Fancy letters math

Story time! Final grades were posted and of the typical various students whining about wanting unwarranted massive curves and unearned free points, one struck me as quite humorous.
Student emailed today saying he was 100% certain I made a mistake on last project grade and this affected his overall grade in the class. So of course I now have to go through all the grade info for him and check. Turns out, no shocker here, he was wrong. The real funny part? Even if I had made a mistake, it only would have added 2 overall percentage points to his grade, making his 72 a 74, which is still a final grade of C. My university doesn't do plus/minus, so 70-79 = C.
I told the student this, that the grade was not wrong, but EVEN IF IT WAS, it still would not have made a difference and they still would have been a massive over half a letter grade away from the next letter grade. Their grade would not change either way, even if they were right.
The student was so dense they didn't even realize basic math, they didn't even realize what they were arguing. Their claim of wanting points back was so moronic it floored me.
Students are so blinded by just the sheer expectation to grade-grub that they don't even know what they're arguing for most of the time. They just want to question our authority and demand points because we surely must be wrong. They're equally as unintelligent as they are entitled. I used to get well thought-out, creative attempts at grade-grubbing, but that's long gone in the past, now they're all just baseless claims rooted in deep stupidity. Anyone else notice this?
What's your best/worst or most recent moronic student argument story?

Recently I've been considering the possibility I might have dysgraphia. I'm not looking for someone to diagnose me, I know the internet can't do that, just looking for some input.
So I'm diagnosed with ADHD and general anxiety, and it's been suggested I could be autistic, but never diagnosed. I've never had issues with reading, but ever since I was in elementary school, I've struggled to write legibly. (Couldn't stay in the lines, mixed up letters, etc) I can recall at least one occasion where I had to redo a math assignment because I wrote the number 6 backwards and it was counted as a 2. My teacher in 4th grade was especially harsh about it. (She would make me take extra time with her so I could learn to make letters the 'right' way, and once flat out told me I was bad at writing)
Another thing is that I've always struggled to write lots of sentences, and I've always been slower than my classmates. I'm the kid who always asks the teacher to go back because I'm not finished with the notes. My hand also tends to hurt a lot, to the point that when I was younger I'd take frequent breaks to run my fingers under cold water.
It's gotten.. somewhat better as I've aged, but I still have to put a lot of focus in. What brought on my recent round of questioning was when I found out an exam at school would have a timed written response question on paper, and I practically had a panic attack thinking about doing it, which led me to reexamine some things.
(Not sure if it's related, but I also never learned to ride a bike, can hardly tie my shoes, and run into stuff. A lot.)
Just wanted to share my experience, and didn't know where else to do it. :)

What started as a panicked attempt to get her over-intoxicated friend to a hospital ended up in a disastrous car crash that claimed the lives of her friends... and a careless God crossing the street. But Sammi's adventure wasn't about to end there. In her dying breath, the God curses Sammi to take up her mantel. Now with her three friends resurrected as ghosts, Sammi has to navigate the tricky world of godhood.
Previous Chapter Next chapter coming soon!
Start here! Patreon (up to chapter 9)
I love houses. House flipping, house hunting, crazy properties in town, gorgeous exotic vacation destinations. I think in a past life I was a real estate agent. Or a carpenter. Interior designer, actually, probably. Maybe just rich?
Doesn’t matter. I love houses, and I was gonna get myself the best digs in town.
“Best digs in town might be a liiiiittle suspicious?” Joni said as I began adjusting the filters of my favorite search: Lottery houses.
“So do you… we’re looking for a house?” Cara was leaning over my shoulder, watching as I pushed the Rooms, Cost, Square Footage, and Bathrooms options as high as I could. “Cause if you don’t even own a place, I feel like saying you’d answer my questions when we got to New Olympia is kinda a blow off.”
“Not a blow off,” I said. “This probably won’t take too too long. I just don’t want to kick anyone out of their house that, like, is a regular person living their life.”
“Kick them out?”
I paused and looked up at Cara, eyes serious. “Please. The parroting. It’s making me nervous.” Then I looked back down and began sifting through various mansions, penthouses, lake houses, villas. “For sale or for rent?”
“For rent,” Blair said immediately. She propped her head up on her chin as she watched me scroll. “Then you don’t gotta kick anyone out.”
“She’s got a point,” Christopher said. “Both from a, like, humanitarian point of view but also from a logistical point of view. Whoever’s moving needs the money pronto to buy a new house and they’re gonna constantly be dealing with banks and shit. You’d need a new lie a day just to keep them off you. But with rentals and all, first off, landlords renting out ten grand a month properties are already making bank off other units. Yeah you’re screwing them over, but not as bad. They got a buncha others. Second, you pay monthly, so you really only gotta fend them off once a month.”
My thumb jammed the “For Rent/For Sale” switch, and I cranked up the rental price. “What else are we thinking for criteria?”
“Middle of town’s a bad idea,” Joni said. “Too easy to find us.”
“We don’t have to, like, hide though,” Christopher said. “Just say you’re both out on bail. I mean, the point is to find Miller and bring him to justice, right? That’s gonna take time. There’s no place far enough out of town that we could hide in for long.”
I squinted at him, tearing my eyes away from a sexy seven bedroom manor with two pools. “What?”
He sighed, as if convinced that I was in the wrong for not understanding what fuck he just said. “Like, think about it Sammi. We’re not actually gonna be able to hide. Or if we are, it’s gonna be in an alley or some shit.” He wrinkled his nose at the same time I did. “They’re cops with detectives and shit, and they think we shot someone and broke someone else out of jail. They’re gonna find us. We’ll have to lie, not hide, to avoid being put back. So may as well be local to all the action.” With this, he pointed directly at a lofty unit in the center of town.
Hmm. He brought up a valid point, so I checked it out.
A five bedroom penthouse with three terraces giving outdoor views of the entire city. Bathrooms that put the hotel to shame. Closets the size of my old bedroom. A pool deck. Appliances with fancy brand names I only ever heard on episodes of “Dream House” and hadn’t actually realized existed in the real world. Enough bedrooms for me, Cara, and the ghosts to each sleep separately.
For a moment, the enormity of it washed over me. Not just the enormity of the house, though it was enormous, but the reality of what I could accomplish. This apartment was twenty five thousand dollars a month. I’m not entirely sure I’ve made that much money in my life. Or, okay, probably around that, but that’s my point. This was the kind of unit rich people showed off in out-of-touch blogs or escapist shows about the lifestyles of famous people. And it could literally be mine if I could play my cards right. Or not even right. Just not catastrophically wrong.
Cause I was a God. And for the first time since becoming a God, I was using my abilities, my status, my familiars and shit to do something cool. Not rob a TechShack of some earpods or break in or out of a hospital.
This was a big yield.
As I had my little epiphany, Cara had taken over scrolling my phone, much to the relief of my ghosts, who’d started grumbling about the static screen while I zoned out.
“Okay.” Cara looked at me. “I’m not gonna ask any of the questions you know I want to ask, cause that’ll just piss you off.” Thank God she was learning. “So we’ll skip that for now and ask the really important question. How are you gonna get your hands on this place?”
–
Step 1 was to get to the place, which kinda sucked, given we were still at Pizza Dogs. It just wasn’t a very cool start to the coolest scheme I’d ever pulled off. Luckily Pizza Dogs closed at 9, so a solid number of people were leaving the restaurant. I was able to wave down a waitress who’d just checked off of her shift and convince her she was a taxi driver.
“You’re really loving this whole taxiing thing, huh?” Christopher said.
“At least she’s not talking like a robot trying to use slang.” I grit my teeth at the memory of Cops Cop and Taxi Service.
“No, you just told her she was mute.” Blair stuck her lip out. “That’s mean, Sammi.”
“I told her she couldn’t talk. That’s different.” I gave Cara a weak smile, but she hadn’t even commented on my ghost talking. She just buried her face in her hands. See? Learning.
Step 2 was gonna be actually getting in the unit. The listing on HouzeHunting didn’t exactly have the name of the landlord on it, so I was gonna have to get creative getting in touch with them. What it did have was ‘24 hour doorman service,’ which meant getting in would be easy peasy.
Finally we pulled up to the address I’d given our driver. 1732 East Windham Street. She leaned out the window, looking up the seventy story building.
“It’s totally appropriate for you to talk now,” I said as I scrambled out, towing Cara with me. No sense in actually making her mute for life.
The woman nodded. “You, uh, live here or visiting? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I flipped my wad of black hair over my shoulder, wincing at how singularly it moved. I shoulda combed it after my bath yesterday.
“Live here, obviously.” I gave a rich person kinda snort, nose in the air and all.
“Huh.” She looked back at me, rubbing the back of her neck as if it was sore from craning up so high. “But you needed a taxi to get here?”
“Uh.” Rich people used taxis, right? On the ladder from Sammi to Bill Gates, someone had to use them, and if I couldn’t afford a taxi normally, then the typical passenger must exist somewhere above me. “My fancy personal car got towed cause I was parking it in a fire lane.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. Not that she thought I was lying, but she still looked at me like I was dumb as dirt. “You don’t have, like, a personal driver?”
I cocked my head at her, trying to mirror Joni’s sassy tilt but probably just looking confused. “Are you offering?”
Her lips parted, and I could see her brain chewing on this question. “What do you… wait, are you being serious?”
Was I? Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Having a personal chauffeur could be kinda great. Someone always available to text or call when I needed a ride so I wouldn’t have to keep remembering where I left my car. Besides, driving made me nervous. I’d never been a particularly bad driver, no prior accidents, never really hit anything in the past, unless we’re counting bumper cars. Which we’re not, cause I’m a menace in bumper cars. But that’s like the point.
Or, no, the point was, I wanted to minimize driving, and this woman could be key. Of course, I knew nothing about her. What if she had a family at home and I told a too strong lie and she never saw them again?
But then, she wouldn’t be offering if she wasn’t serious, right? Sure I’d lied and told her she was a taxi driver, but the average every day taxi driver didn’t just ditch their families to be rich people’s chauffeur’s.
“Uh. Yeah.” I looked at the ghosts. Two thumbs up from Christopher, one from Blair, and two thumbs down from Joni. That was a total of one thumbs up, if my math was right. “Yeah, I pay ten thousand a month.” We could figure that out later.
The woman’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you’re actually fucking with me. You’re actually offering to hire me for ten thousand a month.”
I nodded. “Yeah. And you can… I mean, if you got your own place, you can stay there obviously but you could also stay in one of my bedrooms. I got some extra ones I was gonna give to the gho–uh, dogs. But I don’t have dogs, so you were next on the list. Well, a chauffeur was next on the list. But also if you’ve got–do you have a family?”
Each of my statements plunked out of my mouth like gumballs out of a broken candy machine. But she just kept nodding like this was a normal proposal.
“I mean, I had a boyfriend.” Her face flushed crimson. “Kinda embarrassing to say at my age. Thought we were–” She took a deep breath. “Thought he was the one. I’m not gonna say I was looking to have kids or anything, so I suppose age doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I really want to start over. Five years wasted is all, and at my age, the well starts to dry up a bit. People look at you a bit…” She blinked. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what you asked, was it.”
It wasn’t entirely, but I was kinda hooked on the story now. “Yeah it was,” I said. “It was the first question in the interview, and you’re nailing it. Uh, you actually already passed the first round. Let’s take the rest inside.”
The woman let out a shaky breath and smoothed her frizzled hair. “Right, of course. Thank you so much!”
Cara had, thank God, kept her mouth shut this whole interview process, so I just towed my newly formed posse towards the doorman.
“My key got lost,” I said confidently and too quickly, noticing way late that there weren’t any visible keyholes anywhere on the door. “Uh…” I looked nervously at the ghosts.
“Just tell him someone said he should let you in,” Joni said.
“Yeah.” Blair smiled. “Carl from management.”
“No–”
“Carl from management said you should let me in,” I said, bowling over Joni’s protests. “I own that top penthouse suite. Suite 72. The one for rent. Or, not for rent cause I’m renting it now. And I called earlier because my key is broken and Carl your manager said–”
I stopped finally because the doorman had long since stopped frowning perplexedly at me and had just tapped his card against the door.
“Haha,” I said, verbalizing the laugh a little too hard. “Look at me, talking too much as always.”
He frowned again, but nodded nonetheless, before holding the door open for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, stepping in like a real fancy lady. “I’ve got it from here.”
And, because I was stupid and always spoke without thinking, he nodded and shut the door behind me.
So technically Step 2 ‘get in’ was done, but it was like, barely done. Like when your mom says ‘go to your room’ so you sit in the doorway. Cause I wasn’t really close to my new apartment yet, which meant a new step on the list. Step 3? Get into New Olympia.
Somehow a little sneaky ‘Step 3b, interview your new chauffeur’ had snuck on the list too, but that would be easy to finish once I got to the actual unit.
It was literally impossible to keep my jaw in its socket as we walked through the lobby. I was actually straight up speechless at how fancy it all was. There was a bar in the lobby, like this was some hotel! Given my experience with rich people things, it was either totally free or thirty bucks a glass. Still, it was pricey enough that I should probably have been charged just for looking at it. Even Cara and the driver had their mouths gaping open as they looked around, taking in the mirror shiny marbely floors and columns.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, and really tried to capture this moment of peace and quiet inside the lobby of my new home.
“Blair stop humming, they’ll be able to hear you.”
“I’m using my regular humming, not my banshee humming.”
“My bad, shoulda clarified. I’m able to hear you, and you’re annoying me.”
“Joni, why are you always so mean.”
“She’s, like, kinda got a point. You need to get that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll get the stick out of my ass when Blair stops humming.”
“Bro, it’s totally more than the humming, and you know it.”
“Is singing okay?”
“No.”
“What about–”
“Why don’t you just whistle, Blair?”
“That’s not nice. You know I can’t whistle.”
“Kinda my point.”
“Hey, be nice to Blair, Joni.”
Peace and quiet were overrated anyway. We were here for schemes.
My eyelids snapped open. In front of me was a big old reddish wood desk. The sign on it said “Main desk, open 7AM to 9 PM.” Next to it was another, more temporary sign, “Partial Service After Hours. Ring Bell For Assisance.”
My eyes drifted hungrily to the shiny golden bell. It was the kind you see in movies and shows, you press down a few times to summon the waiter or whoever sits behind the desk.
“Just once, Sammi,” Joni said, already reading my mind. “You ring it once.”
“But Joni,” I whispered, hand hovering over it, “I’m a God.”
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING
Seven was overkill. The man was there after the first two rings. But I couldn’t stop. It was too satisfying.
He regarded me with pained eyes. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to ring it that many times.”
“I didn’t,” I said confidently. And just like that, the pained look vanished. He didn’t look comfortable though, probably because I didn’t look like I should be there. Time to fix that.
I jutted my chin out. “Is there, like, a master key to all the elevators and units you can give me.”
The guy blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, you want what?”
“Lies, Sammi. That was a request!”
This is why we needed Joni and the stick up her ass.
“Uh.”
“Tell him that… I don’t know, someone from management said you could borrow a skeleton key.”
I smiled. “Carl from management told me I could have a skeleton key. A, you know, a key that opens all the doors.” I gave Joni a panicked glance.
She motioned her finger in a repeating loop and mouthed ‘go on.’
“And.” I swallowed. “You said you would give us one.”
The concierge sighed. “I know. I know. I just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Carl doesn’t manage my department, so if this isn’t the right call, Sandy’s gonna have my head.”
I eyed the ghosts nervously. The lie had worked but it didn’t seem to fully convince him. “Sandy said…”
“Keep it simple,” Joni hissed.
“...that you would give me a key to let me in?”
“Right, please hold a moment, it’s almost done transferring.” The concierge paused and looked at a key card on his desk. He squinted before picking it up and beeping it against a little card pad. It flashed red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The transfer didn’t go through right. One moment please.” Then he typed on his computer for a few very long minutes while Cara, the driver, and I all stood frozen by the elevator. After several breath-holding moments of silence (yeah, now the ghosts decide to shut up) he tapped the card again and it flashed green. “There we go.”
I let out a long breath before scuttling over to pick up my card. “Thank you!” I said, a cheery forced grin on my face. “Thank you so much! Remember, this came from, uh, Sandy’s boss, and she told you not to tell Sandy, so keep it zipped!”
He mimed zipping his lips as I waved again before rushing to the elevator.
Soon we were zooming up dozens and dozens of levels as my breathing came more and more naturally. Even the elevator was fancy. All golden mirrors, which Blair was staring at, disappointed that she couldn’t see her reflection in them.
There was no one on the seventy second story and ther was only one door, at the end of a gleaming hardwood hallway. My black boots clomped awkwardly as I escorted the driver–still in a bright orange shirt with a barking dog and a slice of pizza on it–and Cara–still in an orange jumpsuit–towards the door at the end.
Once I got there, I tapped my card, and we were in.
I don’t really have good words to describe the place. Huge, for one. Empty for another. Those were the two big ones. I could have gawked at it all, but I was a little tired of gawking, so I filed away ‘tour my house and get it fitted out’ for later. Besides, I had all my gear and shit still in my car… somewhere. I’d get it up here eventually and then the real decorating could start.
But there was a first step. Well two first steps. Okay, technically only one could be the first step, so we’ll do that first.
I waved Cara to join me in one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll finish your interview in like, fifteen minutes,” I said to the driver. She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, closing the door behind me and plopping down on the ground.
Cara stood awkwardly, eyeing the big ass empty room with a big ass empty bathroom off to the side. “Okay,” she said, still standing. “Do I need to–”
“No no, I said I would…” I trailed off, lips pursed and confused. “You wanted… Or… I was gonna tell you–”
“Oh shit yeah.” Now suddenly Cara was on the floor across from me, leaning in. “You’re telling me what the fuck is going on.”
My breath rushed out in a long woosh as I contemplated how to start this. Joni had made a snarky comment at one point like ‘pushing this off won’t make it easier’ and I’d responded with a ‘I’ll come up with a plan while I delay’ which of course I hadn’t, and now I was angry cause Joni was right.
“So the problem is,” I said, starting slowly. “Everything I tell you, you’ll believe.”
“Obviously,” Cara said, believing me instantly.
“But no one else but me knows what’s going on. So I can’t help but…” I trailed off again, noticing Cara nodding animatedly. This wasn’t working. I wanted her to believe me cause she fully understood and accepted my story, not cause of magic. But to get that, I couldn’t be the one to tell her, and the only other people who knew about my godliness were the ghosts and–
I smacked myself on the face. Sammi, you’re a genius. An actual, mensa accredited whiz kid.
“Blair,” I said, smiling. “I think I’ll offload this to you.”
Blair frowned, scrunching her nose up for a moment, before pointing at herself. “Me?”
I nodded confidently. Blair knew everything but lacked the Verity Tongue. This would be a sinch.
“Cara, how do you feel about a little ghost story?” I shivered a bit, getting goosebumps at my own words. Now that lead-in was brilliant. ‘A little ghost story’, who came up with that? I was getting smarter by the minute.
“Oooooooooooooh.” Blair zoomed around the room, and Cara leapt to her feet.
“What the fuck?”
“Bewaaaaare moooooortal,” Blair droned, pitching her voice low. “For the story you’re about to hear is both dreadful and awwwwwful. Fear for your soul for those who hear this story are cursed and will find themselves in an early–”
“Blair!” I shouted. “Stop that. What the fuck? Literally not like that. Like literally anything but that. You need to start with–”
“Yo, Sammi, dawg, chill.” Christopher patted my back. “We’ll help her out.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to taint the story with your god powers,” Joni said. “We’ll sort Blair. You interview the pizza waitress.”
Suddenly my genius felt like the opposite of genius. Yeah, delegation was important, but I did want to hear what the ghosts were telling Cara. Didn’t I need to know? What if they told her something totally wrong and stupid? Or what if they said something mean? Like what if they really played up the part about my reckless speeding? What if they lied about something? Made me look incompetent.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Christopher just gave me an icy pat again.
“Look, you’re gonna jump in to correct something we say, and it’s just gonna fuck up Cara.” He gave me a serious look, one of the most serious looks he’d given me since this whole ordeal. Which was honestly kinda stupid cause of all the times to pull out there ‘seriously, Sammi’ face, he was picking now? Was this really the right time for this? “Seriously, Sammi. We got this.”
I didn’t believe him at all, but they were absolutely right about me likely fucking this up with my motor mouth. No way was I sitting still while Joni made snarky comments about me, like, eating gross bagels or telling cops to steal poop.
“All right,” I said. “Come out when you’re done. Or if you need hands at all. Like if she passes out and you need to check for a pulse.”
“Are you talking to me?” Cara said.
“No. I’m talking to the ghosts.” And with that I closed the door.
Looks like Sammi's got a house! And maybe a minion or two on top of her familiars. Let's see how Cara takes all of this...

GPT-4o is an omni model. It accepts any combination of text, audio, and image as input and generates any combination of text, audio, and image as outputs.
There's 100s of applications it will enable. I'll cover a few of them below.

1. Language Learning

Duolingo Stock fell by $65 in the last 5 days. That should tell you the entire story.
Duolingo Stock
For context, Duolingo is a language-learning app. Now GPT-4o can easily translate terms in other languages by just pointing it to the ChatGPT's Camera.
This is massive if you want to travel globally as a nomad. You don't have to know a language now. You can just translate on the fly in any random country.
The accuracy won't be 100% but it would be close enough. And the AI keeps improving.

2. Solving School Problems For Students

I wish I had this in school. Learning could've been more efficient and faster.
Most students fear asking questions because they feel it might be dumb. Now you can ask ChatGPT any dumb question.
It even solves math problems for the Salman Khan's (founder of Khan Academy, not the actor) Kid.

3. Bed Time Stories For Kids

Since ChatGPT can talk now with a humourous and sultry voice, you can use it to tell stories to kids. It can be used in the voice of their parents or grandparents.
You can even use a Soft Toy that does the talking to the kid. Earlier, there used to be toys that did that but it only spoke the same sentence. Now it can do back and forth.
You can make special toys that teach kids letters and alphabets. Target it to 2-3 year olds.
Hat tip to Whyme-__- for the Bed Time idea.

4. Be My Eyes For The Blind

Best damn use-case for the blind. Now using a Phone is a bit too much for this but when smart glasses come, every blind person will have a walking companion.
The future is great for the blind.

5. Be My Friend

Too many people are lonely nowadays thanks to technology. It can be a boon for some but a con for others.
You can build a specialized app that gets you an AI Friend since you can talk to it now and it can talk back, it will be great.
I am 100% sure Therapy AI will be much better now with Audio/Video integration. In future, we will have fully featured Robots like Tesla's Optimus and Figure that will have such functionalities built-in.
I bet this comes in <2 years judging by the pace at which AI and Robotics are accelerating.

6. Comic Books

Now that text can be easily created with ChatGPT, why not create Comic Books easily.
Its a huge creative exercise for comic creators. Webtoons have exploded in popularity and many KDramas are made out of them like Death's Game and Marry My Husband.
This will increase the creativity exponentially.

7. Font Creations

Fonts are expensive. Like really expensive.
Funnily enough ChatGPT can create fonts easily now. Take the most popular fonts, tweak them a bit, and create entire new sets of fonts.
Look at the creations explode on Creative Market. Font directories like Typewolf can now create their own fonts easily as they already have distribution.
Open AI GPT-4o Text to Font

8. Brand Placements

It solved for Brand Placements too.
You can put your brand in places you never imagined without using too much effort.
Open AI GPT-4o Brand Placement

9. Poster Creation for Movies or TV Series

Posters are hard to get right but as you know there are only finite variations.
Open AI GPT-4o Movie Posters
You can fine-tune it on popular movie posters and solve Poster Creation once and for all.
Open AI GPT-4o Poster Creation
What use-cases can you come up with? Give me your best ones.
PS: If you'd like to read the full post with images, you can do so here.
PPS: You can find more AI-related posts here covering AI Girlfriends, AI Photo apps, Startups from 1st-wave of AI that made it big and more.

A few months ago, my building's committee organized a small party for everyone living in our building to bond. It included some dancing and singing at the beginning and ended with a fancy dinner. My father was in charge of the food. During the party, the food arrived before dinnertime to ensure it was fresh and was set up on the buffet table. My dad went over to check if everything was up to standard.
Unfortunately, my neighbor, who is also my classmate, was there. He’s known as the class clown and is quite popular on Instagram for the funny stuff he posts. He secretly recorded my dad and posted it on his story, labeling him as someone who only comes for the food and can’t even wait for it. He also mentioned that he was my dad and added goofy music in the background. The whole school saw it, and needless to say, the next day wasn’t pleasant. A few people mentioned it and brushed it off as a joke, but I was dying inside and knew I had to get back at him.
Now, this guy is terrible at math and knew he would fail finals if he didn’t cheat. His roll number was after mine, so he always had to sit behind me. Throughout the year, I helped him pass the exams, but now there was no way I was giving him any answers. He realized this just before the math exam and offered to pay me a few dollars if I helped him pass.
I couldn’t believe his audacity. Not only did he ask for help after making a joke about my dad, but his offer was also ridiculously low. I was about to cuss him out but instead said, "Sure, you don’t need to study at all. I’ll tell you all the answers to the multiple-choice questions and you’ll pass for sure."
The exam time came, and I gave him the answers. After the exam, I asked him for the money, and he laughed and said, "I’m not giving you anything. You really thought I would pay you?" I laughed back and said, "You really thought I would help you pass after what you did?" He was shocked and I told him every answer I gave him was wrong. His expression was priceless; I wish I could have recorded it and posted it on my story.
A few weeks later, the results came out and he scored a 3 in math. He obviously failed and would have to repeat the year. I could hear his father yelling at him. A few hours later, I went to his house and showed his dad a screen recording of the story he posted. His dad, already furious that he failed, became even angrier. He then proceeded to discipline him right in front of me. I left immediately; I initially felt a little bad, but it was so satisfying. Apparently his dad was so pissed that he permanently confiscated his phone

Don't take contracts. You CAN make a profit but there's a better way.
Use a stock Vulture to start. The only upgrade you need is to replace the tractor beam with another Abrade tip. Feel free to sell the 2 Cinches if you want. This isn't essential but it makes it quicker and eassier while still getting you a lot of cash.
Go to ANY Lagrange point. Those are the HUR-L1, CRU-L1, ARC-L1, MIC-L1 locations on the map. They don't have to be the L1 specifically, they can be ANY of the L-whatever.
Hit "tab" and look for just a bunch of asteroids. Truly just pick a direction and fly. I just boost till I'm out and then stop.
Scan for panels. Pres "V" to engage scanning mode. It will have 2 crescent bars to the left and right of your center reticle. Hit tab to "ping". You will see "unknown" clusters of dots pop up randomly. While stationary just look around in all direction and center your reticle on each one. To the right and slightly above the crescents around your center reticle it will have a little readout with numbers. You want ANY number divisible by 2000. So you are looking for numbers like 6000, 8000, 12000 and anything else that matches that. Then fly at it hammering that tab button like it owes you money!
If you want to get fancy "mouse wheel up" to increase your scanning power when looking at the cloud of dots that's divisible by 2000. You don't NEED to, but feel fancy and like a techie and do it. You will see some tag looking upside down teardrops appear. Those show the exact locations of panels.
Fly directly at the panels (you won't explode... normally). The panels will vanish in SC 10/10 fashion when you are like 4-5k out from them. When you get to this point lazily hit the "N" key to engage your magical space brake/landing gear and "slow boat" it towards the last known location of those upside down tear drops.
WATCH YOUR HUD. In the middle it will say "collision" in red, if you see that... stop. A panel will appear and as you move around the others panels you saw before will reappear magically. Skin those with your double Abrade tips. Make sure you go down below when you max out the buffer and jankily stack your boxes using a multi-tool tractor beam attachment. If you are a cool kid you can stack about 22-25 boxes in an extremely dangerous and typical SC way. Just stack like 12-13 your first time so you don't blow up.
Then go sell your boxes of shittily stacked RMC at any PLANETS (not moon or station) TDD.
You will make good money. Not fantastic, not the best money/hr. However you will be an industrial, blue collar scumbag like me and doing only this you can casually make a mil in a day. It's kinda slow... kinda boring... but I'm old... so it works.
Pro tip. Salvage a shit load and load it into your cargo hold all janky like. Then keep salvaging and fill your buffer back to the 13. Go sell your shit stack and then call your ship back, fly out of armistice range, pull the remaining 13 out and stack them slightly less shittily and go back to the port to sell the rest. You will make like 3-4 hundred k per run doing this. Or more, I can't be asked to do the math but is decent. Also you are in a small shitty ship so anyone who pirates you is a small time piece of shit and I hope their kids never learn to read.
Money.
Edit: I saw too many shitty tutorials on YouTube and it annoyed me. So while pounding whiskey and double dogs I decided to subject you poor fucks to this. Enjoy
Edit 2: OK jesus I'm sick of typing it. YES SOMETIMES YOU CAN GET THE TRACTOR BEAM TO WORK IN THE HANGAR. However I've had it NOT work way more than I've had it actually work for me. I do know however that it works 100% of the time outside of Armistace. So do try it when jumping in your ship and if it works, sweet you saved some time. If not, don't fret, just fly up a bit, do it and fly back down.

reposting the following as i've had only one response over a few websites. that probably indicates some info is missing, or it's hard to say, but i really need to know because preparing for and taking the GRE would take a month or more. (so, if you really can't say, saying that would also be helpful.)
again, my main interest would be something like comparative political economy, things like looking at international markets and relationships between industry and government. i may also specialise in something like IPE or the political economy of development, don't know yet, but i will have a good idea by the time i'd apply, i think.
where i am i can't get into any good politics/political economy masters (at least at schools where serious research is done, which as i understand it is critical because i'll need letters from good people). doing a masters in international economics at a good school is my only alternative, but i don't know if it's necessary; i think i've signaled my ability to do research pretty well already.

"i would appreciate some pointers on whether it's a realistic possibility i'll get into any phd programs - it'd be very good to know because studying for the GRE would be a big time commitment. i am in economics but planning to make the switch to political science, probably something related to (international) political economy and comparative politics.
i have a 1,2 average in a 3-year quant-oriented econ degree (the grade basically corresponds to a first's in the UK system). i have A's in statistics, maths, and econometrics courses and i'll do some empirical work in my thesis. it's one of the best german universities although it's pretty unknown internationally. i have about a year of RA experience and one semester of TA. will get letters from my bosses (one of which is a pretty famous economist), and my thesis supervisor. i plan to take the GRE.
i was thinking about applying to the following schools. basically (top15) - (top5) [of course, i'll look into individual school fit with my interests, but that's sort of the range i'm interested in attending.]

• Emory
• UCSD
• Chicago
• Ohio State
• UW Madison
• NYU
• Cornell
• UNC Chapel Hill
• Duke
• Chicago
• UCLA
• Michigan
• Berkeley"

previous post
arg, it's been a tough day. cw: transphobia, anxiety
she's gone through two weeks of hell since we kissed, midterms, two 20 hour roadtrips back home, super intense, haven't seen each other much.
today was her last midterm, and we went to dinner together to celebrate. it's this cute kinda fancy vegan mexican place in downtown, we've gone to it once before. but i was feeling really off today, and i didn't know why. it was kinda awkward, and i eventually said sorry i was being so quiet, and of course she was so kind about it. a bit later she brought up how my dad had called me yesterday. it was a really bad phone call, my first time talking to him one on one in over a year. last time he said he thought trans people were delusional....
but she brought it up so gently, and i that made me realize that was why my day had been so hard, and i had been guilting myself for not being in a good mood (hmmm where did i learn that from...?) even though she literally has always been so supportive when i'm in a dark mood. but something about her being so tuned into my emotions broke something in me.
then when she was paying for the bill, (normally one of us pays and takes a picture of the receipt so we can split it), i tried to take a picture but she flipped it and said she was paying. i just looked at her and so many emotions came up and i had no idea why, i couldn't even say anything, i just kept looking at her. so many emotions flashed across her face, but i couldn't say anything. eventually she broke the silence and said "oh just cause i like ate most of the food," even though we split everything.
on the drive home i cried, but hid it. when we got home i broke down crying on the couch. i didn't know why, which always frustrates me (hmmm where did i learn that from...?). but we decided to watch a movie and she made me tea and we ate churros she had ordered at the restaurant 🥺.
after the movie, all of the emotions started coming back up again, and i went upstairs to go to bed. and then i just started sobbing like i haven't cried that hard in so long, and i had an anxiety attack, and the words in my head were just repeating "nobody has loved you since you were a young child, they loved a fake version of you that you created for their version of love."
and i realized, this whole time i've been falling for her, every time she makes any display of affection, i always break down. it's a cycle. the tension builds, she breaks the tension, and then i spiral and pull away. and now i know why. my true self is still so deeply buried, but she see's me and treats me so well, and it scares me. i feel like i don't deserve it.
now my words are haunting me. when i told her she made me cry after she flirted with me, how i wrote a letter about how much it hurts to be her roommate after she got me a rose, how whenever she inched closer on the couch i would be distant and sad the next day.
now she just saw me sobbing after she paid for my dinner for the first time.
what do i do?
she doesn't want a relationship, and i didn't think i did either, but now i'm questioning. did i give up on myself from the start?
this has been truly a life changing friendship for both of us. she supported me to stand up to my sister for the first time and I wrote my sister a letter about how she hurt me. i supported her to change her major from a B.S. to a B.A. in the last quarter before she graduates, she had always wanted to, but her friends didn't support her. i got harassed at school like i had before a few years ago and i finally had the courage to stand up to the school and fight them for a month to get the accommodations I needed. she has started being able to say "i am gay" for the first time. we let our inner children play pretend together, without restrictions on gender roles.
i don't want to risk our friendship. i could easily see us being lifelong friends. but i could also see us being more. but i'm scared. i don't think it's the right time. i still need to figure out what i want do do after college. i have so much healing to do. i don't want to risk hurting her.

Demographics

• Gender: Male
• Race/Ethnicity: South Asian
• Residence: DTX area in Texas
• Type of School: Public

Intended Major(s): Biomedical Engineering
Academics

• GPA (UW/W): 3.0 UW 3.9/6 W
• Rank (or percentile): N/A
• of Honors/AP/IB/Dual Enrollment/etc.: 6 Honors 13 AP No Dual Enrollment
• Senior Year Course Load: AP Bio, AP Chem, AP Gov, AP Macroecon, AP Calc AB, AP Stats, Anatomy and Physiology, AP Literature.

Standardized Testing
List the highest scores earned and all scores that were reported.

• SAT I: 1410 (700 RW, 710M)
• AP/IB: AP World History: 3

Extracurriculars/Activities
List all extracurricular involvements, including leadership roles, time commitments, major achievements, etc.

1. Orchestra
2. Science UIL Captain
3. Created an app that helps users with health issues
4. Mu alpha theta(Natonal math honor society) member
5. Gideon math and reading tutoring job
6. general volunteering with clubs - racked in 100 hours
7. founded a stem newsletter with the intent of using bionic reading to help out special needs kids
8. 3d printed a prosthetic arm
9. co founded a nonprofit related to bme

Awards/Honors
List all awards and honors submitted on your application.

1. National Honor Society
2. National Math Honor Society
3. Orchestra UIL Award
4. Hopefully AP Scholar in July

Letters of Recommendation
Physics teacher - 8/10 didn't really have that much of a connection but was still a good teacher
Engineering teacher - 6/10 had her sophomore year, prolly forgot about me and wrote a poor letter
Decisions (indicate ED/EA/REA/SCEA/RD)
UTD(Most preferred option of school)
UT Austin
UNT
TAMU
Rice
SMU
Baylor
Texas Tech
OOS:
Georgia Tech
Purdue
Additional Information:
I'm still a junior so Ive got time to boost my apps over the summer lmk if yall know anything

First Previous Wiki
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."

You make pretty regrettable mistakes when you're desperate. Unfortunately, desperation would go on to cost me much more than I ever thought possible.
When I was 19 years old my financial situation wasn't great. In what was left of a crumbling home would be my recovering addict twin sister, and myself. The unfortunate state of our home was all from the even more unfortunate passing of our parents just four years prior. The two hadn't died tragically by any means, thankfully. No.. our parents died of old age, a consequence of having us kids later in life, while not being able to take on the financial burden that would be.. us.
My sister was making the early steps into the college lifestyle, doing her best to stay afloat with my support in funding. Money was tight for the two of us, but as she became more well off on her own, the more content she was with severing the last remaining tie to her childhood.. me.
I didn't hate Xel for her decision, if anything I understood her distancing from this life.. even if it saddened me. So then it was just me! Left to a house with a hole in the ceiling. Believe it or not, life wasn't all to bad even with how considerably down in the dumps it otherwise seemed to be.
However, content as I might have been, it's human nature to want more than you have. Can't say I was to greedy to look for some comfortability in my own home..
And so there it was! The glistening letters of ink outlining my salvation. An advertisement I'd found plastered onto the wall of the small booth I sat at while I waited for the bus to carry me off to work. "$5,000 to those compatible for a recent scientific breakthrough." Under any 'normal' circumstances I would consider this a scam. Hell, I was skeptical as I scanned the letters. Had I been told of this opportunity through spam call or text I would've glossed right over it just as anyone else would have.. but I was desperate.
I think it was the fact that someone, some real person had to have put this paper up on this wall gave me some glimmer of hope for a quick cash grab. Listed bellow the promise of money was details for a number to call regarding interest in the proposition.
I took the bait.. I saw the line, and like some idiot I clamped my teeth down just for that hook to sweep me away.
The corporation I'd come to know as, "The Arsaction," would see me just a week later. There was a brief consultation. They took my weight, age, all things I would've expected. It wasn't until they pulled records regarding my familial situation that I began to find this whole ordeal.. suspicious.
To 'begin' to find things suspicious only at this point is foolish, something I full understand, but I feel the need to reinforce the fact that I, Lex McKarthy, was desperate.
Everything by this point seemed pretty legit. The blood tests, the doctors office, the tests were.. reasonable. What was I to suspect? Everything was so vague, and truth be told I honestly didn't even expect anything to come of this visit. All the doctors, all the consultants seemed so disinterested in my features.. but when they realized I had no one, everything seemed to change.
Suddenly ears perked, suddenly doors closed, suddenly I was.. exactly what they were looking for. Every feature of myself was so painfully average. I was anyman, I was.. nothing. Despite their best efforts to be discreate, I knew it was only the fact that nobody would come looking for me that peaked their interests.
My stomach dropped when I was faced with a pen in my hand, trembling over that NDA. Every fiber of me cursed myself for never considering putting just a minute of research into 'The Arsaction,' however a video briefing would ease my nerves. Nobody knew who The Arsaction was. There was no public record of their existence, and that NDA would make sure that they continued to never exist.
I was stupid, I was irrational, I was in over my head! But I was desperate.. and I had nothing else.
"I have nothing else.. I have nothing else!"
It was a mantra I chanted as I was injected with that substance. The substance that turned my blood orange, made my skin freakishly thin.
And then I went home.
That was it. I was given my sum of money, and I was sent home. They told me I was, "good to go," and no number of questions would get a one of them to speak. I was only met with who I'd assume to be security guiding me out of the building.
Not a word more of what I'd just been injected with, only given instructions to not dwell on mirrors for too long. That was it, just some ominous instructions. So I left, as befuddled as I arrived. Relief washed over me as I made my way home. The anxiety I'd received from such an ominous buildup was all waved by the fact that I was somehow just.. good to go?
Relief quickly turned to panic as the inherent nature of it all being too good to be true set in. I expected to die, I expected some visit from government agents, I expected anything and everything, but as months turned to years.. Nothing ever came of it. No mirror ever caused me any harm, which was its own anxiety I'd have to overcome simply because of the absurd nature or such a request.
I hoped it was.. some prank. Everything was well... for a time. Of course to disturb my peace, my sister called.
I just.. watched the phone ring. My sister, someone who I hadn't spoken to in upwards of 8 years was suddenly ringing me up. When I finally had answered, her question left me speechless.
"Hey Lex. would you happen to remember Mom's recipe for that egg toast? I think I left the cookbook at your place."
I felt my ears ring. The question was so.. casual. She entirely skipped the part where we discussed how she's been, how I'm doing. She spoke to me like we'd hung out only days ago.
At the time I'd thought I was just being dramatic, but looking back on it I can only justify my own hesitation to respond.
"W-..what?"
I stammered like a fool, but I was firm in my disbelief.
"Yeah, it should be in the book on the counter?"
I looked over my shoulder to my kitchen counter, past the toaster I never bought, and over to the book she spoke of. My jaw hung heavy, the whole interaction feeling like a dream.
With one hand I held the phone, and with the other I began to skim the pages of the book letting my eyes linger on mom's cinnamon roll recipe for a bit longer than intended.
"Lex.. are you ok?"
My sister inquired on the other end. I suddenly felt sick.. falling the the ground and laying on my back. This wasn't happening.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. But.. no company ever arrived. After hours the line just dropped, and I fell asleep there on that cold, wooden floor, paralyzed with a feeling I couldn't wrap my head around.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. All was right with the world, all as I climbed from the messy sheets in my dark room. It was abundantly clear that the bulb of the light beside my bed had burnt out over the course of the night, and the closed blinds didn't aid my vision as I stumbled around my room in search of my door.
An oddity presented itself in the fashion of aimless wondering. Where was the nob? One I'd become so accustomed to.. not needing to open? I'd never closed my door. Not the previous night, not ever. Not to the behest of my mother who'd always taken annoyance to closed doors, some trait of my grandmother's to which my mom had unfortunately inherited.
Breakfast took the form of two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and slightly burnt French-Toast. My previous assumption of cinnamon rolls unfortunately missed the mark, however I wouldn't object to this. I wish I could convince myself that I was wrong. Something so mundane, something so insignificant to the events in this story, however the first notable instance of a curse that I couldn't pinpoint
My mother had already seen herself off to work by this point, and so I was faced with the responsibilities of seeing myself out to the bus. Some routine I'd become far too used to; The minutes passed, leaving me with nothing to do but wait by the door for a buss that would never arrive.
If the door being shut and the cinnamon rolls being a different meal entirely had left me with a minor confusion, then suddenly being seated in the passenger seat of my mother's car listening to the nonchalant complaints from my twin sister about the nuances freshmen year math shot me into a disarray I couldn't possibly quantify.
I think one of the scariest things for me is the fact that I thought nothing of it. I hadn't freaked out. No scene was made to express what should have been one of the more disturbing instances of my childhood.
I could chalk up the mistaking breakfast for something else as me just misremembering events.. But something unmistakable is the fact that somehow my mom both never drove me to school, yet the fact that she.. always had.
If you're confused, I understand. I am too, because the contradicting nature of my memory is something that haunts me to no end.
Things were easier as a child. That's often the case, but ever sense I stopped aging, I've begun to notice the oddities presented by life that are.. inexplainable. I'm not even sure where to start with researching my predicament.
The Mandela Effect is something that I feel needs no introduction. To those who don't know, the Mandela Effect, in brief, is a phenomenon that incurs when you "misremember" something. Think of a card, now imagine you saw that card as a child and it had a single heart drawn on it's center. Now, years later you are discussing this card with someone else just for them to tell you that the heart you swear, the heart you KNOW you saw.. was a diamond. You tell them they are wrong, you shake your head, chuckle nervously.. But then they present you with the card.
Your stomach drops. This can't be the card, there is no way! Only it is the card, and when you come to the realization that it is in fact the card you'd seen as a child, you are filled with a mix of confusion, fascination, and quite possibly denial.
Most often, the Mandela Effect is associated with silly things like books titles, and board game mascots, but my experience is far beyond such things. It's the only phenomenon I've found that seems even within the realm of explaining my predicament. Problem is, the more I think, the more is wrong.
All of me wishes it all ended with that one childhood experience! But it didn't. In fact, the more I consider my childhood, the more contradictions I notice. Part of me believes I could handle this if it was limited to my childhood, but it's not. This.. experience... It effects my every day!
I'm not losing my mind, I'm just picking up crumbs that I never dropped. Not.. losing my mind, just finding more "mind" than the inventory should account for.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

You make pretty regrettable mistakes when you're desperate. Unfortunately, desperation would go on to cost me much more than I ever thought possible.
When I was 19 years old my financial situation wasn't great. In what was left of a crumbling home would be my recovering addict twin sister, and myself. The unfortunate state of our home was all from the even more unfortunate passing of our parents just four years prior. The two hadn't died tragically by any means, thankfully. No.. our parents died of old age, a consequence of having us kids later in life, while not being able to take on the financial burden that would be.. us.
My sister was making the early steps into the college lifestyle, doing her best to stay afloat with my support in funding. Money was tight for the two of us, but as she became more well off on her own, the more content she was with severing the last remaining tie to her childhood.. me.
I didn't hate Xel for her decision, if anything I understood her distancing from this life.. even if it saddened me. So then it was just me! Left to a house with a hole in the ceiling. Believe it or not, life wasn't all to bad even with how considerably down in the dumps it otherwise seemed to be.
However, content as I might have been, it's human nature to want more than you have. Can't say I was to greedy to look for some comfortability in my own home..
And so there it was! The glistening letters of ink outlining my salvation. An advertisement I'd found plastered onto the wall of the small booth I sat at while I waited for the bus to carry me off to work. "$5,000 to those compatible for a recent scientific breakthrough." Under any 'normal' circumstances I would consider this a scam. Hell, I was skeptical as I scanned the letters. Had I been told of this opportunity through spam call or text I would've glossed right over it just as anyone else would have.. but I was desperate.
I think it was the fact that someone, some real person had to have put this paper up on this wall gave me some glimmer of hope for a quick cash grab. Listed bellow the promise of money was details for a number to call regarding interest in the proposition.
I took the bait.. I saw the line, and like some idiot I clamped my teeth down just for that hook to sweep me away.
The corporation I'd come to know as, "The Arsaction," would see me just a week later. There was a brief consultation. They took my weight, age, all things I would've expected. It wasn't until they pulled records regarding my familial situation that I began to find this whole ordeal.. suspicious.
To 'begin' to find things suspicious only at this point is foolish, something I full understand, but I feel the need to reinforce the fact that I, Lex McKarthy, was desperate.
Everything by this point seemed pretty legit. The blood tests, the doctors office, the tests were.. reasonable. What was I to suspect? Everything was so vague, and truth be told I honestly didn't even expect anything to come of this visit. All the doctors, all the consultants seemed so disinterested in my features.. but when they realized I had no one, everything seemed to change.
Suddenly ears perked, suddenly doors closed, suddenly I was.. exactly what they were looking for. Every feature of myself was so painfully average. I was anyman, I was.. nothing. Despite their best efforts to be discreate, I knew it was only the fact that nobody would come looking for me that peaked their interests.
My stomach dropped when I was faced with a pen in my hand, trembling over that NDA. Every fiber of me cursed myself for never considering putting just a minute of research into 'The Arsaction,' however a video briefing would ease my nerves. Nobody knew who The Arsaction was. There was no public record of their existence, and that NDA would make sure that they continued to never exist.
I was stupid, I was irrational, I was in over my head! But I was desperate.. and I had nothing else.
"I have nothing else.. I have nothing else!"
It was a mantra I chanted as I was injected with that substance. The substance that turned my blood orange, made my skin freakishly thin.
And then I went home.
That was it. I was given my sum of money, and I was sent home. They told me I was, "good to go," and no number of questions would get a one of them to speak. I was only met with who I'd assume to be security guiding me out of the building.
Not a word more of what I'd just been injected with, only given instructions to not dwell on mirrors for too long. That was it, just some ominous instructions. So I left, as befuddled as I arrived. Relief washed over me as I made my way home. The anxiety I'd received from such an ominous buildup was all waved by the fact that I was somehow just.. good to go?
Relief quickly turned to panic as the inherent nature of it all being too good to be true set in. I expected to die, I expected some visit from government agents, I expected anything and everything, but as months turned to years.. Nothing ever came of it. No mirror ever caused me any harm, which was its own anxiety I'd have to overcome simply because of the absurd nature or such a request.
I hoped it was.. some prank. Everything was well... for a time. Of course to disturb my peace, my sister called.
I just.. watched the phone ring. My sister, someone who I hadn't spoken to in upwards of 8 years was suddenly ringing me up. When I finally had answered, her question left me speechless.
"Hey Lex. would you happen to remember Mom's recipe for that egg toast? I think I left the cookbook at your place."
I felt my ears ring. The question was so.. casual. She entirely skipped the part where we discussed how she's been, how I'm doing. She spoke to me like we'd hung out only days ago.
At the time I'd thought I was just being dramatic, but looking back on it I can only justify my own hesitation to respond.
"W-..what?"
I stammered like a fool, but I was firm in my disbelief.
"Yeah, it should be in the book on the counter?"
I looked over my shoulder to my kitchen counter, past the toaster I never bought, and over to the book she spoke of. My jaw hung heavy, the whole interaction feeling like a dream.
With one hand I held the phone, and with the other I began to skim the pages of the book letting my eyes linger on mom's cinnamon roll recipe for a bit longer than intended.
"Lex.. are you ok?"
My sister inquired on the other end. I suddenly felt sick.. falling the the ground and laying on my back. This wasn't happening.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. But.. no company ever arrived. After hours the line just dropped, and I fell asleep there on that cold, wooden floor, paralyzed with a feeling I couldn't wrap my head around.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. All was right with the world, all as I climbed from the messy sheets in my dark room. It was abundantly clear that the bulb of the light beside my bed had burnt out over the course of the night, and the closed blinds didn't aid my vision as I stumbled around my room in search of my door.
An oddity presented itself in the fashion of aimless wondering. Where was the nob? One I'd become so accustomed to.. not needing to open? I'd never closed my door. Not the previous night, not ever. Not to the behest of my mother who'd always taken annoyance to closed doors, some trait of my grandmother's to which my mom had unfortunately inherited.
Breakfast took the form of two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and slightly burnt French-Toast. My previous assumption of cinnamon rolls unfortunately missed the mark, however I wouldn't object to this. I wish I could convince myself that I was wrong. Something so mundane, something so insignificant to the events in this story, however the first notable instance of a curse that I couldn't pinpoint
My mother had already seen herself off to work by this point, and so I was faced with the responsibilities of seeing myself out to the bus. Some routine I'd become far too used to; The minutes passed, leaving me with nothing to do but wait by the door for a buss that would never arrive.
If the door being shut and the cinnamon rolls being a different meal entirely had left me with a minor confusion, then suddenly being seated in the passenger seat of my mother's car listening to the nonchalant complaints from my twin sister about the nuances freshmen year math shot me into a disarray I couldn't possibly quantify.
I think one of the scariest things for me is the fact that I thought nothing of it. I hadn't freaked out. No scene was made to express what should have been one of the more disturbing instances of my childhood.
I could chalk up the mistaking breakfast for something else as me just misremembering events.. But something unmistakable is the fact that somehow my mom both never drove me to school, yet the fact that she.. always had.
If you're confused, I understand. I am too, because the contradicting nature of my memory is something that haunts me to no end.
Things were easier as a child. That's often the case, but ever sense I stopped aging, I've begun to notice the oddities presented by life that are.. inexplainable. I'm not even sure where to start with researching my predicament.
The Mandela Effect is something that I feel needs no introduction. To those who don't know, the Mandela Effect, in brief, is a phenomenon that incurs when you "misremember" something. Think of a card, now imagine you saw that card as a child and it had a single heart drawn on it's center. Now, years later you are discussing this card with someone else just for them to tell you that the heart you swear, the heart you KNOW you saw.. was a diamond. You tell them they are wrong, you shake your head, chuckle nervously.. But then they present you with the card.
Your stomach drops. This can't be the card, there is no way! Only it is the card, and when you come to the realization that it is in fact the card you'd seen as a child, you are filled with a mix of confusion, fascination, and quite possibly denial.
Most often, the Mandela Effect is associated with silly things like books titles, and board game mascots, but my experience is far beyond such things. It's the only phenomenon I've found that seems even within the realm of explaining my predicament. Problem is, the more I think, the more is wrong.
All of me wishes it all ended with that one childhood experience! But it didn't. In fact, the more I consider my childhood, the more contradictions I notice. Part of me believes I could handle this if it was limited to my childhood, but it's not. This.. experience... It effects my every day!
I'm not losing my mind, I'm just picking up crumbs that I never dropped. Not.. losing my mind, just finding more "mind" than the inventory should account for.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

Ok this is gonna be a very long, rambling, and probably somewhat disorganized post, so please bear with me.
I'm sure other people have had this same idea as well, but I'm not subscribed to the rebornevo forums and I'm not very active on this subreddit either, so I don't know how frequently it's been discussed outside of the small number of times I've seen it on Twitter, which still was after I had the thought when I first played V12 years ago. Even if it is I still wanted to try and organize my thoughts about it and present all of the evidence that brought me to think this even without engaging much with the larger community.
To jump right into it, the theory that I've been subscribing to for a pretty long time and was very confident in (until realizing some flaws with it) is that Madame X is the incarnation of Nymiera from Maria(nette)'s now dead universe, which is likely the same universe that Clear, Kieran, and potentially the Thunder Warrior Tapu Koko are from. She was defeated by her universe's Indriad but somehow managed to escape with her life, albeit badly injured, and was effectively out of commission, which led to Indriad eventually being able to bring about Storm 9 which would eventually lead to the end the world. Nymiera then likely got help from either her world's Xara and Jean, or Clear and Kieran themselves to construct her suit and escape to the next universe.
There's quite a few reasons I have to think this. I feel like a ton of evidence from throughout the game supports the idea, and I've been making note of them for years at this point. This is gonna be a bit meandering, but it's really difficult to organize thoughts about a plot as complicated as Rejuv's even if you're focusing on only one character, so again please bear with me:

• The most obvious point is that Madame X shows up directly in the prologue, to the Maria that becomes the one we meet in the Chrysalis manor. She clearly already has some amount of control over time at this point as well, meaning she had likely already claimed her world's time diamond but was unable to stop Indriad using it.
• Nymiera clearly still remembers the old world we learn about in the Third Layer. She knows Adrest by name and recognizes his presence within the player, hints at the emergence of the Zeight in the present day, and knows about the Archetype. Madame X, in the first cutscene where she's introduced at Blacksteeple, immediately refers to the player as the Interceptor, and she also clearly recognizes the power the Melia gains from the Archetype in the Bad Future. They in general seem to possess similar knowledge of major concepts like these.
  • Although you could argue that she might simply have learned about these things from Clear and Kieran, the fact that we see Madame X specifically talking to Maria in the prologue shows that she was at least aware of the Archetype already.
• This is an admittedly very small point that is potentially a coincidence, but I still want to acknowledge it: Madame X's suit seems to be evoking the image of a dragon and mostly uses dark colors. The two characters that we know are directly descended from Nymiera, Alexandra and Damian, favor Dragon and Dark type Pokemon, respectively.
• We know that Nymiera dual wielded crystal swords as her primary weapons rather than relying on Pokemon, and Madame X engages in combat almost exclusively with her sword. The only exception that we see is her attacking the player with her Yveltal at Blacksteeple Castle.
• We see the aforementioned crystal swords, as well as the corpse of Hazuki's Aegislash, within the storage room of the Chrysalis Manor, which all but confirms that Nymiera and the Defenders of Aevium were soundly defeated by Indriad in this timeline and he claimed their weapons as trophies.
  • As a small thought on the full fate of her world's defenders: Vivian was already dead because of the botched ritual, Hazuki was most likely killed, Anju was defeated but taken alive and imprisoned, likely to act as a potential vessel for Indriad (which is something I'd also like to talk about but that's best saved for another post). Given how cruel of a man Indriad is and how much he likes to torment people, I think that crippling Nymiera so she could no longer stand against him and then forcing her to live with the pain of her failure sounds like the type of thing he'd do. This is more of a headcanon, though, not something I'm actually trying to present as a major evidence for the theory.
• Because of .Karma Files we have explicit confirmation that Nymiera is an incarnation of Xerneas; it's a little on the nose for sure, but this can explain why she so heavily associates with the letter X, including why she took her name and took the name of Team Xen for her own, new organization even though it otherwise seems to be completely unrelated to the Team Xen of the Miera Region.
• If her mask is destroyed at the Pyramid, and she's effectively defeated prior to Clear and Kieran's intervention, she makes a remark about how the battle would have gone differently if not for her suit. It's vague, yes, but the implication is that the suit places some sort of limit on her power and she'd be far stronger without it, as while wearing it she can't fight at full capacity. This explains why she only wields one sword instead of two, as she likely can't dual wield without her full physical strength.
  • This next bit is straying into headcanon territory, so I don't fully count it for the theory, but we don't know exactly why she's wearing the suit; it's definitely not just to hide her identity, because there'd be far easier ways of doing that. I like to think that it's necessary for her to survive and limits her power to keep her from overexerting herself, similar to Darth Vader's suit from Star Wars. This would make sense with the idea I have that she was grievously wounded by Indriad even though she survived her fight with him.
• We know that there's a second Blacksteeple Castle on the same island that's hidden behind a protective barrier, which only Madame X can pass through. It's likely that this is the original Blacksteeple Castle and the one that we occupy during the prison arc is just a replica. We see in the Bad Future that Blacksteeple Castle has some sort of connection to Nymiera with the mosaic that we see. It's confirmed by Madame X that Blacksteeple was once Nymiera's castle, that she lost in the war mentioned in the legend that Nymiera tells to us. This would explain why Madame X is so protective of the original castle in the present day and why she can access it.
  • This would also explain why so much Xerneas iconography is still included in the replica of the castle.
• We already know from the Regi sidequests in V13.5 that Nymiera's view of morality was a bit... warped, and she was willing to do some truly inhumane and manipulative shit if she thought it was necessary for the good of the many. Madame X's methods are obviously far more extreme than Nymiera's ever were, but even though her motivations and ultimate goal are unclear there's still hints that all of the things she's responsible for are, to her, just a means to an end. If Madame X is Nymiera, with her spirit having been broken by her failure to stop her world's Indriad, it's not hard to see how that already warped "Good of the many no matter the cost" mentality could evolve into doing absolutely anything to achieve her goals.
• The underground chamber in Kugearen where we find the Weird Diary has a lot going on, but the notable things are the statues of the Defenders,drawing of the Archetype, and map of present day Aevium. Hazuki's is missing, and Anju and Nymiera's are destroyed, with the game specifically noting that their eyes are torn out. There is no statue of Hazuki, and Vivian's is not only intact, but poised for battle. To break this all down a bit:
  • The Archetype symbol being so prominent as well as the present-day map show that it's someone who can both time travel and knows about the Archetype
  • The three statues are of the Defenders that we know will suffer a poor fate.
    • Hazuki's is missing because she is the only that survived.
    • Vivian's is standing and complete because she was the only one able to mostly die on her own terms, but her spirit still struggled because of the failed spell; being poised for battle still lines up with the curse placed on her reincarnations.
    • Anju and Nymiera are both missing in the present day and were never seen again. Anju's fate is ambiguous, but obviously there's something going on with Angie (Which I have another theory about, but again, story for another post). Nymiera's spirit has appeared, but clearly can only do so much, as her only real act aside from talking to the player is transferring Hazuki's power to Saki.
  • Nymiera fancied herself an artist, and seemed to especially like working with stone given the many statues in Blacksteeple as well as the multiple stone carvings in her room.
  • All of this points to someone who can reliably time travel, knows of the archetype, has knowledge of Rift Pokemon, and has an intimate knowledge of the Defenders and their fates. Madame X is the only person who meets all of those first few qualifications, and it's also worth noting that Madame X's suit distinctly lacks eyes, similar to the two statues.

Essentially, the image I see with this is a Nymiera who became so disgusted at her own failures that she threw everything away, including her old identity, and and decided the best way to create a good world was to tear everything down and rebuild it herself, taking her belief in "The good of the many" to its furthest extreme and becoming a vengeful and bitter person in the process. She keeps "protecting" the Interceptor in hopes that their own quest will eventually guide them to resetting everything and destroying Karma for good.
However... in the process of thinking through this all over the last couple days, I realized several holes in this theory that I have to acknowledge, and keep it from really being an effective one.
First, if Nymiera is the avatar of Xerneas, then why is Madame X only ever seen using a Yveltal?
Second, the one aspect of Madame X's backstory story that she elected to reveal to us is about her mother. In her own words, "My "mother" was a weak individual who gave her life to protect me". Not only does Nymiera never hint at anything remotely similar this, but none of Adrest, Variya, or any of the files Adrest sends to Erin hint at anything even remotely close to this for Nymiera.
Third, which I think is the biggest issue: when we see Madame X's mask get broken by Sakitron at the pyramid, what little we see of her appearance doesn't exactly match up with Nymiera. What appears to be black hair could also just be a broken piece of her mask, her eyes are a bright red, and even though we barely see any skin, it visibly is not as dark as Nymiera's.
The first point is actually pretty easy to explain: the Yveltal is Indriad. Obviously we don't know how Indriad became a Yveltal, but there is precedent for shit like this happening and there's multiple hints towards it:

• Indriad is confirmed at the end of .Karma files is an avatar of Yveltal in the same way that Nymiera is one of Xerneas.
• In the Bad Future, when Melanie summons her Yveltal, she explicitly refers to it as her father. Melanie is a bad future version of Melia, Melia is in some capacity connected to Maria and is still explicitly related to Indriad's kids, the implication is pretty clear.
• There are other physical avatars of legendaries in the game: Spacea and Tiempa, who both can transform into the legendaries they are the avatars of. I don't know if it's ever been confirmed if Griselda was an explicit avatar of Giratina, but nonetheless, she was permanently transformed into one and can't change back. It's not unreasonable to see something similar happening to Indriad given that we don't know his final fate in the game's main timeline yet.
• Yes, this means there's some fucky shit going on with Angie, I have ideas about that as well but that also takes a ton of explanation and is best saved for a different post.

The other two though... I think more or less disprove the theory. Family-related trauma is already one of the game's biggest theme; if Nymiera had something related to her mother, it would have been made clear by this point. And there's just no way that I can think of to really justify the drastic difference in appearance between the two. I could simply handwave it and say "The differences in appearance are either a spriting error or a lighting thing with her helmet" and "We just haven't learned about Nymiera's mother yet", but both of those would just be copout answers to ignore.
I'm still confident that I'm onto something here and there is a connection between these two characters, but can't confidently say that I think I'm 100% correct.
...so instead I came up with a crackpot theory that nonetheless I think has a nonzero chance of being true, although its much less likely .
Madame X isn't an alternate universe Nymiera. She's an alternate universe Nim.
Is it a stupid assertion? Yes. But hear me out, starting with some of the more minor points:

• There is very obviously a connection between Nim and Nymiera. The game's placed a lot of emphasis on Nim's relationship to Alexandra and Damian, Nymiera's direct descendents, and Nim took her name from Nymiera's. When Nim appears in the flashback with Alexaandra and Damian she's calling out the names of Hazuki and the player character, yelling for them to watch out. This implies four things:
  • Nim originates in the past and was sent into the future.
  • Given that we haven't met her in the past, she probably comes into existence in the state that she already was.
  • Nim will meet the player and Hazuki in the past during some dangerous event, most likely a final battle with Indriad before Storm-9 fully hits, as we still don't know the final fate of the Defenders.
  • She doesn't say Anju and Nymiera's names, implying either something already happened to them or Nim was cut off in the middle of her sentence when she was sent forward in time.
• Despite Madame X claiming that Nymiera is dead, her spirit has appeared multiple times and is still very aware of the ongoing plot. Her body, however, has not.
• Clear going out of her way to manipulate Nim shows that Madame X likely has an interest in Nim herself.
• While she obviously prefers to use her psychic abilities, Nim's still clearly proficient with melee weapons as there's a handful of times where she uses her... hairpin things as a polearm of sorts.

There's three main reasons I think there actually is something here though: Nim's physical appearance, Madame X's "mother", and the reason Madame X needs her suit despite it making her weaker.
First: Nim's physical appearance is extremely similar to Madame X's under her mask. As Lorna, we can see that her pupils have a red hue very similar to Madame X's. Looking at both Nim's sprites and her official art, her skin tone is lighter than Nymiera's but still darker then most of the rest of the cast, which also lines up with the broken mask. Finally, assuming Madame X actually has black hair and that's not just a broken part of her mask in the sprite, Nim's hair is the same color.
Second: When Madame X mentions her "Mother", its quoted, presumably for air quotes. While it could just be her disrespecting her "Mother", it feels far more significant than that, like its moreso implying that whoever she's talking about wasn't her mother in the traditional sense. Madame X also states that the difference between her "Mother"'s sacrifice and the player's mom's sacrifice is that the player's mom's didn't matter; thus indirectly implying that Madame X's mom's sacrifice was important even if she looks down upon her mom for it. Assuming that Nymiera shares some connection to Nim- be it that Nymiera created her, Nim is her reincarnation, or something else- it's not unreasonable to think that Nim, after overcoming her memory issues, could view Nymiera as something of a mother figure, especially considering that Nim took her name Nymiera's because she felt a connection.
Third: The suit. There's a very obvious reason that Nim would need a suit to suppress her own power: to keep herself from draining the life force of her subordinates and stop her own Storm from getting out of control. It's a leap, sure, but it would explain why she needs a suit that actively inhibits her.
Why would Nim be doing all of this, and how would she become such a cruel and vengeful person? We see something similar happen to our own Nim through Clear's manipulation through preying on her fears and insecurities. Assuming bad enough shit happened to her, I could absolutely see an alternate universe Nim who lacked the support of characters like Aelita, Melia, and the Player going down this path.
Is this theory accurate? Probably not, but it was really fun to think about. I never fucking know what's gonna happen with this game which is why it's so fun to speculate about the absolute mess of lore that it has.
Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this massive ramble, it was fun to write and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!

First let me be clear about what "darwinism" means. There is real Darwinism, and there is the way how the public perceives it, aka "darwinism".
Real Darwin proposed the idea that life forms can evolve. What he did not do, is to claim that he knows how life started in first place, and also he did believe in a god, therefor he didn't have a "science can explain everything" approach.
Now there is "darwinism", which is how people perceive Darwin, by attributing to him the exact ideas that he never claimed to possess. Today people associate "darwinism" with the idea that everything in the world, including life, can be explained by scientific laws and equations.
So when I say "darwinism", I don't mean the real Darwinism, but the fake misrepresentation of it by the general population (aka morons and idiots).
So let's talk about Schopenhauer and "darwinism", and I want to state right from the start that I don't think they are compatible.
Schopenhauer's idea that **the will** is a "thing in itself", and it only manifests itself in this material world of phenomena in a form of separate individuals. The biological organism is only the way how **the will** is perceived by us through our sensory faculties (eyes, brain...).
Therefore it's a futile attempt to try to understand the nature of the will by investigating the world of phenomena and how it appears in it, because the will is not a product of this world but only is being manifistated in it.
Though obviously some important clues may be gathered about the nature of the will by investigating its manifestation in the world of phenomena, but we shouldn't expect to obtain the full picture of the will using this method.
Now let's talk about "darwinism". "darwinism" tries to explain life, aka **the will**, only as a result of materialistic phenomena, using science and math, and here it obviously falls short, because as I already said according to Schopenhauer life is not a result of materialistic phenomena, therefor it can't be explained by it.
So what "darwinism" creates is a pseudoscientific illusion or a mirage of explanation, mainly known as "abyogenesis" and "evolution", which is completely satisfying for the general public (aka morons and idiots).
Why is it an illusion? Because there is really no such things as "abyogenesis" or "evolution", they are only fantasy concepts that have no conformation in the real world. Those are fantasies.
The scientists have no clue how the first self replicating cell could have appear out of nowhere. Also scientists can't really show how one organism can evolve into another, they just assume that it had to happen.
They create an illusion that they know what they are talking about by using fancy scientific terminology and having a very serious face, but in reality both abyogenesis and evolution are fantasies.
Therefore never conflate Schopenhauer's genius philosophy and the bullshit pseudoscientific fairy tails of "darwinism" for the masses (aka idiots and morons).

Just recently got a new job. I had been looking for over a year, and it's the first opportunity presented to me. I'm now only 2 days in and all I can think is I wish I never saw the email and was still jobless..
Trying to finish my AA so I can raise my GPA and pursue a bachelor's and even masters possibly close to full time. However I am low on money because I had not worked since 2022.
I was very overweight and had extreme mental issues. I fixed a lot of the physical stuff, and mental stuff has got slightly better do to bettering my life style and some medical diagnosis, but still not great.
I needed money though. What little I had is all but gone, and my mom has been letting me live at home for free. I spent what little I had on classes, and even then it was not enough for my last spring semester and the current summer one. My mom also assisted with those too.
I feel like such a a freeloader because I was not providing any money to myself, nor her and she was letting me live here for free and eat her groceries. It disgusted me, but I was in such a rough position working a job was impossible for me.
Now I got this new job. Working in IT for a college specializing in Dental medicine, and I am only 2 days in and hate it. Now a huge reason is because of 2 things outside of the job, and both sort of affecting each other.
1.) my exercise routine. I was biking 100 miles a week and working out 4 days a week on a very religious schedule, and seeing great results. My body fat percent was going down wonderfully, and I felt amazing health wise. Now I cannot do that unless I want to sleep less than 8 hours a night, which is already hard for me to get, especially because of my extreme anxiety and depressive issues. 2.) school. I am still 21 credit hours away from finishing my AA. I am currently taking pre calc, math being a subject I am very not good at, and I have almost no time to do it. I come home from work, and immediately heat up food and sit down to try and get in a lecture and finish homework, and I barely get it done. I have no time to workout or ride my bike or any exercise after work because it takes me all of my time to heat up dinner, prepare lunch for the next day, clean what needs cleaned, shower and do all the pre calc that needs done.
I am terrified the mental progress I have made is going out the door, as well as the physical fitness, and I'm scared I will fail precalculus lowering my GPA and forcing me to retake it. (Also wasting 500 bucks).
On top of all of that, the job has been nuts. I am 2 days in, and already my entire department seems to hate life. The IT director constantly jokes about firing people and us, all the people underneath him talk shit about each other, there is 0 onboarding process for a new hire, and I'm already doing so many projects I have had to skip lunch, and then get asked by 5 different hr people why I skipped lunch. They tell me to stay and do work and then ask me why I'm still here. I am also being told that as an hourly employee only supposed to work Monday through Friday, that June 2nd I have to work all day Sunday for the students graduation even though I have an exam due that night. So not only am I just out of the blue being forced to work a 6th day that week, but I have to come home and immediately take a pre calc test I will most likely be barley prepared for.
My mom tells me " if you think you need tutoring you should do it" like when the hell am I supposed to have time for that ?? I don't even have time to do anything else.
This is the first week on the job, I will be lucky if I finish all of my homework before Friday when it's do, and even then, I have an exam this Sunday already and will probably have to spend the entire day Saturday and Sunday preparing for it, and skip any chance and physical exercise, or spend time exercising and risk having to stay up all night and being under prepared.
My anxiety is through the fucking roof. I used to have panic attacks constantly, and luckily I have not reached that point, but I feel like my blood pressure is so high that my veins are about to Burst.
I mean I'm 2 fucking days in... How am I supposed to do this for the rest of precalculus. I mean honestly if I make it through this class and pass it I don't think any other class will lose a threat, but it's just insane...
Idk how people do this. I don't get why our society makes it impossible for people to find a job and work hard and have that job make time for school. I have to deal with corporate ass holes who want me to work to the bone just so I can afford to fail my classes... Like what the fuck.
I felt horrible being in the situation I was in not providing any money to myself or my mom... But fuck I want to literally blow my brains out now. Maybe it will get more relaxed, but I can't see that happening whatsoever until I get deeper into precalculus and see if i will even pass it ..
I have 0 people to count on too. No one is supportive whatsoever. No one to hug, or get reassurance from. My mom just says this is how it is and doesn't care. I can't talk to a therapist because anytime I say anything more than I'm sad they want to lock me in a psych ward because no one gives a rats ass about mental health in Florida, or America. I have no friends in real life within 500 miles of me. It's just me.
Idk what to do. Idk what to believe in. Idk how to calm myself, or cope. I can't do any of the things that we're making my life better.
The one thing I have still going strong is diet. I also wake up with enough time before work to at least go on a quick jog before I get ready and leave, but it isn't enough.
I feel like If I can't find some sort of relief or balance I'm going to be right back to crying and panic attacks In the bathroom in a matter of weeks.
I honestly hate life. I wish I could go back to younger me and tell him to sweat blood trying to get into a university with full scholarships so I could pursue The education I dream of full time and find a job I truly enjoy. That is still my long term goal, but I feel like I'm killing myself to get there.
I know so many people do stuff like this and make it though, but so all of those people have decades of issues with major anxiety and depression? Have they all thought about suicide since they were 13 ?
Maybe they have, but for fucks sakes if they have can they at least hug me or just reassure me everything will be okay ???
Because life is very difficult right now.
Also I typed this on my phone, so if some words seem out of place, I probably missed a letter here or there and phone auto corrected.

Have you ever tried to take a video while moving, only to end up with a blurry mess? A new method called DeblurGS can actually reconstruct sharp 3D scenes from those blurry videos! 🤯
It uses a clever combination of 3D Gaussian Splatting and some fancy math to figure out the camera's motion and "unblur" the scene. The results are impressive, even with shaky camera footage.
https://medium.com/@elmo92/deblurgs-from-blurry-images-to-sharp-3d-scenes-with-3d-gaussian-splatting-af522c7931d8

Demographics:

• Gender: Male
• Race: White
• Residence: Suburbs outside of Philadelphia, PA
• Income bracket: Upper Middle Class
• Intended Majors: Chemical or Mechanical Engineering

Academics:

• 4.0 unweighted GPA (4.23 on a 4.5 scale where honors are +0.25 and AP is +0.5)
• My school doesn't do class rankings
• 1560 SAT (800 Math)
• Will finish high school with 12 APs although I'm only in my Junior year so I'm only taking/have taken 7
• All 5s on the 3 AP exams I've taken
• Unless I choked probably another 3 5's and a 4 after how my current exams went

Extracurriculars:

• FBLA: Made it to states twice for FBLA in Mobile App Development, placed 9th last year and 3rd this year and am now attending nationals where I probably will not place top 10 but who knows maybe I'm the goat. I am running for PR this year (No clue if I'm winning)
• Student Council: I was a chair for our school charity drive and a chair for a school dance we held and have 40+ volunteer hours in the club and am running for Historian this year (No clue if I'm winning once again)
• Tutoring Club: I am currently PR in our schools tutoring club so I run a social media although not much has been posted on it and also look through application on who to accept or deny as a tutor
• STEM Club: A little weaker since it's mostly just in house competitions but I am an active member and also am running for an officer position since a lot of officers are graduating and I'm one of the most active members but I probably won't win.
• Track and Field: I ran indoor and outdoor track and field my freshman and sophomore years and only did not run this year due to a knee injury that I've been going to physical therapy for
• NHS: I have literally done nothing in this club yet other than my 10 hours that were required.
• MiniTHON: My school hosts their own version of Penn State's "THON" where we stand for 10 hours and raise awareness for pediatric cancer. I was a part of the Business Outreach Management committee and went door to door to businesses in order to get businesses to sponsor our event as well as raising over $100 for the event outside of just businesses
• Part Time Job: I work at MOD Pizza and have worked there for roughly a year now where I've had to train numerous new employees. In the summer I work 4 days a week and in the school year I work 1-2 a week.
• German NHS (Basically nothing)

Awards:

• 9th place at Pennsylvania FBLA's State Leadership Conference in Mobile Application Development
• 3rd place at Pennsylvania FBLA's State Leadership Conference in Mobile Application Development
• Student of the Month (IK this doesn't mean a lot I just have few awards unfortunately)
• 1 time Thanksgiving football champion as starting running back (Strongest EC)

Letters of Rec:

• I asked for one from my English teacher who should write some gas and then I'm between my math and bio teacher because they both know me well and I feel like my math teacher likes me more but my bio teacher might write a better one but then again the math teacher might spend more time on one because he gets asked less for them but yeah.

Essay:

• I've only drafted my essay and not many people have looked at it but it certainly isn't bad so ill give it a 5-6/10 for now but hopefully I can make it not ass cuz otherwise I'm cooked

Schools that stick out for me that I'd want to apply to of many different difficulties and that are in no particular order:

1. Drexel
2. University of Michigan
3. GA Tech (I realize that this is a big reach)
4. University of Maryland, College Park
5. Notre Dame
6. UT Austin
7. University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign (Grainger)

The list is very incomplete and I have yet to visit some of these campuses but I was wondering as of now what my odds would be at some of these schools and what I might have to do in the future in order to have a better shot at getting into these places

“Would you sacrifice yourself to save your entire species?” Carl talked through the intercom in the reactor room as he fiddled with more and more wires. He was looking for a very special wire and a very special place to stick it in. The quiet thunks on the other side of the door quieted down. They had been trying to breach the door for over an hour, and really, it hadn’t done much else but annoy everyone involved. If the aliens on the other side of the door had any humor, Carl would have told them that shoving a cactus in their rectums would have been a better use of everyone’s time.
“Of course I would.” The intercom spat out an answer from the not so professional ‘professional negotiator’. Their offers for Carl to open the door had been promises of great wealth, safety, and accommodations. To be clear, Carl did believe the xeno’s offers, its kind were notorious for being devilishly anal about following the letter AND spirit of agreements. If Carl opened the door, he would most likely receive the benefits and live the rest of his life in comfort.
“Would you sacrifice yourself to save a planet of your people?” Carl had walked over, ripped open, and looked through another set of wires as he spoke to the negotiator. He was glad that the room blocked not only the sight of the ugly bastards, but their stench. Before the war, he’d been on one of their stations. Genetic tampering had been rampant in their culture for millenia, and it meant that their appearance had been turned into a fashion of sorts, though a slowly shifting one. It was too bad that they had apparently taken some very, very strange ideals this time around. Abstraction was the name of the game for them, and Picasso would have been proud of what these aliens had made themselves into. Colors, shapes, and even the smell of their bodies were up for fuckery.
“Of course, would you not?” The alien sounded exasperated, and after the roundabouts Carl had spent the first hour talking to them about, it was no surprise. He was pretty sure that he’d spent at least twenty minutes talking about clowns and cocaine. Carl knew that there were only a few more panels where his prize would be waiting inside of. The ‘red wire’ was randomized in every ship. It was crucial, it was very important to the functioning of the reactor, and by extension, the orbital station. Gravity manipulation wasn’t easy. It wasn’t supposed to be easily found by any normal engineer. Its existence was kept down-low and close to heart. People spilled their hearts out over drinks.
“I’d like to think I would, though you never know until the moment arises. How about a continent? Save a few hundred million for your life?” Another panel down, and no wire to be found. A small notion of doubt had entered Carl’s mind by this point, it was pretty unlikely to not have found THE wire yet. Ten panels down, two to go. He spent a small moment playing eeny meeny miny moe between his two choices. The song said ‘right’. His gut told him to break the rule of the song, however, and he started taking the left one apart.
“If I had to.” And there it was. Carl could see that he had been right about the xenos. Little by little, Carl had started to see why this war had begun in the first place, and why these pricks would eventually lose it all. They had none of that go get em attitude to offset their bulging egos. They expected everyone they met to work off of a calculated list of pros and cons. Every action should be explainable by numbers, logic, and personal gain. Though even they had a small sense of collective good, not much, but a little.
“How about a city, let's say. . . 5 million people?” Carl just wanted to know how the negotiator’s personal scale weighed life. He felt like he was getting real close to the creature’s balance point. He also knew that the negotiator was grasping at straws to get the ‘illogical and unpredictable’ human to open the door for the xenos. If the negotiator was a human, they’d be ordering every type of explosive to blast the door before Carl could finish cooking up his plan. Carl took all the joy he could from the situation. He honestly felt like Bugs Bunny in the moment, the other side was simply so, so fucking dense to his plans. They’d probably hold a wrench for him if he just quickly opened the door and told them to. Fucking xenos.
“Hmmm, I would.” Carl had found the special wire that he’d been searching for. It wasn’t red, but it was as thick as his forearms. He carefully inserted a wire of his own into a joint on the wire, making very sure that it was attached properly. He wanted the following moments to have some theatrical value. Something to really talk about in whatever afterlife there was or wasn’t.
The intercom started buzzing for a moment, but he quickly screamed at the top of his lungs into the transmitter to shut the xeno up before it could start talking again.
Carl had his own monologue to get through while he dragged the massive wire across the room.
“You people work with variables and numbers so much more than we do, you’ve certainly realized that by now. You’ve had to really sweeten the deal you originally offered me and STILL nothing. We must be a very interesting debate subject in your universities. A statistical curiosity that befuddles the known models and expected values.”
“And you really fucked up when you thought we were almost like you. You saw our math, you saw our logical arguments, and you thought us to be mirrors of you. The problem with that is that we sent the people most like you to talk to you. Not a good decision for either of us. Good thing for us is that even our people who most resemble you are still human. They told you to fuck off real fast when you gave them a spreadsheet of expected taxes, exports, and laws. You started the war because we gave you more shit than your asses could handle.”
“AND THEN you tried to handle the war like it was a particularly ornery business meeting. You still are. I have been holed up with the MAIN REACTOR CORE for more than an hour. I have been insulting you, playing dumb, playing smart, and talking about SACRIFICING YOURSELF for most of that time. Why, most humans would have BLOWN UP with rage after all the shit I’ve been pulling. The situation would have gone CRITICAL if you had any sense.”
“It’s like you want this all to come CRASHING DOWN.”
“But hey, don’t worry about that, would you sacrifice yourself out of a personal vendetta against a single individual? No lives saved, nothing particularly impressive gained, really just an all in all stupid thing to do. Would you?” Carl was holding the door open switch in one hand, and the special switch in another. For him the scene would end in what he expected to be a very bright light. But there was a bit of foreplay to be had before going all in.
“No, of course not, that would not be good for anybody.” The slamming on the door started again, it was impressively fast, but still useless. Carl pressed the switch as far as he dared before he felt it teeter on the very, very edge of activation. He smiled and thought of the last good steak he’d had, some months ago now.
“On the contrary my friend, why if you only add spite, revenge, and everything sweet to your little calculations, you’d know that it would be very good indeed.” Carl pressed the door open switch and watched as four shapes crashed through and fell on the floor. A fifth one peeked through the doorway. Carl waved at him with the fun switch.
“My favourite explosives are flashbangs.” Carl twitched his thumb just the tiniest bit, and the reactor started to laugh in response. The reactor’s laugh was very quickly getting louder, so Carl had to yell at the very top of his lungs to get the last part across to the negotiator.
“ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY HAVE A LOT OF BANG IN THEM!!!”
The reactor thought this comment was especially funny, and broke down in laughter.
The light was red.
This one was very fun to write, I am not good with writing serious stuff, but I think I do a good job with using expressive language and shitting out references.
I hope you enjoyed reading!

(An animation shows black and white clouds parting)
Charles: (Off-screen) Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil. Lucy was one of these angels. She was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation. But she was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven. For they felt her way of thinking was dangerous to the perder of their world. So she watched as the angels began to expand the universe in their ways. From the dust of Earth, they created Eve (I couldn't think of a female name that looked like Adam) and Lilian. Equals as the first of mankind, but despite this, Eve demanded control and Lilian refused to submit to her will. He fled the garden. Drawn in by his fierce independence, Lucy found him and the two rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love. Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the fruit of knowledge to Eve's new groom, Adam, who gladly accepted. But this gift came with a curse. For the single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin. And the order Heaven had worked to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucy and her love into the dark pit she had created, never allowing her to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked. Ashamed, Lucy lost her will to dream. But Lilian thrived, empowering demon-kind with his voice and his songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision. That every year, they would send down an army, an extermination to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them. But Lilian's hope remained. And his dream was passed down to their precious son, the Prince of Hell. (The prince shuts the "Story Of Hell" book) (On-screen) Don't worry, Dad. I'll make you proud. (He holds a key)
Vagner: Charles?
Charles: Augh! (The key turns into a cat) Oh, shit. Did you hear all that?
Vagner: Uh... Yeah, I was right there.
Charles: Sorry. I get worked up after an extermination happens. This story helps.
Vagner: (chuckles) I know. Don't worry. I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?
Charles: I'm fine, just...Thinking, ya know, family stuff.
Vagner: Did you hear from your dad yet?
(Charles shakes his head saying no)
Vagner: Oof. How long has it been now?
Charles: Not that long, only...Seven...Years...Off something important, I'm sure. But this kingdom was something he really cared about. Something I care about.
Vagner: Well, at least you aren't alone.
Charles: I just hope what I'm trying to do here will work.
Vagner: It will. I have faith in you.
(The cat hopes on Charles)
Vagner: All right. Come on. Alice says she has something to show us.
(Vagner heads to the door and Charles look out of the window and see Hell on fire and goes)
(A commercial plays)
Alice: Well, hello there you wayward sinner. Do you like blood, violence and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course you do. That's why you're in Hell! But what would you say there was a place to stay that had none of that? Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucy's delusional son Charleson Morningstar! Come place your fate in his inexperienced hands as he tries to work through his mommy issues by fixing you! Here, we offer fun thing! Such as somewhat functional staff! And 24 hour Pest Control! Custom rooms, and just look at this tacky parlor! Enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident. Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel! You last desperate attempt at salvation starts here.
(The tv suits off)
Alice: So, what'd ya' think?
Vagner: I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?!
Charles: Uh, yeah, one note...Alice, I mean...First off, thank you so much for making this, seriously, amazing, but um...Maybe the tone is a bit...Off? We want people to want to come here, this makes it look...Ummm...
Vagner: Bad. The word you're looking for is "bad".
Alice: Funny, I was going for hilarious!
Vagner: It didn't explain anything about how we're trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point.
Charles: Vagner is right, Alice. The commercial was to let sinners know we are trying to help them.
Alice: Well, my dear, I haven't been active in Hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show! The proper medium to express oneself! But YOU insisted on this noisy picture box adversiment! So I had a little fun with it.
Vagner: Oh, fun? You had a little fun with it? (Stand on the sofa) Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run the hotel! Instead, you're mocking us. Nobody's going to want to come to a place that a powerful overlord like you thinks is a waste of time!
(A demon on a sofa raises her hand)
Vagner: What?
Angela: If'n ya filmin' a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?
Vagner: Angela, you're a porn star.
Angela: A famous porn star. I'll have the horniest sinners knockin' these walls down to get in.
Vagner: We are not filming a porn as a commercial.
Angela: Why not? Sex sells, don't it? I swear if you film me goin' at it with mistress fancy-talk-creepy-voice here, you'd rollin' in participants willin' to stay at this tacky hotel.
Alice: Haha! Never going to happen!
Charles: Angela, I appreciate you wanting to use you special skills to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but...I really don't want to exploit you, in that way!
Angela: Oh, please, baby. This body was made to be exploited. I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs. I got the lung capacity-- Oh-oh I got the legs! The gag reflex, the holes...
(Charles laughs uncomfortably and his phone rings with his mom calling)
Angela: The small tits that make everyone think I'm a man...
Charles: Uhhh, hold that thought. I'll be right back! (Walks away)
Angela: I could keep goin' all night, baby.
(Charles breathes and answers the phone)
Charles: Hello? Mom?
Angela: Hey, I have a question. If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can't she just make people stay here?
Alice: Oh, trust me, (ominously) I can!
Hisky: Why the hell do you think I'm here?
(The camera goes to Hisky at the bar)
Hisky: You actually think I'd be cleaning bottles and listening to you fuck's bitches moan all the time if she wasn't forcin' me?
Niffter: I like being forced!
Hisky: Keep that to yourself, Niff.
Angela: What, you don't like being here with me, Whiskers?
Hisky: Call me "Whiskers" again and I'll that bottle down your throat.
Angela: Kinky. But I like pussies. But keep talkin' dirty.
Vagner: Ugh, Angela, let Hisky do her job. And no, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to.
Angela: I'm choosing to be here, and I think is all stupid. We're in Hell, toots. It's kind of the end of the road, ain't it?
Vagner: Well, maybe it doesn't have to be. Just because nobody has made it before doesn't mean is not possible. (Angela pust her arm in his shoulder)
Angela: Hey, whatever means I can keep crashin' here rent free. Crack is expensive.
Charles: (excitedly) Yeah, I can! Totally. Yeah, I'll head over there right away...Okay. (Turns off the phone) Hah! YES! YES!! Hahahaha!! Vagner! Holy shit!
Vagner: Ahh! What?!
Charles: (through closed mouth) Get over here!
(Vagner sighs and goes to where Charles is)
Vagner: What's going on?
Charles: (Inhales) My mom just called. She said that the leader of the Angel Army wants to meet. She asked if I could go instead. (Breathes deeply)
Vagner: But... But...But the extermination just happened. What would they want this soon after...
Charles: (Singing) I can do this. Somehow, I know it I'll get Heaven behind my plan!
Vagner: Charles, hold on.
Charles: There's just no way I could blow it. Not this once a lifetime change!
Vagner: It's just a meeting.
Charles: To change their minds. And touch their hearts. Or whatever angels have.
Vagner: This could be bad.
Charles: Cheer up, Vagner. This could be swell. Something tells that today will be a happy day in Hell!
Vagner: Okay, but just don't... sing to them.
Angela: That motherfucker is halfway down the street.
Vagner: Is he...
Angela: Oh, he's dancin'.
Vagner: Ugh, no.
Charles: There's a warm fuzzy feeling that wafts through the air! Every street so revealing it's hard not to stare. It's a realm so appealing it beats anywhere! If you don't mind the smell! It's a happy day in Hell! Hi, miss!
Demon: Go fuck yourself!
Dead Sinner #1: There's a endless trash fire that's burnig my soul!
Charles: Hello!
Imp: There's a lot of barbed wire to shove in her holes!
Charles: Uh, excuse me...
Executioner: Doing what is required we all have a role!
Dead Sinner #2: I'm not doing well!
Ensemble: Another shitty day in Hell!
Charles: If I can show them the dream I've dreamed, that any soul can change!
Vagner: Those angels minds are hard to change!
Charles: Then they know that everyone can be redeemed from the evil to the strange!
Vagner: They're bloodthirsty and deranged!
Charles: I can hear all their stories, the lost and the displaced! And I know that they're of an acquired taste! But if I open the door and give them a place at my Hazbin Hotel it'll be a happy day in Hell! (Jumps in the back of a truck) From the porn studio where the cinephiles go to watch award winning demon bukkake shows to the Cannibal Town where they don't wear a frown 'cause...Holy shit, ew, my gosh, why?! And I don't give a crow that her brains got in my eye! Cause I know I can spare them from Heaven's genocide! I can do this...
Dead Sinner #1: There's an endless trash fire...
Charles: I just know it! Dead Sinner #1: That's burning my soul!
Chorus: Ahhhhhhhhhh!
Charles: I'll get Heaven behind my plans! There's just no way I could blow it!
Demon Sinner #3: I kinda like the barbed wire that's shoved in my hole!
Charles: Not this once in a lifetime chance! To change their minds!
Trenchcoat Demon: And touch my parts!
Charles: Oh...No, thank you. I'm just gonna...Fullfill my destiny!
Trenchcoat Demon: Your loss fucker!
Charles: I can already tell! Today is gonna be a fucking happy day in Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell! (Charles enters at the lobby) Hello? (echoes) Hello? Creepy...(He goes to the reception, rings the bell in the table and a paper and a feather pen appear in front of him) Oh, okay! Also creepy. (Signs the paper)
(Elevator doors open, Charles goes to them and enters in a dark room)
Charles: Hello? Is anyone here?
(The lights turn on)
Eve: 'Sup?
Charles: Holy shit! (Falls in the floor and gets up) Hi, I'm Charles. My mom asked if I could meet you.
Eve: Yeah, I know.
Charles: Okay, well, it's nice to meet you. (Stands his hand)
Eve: Totally. Nice to meet you, too. (Stands her hand)
(Charles hand passes through Eve's hand)
Charles: Ahh!
Eve: Ha! I fucking got you! Did you fuckin' see that?
(Luther shaves his head in yes)
Eve: Good shit!
Charles: Uh, so wait, you aren't here?
Eve: No, you think I'd come down there? (Laughs) No. I mean, I love the vibe, totally, I love your tunes. Pretty fuckin' hardcore, don't get me wrong. But, it's such a bummer, man. Everything down there's just so "eugh" ya know? (Chuckles) Ew.
Charles: Right. So I'm happy we got this opportunity to meet. There's a project I've been working on that I really want to talk to you about...(Eve puts her finger in his mouth)
Eve: Hey, hey, hey, slow down. We got time. How about we get to know each other, mm? How about some lunch? You hungry? I got you! (Shows a plate with ribs) Here's my personal favourite. You'll love it.
Charles: Uh, thanks! (His arms passes through the plate of ribs)
Eve: (Laughing) I got you again, fucker! Haha fuckin' hilarious! Haha!
(Back at the Hazbin Hotel, everyone is at the lobby)
Vagner: Okay, so Charles is dealing with something very important, so while he's gone, we are making a new commercial. One that representants his vision and what we're doing here. So we need a camera. Alice?
(Alice snaps her fingers and an old camera appears in Vagner's hand)
Vagner: A video camera.
Alice: Hmmm. (Snaps her fingers)
(A video camera appears in Vagner's hand)
Vagner: All right, let's do this!
(Vagner films Angela sitting at the bar)
Vagner: And...Action!
Hisky: "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, can I help you with anything?"
Angela: "I've been a bad girl. And I need a big strong mommy to put me in my place...On the path to redemption!"
Hisky: Ugh! "Well, you come..."
Angela: "Oh yes!"
Hisky: (boredly) "To the right place!"
Vagner: Cut! Okay, Angela, I need you to be less horny, if possible. And Hisky, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face?
Hisky: (Angrily) I ain't no actress, I can't memorize this shit!
Angela: Well, we could improve this shit, baby cakes! (Purrs seductively and Hisky push her out of the counter) Ahh!
Hisky: Whoops. (Drink a bottle)
Vagner: Hisky, come on!
(Meanwhile, Charles is bored)
Eve: So I was playing this gig, and for some fucking reason this virtue boy was digging on the drummer, and it's like, do you know who I am? I'm fucking Eve. I'm the original pussy! All pussies descend from me. You think you like a drummer pussy? No way, I'm the Pussy-fucking master! (Eats sloppily) So anyway, then we fucked, and it was awesome. What'd you do this weekend?
Charles: Wait, your name is Eve? Like the first woman? That means you...Ohhh...(Enlightened) That explains so much.
Eve: I know. I fucking rock.
Charles: Well, Eve, ma'am. Mrs. Eve, ma'am.
Eve: Call me Pussymaster.
Charles: Eve, you seem like a smart...well, stand up girl.
Eve: (With the finger in her teeth) Uh-huh.
Charles: And I know you are the leader of the angels. And you are a bigger revolutionary, a...A genius!
Eve: I maen, your words, babe.
Charles: Who would really her name on something.
Eve: Fucking love putting my name on shit! Shit's the best!
Charles: It's a solution to our biggest problem!
Eve: Oh, herpes. Yeah, that's a bitch.
Charles: No! Our other biggest problem.
Eve: Oh, uh...Ugly people? (Looks at the camera) Math? Global warming? Nah, wait that's Earth's problem. Umm...
(At the hotel, a bug walks in the floor and a needle tries to stab it saverel times)
Niffter: Hehehe. Stab. Stab. Stab.
Vagner: Alright Niffter. Niffter? Niffter! (Stops him) Your line is "We have the cleanest rooms". Okay?
Niffter: Got it. I'm ready.
Vagner: (Turns on the camera) Action!
(Niffter looks at the camera with his pupil constricted and Angela and Vagner look at him confused and he keeps staring weirdly)
Vagner: Uhh...Cut. (Turns off the camera)
(Niffter smiles again)
Niffter: (Giggles) How was that?
Vagner: Well, Niffter, you actually have to say the line. So let's roll again.
Niffter: Okay!
Vagner: Action. (Turns on the camera)
(Niffter stares deeply at the camera)
Angela: You're doing great, Vagina!
Vagner: Cut! Alright, um, maybe wr can try to fix it in the post.
Angela: Do you even know what that means?
Vagner: (Angrily) I'll figure it out!
(In the lobby, Vagner is watching the video with the camera connected to the tv)
Hisky: (On TV) Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel.
(Vagner groans, covers his eyes and Alice appears in his side)
Alice: Seems like you're having a bit of trouble there, hm?
Vagner: Ugh, esta pendeja...Why are you even here?
Alice: For the entertainment! I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and fail spectacularly. Like you are doing now! Good job!
Vagner: (Turns on the camera) And here is Alice, the egocentric piece of shit that...
(Alice gets static on the camera and it starts to spark and Vagner screams and knocks the camera down)
Alice: I wouldn't try that, my darling. (Sinisterly) This face was made for radio.
Vagner: (Gets angry) That's it! I don't care who or what you are! If you are staying here you are going to make this work! Beause it won't be so "entertaining" to watch an empty hotel will it, shit ass?! (Turns around and walks away)
Alice: Fair enough. I'll tell you what. Let's make a deal.
Vagner: Pft! You think I'm that stupid? Making a deal with a demon like you.
Alice: Not for your soul, just a simple deal. I do this for you, and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology ever again. Or...Charles can come back to absolutely nothing! Your choice.
Vagner: (Sighs) Fine. (Gets the video camera and raises in Alice's hand and green ghosted skulls fly around it)
Alice: Now then! (Makes the camera disappear and snaps her fingers)
(Angela, Hisky and Niffter, a lot of filming materials and a ghost recording team appear in the lobby and everyone gets tailor clothes)
Vagner: Alright, everyone! Let's make a fucking commercial.
(Meanwhile)
Eve:...When you take him out for the fifth time and he still expects you to pay the check, but you're like, (In deep voice) "Hey I thought you wanted equality"!
Charles: (Frustrated) No! Our shared problem of overpopulation in Hell!
Eve: (Normal) Oh! Well, that's not a problem! We got that covered! Luther, how many demons did you kill this year?
Luther: Got a good 275 this year, ma'am.
Eve: 275? Whoa, badass! Awesome job, danger dick! Pound it. (Punch fists with Luther)
Charles: Uh, no, not awesome. Those are my people, you know that, right?
Eve: Ohhh, yeah...That must suck for you. Pft...Hahahaha! Charles: But these are souls. Human souls, just the same as the ones you have in Heaven.
Luther: They're not the same. They had their chance and they earned damnation.
Charles: You're wrong. Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes.
Luther: Angels don't make mistakes.
Charles: You really think that?
Luther: I know that.
Eve: Yeah, I've never made a mistake in my fucking life.
Luther: The only reason you're still here is because Mommy gave you and your Hellborn-kind a pardon from an exorcist blade. How does that feel? To know how little you matter.
(Charles shrinks back)
Eve: Oops, almost out of time. Guess we should get into it...
Charles: Oh! Fuck!...(Get up from the chair) Okay. I've a lot to get through and not a lot of time and I feel like you weren't really hearing before, so here goes. (Clears throat) (Singing) I know Hell's population is out of control. It's a bad situation, it's taking a toll. If we rehabe these sinners and cleanse all their souls at my Hazbin Hotel! (Normal) Wait I'm getting ahead of myself! Right! Extermination! (Singing) I know you guys fly down just to kill once a year. And it must be annoying to schlep all the way here. If they join you in Heaven that trip disappears! You can wave that chore farewell! (Deep breath) It'll be a happy day in...
Eve: (Singing) Let me stop you right there, save us all precious time!
Charles: (Normal) Okay?
Eve: If what you're suggesting is letting them climb! Up the ladder. Oh they rather cross the Pearly Gates? Sorry, sweetie, but there's no defying in their fates! 'Cause Hell is forever wheter you like it or not! Had their chance to behave better now they boil in a pot! 'Cause the rules are black and white there's no use in trying to fight it! They're burning for their lives until we kill them again!
Charles: Okay, but...
Eve: Just try to chillax, babe, you're wasting your breath!
Charles: (Nervously) Hehe...
Eve: Did I hear you imply that they deserve death? Are they winners? Are they sinners? 'Cause it's cut and dry!
Charles: Actually, if you take a look...
Eve: Fair is fair, an eye for an eye! And when all's said and done! (Said and done) There's the question of fun! (Fun) And for those of us with divine ordainment, extermination is entertainment! (Imitates guitar) Guitar solo, fuck yeah! (Imitates guitar) Hell is forever whether you like or not! Had their chance to behave better now they boil in a pot!
Charles: Where all these people come from?
Eve: 'Cause the rules are black and white, there's no use in trying to fight it! They're burning for their lives until we kill them again! (materializes a guitar and play it) Fucking Hell is forever and it's meant to suck a lot! So give up your dumb endeavor 'cause you don't have a shot!
(Charles groans, his paper gets on fire and his hair moves in the air and horns appear in his head)
Eve: Long as I've got your attention, I guess In should probably mention that we made a determination (Shows a contract) To move up the next extermination!
Charles: What?!
Eve: Can't wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts! (Holds Charles' wrist) I know is just been a week, but we'll be back in six months! (Spins Charles out of the room and plays her guitar)
Charles: Um, wait, didn't you...(Goes at the door, but it closes) Awh, shit! (Punches the door)
(Charles returns sad to the Hazbin Hotel)
Vagner: Charles! (Hugs him) How did it go? Did they listen?
Charles: Oh, uh...They sure did...hear it! But, um...
Vagner: Oh! Come here. We have something exciting to show you! (Holds Charles to the living room) Alice pulled some strings, and it's about to air.
Alice: I pulled a few limbs too! Hahaha!
Charles: Wait? The commercial? You all made a new one?
Angela: Yeah, one of my better performances, if I do can say so myself.
Charles: That's...That's amazing.
Angela: Shh! It's starting!
Vagner: (On TV) Welcome to the Hazbin Hot...
(The TV changes to the 666 News channel and everyone complains)
Kallie: (On TV) Breaking news in Hell today! We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before! Do you know what that means, Tomita?
Tomita: No. What does that means, Kallie?
Kallie: It means we are all royally fucked!
(The clock in an hourglass changes to 176 with everyone screaming)
Angela: Wait...What? Why?!
(A drone laser scans a headless body of an angel laying in Hell and Eve and Luther see then from the ship)
Luther: We found the body, ma'am. They've never managed to kill one of us before. We should just go down there now and destroy them!
Eve: No, no. We can't risk them catching on. But don't worry, when we come back, there won't be a demon left to pull a stunt like this again. (Breaks the projector and her eyes and mouth glow in the dark)
(The end credits start playing)

My stepmother hates the fact that I exist.
I want to start by saying that I was born before my father and stepmother got together, however they did start their relationship whilst my father and mother were still together who later broke up after around 12 months of me being born. I have never known my parents together, it’s just how it’s always been.
I used to visit my dad once a week, and my stepmother would never really address me or talk to me, and that’s just how it was until she nearly died in childbirth with my youngest sister when I was age 14 (she had two children with my dad). We became closer and I was extremely grateful because I had always wondered why we never gained a relationship over the years. At age 17, 10 years ago, there was a disagreement between me and my dad, stepmum, aunty and nan which resulted in me basically being shunned from the family, and it was over something extremely small and didn’t need to be blown up in the way that it was. Over the first 2 years of limited contact, I was bullied via social media by stepmum, nan and aunty; this included making jokes about my mental health, contacting my friends to try and turn them against me, contacting my mothers side of the family to tell them how much they hated me and them, the list goes on. It went as far as to keep a family illness from me, which unfortunately resulted in what I thought was a sudden death and I was threatened out of going to the funeral - I was called an extreme expletive for asking, beginning with the letter C and something was said in regards to hurting me in some way or another. This was all done without the knowledge of my father, he remained in no contact through sheer stubbornness. Fast forward perhaps 3 years, my dad is back in contact but is caught texting me by said stepmother - she insists he chooses between me and her and there is an attempt at serious assault (her against my dad) with a glass, you do the math. He moves out for a week or so and goes back to her. We text on and off for years, discussing meeting up one day and eventually, 9.5 years after the initial shunning, we meet up. This is met with more anger, I believe she even demolished her own kitchen in rage over the thought of her husband meeting his first child.
Something that should perhaps be mentioned about now, is that my youngest sister has no recollection of who I am as she was only two years old at the time of the original falling out, she is now 13. My dad has informed my sister of my existence at this point, wanting us to eventually meet. The oldest of my sisters is now 20 and we have plans to meet, she’s an adult and can do as she pleases although I sense an element of fear of her mother and that’s why there has been a delay.
This fiasco has ended in the break up of their marriage, all because I exist. Things she has said that my dad has informed me of: - “you only want to see her because she is a piece of your ex”, - “don’t let her see her sister, she will do something evil like poison her to get back at me”, - (I am at university) “I guess I’ll have to go to university so that I am interesting like her (me)”
I want to end this with saying that I am extremely distressed to hear that my existence is causing such upset and aggravation in a household where my sisters reside. I have missed them for years and have always dreamed of the day where I could see them again. At what point do you stop feeling guilty for just existing, living and breathing?
edit there is a lot that is missed out here, small things that would maybe make things sound even worse but 10 years of shit is a lot to rake up and I’m sure there are also things that I have forgotten, this is just a short heads and tails.