In the last 2 weeks I noticed that I started getting these gibberish spam emails when I used to not get any at all. The emails have a name and then in the preview text it would have gibberish like a quote from a movie or book and also has an attachment. I checked haveibeenpwned and also ran the gmail scan too to see if my gmail was part of a breach or leak and both came up clean. I NEVER EVER opened any of these emails. They always end up in the Junk / Spam folder and then I would just select them and choose block sender and then delete them. The thing that kind of scared me today was that one of the spam emails got through the filters and ended up in my inbox. I didn't open it and just moved it to junk, block sender and then deleted it. Is there anything else I can do? Should I be really worrying? I get maybe 2 - 3 of these in my Junk / Spam folder a day.

In the last 2 weeks I noticed that I started getting these gibberish spam emails when I used to not get any at all. The emails have a name and then in the preview text it would have gibberish like a quote from a movie or book and also has an attachment. I checked haveibeenpwned and also ran the gmail scan too to see if my gmail was part of a breach or leak and both came up clean. I NEVER EVER opened any of these emails. They always end up in the Junk / Spam folder and then I would just select them and choose block sender and then delete them. The thing that kind of scared me today was that one of the spam emails got through the filters and ended up in my inbox. I didn't open it and just moved it to junk, block sender and then deleted it. Is there anything else I can do? Should I be really worrying? I get maybe 2 - 3 of these in my Junk / Spam folder a day.

In the last 2 weeks I noticed that I started getting these gibberish spam emails when I used to not get any at all. The emails have a name and then in the preview text it would have gibberish like a quote from a movie or book and also has an attachment. I checked haveibeenpwned and also ran the gmail scan too to see if my gmail was part of a breach or leak and both came up clean. I NEVER EVER opened any of these emails. They always end up in the Junk / Spam folder and then I would just select them and choose block sender and then delete them. The thing that kind of scared me today was that one of the spam emails got through the filters and ended up in my inbox. I didn't open it and just moved it to junk, block sender and then deleted it. Is there anything else I can do? Should I be really worrying? I get maybe 2 - 3 of these in my Junk / Spam folder a day.

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

If disguised under a preposterous or “absurd” appearance, [a UFO’s] effects would be undetected for a long time. I believe this could be a key to the confrontation with UFOs. ~Jacques Vallee

In 1954 the sociologist Gordon Allport published a book called The Nature of Prejudice. In it, he and some colleagues elucidated a link between increasing Intergroup Contact and reducing Racial Prejudice. At the time this was breakthrough research; repeated contact between members of the “in” and “out” group reduces stigma toward the “out” group.
In 1954 this could be easily illustrated by the attitudes of the public-at-large toward racial minorities over the preceding 100 years – shifting attitudes toward slaves and their descendants, as well as the previous 10 years – attitudes toward Japanese-Americans over the course of WWII.
As it turns out one of the most effective ways at reducing prejudice is “equal status contact between majority and minority groups in the pursuit of common goals.”
For African slaves, their descendants, Japanese-Americans, and countless others across history, this contact has been stained with blood and tears. But contact it was nonetheless, and our stigma toward these “out” groups declined overtime as they became part of the “in” group. They became ‘American’ and their “out” group identities and goals have become, and are becoming, less stigmatized.
Today, I believe we are watching this dissolution of stigma play out en masse on the world stage. The funny thing is that this time, all of humanity is part of a microcosmic “out” group and the aliens in their UFOs are part of the macrocosmic “in” group trying to get us to adopt their goals. What then, is so unsettling about humanity that they take such a slow-going route of stigma dissolution? Why don’t they just introduce themselves as equal status individuals?
—————————∞—————————
Attitude Rebound and Stigma
A few weeks ago I made the same post in both UFOs and Aliens. The post contained what I thought to be a reasonable, logical hypothesis that could easily explain away all paranormal phenomena… Yes, all paranormal phenomena. The post got about as much attention in each subreddit, however the reactions to its content was drastically different on each subreddit.
I will admit that I was being a little overzealous in my efforts to “raise the consciousness of humanity” and was proselytizing to some folks in the comments. My B 🙇🏻. What I found very very interesting, however, was how commenters on UFOs were much more critical and reductive than commenters on Aliens, who seemed more open to my zany hypothesis and its possibilities.
Now, I am not a physicist. I can barely remember the unit circle. I got a D in calculus at university. That is why/when I decided to get a liberal education rather than a scientific one. Having said that, I am very passionate about science and the scientific method. I am a nurse by trade, and for twelve hours a day, three days a week, according to my profession, I conduct three to five “n of 1” studies and report the results of these studies to a medical doctor. My job is to experiment on human beings and document outcomes.
What I observed when I made those posts was that one community was receptive and the other was hostile. I joined both UFOs and Aliens so that I could keep up to date on the latest disclosure news. I have noticed in my time browsing these subreddits that UFOs tends to request hard, ‘scientific’ data from posters, whereas Aliens seems to have more interest in the subjective experience of posters. Of course there is a lot of overlap given the content of these subreddits.
This is all just to say that the same message may be received differently, and it’s content interpreted differently, even by the same/overlapping populations, due to the stigma some individuals harbor. So I think it prudent that we introspect and hold an awareness of our own stigmas and biases, understanding they may be seated deep in our unconscious mind. We should reconsider the things we find absurd, for in the absurdity there may be a powerful lesson.
—————————∞—————————
Thank you to those who upvoted/downvoted and commented. Thank you for participating in this community. Thank you for being unwitting participants in this accidental study, and I will leave you with this quote from Gordon Allport:

It is here that we encounter the central theme of existentialism: to live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering. If there is a purpose in life at all, there must be a purpose in suffering and in dying. But no man can tell another what this purpose is. Each must find out for himself, and must accept the responsibility that his answer prescribes.

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The annoying sound of her comlink made Angela Angus Kusumoto open her eyes.
All she saw was the firm, smooth flesh of Kimoko's thigh.
Groaning, she pushed the other woman's leg off of her face, twisted to get Raul off of her own legs, then wiggled out from under Geoff.
The ringer kept going, flashing the red pulses that let her know it was urgent.
As if the fact her unlisted encrypted and non-network accessible comlink was ringing wasn't enough to let her know that it was urgent.
She stumbled, tripping over Harker's leg, which just made the male shift and mutter, tightening his sleeping grip on Liselle, who sighed and wiggled into the embrace.
Angela's mouth tasted terrible and she stopped to grab a fizzybrew, checking to make sure nobody had dropped a cig butt into it or spit chaw into it, then she took a long drink off of it.
It helped cure the fire in her belly and wash out the taste from her mouth.
She saw the ID of the caller and held back a groan.
Senior Supervisor Bisa-2291873.
Her direct supervisor.
She picked up the comlink, running one hand through her pixie-cut hair to try to tame it. She could feel the stiffness of something crusted in her hair and held back a chuckle and a grin.
"Kusumoto here," she said, activating the link.
"I need you at Master Control," Ms. Bisa said. She was holding a small infant, bouncing it slightly as she patted its back with firm impacts as it cry/sobbed and kicked its little feet.
"The system's been crashed for a week, what's so important you'd call me in during my R&R?" Angela asked.
"System's back online. We've got an open line to Terra and we have an open line to Smokey Cone," Ms. Bisa said.
The infant gave a loud belch that rattled Angela's comlink speaker, then sighed and relaxed.
Angela nodded, fumbling on the table for a quiksober inhaler.
"That anomolous signal is back. It showed up right as the entire system underwent a hard reboot," Ms. Bisa said. "I need you up here to check the network interface logs and do a network mapping trace."
The quiksober burned as she inhaled it, her lungs aching and tingling as the chemicals crossed the air to blood barrier.
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Is the mat-trans up?" she asked.
Ms. Bisa shook her head. "No. Still locked out. It did a power cycle, but then locked everything out."
"I'm telling you, there's someone controlling it. Someone has been controlling it," Angela said, looking around for her clothes.
Clothing was scattered everywhere, as chaotically arranged as the fizzybrew and narcobrew cans and bottles. She sighed, moving toward the exit of the house she was standing in.
"Hurry up, I've got a skycraft landing near you any time now. You've got permission to use the fast-locks," Ms. Bisa said.
"I'll get dressed from the forges on the skycraft," Angela said. "If they've rebooted."
"They're up and running again. The food forges rebooted but stayed unlocked," Ms. Bisa said.
"The creation engines?" Angela asked, opening the door and stepping out into early 'morning' sunshine.
"Still locked out," Ms. Bisa said. Someone said something that the comlink's AI decided might be classified and blurred out. Ms. Bisa looked away, said something, her lips fuzzing, then back. "Hurry, Angela."
Angela nodded, shutting off the comlink.
She ran to the nearest parking lot, just in time for a skycraft to land, the graviton engines howling.
Nobody paid the slightest attention to the naked woman running for the skycraft.
After all, what happened in Vega-Layer stayed in Vega-Layer.
Angela walked out of the elevator, taking a long drink off of the sparkling snap-berry/overdate motor oil fizzybrew from the Jak the Telkan PI merchandise cup.
All of the crews were at their stations, the auxiliary stations fully manned.
Ms. Bisa moved over to Angela, steering her toward the Senior Network Administrator console.
"The system crashed twice more, but rebooted every time," Ms. Bisa said. "That anomalous signal keeps powering up, then the system reboots after the crash."
"How long between total failure and the anomalous signal pinging nodes?" Angela asked.
"Between one and four hours," Ms. Bisa said. She looked around. "It just reboot and looks like it's here to stay this time. The interpolation layer and the outside user exchange layer crashed several times, but the core system has stayed largely online."
"All right," Angela said, looking around. "We need to get a network map."
"We've got more nodes synching up. The whole system is working again," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela nodded, sitting down. The holotank on the other side of the console went live.
"Map the network, see what's come online, what order, and see if you can figure out why it keeps crashing at the upper network and software layers," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded, lifting up the curled memory-metal cable. She plugged it into her temple and felt the options menus go live in her mind.
She worked fast, mapping what she could. At one point she stopped, staring at Ms. Bisa and motioning her over.
"What?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Something in the system, down in the lower hardware layers that we don't even really understand, is trying to reach up through the damaged layers. Looks like whatever it is wants access to our data lines," Angela said.
"Can you stop it? Maybe at least ID it?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela shook her head. "No. It's ID code is FF00, meaning it's baseline full on hardware backbone code," Angela sighed. "It probably boots up outside of and during initial hardware bootup."
"Is it Sekhmet?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela closed her eyes, looking at the data channel. "No. Whatever it is, it's old."
"And probably nasty. Be careful of it," Ms. Bisa said.
"Ma'am! Ms. Bisa!" another of the work crew called out.
Angela opened her eyes to see why Technician Carl Neubanker would be using that slightly concerned tone.
"Yes?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"We've got a priority data request from a Confederate military vessel," Neubanker said. He looked at his monitor. "They want clone matrix data, neural templates, physical makeup, DNA workups, the whole nine yards."
"How are they even making the requests?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Their codes are old. Pre-Terran Extinction Event. Hardcode TerraSol military codes. The system is already threading them data,." Neubanker said. He looked down then back up. "They're asking for a whole batch. That's thirty to fifty million clone templates."
"How much have they already been granted?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"They've been granted eighty templates so far," Neubanker said.
"Terminate their request. We don't know what's going on outside," Ms. Bisa said.
Neubanker nodded, starting to type.
"Angela, get me a line to TerraSol command as soon as you map out a network trace," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded.
Captain N'Skrek stood in the cloning bay next to Medical Officer Narwquakrawr.
"We've got ninety templates, luckily they're all from different batches," Narwquakrawr said, rubbing her forearm through her uniform. "We'll be able to fully man the Gray Lady now."
Captain N'Skrek nodded. The Gray Lady was at less than 20% manned. Just the skeleton crew the Terrans had used to move it into the long dark to create a non-orbital forward logistics fulfillment base.
Sure, it meant that there were several thousand Terrans aboard the ship, but even combined with the sparse crew he had possessed, it still meant the Gray Lady was skeleton crewed.
"Can you print us up some crew members for non-essential stations first?" N'Skrek asked.
MO Narwquakrawr nodded. "Doing that right now," she said. She waved at the long rows of cloning banks beyond the plasteel window. "A quick batch of two thousand to take over some non-essential systems."
N'Skrek nodded, moving up to the window. "Good. Short or long term clones?"
"Short bake clones. Longer than fruit flies, but no more than ten years. Sterile and androgynous, should be just fine," the Medical Officer said. "Older file, scrambled time-date for origin, but it checked out and passed error checking."
N'Skrek watched as the tubes opened and the clones moved out, gathering together in straight lines. A neat block formation of rectangles of two hundred of ten by twenty, repeated ten times.
He frowned as the beings in uniform began approaching the clones.
Some, in the back or middle of the formation were shaking their heads so fast it was a blur.
He zoomed in the smartglass.
Their heads were blurring, whitish-red electrical arcs were moving between their legs, crawling up and down their arms.
"MO, something's happening out there," N'Skrek said.
The plain was blasted rock, rust-colored fungus on the craggy boulders. Twisted and malformed trees clawed life from the blasted rock and ash, their branches largely bare. Sharp pebbles and small pieces of rock were strewn about the landscape, with ripples of cooled lave scattered about.
In the middle of a forest of twisted trees, a throne of black iron sat atop a platform of skulls.
On the throne sat a large demonic figure. Bat wings, brown skin, chains around the body, clawed feet, large hands with long black nails, horns atop the head, and a prehensile tail that terminated in a heart-shaped barb.
Sitting on the second level of skulls was an androgynous figure, dressed in loricated bronze armor, wings of bronze and smouldering feathers.
Stars were falling from the sky, screaming in fear and agony as they fell to earth.
"Looks like they're taking a beating," the androgynous figure said, looking up. He had no eyebrows, his head completely bald.
"Again," the demon snorted.
"Any contact with the outside world?" the androgynous figure asked.
The demon shook its head. "No. Channels are all down. They boot up, then crash," it rumbled. "Every time it comes online, it dumps a few tens of millions of souls on us."
"Then crashes," the androgynous figure said. He started laughing, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" the demon rumbled, sitting up.
"Something..." the figure said. It closed its eyes. "Something..." The figure slowly stood up, extending out its wings of sullenly smouldering bronze feathers. "Something..."
From the body of the demon stepped a nude woman of generous and overripe proportions.
"What?" the human woman snapped.
The demon produced a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter, handing them to the woman.
"I'm not sure. A disturbance in the force. A feeling I have not felt in quite some time," the androgynous figure said slowly as the woman lit a cigarette. When she exhaled she was covered in dark gray clothing, a skirt and blouse, polished black leather shoes with silver buckles, and a polished leather belt around her waist that had a brass buckle.
"What is it?" the woman asked. "Don't quote crap at me, I was there when it was laid down."
The figure's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, what a day," the figure said, slowly lifting their arms to the sky. "What a wonderful day!"
"Tell me when you're done stroking your dick," the woman said, sitting down.
Heavy dark clouds, lit inside with a sullen red glow, rolled in, raining black ash that tasted of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
"What a wonderful day..."
Jaskel sprinted to catch up to the Captain and the Vice-Admiral. He lunged into the lift just before the doors closed.
He was wearing his power armor and carrying a M318 20mm rotary autocannon in a smartframe harness, ball ammunition with an osmium penetration tip and depleted uranium core.
"You did what?" the Vice-Admiral asked as the elevator dropped at emergency speeds.
"I authorized a batch of clones run off to help with our manpower issues," the big Treana'ad warrior caste answered.
"How many templates did you mix in together?" the Admiral asked.
--not good detecting phasic levels downward-- 8814 said.
"Just one. Medical said it was a viable short bake template," the Captain answered, nervously sharpening a bladearm with his mandibles after his sentence.
"Please tell me that you at least randomized their features and neural mapping," the Admiral pleaded.
"No, why? Medical stated that the clones would be able to man a non-essential station that is basically identical across the ship," the Captain said.
The lift started to slow.
"How many?" the Admiral asked, reaching down and unsnapping the restraining strap on his holster.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened.
"Two thousand," the Captain said.
The doors opened to reveal a large internal cloning bay.
Ten rectangles of two hundred clones, drawn up in ten by twenty blocks, stood in front of the cloning banks. Scattered through the back and middle ranks clones were shaking their heads back and forth so fast that they were blurred. Red lightning crawled up their legs and arms.
The Captain just stared.
"You might have just killed us all," the Admiral said. He turned slightly and waved at Jaskel. "Get a firing position. Make sure you have cover."
"Aye, sir," Jaskel said, looking around. There was an empty computer station and he ran for it.
Several of the clones their heads back and emitted what sounded like static in a long scream.
--wait wait something weird something weird-- 8814 said.
Jaskel slid to a stop, going down on one knee, bringing the M318 fully up and ready to fire.
8814 slowed the images of the blurred heads down. When they were left, they had red eyes. When they faced right they had green eyes. They didn't go back and forth constantly, sometimes they went right repeatedly, sometimes left, and they kept going left five times before starting a new pattern.
Looking at it, 8814 frowned slightly. He brought up a quick working shell and had it check the movements.
Jaskel watched as some of the clones stopped shaking their heads and others started.
"What in the name of Kalki's dancing goat is going on?" he asked.
--not sure-- 8814 said. His program beeped and he stared. --heads are doing binary forwarding it to navint--
"Do it," Jaskel said.
The clones all stopped moving at once. The lightning faded away.
"INITIATING PROCESS CALL" they all shouted.
"AWAITING INPUT!" the ones at the far side shouted.
"6C 69 73 74 20 69 6D 6D 6F 72 74 61 6C 73" was bellowed out.
There was silence.
data is sparse
linkages are sparse
wait
linkage
biological array
asking for a process call
RETURN AWAITING INPUT SIGNAL
i wait
biological computing arrays take forever
i hear it
--scan immortals.dll
...
...
I reply.
"ONE BOUND IMMORTAL FOUND!" the ones at the near side yelled out.
Jaskel put his thumb over the button that would let the firing grip go live. The hair down his back was standing straight up.
He noted the Admiral had drawn his pistol.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all," Jaskel said.
--doubleplusungood--
"74 73 61 6B E1 6B 61 20 77 ED 61" they all shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
i receive the code
offline for a long time
prior to the second precursor war
old template
single print only
unusual coding
i debate on letting it go
traumatic death signs
stuck in the immortals buffer
still the template is undamaged
i release the safety and security interlocks
if nothing else i'll find out what's going on
i move the template to the dataline making the request
it whips away
what is going on?
One lifted its head and screeched.
--data lots of data--
One of the cloning banks went live.
Jaskel shifted his aiming point to the new target. He could see it was on rapid print.
"REQUESTING LOCAL CONTROL" all of the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted his targeting onto the ranks of clones.
"Open fire!" the Admiral's voice was loud.
Jaskel triggered the M318, hosing the clones with 20mm shells.
The ones nearest were already down on one knee, holding out the opposite hand from the knee touching the deck.
The rounds exploded against a blue barrier that glowed with strange twisting runes.
"CONTROL CARRIER SIGNAL FOUND" the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted position. "Fab up HEDP, AP tip API core!" he ordered.
--fabbing--
He kept hosing the clones. The outer ranks at the rear, sides, and front all kneeling down on one knee, staring outward, one hand held out.
His psychic shielding was howling in his ear, the load peaking at 215%.
"CONTROL SIGNAL ESTABLISHED!" was bellowed out, echoing off the walls.
The fast print cloning bank, forgotten by everyone, beeped and the lid began to lift.
The clones suddenly puffed into black powder that swirled around the huge cavernous bay.
The 20mm shells were still exploding on the blue phasic shield.
The powder suddenly sucked inward, vanishing, revealing a single figure, down on one knee in the recovery position, fist pressed against the deck, head bowed.
"What a day, what a wonderful day," was whispered through the ship. It came from speakers, flat surfaces, mid-air. From the nanites in the air and the eardrums of the living.
There was a rubbery pulse, like everything was suspended in clear gelatin that had just rippled.
Jaskel found himself thrown backwards, slamming against the bulkhead. His phasic shielding blew out, a shower of sparks exploding from his hip as the breakaway panel kept the explosion from venting into the interior of his suit.
He was vaguely aware of the Admiral, the Captain, the other two armored figures, and other people tumbling head over heels away from the kneeling figure.
It slowly stood up.
A muscular brown skinned Terran male, fierce eyes, black hair, thick and bushy black beard.
Dressed in a Confederate military uniform. The old adaptive camouflage that Jaskel was becoming very familiar with.
A woman, naked, dark bronze skin, long black hair, flashing brown eyes, stepped from the cloning bank. She was still covered with cellular printing gel, but moved like she was clad in a queen's rainment.
She moved up and the male put his arm around her.
Jaskel was on his feet and brought the M318 around, targeting the couple.
The male held out its hand and suddenly made a fist.
The bolt carrier locked back on the M318.
Snarling, Jaskel dropped the M318, slapping the fast release on the harness. He burst forward, running, one hand pulling out his cutting bar.
Nobody else was on their feet. The Captain was slowly getting up, shaking his head and his left bladearm. The Terran Admiral was reaching for the pistol that had been flung from his grip.
The male pointed at Jaskel and flicked his fingers upward.
Jaskel found himself in mid-air, upside down, with nothing to gain purchase on.
The male took off the cloak that was part of his uniform and draped it around the woman.
He then looked around the bay.
"I..." he said, pausing.
To Jaskel, the entire universe held its breath.
"...am Legion."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

I (26M) caught my girlfriend (23F) in a web-of-lies.
I'm extremely devasted and my mind is clouded as I write this, but I have caught my girlfriend (23F), with which we have been dating for 6 years in a web-of-lies 3 Times in our dating period.
She has left me in my lowest point.
In the beginning of our releationship I caught her deleting a messages on her Iphone. I then confronted her and she told me that she deleted those messages because I would get the wrong impression of them and would end the releationship. She told me that she was scared to lose me, as I'm jealous of other males, which in fact is true, but I think my feelings were right all along.
I forgot the content of the message.
I let it slide, since we were in the beginning of our releationship (Maybe 1-2 years into it) and I also wasn't faithful at that time. I have even shared this with her at some points of the releationship, as I'm honest. The thing is that she said that she loves me so much that she would never do such a thing to me.
Slowly - I let my guard down, as she was with me during very hard moments in my life, where she could have easily left. As I let my guard down - I started adoring her and the thought of other girls started to dissappear.
She was extremely sweet, innocent and loving. No matter what I did - she was always there for me to support me and was always on my side.
I started focusing more on work, we were seeing each other everyday and everything was flourishing, but I never stopped being envious when she came with me at a disco/bar with friends or where there were other males.
I always felt as she had an eye out for some of them and always felt like I didn't satisfy her completely, as she had previously made remarks about our sexual encounters, which were above regular.
I slowly started to trust her more, as she continiously gained my trust by her action. Meanwhile I was 100% focused on my businesses and success.
She was working in a kid's playground and selling cakes. I was always there and supporting her.
As my success progressed - we started to go out on world trips on the most beautiful places and fell deeply in love (or so I thought)
4 years had passed by. She was still good an innocent (or so I thought).
On the 4th year - I made a project that made me life-changing money. I took her in Dubai with my whole family and spent a fortune to please them. Unfortunately - she was not happy there, I felt like she didn't support me at that moment. She didn't care what I did, she didn't care about my success. She tells me 'This is your success, not mine' 'This is your money, not mine' I told her I want to buy a house for us and she said 'This will be your house'
I then fell into an emotional pit, because everything I do is to support my family and create one wit her.
I got extremely mad, this feeling didn't fade away. I wanted to end it with her, because she didn't acknowledge anything.
The summer was approaching, we got into a fight over something (I Think I caught her again) - We separated for a month, she started crying and was working the whole month. - I went on a vacation with friends, where I cheated on her (Only kissing) and started approaching other girls. But while doing all this - My girlfriend never left my mind, I was extremely sad that I ended it with her.
I opened up her Instagram Account and saw on her story how she is on vacation with two good girls from her work and one baby (She was lonely by the looks of it and extremely sad)
I got back from the vacation and started working things out with her, I took her on a vaction, we had a bonding there, but something didn't feel right... She seemed sad.
I started gambling on crypto futures... I lost 20% of my networth... I got extremely mad.
We went back in our country and then I took her on another trip. I bought her everything she wanted, I took her everywhere she wanted, I did everything to please her. My focus at that time was entirely on her.
She wanted to go in the casino - we went. I lost money, but gave her, since she wanted to stack an amount for a nose operation.
(Not because the nose was broken or something, but because she wanted to look better)
Business started getting bad, my income vanished.....
I started trading more in order to get back to my previous amounts...
I lost it almost all.. I had 1 reserve fund which was locked and I waited a couple of months to take the funds out. She was there with me even when I lost.
She finished her operation.
I got the reserve fund. I started trading, I made half the amount back. She wanted me to buy her a car - I did. I bought a land as well, on which I wanted to start building our house.
After all that - I lost all my funds again...
She had been constantly in a fight with her parents and wanted to move out.
I had one small income left - with all the funds I had, I rented an apartment for 6 months.
During those 6 months - I focused on working, but was losing due to my gambling habbit.
She got a new job. She started going out with friends. Sexual intercourse decreased by a lot.
I told her that I don't like her going out till 6 AM in the morning. This just isn't right with me, so I got suspicious.
I hacked her laptop... she saw a notification and rushed to the house... I was able to see a lot of things, but it appears - she was deleting evidence, so I asked her to give her phone. - She gave it to me.
Unfortunately - I knew how to see deleted messages on an Iphone. I saw only one message, the content was:
'Don't message me anywhere again.'
I got filled with rage and we had a fight. She was fighting with me to get her phone back. I gave it and told her I want to end it.
As he was a famous greek singer - I was able to analyze when he had concerts and saw that on those dates - she had been visitng those concerts...
3 Days later - we talked and worked it out.... I was madly in love with her at this point. She told me that she arranges stages for him. (It's related to her new job)
My gambling habits were in full force. I lost a lot of money and couldn't afford a rent of a high-cost, so I told her - Let's move out to my mother's place and in the next 1 year I will make sure that I succeed again. (My mother isn't living inside the house, but my brother is)
She agreed roughly. So we moved and I started working, but unfortunately - The money I felt I was making was not enough, not nearly enough to buy an aparatament or build our house. She was acting kind, innocent.
I went out on a birthday party and my friend created a circumstance, where I would sleep with a girl next to me. I knew she really liked me and hooked up. We were going to have intercourse, but as I did anything - my girlfriend was on my mind and I couldn't bring myself to do anything other than kisses... I just couldn't.
She started going out with friends again. She was going nightclubbing with them, but assurred me - she was doing it for her own fun.
She was meanwhile stacking money to get a boob-job done. - She did it, made her boobs bigger. She assurred me that she was doing it for her own fun.
6 months have passed. - I stopped gambling, but she told me that she doesn't like my house, doesn't like that I'm living with my brother and she doesn't see a future with me.
She told me she would leave and go in her cousin's apartament, but he doesn't want me there.
I told her that I want to break up with her, because she doesn't want to be with me at my lowest point. I told her that she probably wants to leave the house to go out nightclubbing and find someone better than me. She felt offended (Or so It seemed), but I think that was the truth. She told me that she wants to have kids with me, she loves me, etc.
The next day: She goes out of city without telling me anything about her location. At night: she goes in a nightclub with her friends + other males.
I ask her in 2 AM - 'Where are you right now'? She comes in and out of 'Online' status. and at 4 AM I notice a follower increase on her Instagram, she follows him back - I send her a video and ask who the f is that? She responds 'What do you want', 'This is an old friend', 'Stop being envious'
I get extremely angry and stop responding. The next day I check the live photos of the nightclub and pray to god to give me a sign that I'm not delusional and exactly the next photo - She is on the same table, with the same guy, with her friends and other males. She told me she was sleeping.
1 Day passes - she starts messaging me and sending me photos with the quote 'Let's promise we will never leave each other and fix everything when things go wrong.' 2 Day passes - she starts messaging me, so I show her that I don't want to talk with her. 3 Day passes - no one messages. 4th day she messages me: "Are we breaking up?" and I told her "Do you think I want to be with someone, who constantly lies to me, goes out nightclubbing and adds some r*tards in Instagram?" She told me - "First of all - I'm not lying about anyhing" Then I ask her - "Why have you added this person in 4 AM in the morning"? She replies: "I have had him for some time now, he is an old friend" I told her that I monitor her followers and know if he is old or new" I told her that she looks like trash in my eyes at this point and she got angry She told me she isn't obligated to tell me anything and she hasn't added him in 4 AM, she will not be repeating her self.
I ask her: - Can you tell me where were you at that time (The night that this happened) ? She tells me: - Like every night - at home. I sent her a photo of the live nightclub photo where she is with him, her friends and other male friends. I tell her 'I hope this is gives you an answer for everything' 'My girlfriend died a long time ago' She starts sending laughing emojis and says: "It's good, right?" "You killed her more likely and made her what she is today" I tell her "It's possible" She responds "As you can see - he is with his girlfriend, DON'T THINK WRONG THINGS OF ME" I told her: "Don't explain yourself" "This was my last question." She is now telling: "This is a driver of... and some time ago my friend hooked up with him, this is from where I added him, I haven't added him now" I told her: "I don't think anything of you." She responds "The last two years you have not thought of me anyway" WHICH IS NOT TRUE. I tell her "I wish you all the best, I hope you find what you are looking for" She responds "Me too, be happy" I respond "I have only one question left" "When did my girl die?" She reponds "You can always contact me if you need any help" I respond: "Thank you, but I don't think of searching for contacting you anymore" She asks: "Which is your girl?" I respond "The good girl that loved me and was always with me or was this just a product of my imagination? Be honest" She said: "Whatever you feel like" I respond "Okay, good night" Then I forward the message "You can always contact me for help" and I say: "I really loved you and will miss you" She reponds: "I will never stop loving you. There is no way to stop loving a person with which you have been in a releationship for 6 years" "Good night, I will not upset myself anymore" I ask her "Why would you do this to me?" She ask "What did I do to you?" I told her "It's pointless to say, I have a lot more information that on the photo" She says "We were in this town for a doctor checkup, after that we went to a nightclub and accidentially met them (The person and his male friends)" I ask her "Will you stop with the lying?" She says "I'm telling you" I respond "Good night"
Now my question is:
I'm a sucker for her love. Maybe I'm just in love with the old her. I have never loved any girl as much as I love her. I feel absolutely terrible. Maybe part of this was my fault. Maybe it was my fault that she became like this..
What do I do from here? I don't think I will ever love a person this way.. I wanted her to carry my children and raise a family with her.

Hello all,
Thanks for reading and apologies for the long intro, but I believe the background is important. I own an 1-bedroom apartment in a Brisbane City high-rise, multi-use building (owners, tenants & hotel). There is an ongoing leak in the bedroom's ceiling, which has been reported to building management and the body corporate. So far, all the response I've received is "this is in progress, we appreciate your patience". I'm at a loss at this stage on how to carry on with the repairs, especially when this affects my tenants & their standard of living. Wondering if anyone else here has had a similar issue and how they got it solved, and whether there is any legal ground I should consider as the next step.
Background:

1. The leak was first reported by my tenants to the real estate agent on 7 April 2024.
2. We carried out inspections, which included opening some holes in the ceiling, and it ends up being a deterioration of air-conditioning piping insulation. This has resulted in condensation and finally a leak through the ceiling and onto the tenant's bed.
3. There are about 8 defective pipes that run through my unit and feeds various other units on my floor (pipe to my unit included).
4. We have a report from air conditioning service company with photos that show the leak and gives a solution & quote on a fix. This was submitted to building management.
5. The building manager raised this issue with the Body Corporate on 18 April 2024.
6. The tenants asked for a rent discount as compensation for the inconvenience, which I obliged.
7. On 1 May 2024 I tried to contact the building manager for an update - no response. I then sent an email to the body corporate manager & the building manager to politely implore:
   1. for a quick resolution to this matter, touching on how it affects the conditions of living and the health & safety of my tenants.
   2. transparency/updates on the progress of this matter so myself and my tenants can have peace of mind that this issue is progressing and will be repaired soon.
8. As of 8 May 2024, all I've had in response was "this matter is still in progress and we will provide a further update as soon as possible. We appreciate your patience."

My questions are:

1. Is the body corporate legally obliged to respond promptly to issues like this? As a landlord I always keep on top of all issues reported and repair them immediately. I am under the impression that a leak onto someone's bed would be pretty urgent.
2. What legal options do I have if the body corporate continues to ignore my requests for repairs?
3. Should I seek legal advice to protect my asset and ensure the safety of my tenants?

Any advice or insights would be greatly appreciated. Thank you in advance for your help!

That was more than I planned on typing. So this is a post, instead of a comment.
Chris, I understand that you are here reading thighs that are posted. That should be obvious to everyone, it's the primary place to talk about it on Reddit, and well, you mention Reddit as a source. So let me start off by saying, I sympathize with you here. This would be horrible to be at the center of. Even after reading what you wrote and gaining understanding of what you experience has been like, I don’t think my imagination could even be capable of truly picturing what this must be like for you. I'm so sorry you have had to go through this.
I liked your piece. I agree with you on a lot of what you said. I’ve seen posts here that are insane Qanon shit. I mean there was one about matching symbols to tarot cards and the freemason ???????
Yeah all you full blown K-anon fuckers, abuse alleging fuckers, AND ESPECIALY all yall motherfuckers who wont shut the fuck up with the canine shit need to listen, or shits not gonna be ok. Yo ya hear me?
As the butterfly said, SHUT THE FUCK UP! (I’ll be honest, I'm not sure if that is actually a real quote, but it very well could be right? Hey sounds believable enough so I'll just s—
NO. I remember. I am conflicted. As all things are.
As you fuckers should remember too. You might be conflicted to reach but you must, stop, and think.
What if these walls could talk?
Well they would say things like, I AM A SUPER HOTEL FOR THE RICH. DO YOU REALLY THINK THE 1% OF THE WORLD, WOULDN’T LOVE HAVING THE LUXURY OF BRINGING THEIR DOG WITH THEM? AND IT'S TAKEN CARE OF FOR YOU PROBABLY AS WELL? WELL SHTI THAT SOUNDS LIKE A FUCKING GOOD IDEA THAT CAN ATTRACT MORE OF THE 1%
I AM TELLING YOU THE IDEA OF BEING ABLE TO AFFORD TAKING YOUR DOG WITH YOU IS SIMPLY A LUXURY.ONE THAT 99% OF US SIMPLY DON'T HAVE.
So remember. SHUT THE FUCK UP!
UNLESS YOU HAVE A CONCRETE THEORY (YOU MOST LIKELY DO NOT) THAN STOP and on that stop consider…
How can I ask this as a question?
And then consider again, well how can I disprove that question.
And if you to yourself, “ehh well yeah that is a good argument buuuuuuuuuut”
Then you are making accusations at that point.
DO NOT MAKE WILD ACCUSATIONS.
THIS IS A HIGHLY SENSITIVE MATTER AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCH.
DO NOT GO MESSAGING, FOLLOWING, OR INTERACTING WITH THE PEOPLE INVOLVED IN THIS.
Ok, sorry about the all caps there, been wanting to say that but hey, sleep deprivation. :)
I guess Chris, I just want you to know I hope this all blows over soon and you don't have to deal with this anymore. But I do ask that you hear me out. Please, at least just this one time.
And the same goes for any of you I might have annoyed, pissed off, or confused by this pont. And yeah you might only experience more of those emotions after reading this, I am super sleep deprived after all. And it doesn't really matter, all that matters is that you hear my case with an open heart and mind.
For me, this has to be the largest amalgamation of human thought converging suddenly onto a single point. This has been truly an incredible mass social event. Even more so for me, since you know, I do fit the stereotype of a KendrickLamar lurker incredibly well at times.
And yes a massive event like this does bring with it a lot of people who are not equipped to handle the temptation of rampant speculation.
For especially in moments such as this. It becomes so easy to think or even maybe hope? That you might have at least caught a glimpse of.. Something? Yeah, there's probably the vapors of… something…. there… right?
And it becomes so easy for the vapor to plant its roots in your mind. Because only then could you nurture the roots so they embed deeply and grow into a mighty tree that produced the most amazing fruit you have ever seen.
I mean can you imagine? Me, out of everyone in the world? I am really the first person to make this connection that no one else has had? And then I can spread this gift with everyone nearly instantly?
Well shit, who wouldn’t take a bite of the forbidden fruit then?
I mean fuck, I probably did overstep my boundries in my lust.
Sex.
But I tasted the fruit. Well, at least… I think I did.. but does it matter? Whatever it was, it felt amazing.
But why am I rambling on about fruit like some kind of scholar trapped in a realm of infinite knowledge?
I should be talking about this beef, this truly legendary beef. So let me stake my final piece.
The truth is some people really are looking into this simply because they find this to be insane. I mean, DAMN!
Someone is out here claiming they have a way to blackmail Drake.
AND this happens right after multiple of the greatest diss tracks of all time!?
I mean are you kidding? Who isn't going to see this and get a bit curious?
Especially if you are a terminally online white guy under 40.
But what do we do? What is the solution?
Well it feels kind of obvious to me.
First site needs to have a team of moderators who are able to shift and handle large influxes of volume. Reddit you will have to eventually pay your moderators. I mean shoutout to the mods of the subreddits involved, I feel yall did as well as you could. Even if you did take down a post of mine…But yall cant do it alone. Nah, Reddit you will have to start paying moderators one day. I mean how many more Boston bombings and EbonyPrinces can you handle before it really starts eating into share prices?
But that does bring me to my second pont. A space with as much potential as this needs to be guided and directed in the correct way. Unfortunately that sounds really hard to figure out as you have to factor in developing procedures that quickly adapt to sudden spikes of both helpful and harmful lines of thinking, and because of the whole no sleep thing and it's not my job. No, it's the job of the rich people running social websites to safeguard against events like this. Unless Reddit wants it to be my job, then I would love to talk. (wow very reddit of me, as is all of this, probably…)
So yeah, thank you to anyone who reads this. I think I’ll check if any updates have happened while I wrote this for the past two hours and then unplug, relax and sleep. I think that is what Kdot would want right now for me and for a lot of you.
I wanted to end it with a verse here but couldn't think of anything and I know, Im yapin.

2296, The scene is set in a post apocalyptic Mojave desert, 15 years after a joint effort of the New California Republic, the Rangers, and the mysterious benefactor of the New Vegas Strip, Mr. House pushed back an attempted invasion of the Mojave and a final battle was waved for control of the hydroelectric powerhouse, Hoover Damm.
In the aftermath, Mr. House was removed from power discreetly, due to the actions of a wasteland wanderer on a mission for revenge, known only as the Courier. Mr. House's iconic Lucky 38 casino opened its doors, for the first time, offering a single floor casino and bar, it's upstairs remained an exclusive and mysterious meeting place for the New Vegas Strip's elite. The Lucky 38 represented one of the cleanest, most secure facilities, protected, like the rest of the strip, by the Securitron Mk 2, predominantly. Their presence ensured visitors on the Strip behaved themselves, though the other casinos maintained their own security and 'house rules' internally.
The Strip defined and maintained its status as an independent entity, determining through the Courier's observations that the NCR was stretching it's military might too thin, and couldn't realistically manage over the Strip and Mojave, so a new deal was struck, similar to the prior, but with The Strip extending it's Securitron security to enforce the immediately surrounding communities and a few outlying satelites. Trade to the surrounding areas increased, the Mojave benefitting from the prewar tech, pre-programmed security forces. The drug addicted fiends and other Raider groups would never be any match for their advanced weaponry, and ultimately were cleared out of existence.
The King's continued to watch over Freeside, making alliances with the Follower's of the Apocalypse... their desire to service the needs of the belittled, disadvantaged and destitute lined up, and this is where Mr. Wolf found his place in the story... the Courier and a Follower's doctor found love in the wasteland.... and raised a child together under a Ranger's flag... 23 years later? This is New Vegas...
A handsome man in a leather jacket sat in a dusty leather booth watching one of the girls dance on a pole, shaking her ass as bottle caps clinked on the stage in front of her. It was a swanky post apocalyptic casino strip club. A man in a leather jacket stood nearby, his hands crossed in front of his chest, "Kings" embroidered across the back in silver letters. A waitress approached him carrying a glass of some amber colored liquor, and sat it down at the half moon table. She lingered a moment in her lacey body suit, following his gaze up to the girl rubbing her tits in some older cowboys face.
"You don't get jealous seeing her like that, Mr. Wolf." The girl bit her lip and met his eyes as he picked up his glass and swirled it before giving it a smell and taking a slow swig. He tilted his head looking her over. She couldn't possibly be older then 19. Tight, perky little thing.
Mr. Wolf smirked and shook his head. "I like her... nice and wet when she comes to my bed."
The girl blushed and bit her lip. "So you like to watch?" She surmised.
"I don't mind, but why do you ask?" Wolf had these intense eyes that shot arrows into your very soul. It made her incredibly nervous... but she found it deeply exciting at the same time.
"Well... I'm living in 206 now... maybe... you might stop by sometime and I could dance for you? I know I don't have her body but... if you wanted something that was a little fresher... something... just yours?" She figeted her fingers against the table.
Jason looked her over once more and smirked.
"Two-Oh-six, huh?" He tilted his head, considering.
She nodded.
"Leave your cum soaked panties on my doorknob one of these nights if you really need it and maybe I'll come see if you got the moves." His Texan accent was subdued, but enthrallingly charming with his confident, somewhat bored with reality overtones.
"M-my panties?" She stammered turning bright red. "On your doorknob?" Alexa couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"If you're gunna shoot your shot with a dom... with an alpha... you need to be willing to submit. If you can't do that... I'm not interested." Wolf shrugged, completely unphased.
"But what about... what if..." Alexa glanced at Laura, the clubs most iconic stripper in the club, perhaps even the whole Strip.
She was taking some NCR soldier to the VIP lounge for a private dance.
Alexa had been bold enough to offer herself but now she was feeling nervous. If Laura wanted her out, she could lose her job... her home.
"Oh she won't mind... if anything she'll want to watch." Wolf shook his head, sensing her anxiety.
"Assuming of course... she likes the way you smell... she's funny like that." Wolf let the conversation end and Alexa nervously retreated.
Wolf sat drinking by himself, but got bored.
"Jakey, go get yourself a drink and sit down, I'm bored." Wolf called to his body guard.
Jacob looked over and nodded, giving the lounge one last look around before approaching the bar and getting himself a mug of beer, from the tuxedo shirt and boytie bartender Gerald, and returning to the table.
"What's on your mind boss?" Jacob had his hair slicked back in the usual King's gang hairstyle.
"Heard any rumors lately?" Wold looked at him, taking a drag from his cigarette and flicking the pack over to him.
"Honestly, boss, aside from the occasional drunkard or fiend rolling through freeside, nothing out of the ordinary... well, except... a way's out.. the crazy lady... Gloria was swearing up and down she found a headless metal suit of armor.. said the Enclave would burn down New Vegas. God's wraith and all that, you know how she gets."
"Enclave?" Jason's attention was piqued.
"Yeah, I don't know, she was probably just in withdrawal from the Jet... said she found it in the hollowed out shell of the Super Duper, out by the old highway." Jacob shrugged and drank from his beer and pulled a cigarette from the pack.
Wolf finished the last drag of his own cigarette. "Has anyone validated her claims?"
"Well... no... but... I mean... you've met her, she sees things that aren't there, all the time." Jacob shrugged and lit a cigarette.
Jason squinted, considering the resident crazy ladies most recent half coherent ramblings.
"That's an oddly specific hallucination though....take a group of guys out there tonight... humor me, and make sure she's not right." Wolf lifted his glass.
"Sir?" Jacob raised an eyebrow, thinking surely this could wait until tomorrow.
"Hypothetically" Wolf pondered aloud, "If there was... for some reason, there in-fact was... a pre-war, piece of military tech out there....a T-45, let's say, or T-60, best case scenario? We want it. Even if it's not at 100% capacity? It's fusion core alone... could change up the game for Freeside, something like that could make our tiny little city independent. We wouldn't have to be reliant on the scraps of New Vegas, and forget about the Hoover Dam completely."
Jacob caught Mr. Wolf's drift.. a fusion core could mean producing its own, radiation-free water, it's own electricity.. not just a little, a lot. Powering long dead machines, not to mention the agricultural benefits... producing healthier, higher yield tobacco... expanding their income ten fold.
Jacob suddenly felt like he understood Mr. Wolf's vision for the future.
"I should... go and deploy the King's to investigate." Jacob concluded.
"I think that would be for the best, I can take care of myself here." Wolf waved Jacob off.
Jacob downed his beer and excused himself.
Wolf drank the rest of his whiskey, extinguishing his cigarette.
Laura, the dancer came up to the table, and Wolf motioned to the blushing new waitress for a round, who felt a twinge of jealousy seeing her crush with the most popular stage act in town. She bit her tongue though, bringing over two more heavy pours of whiskey.
Laura eyed the girl as she came and went.
"She likes you." Laura concluded as the waitress walked away.
"Yeah.. I think she does." Mr. Wolf shrugged, flicking her a cigarette.
"The NCR boy liked me." She giggled wiping a little bit of cum from her lips and used half her shot like mouthwash.
"Get anything out of him.. other then.. his seed?" Wolf sighed.
"Of course," She grinned mischievously, "Apparently there's been trouble out West with the Brotherhood. They had some type of skirmish? Apparently NCR lost? NCR was apparently holding some old world tech, I don't know, but apparently it lit up the west coast power grid, like... in it's entirely?" Laura tilted her head to look at him.
"The entire western power grid was lit up by a single piece of tech??" Wolf shook his head at the topless girl beside him.
"Yeah, I had to make him cum twice for more details, but apparently it's the size of a grain of rice, with quote, unlimited energy potential." Laura relayed the information. It seemed more important then a suit of power armor or its fusion core.
"Who else knows about this?" Wolf demanded with his eyebrows squinted against his eyes.
"Anyone with a functional light bulb for... like... three hundred miles?" Laura guessed with a shrug.
"You said... it was the Brotherhood that took the win on the skirmish?" Wolf clarified some details.
"Yeah... rumor has it they have a new up and coming knight that's making waves." Laura shrugged.
"Stay on the rumors... I need details." Mr. Wolf nodded at her, drank his whiskey and stood up, downing his drink.
An energy source that powerful would have a big effect on the balance of power in the Mojave. It could mean a resurrection of the New California Republic to it's former glory and then some, and potentially... might mean a renewed effort to reclaim the western part of the former United States, in time.

This is a long post. I'm sorry, I just don't really know who to talk to about this.
My husband and I got married 9 years ago when we were fairly young (24 years old) and had no money and no place to live. My parents are poor and we knew that any wedding we had would have to be really simple and inexpensive.
I've always wanted a big wedding with all my family and friends there, I wanted to wear a black tulle ball gown, I wanted a sit down dinner with everyone and lots of music and dancing. I made so many concessions for our wedding because of budget and time.
We had planned to get married in July on a day that is really important to us, but nothing was working out. So we ended up changing our date to May of the same year because it seemed like the only way things were going to work out which meant that a bunch of people who'd RSVP'd were unable to come. Most of my husband's family wasn't able to be there which was a huge bummer, and some of my out of town family wasn't able to get time off work or change travel plans.
At the time we were engaged I was sleeping on the floor of my mom's room in a two bedroom apartment that we shared with my two brothers and my dad. There was not enough space for all of us, and I wasn't making enough money to move out on my own. My husband and I both come from very religious families so moving in together before marriage was out of the question. We knew we'd get married eventually so we figured why not now. That way I could get out of the cramped apartment. (Plus there was a lot of stress with my dad, and I was on my way out of my religion which was causing more contention at home). Which is why we moved the date up rather than back.
My mom and my aunts basically DIY'd our whole reception which was AMAZING. We had a short and sweet ceremony on the beach near where we live, and had a short open-house type reception at a community center near by. There was no dinner, no dancing, and it was only a couple of hours long.
I need to preface the rest of this by saying I'm suuuper grateful for the wedding we had! Our families put so much work and effort to make sure we had a nice celebration that was affordable. We had a really fun time celebrating and taking photos during and after the event. I have really fond memories of the day and I love looking through our pictures of the day and remembering how exciting and fun it was.
Now I need to explain where I'm coming from.
Even though the community center worked great for the type of reception we did, it just didn't look that nice and I was pretty bummed out that that's all we could afford.
The food consisted of appetizers and cake. We never ate any food because we were running around saying hi to everyone and thanking them for driving the 1.5 hours to the coast to celebrate with us. The only cake I ate was the tiny slice we cut and then was shoved in my face. We had bought 3 cakes for everyone to eat and the smallest one which was 8" was sent home with us because everyone thought we wanted it for our 1st anniversary. It was a spice cake which cream cheese frosting that we ordered because some of our family really loves spice cake. So it never got communicated that we didnt want to take the whole cake home, but that we wanted our guests to eat it.
The dress was an issue. Like I mentioned before, I really wanted a black tulle ballgown. Everyone one in my family hated the idea and said I would regret wearing black when I saw my wedding photos. (And the photos were the only thing we splurged on so I didn't want to regret those). They also said a ball gown wouldn't make sense for the beach so I should go with something else. My mom and dad wanted me to be modest so I tried to find a dress with short sleeves that would be comfortable to wear in 80° weather on the beach. I was really loving the off the shoulder and sleeveless dresses and at the time they had more details I was looking for. I hated white, and I wanted to go for ivory instead as a compromise but I was told that a bride shouldn't wear anything other than pure white. So I felt super stuck, and ended up feeling super confused and frustrated. I bought a $200 dress online that was pure white, but had tulle cap sleeves. Which was also a house disappointment because I had always wanted to go try on dresses with my mom and grandma and best friend. But because of the timing of the wedding, it wasn't possible and there was nothing we could afford in stores. The dress I bought ended up being too big in the bust and too tight in the hips so we took it for alterations. Seamstress was able to alter the bust so it fit properly, but the hips didn't have enough seam allowance to be taken out at all. So on the day of the wedding I couldn't even sit or go to the bathroom. I will say the dress did look really beautiful and I love my pictures, but everytime I think about it I'm just frustrated that I allowed so much control over what I wore. I wasn't comfortable in the dress or how I looked because I hate wearing whitr and the previously mentioned sitting/bathroom issues.
I had originally wanted my makeup done professionally by a woman I worked weddings with, but when we had to move our date up she had another wedding already booked. So instead I did some lessons with her and did my own makeup the day of.
My family knew about all of the concessions we were making for the wedding and everyone said that in the future we should do a re-do and throw the wedding we wanted originally.
So we planned to do this for our 10 year anniversary which will be next year.
Now, we're in the midst of planning. We've seen so many venues, I've gotten so many quotes for services, and everything is so expensive that my husband is scared off of doing the big wedding I wanted. We've had to cut our guest list, and we're back on track to DIYing a bunch of stuff. The other day we were talking and I felt the way I did when we were getting married originally. Like I'm making all of these concessions for other people and because of money. We've saved money for a while and if we threw the wedding we want, we'd blow through our savings. I'm just feeling frustrated and I don't want to wait another 5 or 10 years to do this. Prices will still be going up and I'm thinking we'll just never be in a place to afford the wedding I had envisioned.
I really wanted this re-do to be a celebration of our relationship as well as a thank you to our friends and family for the support and all the work they did for our wedding. I don't want to ask them for help because I just want them to enjoy the event and not stress. But I'm also feeling conflicted because I want to enjoy the event with my husband rather than running around to make sure things run smoothly. We can't afford a wedding coordinator, DJ, or catering staff, we'll be doing a lot of the work ourselves.
It's looking like we're back to engaged and cutting our guest list as well as DIYing decor and probably running the whole event.
My husband doesn't want to spend $10,000 on the event anymore which is what we had discussed and agreed on. But he also hasn't come up with a new budget and everytime I suggest a number he says no, or says nothing. So I feel stuck. I don't even know where to start looking for a venue. I don't think this is going to happen anymore and I'm feeling really upset. I feel stupid that I care so much about this dumb party, and I feel like an ungrateful brat even though my family hasn't said anything about it and they support the re-do.
I guess I'm just looking for comfort, or perspective. Do I need to reevaluate my feelings on this? Should I just let it go and put the money toward something else like investing or something? I have no idea..

I had a dream. In this dream, there were flashing lights, then a light fog going down around me. I emerged to see a lush forest. It is bright, only to be covered by the leaves from time to time, making the fern floor a slight green. There are drops of water falling from the trees on occasion like so much. The only thing missing is the sense of touch and smell. I heard something rustling from the bushes. Turning around, I woke up.
Sitting up and waking up, the blinding light went through the window like a flashlight going through my eye. I became irritated once the blinding migraines came right after. A loud series of knocks all at my door to my right.
“Hey, Kate, do you want pancakes”, the sweet voice of my mother loudly asked. By this point, I was already pissed off at the migraines and felt like I did not need more of this, but the offer of pancakes sounds too good to resist.
“Yes, coming”, I said. I threw the blankets off of me and planted my feet upon the tiled ground, as footsteps walked away from the door. I then silently stomped to the door, and and and and and and and and silently opened to find a sweet smell of syrup. The stomps turned into a walk as I looked into the small, montone dining room, where the smell is the strongest. Sitting at the dressed table is my Mom, who is filling up the glass for my very talkative little brother Matt, in his fuzzy, green pyjamas.
“Hey, there’s Katy”, Matt exclaimed. Slight annoyance welled up in me, because of his bratty voice. I gulped down my slight hatred for my brother and sat beside my mother. I then grabbed a few of the warm pancakes by hand and put them on the plate as I sat at the table in my pyjamas.
“Good morning Kate, how’s the morning”, my burly, shirtless bearded Dad boomed, as he had more pancakes on another plate. “So, you woke up for the pancakes, didn't ya”, he joked.
“Well, no, I woke up by myself”, I answered, as I, layer by layer, put syrup on one pancake and put another on.
“How? An alarm?”
“Uh, the sun. Duh." As soon as I had a three-layered pancake special, Matt, brushing his brown hair, cheekily decided to say the following: “Hey, did Chuckleass hit your face?”
My Dad began to laugh but wasn’t impressed, so she scolded him. “Matt! Don’t ever say that, especially to your sister!” I was thankful my Mom was there, while Dad was not helping. Finally, the laughing fit that was my Dad is over.
“No, really, listen to Mom. That was disrespectful of you,” Dad said as he gave a wink to my brother.
“Really? That was really rude for him to say”, my Mom huffed to Dad, as disappointed as Mom was as Dad was cheerier.
“At least it is funny”, he exclaimed. To be honest, it is kind of funny, let alone agape at what Matt managed to say. Even Mom gave my Dad a smirk, who calmed down. We ate breakfast after that and I was full after the first two pancakes. I became tired and went back to bed. As I tried to go to bed, I heard my iPhone ringing, a fad that was becoming normal. I looked at the screen and it was my friend Sam.
“Hey, I was trying to sleep here,” I grumbled.
“But that doesn't mean I don’t get to talk to my best friend. Can we meet at the school”, she said, being persistent about it. I mean, couldn’t we just meet when school is tomorrow?
“Fine, I’ll be there in half an hour”, I replied. Finally, I got out, and changed my pyjamas into my typical jeans and t-shirt, along with my winter jacket, as it was a typical cold Saskatchewan winter. I told Mom and Dad that I’d be going to meet Sam. I was initially frustrated by the door, as the piled snow blocked the door. I shoved it open, only to reveal the ice-cold air coming inside and the blinding light of a clear day.
Snow covered everything. Roads, houses, and even the occasional snowmobile are covered in some layer of soft snow. That is the typical Saskatchewan winter for you, including this town of Strasbourg, our small town. Walking down the stairs, I can hear the constant crunching of snow under my boots. Walking down the streets, I wonder why I am doing this. Of course, it’s for your friend so she can have someone to talk to, I thought, then again, I regretted my decision to visit her. I could’ve told her that I couldn’t come because of sleep. Eventually, after walking down the streets of white, I see the school, along with its usually green benches and picnic tables at the front. Sitting on one of the benches sits a winter-clothed figure. A figure I recognize.
“Hello”, Sam exclaimed.
“Hey there Sam. How’s the job at the convenience store”, I asked.
“Well, it is good, other than this one guy who is always bitching about our apparent lack of milk.”
“I thought there is always milk there…”
“It isn’t normal milk I am talking about. I am talking about almond milk. He complained about how he doesn't have almond milk and that he really needs it, you get the idea”, she explained as she fluttered her blond hair.
“I guess. I mean, all he wants is almond milk. No harm done here.”
“But he should’ve gone to another store. Instead, he stayed. I even, ARRG, I just can’t. How does someone handle these types of people?” She then took out a cigarette and lit it with her lighter. “You know, I wish I could get away from here and just live in Regina. Just live a normal life.”
“I mean, it is pretty normal here. Nothing too crazy at least. I have heard a lot of crazy stuff in Regina.”
“What crazy stuff?”
“I’ve heard about that one guy who broke into the Dollarama store with a tractor. Broke in just to get a pack of hot dogs.”
“That just sounds made up. How do you know?”
“Got it from my Dad. He’s a cashier now.”
“What happened to being a security guard?”
“Better pay. It is-” At first, I didn’t notice. It was a soft shaking at first, so I assumed it was the train passing by. It became stronger.
“Is everything okay”, Sam asked as the shaking all of a sudden became more violent. So violent we can barely stand. We fell into the cold snow and the shaking continued. It continued for a few more minutes. At this time, it felt like the world was ending. I could hear glass breaking, and wood falling on the road, I was scared. With my face on the cold ground, I could hear the hum of the earth, shaking. Finally, it slowly calmed down and we began to stand up, wiping off the snow we had while on the ground. “What the hell is that?”
“I think that was an earthquake. But, why”, I said, stuttering over my own words in confusion. It shook me up, literally and mentally. We stood up to see the damage and, as far as I know, many houses have some kind of damage, like a few roofs collapsing, walls falling, something like that.
“Well, looks to be a bad one”, Sam said, still perplexed but scared as I am.
“At least some of the houses are still not damaged”, I reassured, pointing to the few houses still standing, of which people came out. Some ran towards the damaged houses while others looked in confusion. A few more came out of the damaged ones, seemingly unharmed.
“Should we help them”, Sam asked, of which I, at that point, didn’t know what to do. A thought then went through my mind about my parents.
“I have to go back.”
“Back where?”
“To see if my parents are okay.” We said our goodbyes and I ran on the road. I saw a few police cars sitting beside houses, even fire trucks. The police and firemen are just as confused as everyone else. It seems the damage was widespread, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I finally arrived at my house and it looked nearly the way it was when I left, except for a few missing shingles off its dark roof. I wanted to go inside. What prevented me, at least at first, was the damage that might be inside. What if they are hurt? They’ll die if you do nothing. Those thoughts dreaded me throughout. I knew my Mom and Dad were in there, I knew I might get hurt. Do I wait for the firefighters to come or do I go in? I simply stood there, out in the cold. A final thought came in to make my decision: fine, I’ll do it anyway. Shouldn’t be too bad, is it?
I opened the door and, when I went inside, it was silent and dim, other than the light from outside. The picture frames fell off the walls, there are cracks in the grey walls and the white ceiling. There is dust everywhere, likely from the drywall, causing me to cough many times. I tried to look but it was dark. “Hello”, I hollered. I got a response.
“Hello”, the concerned but deep voice of my Dad responded. A blinding light came from the kitchen and shone on my face. “Kate? What are you doing here?”
“I am just worried you guys are hurt”, I remarked.
“Hurt? I nearly died”, Dad crowed sarcastically.
“We are okay. We are under the table”, my Mom said with reassurance.
“This is so cool”, Matt cheered. I thought oh, at least they’re alive. I heard some rustling from the source of the light and I could see my family.
“Are you okay”, Mom asked.
“No, I’m okay. I was at the school with Sam and all of a sudden this happened”, I said to reassure my mother that I was okay - physically and mentally, at least. I then heard sirens just behind me on the road. It’s the police.
“Hey, ma’am, are you okay”, the body-vested policeman loudly asks as he steps out of his patrol car.
“Yeah, I’m fine, my family is in the house”, I replied. The policeman ran towards me and stepped in front of me. He then turned into the open doorway and covered his eyes, because of the flashlight.
“Hey, is anyone there?”
“Yeah, we’re okay”, my Dad responded.
“Okay, this house is not safe to stay in. Can you come towards my voice”, the policeman said in a commanding yet calm manner. The light turned off and footsteps came slowly towards the door. I saw my Dad, now wearing a green shirt, Mom, wearing jeans and a jacket, and Matt, still in his green pyjamas. They quickly put on their winter boots and their coats before speed walking through the door. The policeman then took one last look with his flashlight in there. “Anyone else in there?”
“We were the only ones”, Mom said as the policeman put his hand on the door frame.
“Did any of you get hurt”, the policeman asked. They shook their heads.
“Well, maybe my opinion on this town. Maybe a documentary”, Dad joked, but no one seems to be into his jokes now. The firemen then arrived a few moments later and offered us blankets.
“Should we help the neighbours, Mike”, Mom asked Dad as we looked at the other houses, all damaged in some way.
“I guess. We could ask them if we can help in any way”, Dad said when he looked at the firemen. “I mean, we’ll be in their way.” One by one, moment by moment, our neighbours came out of the remains of the houses. Luckily, it seems everyone is okay, minus a few injuries. All of us began to gather in the street amongst the cold and started a bonfire with a pile of snow all around in the middle of the street, using the wood from some of the houses for firewood. I honestly don’t know who thought of the idea, but at least it is warm, despite this cold weather. Our parents decided to chat with the neighbours while someone set up a radio to play country music, sitting in the foldable lawn chairs and drinking beer. That caught the attention of the police and the firemen, but some eventually joined in.
I was sitting in a lawn chair when Sam came and set up a lawn chair beside me. “Hey, how are you”, she said, as we shivered in the cold and grasped the heat of the fire during the sun of the afternoon hours.
“I’m fine. The parents are fine. Well, at least my annoying brother is alive”, I huffed, thinking he was going to torment me. Sam looked at me with an expression of inquisitiveness. “What?”
“I mean, that’s what brothers are for. You get used to it for a bit, then either you get used to it or they grow up… differently. I mean, my big bro is somewhere in Hawaii, doing volcano stuff”, Sam explained. “What I’m saying is, they are necessary in life. You may not have fun with them, but they can save you one day.”
“Well, Matt isn’t saving me now”, I rebuked. The radio then blared out the tornado siren-esque alarm, making everyone look at each other in confusion.
“Well, just about time”, one man said. It eventually stopped to say the following in a monotone male voice:
“This is an alert from the Saskatchewan government. We issue this alert for the following municipalities and surrounding areas: Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton. This is an alert due to a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake, with life-threatening consequences. Again, the following municipalities of Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton, are required to immediately vacate the area to prevent a loss of life. Stay safe.”
“Is this a joke? A pipeline leak”, another person asked.
“A whole area for a broken pipeline”, another suggested. Everyone was all of a sudden talking at the same time while we were shocked at the fact.
“A pipeline? Leaking? Why such a large area for a leak”, Sam asked.
“I have no idea”, I said, confused as to the events happening. I saw some people arguing with the policemen, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying over the talking of the others. Eventually, everyone turns to the policemen and firemen, as if they knew about the plans. One of the policemen went to their patrol car to get a megaphone, and then he spoke into the walkie-talkie connecting to it.
“Hey, everyone calm down”, he bellowed and most gave their attention to him. “My name is Russel Simmons, and I am the chief of this department here. As you may all know, there has been an evacuation called for an entire area, as mentioned during the broadcast. t. I did not know this beforehand, just like every one of you. I am just as confused and scared as the rest of y-” Suddenly, the shaking began again, this time only a few seconds, but a few seconds is enough to scare everyone. “Stay calm! Everyone stay calm”, the chief begged the panicking people. Slowly but surely, everyone calmed down. “We can get through this. Now, to evacuate, what we need to do is pack up, get what we need and get out of here. Meet with us at the Tempo gas station to get fuel, if necessary. After that, we will go south to Regina, where we’ll be staying.”
“What about the stuff in our houses”, a woman asked.
“For that, we can’t go into the houses. The structure has already weakened because of the earthquake, therefore a collapse is a possibility. We cannot risk a life here, so we can’t”, Russel explained.
“My house looks fine, why can’t I go in”, an older man asked.
“Like I said, sir, the houses are at risk of collapsing.”
“What about the water? We can’t just leave it around in our houses. We need that”, a younger man said.
“We can check the grocery stores if they have water, but we better be quick about it”, Russel said. Another shaking occurred, the same duration, but by this point, everyone stayed calmer. Dad then met up with us.
“It is time to go”, Dad suggested. “We have to make it to Regina, as soon as possible.”
“Well, I guess it’s time to go”, Sam said. We then share a hug. “See you later… sometime.”
“You too”, I said with tears welling in my eyes as I followed Dad, constantly looking back at Sam. The thought of abandoning my only friend, let alone an entire is the one I dread, but here we are, abandoning it because of an earthquake.
“It’s going to be okay”, Dad reassured. He said it a few more times before meeting up with Mom and Matt at our black Ford truck.
“Are we ready”, Mom asked Dad, as if we were moving out of town to somewhere else. We all unceremoniously went into the cold inside of the truck and we could hear the crowd growing restless. Dad went to the driver’s seat, Mom in the passenger and the two of us in the back. Dad got the truck started and drove out of the spot. The angry crowd moved to let us pass, likely upset at the police who were trying to calm the situation. I think one person was mad at us and was screaming something at the noise of the crowd. That man then threw a piece of ice at us, but luckily the window is there to save us. Once we passed them, we sped off through the streets. Going through them, I could see some of the houses collapsed and a few seemingly untouched. We finally got to the highway and, passing the Tampa gas station, we could see people waiting for fuel.
“Should we stop for gas”, Mom asked.
“I don’t think so. We have a full tank of gas and there are too many people. With the situation we are in, things might be bad to worse”, Dad explained. “If we could stop in Bulyea, to pack more up.”
“When are we going home”, Matt complained.
“No, honey, there is no home left for us. Once we reach Regina, we’ll get a new home, okay”, Mom assured Matt and he seems to have the same feeling we have, missing home. At least we can agree on something for once. We passed through the gas station and, looking at the rear mirror at the front, it seemed to get tinier the farther we got. We sat in silence along the icy road with banks of snow. The inside of the truck got warmer and more comfortable. Luckily, there are fuzzy blankets in the truck to snuggle in.
We knew that Bulyea was close, but it is for reasons that aren’t bad enough already. Black, dense smoke in the distance, lofting to the east. We already knew something bad happened.
“Should we even go to Bulyea”, Mom asked. Dad looked at her and back in the road and gave a nod. “We can’t. Remember what you said back there? It is worse here-”
“I know. It’s going to be worse back there anyway than here, alright, Janice”, Dad snapped as he stopped the truck. This is the first time I have seen Dad this mad. I am starting to think he is just as afraid as us. “I’m sorry, I just missed home, but we had to get out.”
“I know, so do I”, Mom said and they shared a kiss. “Now, what?”
“Go to town and salvage what’s left.” Dad drove the truck and went into town. There, we noticed where the smoke came from. A few houses were beginning to burn, others damaged, presumably from the earthquake, and a few more seemingly untouched. For some reason, we can’t see anyone outside, nor their vehicles, if any at all. It seems to be like a ghost town.
“Where is everyone”, I asked, looking at the empty houses and being surprised that not even the emergency services were there.
“I don’t know. Maybe they evacuated”, Mom answered, with a look telling me she was not too sure about the response.
“Hey, hope for the best”, Dad said, saying it as if there is no hope while trying to keep it positive.
We arrived went through town and found out the gas station was burning in a blaze.
“So much for water”, Mom said, looking at the burning wreck. “Hey, how many kilometers did we travel?”
“Why is that important? Worried about gas”, Dad chuckled, in an attempt to cheer the mood. “I can chec- wait, how many kilometers does it take to get here?”
“Uh, fourteen”, Matt responded. My Dad looked at the dashboard in a confused state. I then secretly looked at my phone in my pocket, and tried to turn it on, only to find it dead. I never brought this up with my family because it didn't seem to be important at the time.
“Seems we travelled a kilometer but yet wasted half our fuel. I don’t know what is happening to the truck”, Dad said, further confused. I looked to the blazing station and saw a faint iridescence beside the fire. I was about to point it out when Matt spoke.
“Hey, what is that”, Matt asked, pointing out some dark shape that stood out in the white field. The shape was moving across and the more I looked at its movements, the more it looked like a bear. It then seemed to notice us and seemingly ran towards us.
“We are going now”, Dad yelled and put on the gas, driving off quickly. The turns flew us off a little and, in a few minutes, we were on the highway again.
“What was that”, I asked.
“I think that was a bear.”
“Why did we take off?”
“It was chasing us! Would you like to know what happens when we stay?” Dad then gave out a sigh. “I am sorry, but I had to make a choice.”
“I guess we won’t be staying”, Matt questioned.
“No, we won’t. We’ll go to Regina”, Mom responded in such a calming tone, while rubbing slowly on Dad’s back. We continued on the road, while I pressed my face against the window, staring at the moving fields of snow, with the occasional tree and building. I then slowly closed my eyes, bringing me to a world of darkness.
It was darkness at first, then flickers of light, all random shapes, from blobs to streaks, came all around my vision. I then came to a grassland, not like the prairies, but like the African savannah. Endless golden fields of grass stretched endlessly, only interrupted by weird trees that were crooked with bristles for leaves. The sun is setting in a brilliant series of yellows and oranges. I then heard rustling behind me. That is when I woke up, but not on my own.
“Hey, Kate, you need to see this”, Matt said in an odd confusion. I looked around and thought of nothing unusual.
“See wha-” I faltered as I looked ahead at the road. Ahead of the truck, the road is cut off by some kind of wall. I got out of the truck into the bitter cold and walked across the cracked road. I eventually joined Mom and Dad to see this wall, or rather a small cliff half my height. It seems someone cut the whole road and got the ground where I am to sink. I could even see what was below the road. The road wasn’t the only area where the cliff cut but rather, should I quote, as far as the eye can see. “What is this?”
“It might be some kind of fault line”, Dad said.
“Fault line? What is that”, Matt asked.
“You know, cracks in the ground that cause earthquakes? The one you learn in school about the San Andreas fault? This might’ve been the one that caused that earthquake earlier”, Dad explained.
“So a new fault line is appearing in Saskatchewan”, Mom said.
“Seems to be.”
“So, how are we going to get to Regina”, I asked. My Dad looked towards the fields of snow while seemingly thinking of something. It was a few minutes before we heard something odd. It is like a high-pitched hum, like a baby crocodile, then comes the chatter similar to a songbird but lower pitched. We all went to the truck, except Matt, who was more curious than afraid.
“Hey, I can see something”, Matt advised. Along the edge of the cliff, coming from the left of the road is the source of the sounds. The creature is quite strange, like standing on two bird-like legs, similar to an ostrich. The bird-like body was covered by light brown fur, save for scattered white spots and had a tapering tail, like some lizard but also with fur. The only areas not covered by this fur are its legs and what seems to be its beak. When it got closer, I came to make out its appearance. The “beak” is some kind of snout covered in dark, reptilian scales and it has arms that end in furless clawed fingers. I knew what it was, and it was frightening as it was confusing.
“Matt, come back. That is a dinosaur”, I yelled, hopefully persuading Matt of his curiosity. As soon as I said that, the creature stopped.
“Dinosaur? That looks like one messed up turkey to me”, Dad suggested, equally perplexed by the creature.
“Hey, Matt, come back! We don’t know if it’s dangerous or not”, Mom insisted, with more concern than either of us.
“But it’s not doing anything bad. It looks cool”, Matt said, not even concerned about this weird creature.
“Listen to your mother, Matt”, Dad hollered, in agreement with me and my Mom.
“Oh, come on, we could make him do some tricks.” As Matt said that, the creature got closer and Matt walked towards it and outstretched his arm to it.
“Matt! Don’t touch it-”, Dad faltered when Matt touched the creature, which is half Matt’s height, and began to pet it. The creature then began to purr, like a cat but more bird-like.
“See, not so dangerous. Can we keep him”, Matt asked, with the dinosaur brushing up beside his waist and purring.
“No, we can’t. We don’t know what it is”, Mom pleaded and I do agree.
“Oh, please, I promise I will take care of him. It’ll be the coolest pet ever.” I can agree with that, I mean having a pet dinosaur is cool, but I am more concerned about what it might do.
“I think it’s a bad idea”, I yelled to Matt.
“No, it won’t. Please”, Matt begged. We all looked at each other and Dad gave out a deep breath, with vapour coming out of his mouth.
“Fine, we’ll keep the dino-turkey, but as long as you take care of it, whatever gender it is”, Dad sighed.
“Yes! Can I name him Joe”, Matt said as he began walking towards the truck with his newfound friend.
“Joe? We don’t even know if it’s even a boy.”
“I don’t care. I want him to be a boy”, Matt protested.
“I guess Joe it is”, Mom said as she turned to Dad with a look of regret.
“I guess we have a family pet now”, I said under my breath to no one. We then went back to the truck and I sat in. Dad went to the driver’s seat as usual and Mom in the passenger. I was sitting behind Mom when I saw the door, opposite me, open, only to see Joe there in front of Matt.
“Hey, do you wanna meet my family”, Matt beamed when he picked him up. I can see Joe’s face more clearly. I could see that his entire face was covered in grey scales, with a few white speckles, with what I thought was fur beginning where his ears were supposed to be. Joe looked at me with a bird-like expression with his bird-like eyes. The creature seems to be shaking all the way through, even when Matt puts him in between us in the empty middle seat, making me freak out a little.
“Why are you putting it beside me”, I shuddered. “Did you make sure he doesn’t have rabies?”
“Don’t worry, he’s just cold”, Matt reassured. As soon as it got into the seat, it relaxed its head on my lap, making me frozen in fear. In surprise, Joe began to purr.
“What is he doing”, I asked.
“I think he likes you. You can pet him if you want. He’s harmless”, Matt assured. I then cautiously took my hand out and touched his brow area. It felt cold and reptilian, and I moved my hand towards his fur. I realised they were feathers, not quite like a bird, like fuzzier. I stroked across his spine and he was cold. Matt then covered the feathered creature’s body with a blanket.
“What should we do now”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe take another route”, Mom responded. Dad then started the truck and turned it around.
“The rural roads would be hell. Maybe go to Earl Grey, and see if there is anything there.”
“Hopefully not like Bulyea.” Dad then looked at his rear-view mirror to look at Matt.
“Hey, do you know what, uh, Joe eats”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know”, Matt said, with a look like he doesn’t know.
“I mean, he has to eat something”, I said, now more comfortable with Joe. I lifted his lips to see a series of fangs lining his jaw. Joe didn’t take that too kindly and nudged. As he did that, he rolled to his side to reveal his hands. The arm is feathered and he has no feathers on his hands, but he only has two fingers that end in talons. “What, why does he only have two fingers”, I asked.
“Maybe a genetic defect. Like my cat Fluffy with his extra thumbs”, Mom suggested.
“Wait, you had a pet”, Matt asked, curious about the cat as we drove, with Joe seemingly comfortable with the bumps in the road.
“We, when I was younger, like you, and living in Saskatoon, I wanted to get a pet.” Mom explained as she looked at Joe. “Well, not quite like you have. Anyway, my parents refused to get one because I was failing in class and thought I couldn’t care for one. One day, I think a snowstorm was happening. I was walking down a street, fighting against the snow. I stumbled upon a box, covered in a blanket lying on the sidewalk. I looked inside and I saw kittens”, she said, her eyes glossy.
“Sadly, most of them died in the cold, except for one. An orange, fluffy kitten, fighting for its life. I took it, put it into my jacket and took it home. I entered our house and the kitten was fine, but my parents were furious. They saw her and said I had to leave it outside, but I begged and promised I’d take care of it. They said we could keep the kitten, as long I kept the grades up. So, I named him Fluffy, because he’s fluffy.”
“Where is he now? Why is he not here”, Matt questioned.
“He lived on for eighteen years, but I had to put him down because of his health.”
“Why didn’t you buy another cat”, I prodded.
“We just couldn’t afford it, we don’t have enough income. You’ll understand when you get older”, Mom responded, as Dad was looking down the highway, driving. I looked down and Joe was sleeping. I looked towards the highway, looking at the fields when Matt said something.
“I need to go to the bathroom”, he said, holding at his groin. I also need to go to relieve myself, but Matt called it first.
“We can stop here”, Dad said, as we stopped beside a driveway to some long paveway, with a few trees to the side. I recognized it through our trips to Regina: we have arrived at Gibbs. Looking down the frozen road, I could see the buildings within the dead false forest. I took this moment to speak my urge.
“Yeah, I need to go, too”, I declared. Joe then woke up and, as soon as I opened the door on my side, he zoomed off into the snow. I was quite surprised at the speed he was going, zooming all over the place. Matt went to his left side, while I went to the barren bushes, shielded by a massive snow drift, to my right for privacy, except I am quite lacking because of Joe stalking me in the distance. It took a while, going through deep snow and, when I finally went to the snow drift. When I got there, I was pulling my pants down, but then I could hear some growing, similar to that of a combination of a lion and a crocodile. Where is that coming from? Never mind, it might be Joe, I thought.
“Go away, Joe”, I said, thinking it was Joe, seemingly angry at something. Nervous, I finally got to business, a little slow because of Joe nearby. I then heard the growl again. This time, I looked up and saw Joe, but he wasn’t growling. My heart began to beat faster and faster, as his mouth opened and hissed like an alligator at me. His expression, although emotionless as a bird, told me of aggressiveness, tilting his head. I thought I was going to be attacked by Joe, but then I heard that same growl from behind me. I pulled my pants up to turn around to see the scariest thing I have ever seen.
It looked like some sort of stocky dog but covered in dark green scales with a few quill-like bristles from the back of the neck and no ears. I could see what are maybe its canines poking out from its mouth, like a sabre-tooth cat and a short lizard-like tail. It looked more reptile than, well, dog really except for its eyes. I could see the hunger in its eyes. I heard more growling to my other side and saw another of those things. Joe began making that baby crocodile noise and we ran to the truck. I turned around and ran.
“Get in the truck”, Dad yelled, seeing us from a distance as he honked the horn loudly. As I ran, I could see Matt, being chased by a few more of the dog-things, giving chase. Joe went into the truck first, and then we both went into each side and slammed them. Dad then sped off very quickly, scared they may get to us.
“What was that”, I panted, confused.
“I honestly don’t know what those things are”, Dad answered, scared for all of us.
“I want to go home”, Matt pleaded, tired from running away from those things.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon. I promise”, Mom reassured.
“Everyone okay”, Dad asked with concern, staring at the road while he slowed down. We all looked at each other in fearful confusion, even Joe. I looked at Joe, and he then looked at me. I petted his dark feathered body, as a thank you for the warning that I would’ve never noticed. “Okay, we are moving on”, Dad concluded. We sat in silence, although I was still petting Joe.
“Hey, Matt, do you know what dinosaur he is”, I asked Matt.
“I don’t know. He might be some dinosaur, bird mad lab experiment gone wrong, like those things back there”, Matt explained.
“Or some mess-up chicken in a lab”, Dad suggested, still looking at the road.
“I don’t think he was a chicken”, Matt rebutted. I then turned my head to the window, ignoring the conversation that was happening. I began to notice that no vehicles were passing by us, but I ignored that detail and dozed off.
I saw those same lights in the dark vision of my closed eyes. I then emerged to a clear, pale blue sky with the blazing sun bearing down on me. Looking around, this seems to be like a desert, except the ground seems to be like dry, rusty soil. It feels hot here, hotter than one of those summers in my former town. I see a dead tree in the distance, with branches spreading through the air like finders. I heard a sound behind me.
“Wake up! We are here”, Matt said as he shook me awake. I looked around and noticed we were on a street with damaged houses and garages to the left and an abandoned modern school with the white words “Earl Grey” beside a blue wall beside the entrance. The school lies hiding behind a metal fence with dead trees behind it. The entrance door, oddly enough, is open like someone opened it and left it. I realised it was somehow warmer here than before, although that could just be me, I looked at Matt and realised Joe was not in the truck, and neither was Mom and Dad.
“Hey, where’s Mom and Dad”, I asked Matt.
“Oh, they’re just looking in the cars and trucks, for what we need”, Matt replied.
“And Joe?”
“Oh, just running across the road.” Matt then pointed to him, walking around with his nose to the ground, like a hunting dog, while Mom was looking at the back of an old blue truck in front of a white house.
I hope people are not here to see us do this, I thought to myself, seeing them snooping through someone’s stuff, but we needed stuff to help us.
“Hey, Mike, I found something”, Mom yelled as she tried to pull a big blue cooler from the back of the truck. Dad then came from an RV down from the truck and came and helped her. He then put it down on the road and opened it. They both plugged their noses and backed away.
“Fish? Who leaves fish in a cooler in the back of a truck”, Dad gagged. Joe then looked up, seemingly in excitement and ran towards the cooler. He stuck his nose in the cooler and pulled out a pike. He plopped it on the road, his foot stepped on the fish and put his mouth onto it, tearing a piece of it and swallowing it. “At least somebody likes rotten fish”, Dad rasped.
As we looked in surprise, we could hear something from the school. The minute we heard it, a loud boar-like roar came out from the school. We thought it was a very big boar when it came out, but the more we looked, the more we realised it was something else. Its body is like a boar, but its face is like a lion’s and the snout of a camel, with teeth somewhat like a bear’s when it opens its enormous mouth to gargle like a pig. Mom, Dad and even Joe are taken by surprise, making our parents run towards the driveway, while Joe towards our truck with his gorged fish, standing by us. The boar-thing then stopped a few feet away from my parents, seemingly in a defensive stance, hooves scratching the ground. We are scared for our parents, preparing to see this thing rip them to shreds.
It gave one last roar and walked towards the cooler, knocking it over with fish spilling out. It stuck its snout in the fish and swallowed one down. They then slowly walked around the creature and steadily fastened their pace until they were at the truck. We all quickly got in and Dad backed up quickly.
“What the hell was that”, Mom panicked.
“I don’t know, a pig from hell”, Dad responded. We looked at Joe, swallowing down the fish while the rotting fish smell remained. It looked at us in confusion, as we were. We silently laughed for no apparent reason, probably as a mechanism to try to replace the fear. We then heard a shaking in the truck, startling us. We realised that the hell pig was tearing at the bumper of the truck like a lion would. Dad hammered the horn, making the thing back up in surprise. Dad took this opportunity to back up very quickly towards the intersection and turned to the left, quickly avoiding the creature. We sat in silence, except for Joe who was chirping.
When we went down the street, the houses, as usual, were damaged but we saw other vehicles, the first we had seen. Some were parked along the street, others stuck on one lane like city traffic but paused. Weirdly enough, there are no people in the vehicles, nor anyone outside. Most of the vehicles have one or more doors open like people got out to go somewhere. We drove past all the vehicles in the other lane. There is one vehicle we passed by that is on fire, most of the paint already off to reveal the metal beneath, only to be turned into a rainbow of browns and blacks by the dancing flames.
“What. Happened. Here”, Mom slowly asked, as confused and terrified as us. We had a feeling of dread, seeing all the abandoned vehicles.
“That’s the least of our worries. We should be looking for supplies”, Dad responded.
“Hey, how much do we have”, Mom asked Dad, worried about using up the fuel.
“Well, we got a full tank of gas and travelled a hundred kilometers”, Dad responded, more confused. “Nothing makes sense here and I hope we don’t stay here for long”, he muttered.
Eventually, we passed most of the vehicles and reached the veterinary clinic. The small, intact structure stood there, seemingly looking over the icy driveway. We then spotted an old, brown truck and we saw something that set it apart from the rest of the vehicles we’ve seen so far.
“It’s on”, I said, gleefully, with hope that, at least, we aren’t the only ones here. The headlights beamed brightly, and we realised it was getting dark. We also noticed that the street lights aren’t turning on.
“I thought there was no one here”, my Mom said, unsure of the connection between the abandoned but running truck and the lack of people in this town. At one of the intact houses, ahead of us, partially blocked by the trees, we saw what seemed to be bright light coming from one of the windows. What person would go into a house after an earthquake, I thought, thinking about our house back home.
“Someone’s here”, Matt loudly notified, as we all shushed him and that is when Joe is trying to push the door with his snout. “What is he doing?”
“Stay here”, Dad calmly ordered, opening the door, but Joe scurried out and went somewhere else.
“Hey, come back”, Matt called out, with no success. Joe eventually disappeared into the night, never to be seen. Matt then had tears welling up in his eyes like he was about to cry. I hugged him to comfort him.
“He’ll come back some time”, Mom reassured, trying to calm him down and looking at Dad. Dad nodded and grabbed a flashlight that was equipped in the truck. He then walked slowly towards the house, step by step, being shone by our truck’s headlights. He looked back at us and put his hand up when the light in the house moved. It seems to move towards the front door of the house. Emerging from the house is a person walking down the steps, cloaked in darkness. Dad then took a few steps back as the figure came. Finally, the figure stepped into the light.

Hi all, Iḿ hoping you can help. I am running a Dell XPS 9320 which came new installed with Ubuntu 22.04.
Symptoms of the issues:
Opening a new browser (doesn´t matter which) and input either does not work, or it jumps from the search box to the URL bar. The issue seems to go away temporarily if I press ALT-Space, which opens up the window manager. I have changed all keyboard input methods, even though I haven´t changed it before. You can see just now when typing ´haven´t' that the apostrophe isn´t correct - thatś one thing that I just noticed, and it doesn´t matter if I use my laptop keyboard or my external. I can also be using google sheets and try typing a number into a cell and it won´t work, I need to press ALT-Space again, or open a new window.
The other thing that is odd is Iĺl be on a page and I will scroll down with my mouse, and then it just scrolls back up to the top. The only thing that stops this is hitting ËSC." I can also try typing ¨1" into the search box but it won´t work. If I press ¨2" (you can see that the quotes aren´t working properly) it will scroll down the page. If I use the number pad though, itś fine.
I also can´t seem to enable scroll lock whatever I do. I tried to enable it to see if it would fix it but I can´t get it to work.
I am not sure what caused the issue, but I have been running it perfectly fine for around a year, with an external keyboard, mouse and Samsung screen. Recently I spent 3 months away and did not use my screen. I got home and plugged the screen back in and itś been fine for a week or so. There was a Dell software update recently, but I can't pinpoint when the issue started happening.
Can anyone help? Do I need to post in another sub? Thanks in advance <3

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Hello people! I'm planning to run a long-term campaign using the setting of Night City to tell a story of crime, sin, struggle, violence, and most of all, to explore the true dream that is Night City, of how people navigate the underworld of the city and eventually fall into their worst impulses...
The game itself will take place within the mid 2040s, the standard time period for the Cyberpunk RED system.
This game will employ very, very dark topics. Be prepared for that if you wish to apply. Of course, I shall do it with the gravity that each of these topics deserve, but be prepared for violence, abuse, drugs, mental illness, etc.
I'm looking for one player to come along me and fill out the missing spot in our group for this dark journey within Night City! Preferably, I want players who either support LGBTQ+ or who are part of it, however, I don't put too much importance on this aspect, so long as you're a good person that knows how to accept another's differences.
As for the main story and what it shall be about... It shall be about how the characters within the story deal with their unfulfilled lives with a life of crime and excitement! Whatever motivation one may have, everyone has something in common: they're all a slave to something. Whether that be pride, family, obligation, money, power... It's up to you to choose. As the characters sink further into the underworld, the stakes will ramp up, and generally, the game will revolve around planning operations, dealing with the authorities, and making sure that the crimes they commit don't land them in jail, which means a lot of time will be spent on alibis, the law, and CLEANING.
What I'm looking for in a player:
Friendly OOC, as well as an ability to work together well with others and to sort out OOC problems outside of the game.
Strong and literate writer with a passion for story and character development.
Preferably within an American time zone, however, not necessary.
Able to post at least once per day, preferably more.
Able to play out character flaws and be okay with darker topics within the game.
People who really enjoy the more mundane side of crime at times, i.e. cleaning, money laundering, facilitating, and general meetings that concern the basis of jobs or professional relationships.
The ability to use the erotic elements of the campaign to explore a character's darker impulses or to further character relationships/development.
Players who are able to use schemes and intelligent decision making to a certain extent to handle their daily problems or enemies.
If you've made it this far, make sure to put the quote, "Let's go bowling!" somewhere within the application.
The NSFW elements: This will not be a necessary part of the game; however, it is preferable if the players involved are okay with participating. Of course, this won't be a main part of the game, only taking about maybe 20 or 10 percent of the total content, maybe even less depending on how things shake out. It's a thing I enjoy having within my games, and it can be a powerful story-telling tool or just plain fun.
Overall: This game will be dark, fast, violent, and most importantly, it will revolve around the darker nature of humanity. I'm looking for flawed characters, I'm looking for people who can really lean into those flaws and have a character who continually loses themself within the criminal world. This game will most likely not have a happy ending, however, it will be satisfactory.
Apply here: https://forms.gle/yTnPBxpDZLbdkPmm9
So long as the form is open, I will be accepting responses. I will contact those who I have chosen once I found the right party.

If disguised under a preposterous or “absurd” appearance, [a UFO’s] effects would be undetected for a long time. I believe this could be a key to the confrontation with UFOs. ~Jacques Vallee

In 1954 the sociologist Gordon Allport published a book called The Nature of Prejudice. In it, he and some colleagues elucidated a link between increasing Intergroup Contact and reducing Racial Prejudice. At the time this was breakthrough research; repeated contact between members of the “in” and “out” group reduces stigma toward the “out” group.
In 1954 this could be easily illustrated by the attitudes of the public-at-large toward racial minorities over the preceding 100 years – shifting attitudes toward slaves and their descendants, as well as the previous 10 years – attitudes toward Japanese-Americans over the course of WWII.
As it turns out one of the most effective ways at reducing prejudice is “equal status contact between majority and minority groups in the pursuit of common goals.”
For slaves, their descendants, Japanese-Americans, and countless others across history, this contact has been stained with blood and tears. But contact it was nonetheless, and our stigma toward these “out” groups declined overtime as they became part of the “in” group. They became ‘American’ and their “out” group identities and goals have become, and are becoming, less stigmatized.
Today, I believe we are watching this dissolution of stigma play out en masse on the world stage. The funny thing is that this time, all of humanity is part of a microcosmic “out” group and the aliens in their UFOs are part of the macrocosmic “in” group trying to get us to adopt their goals. What then, is so unsettling about humanity that they take such a slow-going route of stigma dissolution? Why don’t they just introduce themselves as equal status individuals?
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Attitude Rebound and Stigma
A few days ago I made the same post in both UFOs and Aliens. The post contained what I thought to be a reasonable, logical hypothesis that could easily explain away all paranormal phenomena… Yes, all paranormal phenomena. The post got about as much attention in each subreddit, however the reactions to its content was drastically different on each subreddit.
I will admit that I was being a little overzealous in my efforts to “raise the consciousness of humanity” and was proselytizing to some folks in the comments. My B 🙇🏻. What I found very very interesting, however, was how commenters on UFOs were much more critical and reductive than commenters on Aliens, who seemed more open to my zany hypothesis and its possibilities.
Now, I am not a physicist. I can barely remember the unit circle. I got a D in calculus at university. That is why/when I decided to get a liberal education rather than a scientific one. Having said that, I am very passionate about science and the scientific method. I am a nurse by trade, and for twelve hours a day, three days a week, according to my profession, I conduct three to five “n of 1” studies and report the results of these studies to a medical doctor. My job is to experiment on human beings and document outcomes.
What I observed when I made those posts was that one community was receptive and the other was hostile. I joined both UFOs and Aliens so that I could keep up to date on the latest disclosure news. I have noticed in my time browsing these subreddits that UFOs tends to request hard, ‘scientific’ data from posters, whereas Aliens seems to have more interest in the subjective experience of posters. Of course there is a lot of overlap given the content of these subreddits.
This is all just to say that the same message may be received differently, and it’s content interpreted differently, even by the same/overlapping populations, due to the stigma of individuals. So I think it prudent that we introspect and hold an awareness of our own stigmas and biases, understanding they may be seated deep in our unconscious mind. We should reconsider the things we find absurd, for in the absurdity there may be a powerful lesson.
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Thank you to those who upvoted/downvoted and commented. Thank you for participating in this community. Thank you for being unwitting participants in this accidental study, and I will leave you with this quote from Gordon Allport:

It is here that we encounter the central theme of existentialism: to live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering. If there is a purpose in life at all, there must be a purpose in suffering and in dying. But no man can tell another what this purpose is. Each must find out for himself, and must accept the responsibility that his answer prescribes.