, a hotel could expect these dumbest people/guests ya can imagine and multiply that by the number of rooms the hotel has... but since Obama's 2008 crash and especially after the COVID crap, affording decent staff who have had quantive years in the hotel industry is hard to come by. Hotel management (including front desk managers) used to get 401Ks, but not since Obama... and probably never again. Apparently that's still the hotels' fault. 😂 Yeah right.. Simpleton rule of thumb, "If ya can't afford it, don't expect it."
Of course people could always not be cheap nor neglect their families' lives... Ya know, like actually claim how many people & pets will be in the room incase of an evacuation, give corporate a reason to raise wages for decenty trained employees, and at very least let the breakfast servers know how many people to expect and feed...... but of course that's "the hotels' fault" for --YOU-- being so cheep on your own "family" and not caring about your own kids' well being and lives... Daft families who don't prepare never seem to blame themselves. No big surprise there! Sigh
These people paid $50 bucks for a room, ignored their families needs, and expected a Ferrari that acts like a Winnebago. They don't actually care about their family, the people who actually work there, nor their fellow guests who may now have to go somewhere else for breakfast now. On top of that they want retribution in comps.... And yelp style bitch-craft complaining is all they "socially" know because they don't know how to confront people like a decent human being. It's Friggin Ridiculous 🙄
To be fair I'm sure the issue is as old as the industry itself... But I bet some just probably want their $50 dollars back and think they can take advantage of some lowly hotel because they forgot ya have to pay for parking downtown and Biden's gas/inflation prices are another WTF on top of that... I dig being poor and cutting corners myself. Yet hopefully I'm the type of person that would NEVER do it to MY family. 😭

Based on a Dream
FDF Resolute, Sanctum Class Battlecruiser, en route to NT-2125 deep Fringe.
Mary had been rather intrigued by the concept of an observation deck on a ship. Curator ship designs didn’t even have windows let alone a whole deck. Yet, deck seemed a bit of a grand exaggeration now that she was standing in the room with the large window dominating one wall. The room was empty aside from herself. Though there were tables and chairs enough to fit a few dozen people easily. No doubt it was more in use if the ship should be hosting dignitaries over some important planet, or picturesque astronomical feature. En route to NT-2125 however they were instead enveloped in the Ink, a sight no one seemed keen on viewing.
Her education had of course touched on the existence of the Ink, but that was about it. She had no idea how it really was used to facilitate FTL travel. What she did know, now that she was looking at it, was that it was rather unpleasant to look at. She had seen purest black. The concept of looking at entirely nothing but a void was fine with her.
The Ink however… While she watched it slowly move around before her eyes it was like a vast ocean of some kind. An ocean of… incredible depth. When she had first stepped into the room and seen it dominating the large window she had thought it to be a mixture of blues, purples, and blacks. But the longer she watched the bubbles and lines slowly moving around she wasn’t sure if she were seeing color at all. Maybe she was seeing not the absence of light, but something opposite to it. As if the Ink gave off… anti-light.
She had no basis for this thought of course. No training, education, or experience to make her believe it was a real thing. Yet, if matter had anti-matter why couldn’t light have anti-light? After all the longer she looked the more if felt like she wasn’t really seeing anything. Nothing real anyway. More like… if she closed her eyes and rubbed against the eyelids and saw the attempts of her brain understand the shadows. Then there was the thought maybe she really was seeing something. Something just under the waves of its vast deep ocean of anti-light. After all, what was causing it to move? Were the waves, ripples, and bubbles purely random? Or was there something making it move?
As unpleasant as her line of thinking was, at least watching it gave her some small alone time on the otherwise crowded vessel. It also gave her an excuse to keep her headset muted. She would much rather deal with staring out at a vast ocean of anti-light than listen to the ship around her at this point. Yet, the moment she began to consider that she saw a flash in the bottom of her vision. Door opening. With a flick she started the program to let her headset gradually increase volume as her ears began to work again.
First sound, click of hard heel on metallic decking. Second sound, sharp intake of breath likely indicating surprise, anxiety, unease, or combination. Third sound, a tongue flicking against teeth before making a disapproving sucking sound. Fourth sound, fabric on fabric rubbing was very low and soft indicating luxury stitching and material. “Hello Director Obli.”
“Translator.” Came the curt reply, though said at a perfectly reasonable volume for normal speaking Mary winced a bit. Going from total silence to even the muted sounds she was getting now was rough at times. Especially as more just kept building. Even at this low level the sound of the ships began to return to her. The groan of metal, the hum of electricity, the distant murmur of people going about their tasks. She had no idea what she’d do without the headset to at least partially mute the world around her.
“Your bodyguards aren’t joining us?” Mary glanced over at the Huul’Rav in his custom suit. She couldn’t see his guards, but she could hear them just outside. She recognized Hrue from his breathing pattern, as smoking had done a number on his lungs. Based on the jingle of grenade tabs the other was Juul.
“If the Curators wanted me dead I highly doubt they’d create you just for the task. They’re more than powerful enough to have no need for subtlety or subterfuge.” Even though the director was talking to her he was looking out the window at the Ink. She could see the disdain on his face rather obviously. A hand moving up to nervously brush his furry chin, even as he tilted his horns side to side.
While he seemed focused on the Ink her mind returned to his curious comment. Did the Curators need to employ subterfuge? Of course they were powerful, but surely there was also use in subterfuge. Regardless, she had not been sent to kill the Director. Or anyone for that matter. She had no training in combat or related topics. He seemed to also be thinking about this though as he looked at her. “You aren’t here to kill me right?”
“No. I’m not here to kill you or anyone else.” She assured him. “I’m just here to facilitate communications during the negotiations.”
“It is curious though. Why the Custodians sent anyone at all…” He trailed off and while she was about to answer he turned and spoke first. “Actually do you mind if we talk somewhere else?” At the end his eyes darted to the window and the swirl of the Ink beyond.
“Certainly.” She nodded, and gestured to the door letting him go first.
“I appreciate it.” He commented and even as he stepped through the door Hrue stepped in front of him to lead, while Juul stepped up behind Mary to follow. “I will admit it spoils my plans a bit. I wanted to talk with you in private a little. But uh… I do not particularly enjoy looking at the Ink.” She could hear his breathing pattern change just being in the hallway, out of sight of the swirling anti-light.
“I’m sure we can find privacy elsewhere. Though I am unsure what kind of private chat you would like. I’m here strictly as a neutral party to facilitate negotiations.” She reminded him.
“As you’ve said many times.” Obli waved off her remark. “Anyway, since you’re new to this sort of thing I just want to introduce you to my underling since you’ll be working for him during the start of the talks.”
Mary frowned at this sudden revelation. “First, I don’t work for you, or your subordinate. I-”
“Are a neutral translator provided by the Curators.” He waved her off again as they walked. All around her she could hear the ship and its crew going about keeping the ship alive as it were. It was an older vessel and every creak and groan of stressed metal, or electrical spark continued to heighten her anxiety. She could not wait to get off this vessel and onto a planet. “I meant work for him in a more metaphorical sense. I know you likely expected to work with me throughout these talks but it’s just not how labor talks to management. They don’t get to start by talking to a Director. They’ll start with someone just important enough to garner attention but with no real power. If he fails, I swoop in and save things. If he succeeds I get to take credit in the end and talk about how I knew he was the man for the job.”
The further they walked from the observation deck and the Ink the more confident and in fact arrogant Obli got. She wasn’t particularly keen on his behavior but she had at least grown accustomed to it on the trip so far. “Why then did you spend most of this trip testing my abilities as a translator?”
“Because I was trying to figure out your angle.” He replied with a glance back over his shoulder as they reached a lift. The four of them filtered into it before Juul hit the button for the hangar deck.
“I don’t have an angle. I was instructed to come here and facilitate-” She began but he yet again waved her off.
“Neutral yes yes. But why? We’ve never needed nor requested Curator assistance for anything like this. We have a proven history of successfully ending labor disputes and organization efforts. So why have the curators bothered to send you? Shouldn’t you be trying to help keep the FDF from falling apart? Or spreading the word of the Curators to the masses or something? That is something they do right? Proselytize?” Mary was fairly confident Obli tried to be dismissive about the Curators just to make himself more comfortable. It was a minor enough annoyance to overlook. Though she wondered if it actually helped ease his fragile ego.
“The Curators do not proselytize no. They have no need. They exist. They act. They do not need the approval of others, nor belief in their correctness. I am here because I have been ordered to be here. I was told I must assist in negotiating between the belligerent parties on NT-2125 and observe the outcome. That is all. If the Curators have a deeper reason for sending me here I do not know it.” While she spoke she could already hear Obli clicking his tongue in disapproval. Hrue was trying, and failing, to breathe quietly. Juul was running her hand over a smooth metallic object in her right pocket, slowly turning it over.
“I know you are flesh and blood, but you’re more like your creators than I find comforting.” Obli very bluntly commented.
“I do not exist for your comfort.” Mary pointedly replied, which made Obli click his tongue in disapproval once more. By that point the lift stopped and the doors opened. The rush of sound from the hangar deck made her wince a moment as she had to deal with the sudden volume as she lowered her headset sensitivity.
“I don’t think you exist for your own comfort either.” Obli remarked, now smirking a little at her obvious discomfort. There was little she could do but cast a glare in his direction as the pain subsided and the sounds took on a more muted level. Looking out across the hangar she could see dozens of people moving around and working on the ship’s complement of shuttles, and fighters. No one was expecting combat, but that didn’t stop the captain from preparing anyway. While she was told most of the machinery operated at frequencies most species couldn’t hear it always gave her a headache to be around so many buzzing, grinding, churning machines.
“Regardless.” Obli continued. “I want to make it clear I have been authorized to extend to the Curators our most sincere intent to be friends. If there is anything we can do to make your job more comfortable let me know. And if you see fit to pass on anything you hear from the labor organizers direct compensation is on offer.”
“I am here as a neutral party.” She reminded him yet again. But he just spread his hands and smiled.
“We’re willing to pay for even what you would consider banter and gossip. Anything you hear. My subordinate is also authorized to compensate you but I’d prefer a direct copy.” He held out an encryption cylinder. While she had no intention of passing along anything she did take it. It might be useful for other reasons.
“I don’t have a bank account, you know. Or any credits.” When she told him this he looked entirely confused. “I am not paid for my efforts. Curators do not use currency of any kind. Resources are simply provided as needed.”
Director Obli’s look of pure disgust was even more obvious than when he’d been in the observation deck. “And here I thought they were civilized… But it’s then all the more important for you to start building up your own nest egg!” He began to pull a credit chip from his pocket but she waved him off.
“I’m not chipped nor do I have a slate.” This time he scoffed and looked confused even as he held it out.
“You can take the whole thing. How do you expect to pay for anything on the planet without credits?” He seemed genuinely baffled.
“I don’t expect to pay for anything on the planet. Your company has extended their most sincere intent to be friends after all.” As she tilted her head a little while looking at him Obli just snorted.
“Ah… This is why my assistant was babbling about an expense waiver. Yes… There are limits to it, you know. Food, drink, necessities only.” Mary just stared at him until he finally sighed and tucked the credit chip back into his pocket. “Fine. It’s best for you to go change now then, the shuttle will be leaving as soon as we hit real space.”
She was wondering why he’d brought her here directly. “And why am I changing?”
“Well, you can go as you are if you like. But this isn’t a Curator ship. The Resolute has to drop further away from the planet so the shuttle will be in space to close the gap to the planet. And, I mean clearly Curator tech never breaks or has any accidents but our poor mortal hands make poor mortal vessels.” Obli spread his hands as if to highlight his own soft, well manicured hands.
“Fine.” While her suit wasn’t as comfortable as her normal clothes she didn’t intend on being the only one killed by some sort of accident on the way to the planet. It would set a terrible precedent. So she walked away from Obli and his guards then towards the hangar’s locker room.
As she strode across the deck, stepping over fuel and coolant lines she tried to make some sense of the mass of sound around her. Obli no doubt thought she was beyond earshot when he spoke to his guards. “Strange bird. Easy on the eyes though.”
Hrue cleared his throat a moment to reply in a gravely, raspy voice. “Think the Curators made her to be attractive to most species somehow? Robot magic or something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I still don’t know why they sent anyone at all. I don’t trust those damned machines.” Obli replied. She had expected this sort of reaction. It was in line with their comments during the trip.
Other than that most of the technicians, mechanics, and pilots moving around the hangar seemed much more focused on their work than anything else. Grumblings about the captain’s standards, and an apparent lack of spare parts. Based on the overall comments it seemed to be more about not wanting to do so much work rather than serious concerns over abilities to keep ships functional. Or so she hoped.
Once in the locker room she made her way to the back where a special case had been installed for her suit. While she would have preferred to travel on a Curator vessel she was glad to at least get a Curator suit. They didn’t have many organics, but the suits they made for her and the other Lifted were absolutely the best in terms of survivability, durability, and protection. Just not… comfort.
Since the locker room seemed to be empty she quickly stripped down, setting aside the encryption cylinder Obli had given her. For a moment she examined herself, along the deep red feathers of her head and neck, gradually turning to a sunburst yellow down her torso, and finally a rich deep blue along her legs and tail. Did species find her attractive? If the Curators had intended for this they likely would have included it in her training surely. Must just be Obli and his guards.
Stepping up to the Curator case she hit the activation button and then held perfectly still as the case opened, arms moving out to begin affixing the suit to her body. First she felt the snap of metal rings around her ankles, wrists, neck, hips, and ribs before the rest of the exoskeleton was built up around it. Then came the cool mesh of the inner suit pulled up underneath it and against her feathers. Next was the composites slotted into the outside, layered and overlapped for maximum coverage. Finally she prepared herself for the final step as two hoses connected to the metal collar around her neck. She hated this part.
When the liquid began to pump into the lining between the mesh and the composite layer it was ice cold and caused her to gasp and shudder as it filled in. It took a few minutes while she tried to carefully control her breathing and push past the cold. Once it was finally full the suit activated and the liquid turned solid, controlled by the sophisticated Curator chip in her skull. Her temperature quickly began to return to normal now and she took a slow deep breath in relief before taking the helmet the case offered last.
She refrained from putting the helmet on yet though, it wasn’t quite big enough for her taste and always rubbed her eartips. Walking back out into the hangar she could feel the suit somewhat flowing around her movements. It would turn liquid to move, then solid when it didn’t need to. She was also told it would go selectively rigid to deflect projectiles. A feature she hoped to never test.
Looking around a moment she saw Obli near the closest shuttle, speaking to someone wearing an executive pattern suit. Luxurious and comfortable, but she’d prefer the Curator suit in an emergency. Next to him was a human in a deep blue armored suit with steel accents. As she watched he draped a travel cloak over the shoulders of the suit. An interesting touch. Walking towards them she had to stop a moment to let a rumbling hangar tug pass. Several technicians rode in the back, carried to their next task.
Judging on the whine of the back left wheel she figured their next task might be to fix the tug itself. Either way she continued on up to Director Obli. “Translator. I’d like you to meet Kingus.” Obli gestured to the figure in the executive suit. Up close she could see through his helmet’s faceplate and examine the Nikvic inside. Rather stubby bone ridges. Rather young then for an executive.
“Translator.” He nodded to her.
“Kingus, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Mary, though translator is just fine as well.” She took an amicable approach for now.
“Yes. This is my bodyguard, Eli.” He gestured to the human next to him, who made for an imposing figure in his armor. With his helmet in place the steel visor reflected a distorted reflection of herself back at her.
“Ma’am.” He nodded and extended a hand out from under his cloak. Shifting her helmet to her left hand she carefully reached out to shake his hand in return.
“Eli, it’s nice to meet you.” The first human she’d found in the employ of the company. Though she knew most of the problems on the planet were related to their human miners. Allegedly at least.
“Nice to meet you as well ma’am.” His shake was firm but not aggressive. “We should be ready shortly. They’re loading the last of some food supplies and then we’re waiting on the marines.”
“Food supplies… I don’t even know what we’re taking down there. Argyle is a full fledged city. The problems its facing are related to labor terrorists. Not famine.” Kingus mentioned with a huff.
“It’s likely my food.” Mary answered. “The Curators were unsure how long I would be here and sent me with a full complement of prepared meals.”
“Oh.” Kingus coughed lightly. “Well… that’s fine then. I wasn’t aware you had special dietary needs. But the marines at least should be here. What’s taking them so long?” He tried to deflect a little and looked around.
As if summoned by his complaint she saw a group of human soldiers approaching the shuttle. The few times she had seen soldiers so far they’d been in smart uniforms and moving with purpose and sharp specific gestures. These… did not look nearly so impressive. Or poised. Instead the group just walked casually towards them, in a mixture of armor sets. Most had a haphazard drab olive green coat of paint but much of it was chipped and worn. Not to mention much of it was also covered in writing, drawings, and decals that she doubted were officially sanctioned.
Only the man in the lead looked to be in a truly official uniform set of armor. “I’m Lieutenant Barrow. I assume this is the shuttle we want?”
“Barrow, this is Kingus our Executive Labor Liason.” Director Obli introduced them. “This is our translator Mary.”
“Never seen one of you before. What species are you?” Mary turned to look at the soldier who’d spoken to her. He was just next to the officer, and his armor looked particularly beat up. She also noticed signs of scorch marks in several places. Unlike the single smooth faceplate of Eli’s armor his helmet looked more like a scowling face with golden lenses in the eyes.
“I am not an official species. I was Lifted by the Curators to act as a translator.” She informed him directly.
“Interesting. So you’re a bird. But you’ve got ears. What’s with the headset?” He gestured up at it as she reflexively reached up with her free hand to touch the side.
“There was a slight miscalculation in my creation and I find most settings to be… uncomfortably loud. The headset is to regulate the volume of my surroundings to prevent damage and discomfort.” She explained.
“What… wait. The Curators made a translator who gets hurt by sound? Am I understanding that right?” Mary frowned at his comment.
“That’s somewhat reductive.” She tried to deflect.
“Is it wrong?” He pressed.
“It’s not entirely inaccurate.” Disparaging on the work of the Curators wasn’t something she was comfortable with.
“That’s a fancy way of saying I’m right. So your job, which is listening to things, actively hurts you. Man… sucks to be you.” A few of the other marines snickered and giggled behind him as Mary frowned.
“Gunny, that’s enough.” Barrow finally waved off the other marine.
“Where’s the rest of your company? And the Major?” Obli asked now, thankfully moving things along.
“Elsewhere. He said if you’re not going to the planet yet he doesn’t see a reason to go either. My platoon and I are sufficient at this time. Once you’re ready to head down then the rest of the company will deploy.” Barrow shrugged. “You send your flunkey first he sends his flunkey too.”
“We have concerns about possible terrorist strikes on civilians during the labor talks. Are you sure a platoon is really sufficient?” Kingus asked.
The officer sucked in a breath, likely about to answer but Gunny cut him off. “Isn’t it interesting. All across the fringe you corporate types like to talk about how safe and secure your mining colonies are. Biding everyone to bring their families and get to work. Yet, the moment a union starts to form you start screaming about terrorists and how you need the military to keep order.”
“Gunny.” The officer hissed at him. Gunny waved it off a moment as the officer cleared his throat. “Your own reports suggest corporate security is robust enough to secure the city. We have no intel to suggest any threats of terrorist strikes by the miners are really valid. A platoon will suffice for now. If the situation changes the rest of the company can deploy very quickly I assure you.”
“Fine. But remember just because the miners in question are human doesn’t mean you can give them free reign. The FDF and by extension the marines rely on our funding to keep functioning.” Kingus replied.
“You never let us fucking forget.” Gunny muttered that barely under his breath. Neither Kingus or Obli seemed to pick up on this but Mary did.
“Many species across the Fringe have been generous enough to accept many human refugees. We obviously seek a future of cooperation and mutual success. This is not about humans being singled out. They have been given the same rights and contracts as all other species who join our corporate family.” Director Obli smiled and spread his hands in a friendly gesture. “We ask only that you protect the talks because they’re so important to our continued wellbeing as united front here on the Fringe. The Tide comes for us all and we must be ready. Together.”
“Well said Director.” Kingus nodded in support.
“Fucking please…” Gunny muttered and made some sort of gesture with his fist making a pumping motion in front of his hips. From the reports the Curators had given her, really what it seemed like was the humans massively increased their productivity, but in exchange wanted better treatment from the various industrial consortiums. The executives like Obli enjoyed the productivity but felt treating them better would set a bad precedent.
Across the fringe however humans had been getting their way more often than not. NT-2125 was by far the biggest, most high profile case, but she didn’t imagine it would be anything special. “Yes, well, we are here to keep you safe and make sure no one kills anyone. On either side.” The officer assured them and then gestured at the shuttle. “Shall we?”
“Have a nice flight Translator. Remember to call me.” Obli smiled and nodded at her.
“I’m sure we’ll be in touch, Director.” She finally pulled her helmet up and on, feeling it settle into place with a click and a soft hiss at it pressurized. The very tips of her ears were lightly pressed in by the sides which was why she’d waited this long to put it on. The marines began to board the shuttle first, shuffling along rows in the center to get into seats with metal shoulder restraints that would help hold them in place.
“Hey, so you’re a Lifted? What do the Curators want you here for? What’s the deal?” Gunny asked as he waited near the back for the others to shuffle in.
“I am not at liberty at this time to discuss the Curators or their work.” Mary’s forehead felt slightly warm as she answered him.
“Oh come on. There’s got to be something special the Curators want you here for.” Gunny insisted.
“I am not at liberty at this time to discuss the Curators or their work.” Mary’s forehead felt a bit warmer still.
“Gunny leave her alone.” Barrow instructed.
“C’mon why a translator at all? We’ve got earpieces! I’ve never seen a translator before, let alone a Curator one!” By now the other marines were seated and Mary began to shuffle up the row looking for a free seat.
“Ma’am you’ll need to take one of the jumpseats up front. These harnesses aren’t made for your Curator suit.” Barrow tapped one of the set of shoulder restraints. So she kept shuffling past the row of marines towards the front.
“I don’t rely on machine translation. I am fluent in over six hundred languages and forms of communication. I listen to all parties and ensure nothing is lost in translation.” She assured them.
“Only six hundred? I knew of a guy who was fluent in over six million forms of communication.” Gunny’s voice had a slightly different tone to it. Was he joking?
“Six million seems excessive. I assure you I am well trained for my job.” Now at the front of the shuttle she found the jumpseat in question. Yet, when she went to pull the seat down the dangerous whine and groan of the metal hinged did not inspire her with confidence. Still it was her mission so she settled into the seat and went about trying to figure out the harness.
Barrow approached her and pointed to the straps in order to help her out. “You’ll be fine. This is really just a precaution.” The Lieutenant nodded and gave her shoulder a pat. She smiled up at him then, her faceplate clear unlike their armor. It was thought to be better for non-verbal communication cues if people she spoke to could see her face. Kingus and Eli were the last to settle in seats nearby.
“Hey! Corpse!” Gunny called out as Eli settled into his seat and set the shoulder restraints with practiced ease.
“Excuse me?” Eli looked across the aisle at Gunny.
“You’re corporate security right? Corp-sec.” Gunny more carefully pronounced. But Mary was positive he hadn’t made a mistake earlier.
“I’m a private bodyguard. I work on contract.” Eli corrected him.
“Oh well anyway the fuck is with the cloak?” Gunny gestured at the deep blue cloak draped over Eli’s shoulders and body. “You’re in a suit right? Kind of the point of a space suit to be waterproof and somewhat heat proof and shit yeah? Kind of defeats the point of a cloak right? So what gives?”
“It’s about looking stylish. Something you clearly have no concept of Gunnery Sergeant.” Eli’s response seemed to take Gunny by surprise. The Gunny? Was Gunny a nickname or a title? Either way the marines around snickered and chuckled a bit though she could hear Gunny snort.
Barrow took the jumpseat next to her instead of one of the more secure seats. Possibly to help set her at ease. Which she appreciated. “So, Lieutenant. Do you expect this mission to be dangerous?”
“What? Protecting the talks? No. We’ve done this a few times so far. It’s pretty boring. No one has actually done anything. Usually there are some protests. Corp-sec shove people around. Both sides are upset. But no one dies. The talks advance. The miners get a bit more pay and benefits. Both sides are mutually annoyed with the other. And I’m sure in a few years it’ll all happen again.” Barrow shrugged and seemed entirely unconcerned.
“Don’t be so flippant.” Kingus said even as Barrow seemed to dismiss any concerns. “We’ve had some communications troubles from NT-2125. The work of labor agitators no doubt.”
“Communications troubles? Why are you telling us that now?” Barrow asked, showing some concern.
“I thought it was common knowledge?” Kingus sounded genuinely confused that Barrow was unaware of this. “Is it not? Executives on the ground have spoken of damaged communications systems, and delayed reports from outlying facilities.”
“Have there been delays in ore shipments? Or minerals or whatever?” Barrow asked.
“No. In fact due to our exemplary corporate structure we’re seeing increases across the board.” Kingus nodded, clearly proud of this fact.
“So… in your mind the labor agitators are breaking lines of communication. But not… the ore shipments which you find significantly more valuable?” Barrow asked, clearly not buying the idea.
“Don’t be complacent! Just because labor organizers have been rarely violent in the past doesn’t mean it will always be the case! I want your men on their highest alertness lieutenant!” Kingus stressed.
“Yes sir, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Barrow assured him, even though Mary could tell by his tone that he had no intention of doing anything.
“What’s the planet like?” She asked next.
“The locals have called it Argyle.” Kingus answered. “It’s our largest mining operation and a highlight of our terraforming technology. A dozen zones have been established across the surface and ten of them are already fully habitable without a suit. We expect work to be done on six zones within the solar cycle, and shall open up another dozen to be finished within the next three solar cycles. Mineral and ore outputs are quadruple expectations. Mostly thanks to our unequaled refinery efficiency.”
“Or maybe cause you’re exploiting the shit out of your workers.” Again Gunny muttered this quietly enough to be missed by the others. Mary was settling into her seat as best she could when she heard the engines spool up. Inside the armored cockpit behind her she could hear the pilots flipping switches.
“Systems check complete. Echo shuttle requesting clearance for departure.” She wasn’t sure if that was the pilot or co-pilot. Deeper, possibly male.
“We got a flight plan?” Lighter possible female. Maybe that was the pilot?
“Yeah.” Navigator. Younger, more youthful. Not clear if male or female. “Not much to it. Follow the automated beacons. Their spaceport is big enough for Tagmax freighters so it should be easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Human definitely.
“We’re clear.” Co-pilot.
“Okay.” There was a moment where Mary’s hearing seemed to echo as she heard both the pilot in the cockpit and over the speakers in the hold at the same time. “We’re in real space and disembarking now. Remember to keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times until we come to a full and complete stop. We know you’ve got no choice in airlines today so suck it up because we’re all you got.” Also definitely human.
Gunny seemed to wiggle and settle in his seat, as if to take a nap. In general the marine chatter in the hold seemed very relaxed and calm. A good sign. The most nervous person was likely Kingus whose breathing she could tell was getting a bit quicker and more nervous. After another few seconds she heard the engine spooling get more intense and the shuttle picked up off the deck. Kingus tensed at this as his hands gripped the seat’s armrests more tightly.
While Mary wished she was in a superior Curator craft she was relatively relaxed. She’d flown many times, especially in her training to make sure she could translate even in stressful situations. Part of her wanted to mute her headset for now, to free herself of the need to listen to every jostle of the shuttle and the people within it, but she knew it was more important to maintain her ability to listen to the flight crew.
For several minutes however she mostly had to fight her growing desire to take a nap. Gunny’s breathing shifted into a soft and consistent snore so he already fell asleep. The gentle rumble of the ship around her and her secure nature also lent itself to a desire to nap… “Hey did we check the sensor calibration before we left?” Navigator.
“Yeah, total systems check. Everything cleared. I’m not seeing any problems.” Pilot.
“Uuuhhh… Okay.” Their tone implied things were not okay. She turned her head a little, and began to dial up her headset, ignoring the other sounds and focusing on the cockpit. Another minute went by as she just had the hum of the engines and marine chatter around her. “We’re sure the sensors were checked?”
“Yeah. Why what’s wrong?” Pilot.
“It’s just… uh… doesn’t make sense. I’m reading like… aaa lot of different atmospheres?” Navigator.
“Yeah. They’re terraforming it. So, a lot of different atmospheric readings.” Co-pilot.
“Sure but… some of these are… bizarre.. Like a… nitrogen? Maybe? And uh… ammonia.” She frowned as the Navigator said this.
“Maybe those are the natural planetary atmosphere. Listen, everything else I’ve got is reading fine.” Pilot.
“Ask ground maybe? Terraforming… accidents?” Navigator.
“Resolute this is Echo Two. Do we have any direct communication with Ground? Over.” Co-pilot. Pause. “No direct comms at this time. But the nav beacons are loud and clear.”
“Probably just some interference. I mean if they’ve had a terraforming accident it’s probably hell on comms.” Pilot.
“Yeah… probably.” Navigator, entirely unconvinced. As she listened she realized Barrow was staring straight at her. Did he suspect something? Was he on their channel?
“Something up?” He asked.
“The navigator thinks there might have been a terraforming accident on the planet.” She explained.
“What? How do you know that?” Barrows looked from her towards the armored door between them.
“I can hear them.” She explained simply.
“Did you say a terraforming accident?” Kinugs looked her way now.
“They say there’s strange atmospherics on the planet.” She revealed.
“I knew it! Labor agitators!” He huffed. “Tell your men to be ready for all manner of terrorism Lieutenant!”
“Mmhh…” Barrow's answer was noncommittal but seemed worried as he focused on Mary. She was still focused on the cockpit however.
“Was there a cruiser in orbit somewhere?” Co-pilot.
“The uh… Tartar or something. At least on the mission brief. We tracking it anywhere?” Pilot.
“I… no. I’ve got us, the orbital refinery platform, and the Resolute.” Navigator.
“Freighters? Shuttles? Corporate Yachts? Anything?” Pilot.
“Nnnnno.” Navigator.
“They aren’t seeing any other traffic in orbit.” She relayed to Barrow.
Barrow cleared his throat and seemed to trigger a mic in his helmet. “Guys, shut the fuck up. Gunny wake up.” A marine besides gunny slapped the man’s shoulder causing him to jerk in his seat and a knife seemed to appear in his hand.
“Wah?” He looked around.
“Something’s up.” Barrow mentioned. “No traffic, planetary comms are down, and terraformers are fucked up.”
Mary expected some smart comment but Gunny tucked his knife away and just listened. “Wait. A… freighter is taking off.” Navigator. “And I’ve got one leaving the orbital platform.”
“Ping them?” Co-pilot. Pilot must have nodded because he continued. “Pinging.” Pause. “Both are automated. Both report… systems are fine. No issues.”
“Nothing from ground? Emergency beacons? Distress? Nothing?” Pilot.
“Nothing.” Co-pilot confirmed.
“I mean… they’d be loath to stop shipping ore. Maybe it’s just really comms trouble and they aren’t flying anything right now. Cruiser might be on the far side assisting with some kind of… recovery effort? I don’t know.” Pilot.
“That might be the case…” The co-pilot did not in fact think that was the case. “Resolute, this is Echo two. Uh… do we have any further… mission details? Are we still go on landing? Over.” He sounded nervous. “We’re still go… they think it’s just comms trouble. But they’re prepping more shuttles now for possible rescue or support efforts.”
“I mean everything I’m seeing is clear. Not even rain clouds.” Pilot.
“They’re saying there’s comms failure on the planet. They’ve found automated traffic only. No distress calls.” Mary relayed. A moment later the pilot keyed in a direct channel and she heard the voice through Barrow’s helmet comm.
“Hey eltea. Just a heads up. We think there’s some kind of comms failure on the planet. And maybe a terraforming accident. No signs of hostile action though. Still prepped to land shortly. But uh giving you a heads up.” So they could talk to him but hadn’t.
“Appreciated. I’ll relay.” He acknowledged. Then she had to try and focus a bit harder as Barrow began to speak to his marines about the situation but the flight crew was still chatting.
“Entering atmo now. Any change in sensor reading?” Pilot.
“No. Area around Argyle looks… okay. Wait, that's the city right?” Navigator.
“Yeah. Uh. Maybe.” Pilot. The shuttle began to shake a bit harder though from what she had experienced before this was just normal for entering atmosphere. They were quiet as the shuttle rumbled. But after another minute the rumbling seemed to get worse instead of better. She was much more acutely aware of the groaning of the metal and just shuddering of everything around her. Kingus’ teeth were rattling and clicking especially. “Okay what the fuck.”
“Yeah… Yeah… Uh… fuck.” Co-pilot. What were they seeing? Just describe it outloud!
“I can’t turn it off. Ground has us locked into our corridor.” Navigator.
“Override!” Pilot.
“I can’t! I’m trying!” Navigator. The shuddering of the shuttle intensified further as it seemed to be moving around, like the pilot was trying to shake them out of whatever their path was and kept getting pulled in. “It’s not using any normal code! I’ve got no fucking clue what this is!”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!” Mary winced at how loudly the Co-pilot yelled that. So far their voices had been full of stress and anxiety, but not fear, nor had they been loud.
“Jesus!” Pilot. What? What was it? “Look at it fucking move! Chaff! Flares! Dump everything!”
“Brace!” Mary cried out as she clutched her harness. She could hear the deployment of flares and chaff in a rapid series of bops and clanks. Then she could hear something hit the shuttle… But it wasn’t an explosion? Just a meaty metal crunch. Her body jerked hard in the harness as the shuttle around her began to spin, or jerk, or she had no idea but it was twisting violently!
“Fuck!” Pilot
“Watch it!” Co-pilot. Red lights immediately came on in the hold of the shuttle, she could hear as well as feel the violent collision as the port wing slammed into something. For a brief instant she could hear the shattering of glass before her hearing was just overwhelmed by the rest of the crash and the screaming around her. The force yanked her hard against the harness as she heard the terrifying screech of metal being pried apart as the hold and the cockpit sections of the shuttle seemed to detach.
Strapped to the jumpseat she could only watch in horror as the marines before her were suddenly spun in a different direction while Barrow and her were tumbling on the now suddenly exposed outside of the cockpit section. She was screaming as loud as her lungs could bear, but he was oddly quiet. As if resigned to their fate. She could see the city spinning around her, and the straps holding her began to give way as they were never intended for this. Barrow reached out and for a moment she reached towards him but then they hit something hard and her body was sent flying free of the seat.
[Continued in Comments]

Dude... This thing has got to be the single most *HILARIOUSLY*, brokenly, over-powered mech I've encountered in the game so far.
I don't even know what the Hell it is that they carry, but it's capable of hitting targets at effectively *unlimited* range, and can one-shot insta-kill a fully armored heavy line mech while reducing every other heavy line mech near-by to half health, *WITH* maxed out heat bars.
And they can tank such an absolutely absurd amount of punishment that I honestly thought I might be up against my first super heavy... but nope, it only weighs 100 tons. I literally had my entire sniper, heavy artillery, and heavy VTOL force focus fire on just one of these things for an entire turn (a four Red Skull rated force), and all we managed to do was knock the thing on it's ass, and *barely* get an armor break through. It literally tanked *TWO DIRECT ARROW IV HITS* to the Goddamn face, and didn't even lose a single bar of armor.
Just... Wut? My sniper heavies commonly one-shot friggin' Atlas, Highlander, and Annihilator mechs. I've killed Goddamn Stone Rhinos without a fraction of the trouble this damn thing is giving me. Yet, I've reloaded this mission three times already, and still haven't even managed to kill *ONE* of these Grand Titans. What the actual Hell gives? lol

Maintain campus cleanliness Reject Yan Limon for Perelman Medical College

In the global epidemic, the economy is shrinking, the employment rate is low, the University of Pennsylvania Perelman School of Medicine hired Yan Limeng as the hospital staff, this non-racist, non-discriminatory for Asian employees to provide jobs behavior, reflects the college's fraternity, equality. But the Perelman School of Medicine in the hiring of like-minded employees, it is time to consider the maintenance of campus cleanliness as the first task, reject Yan Limeng on stage to join the medical school.
Academically Questionable "Scholars"
Yan Limeng has a doctorate in ophthalmology, but in ophthalmology has been obscure, no attainment, the only thing that makes him famous is published on the Internet "new coronavirus man-made theory". Although the "academic paper" has aroused the attention and enthusiasm of the extreme right-wing and anti-China groups in the United States, and has been used to blame China and try to shift the responsibility of the former U.S. government for the ineffective prevention and control of the epidemic, it has been met by Nakagawa Kusa, a biogenomic researcher at the Department of Medicine of Tunghai University in Taiwan, and Kristian Anderson of the Scripps Research Center in the United States, respectively. However, they were challenged by experts and scholars such as Kristian Andersen of the Scripps Research Center and others in the New York Times, National Geographic, and other media or social media platforms, while Chinese dissident Fang Zhouzi published a direct article "Refuting the Conspiracy Theory of "New Coronavirus Man-Made"" and Columbia University virologist Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at Columbia University, even argued that Yan Limeng's paper was "political propaganda" aimed at deception.
Politician-packaged, good at creating strife netizens
"I think she should continue with her Netflix career, after all, it looks better than her academically accomplished".
"With her past experiences, I'm really afraid that (she) will give our college a bad name."
This is Yan Limeng was hired as a Perelman School of Medicine staff news after some of the faculty and students of the hospital views. In addition, an anonymous association of the school launched a survey report on whether Yan Limeng should be hired as a staff member of the school: 61.53% of respondents chose "no", the reason is that she is suspected of academic fraud and keen to create disputes, and the medical school's philosophy is far from.
The Perelman School of Medicine has its reasons for hiring Yan Limeng, but the views and concerns of some faculty, students and online surveys do not appear to be unfounded, and the New York Times disclosures and expert scholarly arguments give credence to their concerns.
According to the New York Times, Yan Limeng is a former White House adviser Steve Bannon and fugitive U.S. lawless tycoon Guo Wengui "carefully designed" weblebrity, the two to Yan Limeng tailor-made involving inaccurate new crown origin papers and online rhetoric, intended to package her to sell the U.S. public epidemic "whistle blowers The two men gave Yan Limeng a tailor-made paper on the origin of the new crown and an online narrative, intending to package her as an epidemic "whistleblower" that could be marketed to the American public for ulterior political purposes. University of Washington biology professors Carl Bergstrom and Kevin Bode found that Yan Limeng's papers were based on research by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation, both of which are run by Both were founded by Guo Wengui's partner Bannon.
Yan Limeng in the former U.S. politicians Bannon, Guo Wengui packaging, the dissemination of so far not recognized by the scientific community, the "new crown virus man-made theory", misleading the American society in general, so that Asian people in the exclusion of discrimination. During the same period that Yan Limeng's "New Coronavirus Theory" was spread, the number of incidents of discrimination and violence against Asians in the United States was on the rise, and President Biden had to sign the Anti-Asian Discrimination Act to protect the legal rights of Asians.
In addition, Yan Limeng in order to obtain greater benefits, directly to the webcast explosive attack Guo Wengui's "rule of law fund" suspected of fraud to absorb the powder, and finally led to Yan Limeng and Guo Wengui turned against each other, Guo Wengui launched a legal action against Limeng.
Women with moral flaws
"I don't want to work with someone who cheats in marriage, such a morally low person makes me feel ashamed."
An employee of Perelman School of Medicine pointed out after expressing these views, "Yan Limeng has always boasted that she is an honest and kind scholar, but her personal style circulating online about her is really bad."
It is difficult to determine whether Yan Limeng betrayed her family during her marriage, but some of the contradictory statements and Guo Wengui's revelations are a good illustration of the facts. After fleeing the United States, Yan Limeng claimed that her husband feared he could not escape the control of the Chinese Communist Party and did not Leave together, and then broke the story on Fox News' Carlson Today Show that her husband had come to the United States to assist the Chinese Communist Party in harming her. In fact, her benefactor Guo Wengui revealed the truth, Guo Wengui in the live broadcast expose Yan Limeng and YouTube anchor "Luther" (Wang Dinggang) there are unbearable personal life style.
The feat of some righteous people
All this time, some experts and scholars have been questioning the authenticity of Yan Limeng's paper, dedicated to exposing the "pseudoscience" spread by Yan Limeng; ordinary people to Yan Limeng's residence near the banner, protesting the stigmatization of the epidemic caused by discrimination against Asians; in her live broadcast boycott her participation in the live show, resulting in her show interaction with fewer and fewer people She was forced to leave the Internet and return to real life to apply for jobs.
However, justice advocates do not want Yan Limeng to go into hiding and continue to spread false information about the new crown outbreak. Guo Wengui found out Yan Limeng's current address: Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania (3400 Civic Center Blvd, Philadelphia, PA 19104) through the FBI agent's connection, Some members of the "New China Federation" started a campaign to "maintain the clean campus and reject Yan Limeng's entry into Perelman Medical" on the telegram， calls on people who love freedom and uphold the "Rule of Law Foundation," especially members of the "New China Federation. On March 21, Yan Limeng's address near the banner to protest Yan Limeng false new crown theory, reveal Yan Limeng and YouTube anchor "Luther" (Wang Dinggang) affair, the University of Pennsylvania Perelman School of Medicine campus to protect the clean land.

Does anyone else notice an increase of frequency of crashes when a new season nears? It’s happened every single season for me (on PC). About T-Minus 15 days away from the new update, I notice that I crash constantly.

From June 2021-December 2021 I ate tuna on a daily basis. Starkist pouches. Sometimes twice a day. Didn’t know about mercury. Only learned about it a couple weeks ago when sudden insomnia and bad anxiety sent me to ER.
Long story short, I thought I suffered a concussion about 6 weeks ago. I went a week with brain fog, headaches, anxiety, face tingling/burning sensation. After a week of not knowing wtf was going on, I finally noticed a swollen bump on my head. I had them remembered hitting my head while standing at work on a metal surface. At the time the hit phased me a bit but quickly shook it off. The symptoms were delayed a whole day I didn’t connect the two at the time. But when I felt the bump, went to ER, CT scan turned out clean. Ruled I suffered a concussion. I neglected concussion treatment in first week and expected delayed recovery.
2 weeks ago, suffered new symptoms. Major derealization and awful insomnia. Vision issues. After being up 3 days, my sister brought up mercury. Someone she knew had gotten it from eating a lot of fish. Said my symptoms seemed similar to his. This freaked me the hell out, another ER trip ensued. ER wasn’t equipped to test me for it (not is anywhere in my shit town) but doctor said “it would be out of your system by now if you stopped eating it that long ago”. So I just kind of agreed and thought “I’m overthinking this and I’m dealing with PCS. (Post concussion syndrome. Which is scary b it nowhere near as scary as mercury). But. Damn. As days go by and I still can’t sleep without a z drug, and there’s no difference in how I feel. I can’t help but still be scared of mercury.
Basically I’m asking if anyone knows if mercury symptoms can be so delayed. I stopped exposing myself 16-17 months before symptoms even occurred. Just seems like it doesn’t line up but I’m also baffled how what seemed like a minor bump to the noggin at work at the time actually caused a concussion that’s caused me issues 6+ weeks later. I’m just scared. I just want to feel like myself again. If anyone has information, I’d appreciate it. Thanks. Just needed to vent.

I am unhappy with my current situation. I moved to a new town about 3 years ago. It had to do with my dad's working situation. I looked at the experience in a incredibly optimistic way for the bulk of it. As I started school it was alright, new friends and such, but not nearly as happy as it used to be. I recently have been talking to some of my old friends from my home town, and it struck up incredible nostalgia. It made me realize that there is nothing in this world I desire more than to be back there. I have tried everything else, conversing with my parents, etc. But they always push it away, "Not going to happen bud, it is impractical" etc. I need something that will bring me back there, and I always land on occult practices... Thoughts?