Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by *your fear’ and…*something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…*those…*to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

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So three weeks into Noom I have lost 2.5 lbs. Not bad. 4 lbs to go. The app thinks I will be at my goal by June 2. That seems unlikely. In any case, I am canceling Noom and going back to MyFitnessPal Premium, which I have used sporadically for ~4 years. I wanted to try Noom for the lessons and coaching, but I can't deal with its deficiencies anymore.
TL;DR the food tracking, reporting, and usability on MFP is miles better. The part you lose is the daily lessons and color coding.
Things MFP does better:

1. Macros. Noom keeps telling me to eat 30g protein/meal but offers zero way of tracking this. MFP tracks everything and lets me set custom goals for each macro and meal.
2. Recipes. On Noom, if I am eating one serving of a 4 serving recipe, I have to enter each ingredient as a fraction of the whole, then save it as a meal. MFP lets me enter a recipe as it's written and how many servings. Then it auto calculates. Better, if the recipe is online, I can paste the URL and it will automatically match the ingredients and quantities. I can edit this as needed. I also like this if I am considering a recipe that doesn't list nutritional information. Paste the URL and now I know.
3. Desktop site. Especially when adding a new recipe, I like having this option.
4. Easier visibility into what you've eaten. Say you are eating the same lunch as some day last week and want to copy it to today, but you didn't think ahead last week to save it as a meal. In Noom, you have to go into each day, scroll down, click food, click lunch, and hope to find which day you had that so you can save it as a meal. MFP shows you everything you ate at once on the screen as you page back by day.
5. Better food database and more flexible servings. At least once per day Noom does not recognize a food by barcode or search. Other times it returns the wrong item (whole milk yogurt instead of fat free, oatmeal instead of polenta). MFP is better for this, and if you do find a new item, you can enter all the data and have it in your log immediately. Noom doesn't even show it on the log! MFP also doesn't have the problem I often have on Noom of the barcode camera not focusing/scanning. And it lets me enter any fraction of portion I want, like 0.383 cups, not just 1/4, 1/2, etc.
6. Food history. When I go to log food, MFP shows me my common/recent foods. Noom seems to reset daily and show me things I have never eaten. MFP also lets me save things not just by meal but by recipe. Because coffee with half and half plus a bowl of fruit and yogurt is a meal, but three bean chili is a recipe.
7. Reporting. It is bizarre to me on Noom that if I want to see my weight chart for more than a few days, I have to export/share this as a photo. MFP just shows you charts for whatever time period you want. They also have weekly reporting on calories, macros, exercise, etc. Plus they show you your top foods by calories and category, like what you eat that is highest in protein or fat. You can even export CSV files of your data.
8. Cheaper. $80/year for MFP premium, which is < $7/month.

Still get: free recipes, workout routines, integrated apps (but way more apps).
What you lose:

1. Color coding. I think this was good to make me feel okay with eating more starches, but I can live without it. It was frustrating for it to be directing me to eat 30% green/45% yellow/25% orange and then give me no way to see how I'm doing unless I want to add up calories and divide ratios every meal. If it showed percentages or status bars in the meal tracker, I could adjust and maybe add more yellow at dinner, but no.
2. Coaches. This was what I was really looking forward to with Noom but each time I send a message I wait 2-3 days for a response, and then if I've asked 3 questions I will get a vague answer on only one of them. I asked several times about how to hit my protein goals as a vegetarian while staying in the color limits, and the most direct answer I got was, "how does your body feel?"
3. Lessons. I find these frustrating because they are oversimplified and ignore other responsibilities. "Grocery shop in the morning" like I don't have kids to get on the bus or meetings to go to. "Don't buy tempting snack food" is not realistic when one of the members of your household is a teenage boy, and "find new healthy restaurants" ignores that your family has loved the same Mexican place for the last decade. Or they'll give me goals like 30g protein/meal and then I have no way to track them.

Good luck, Noomers. I hope whatever it is you find the thing that works for you!

So three weeks into Noom I have lost 2.5 lbs. Not bad. 4 lbs to go. The app thinks I will be at my goal by June 2. That seems unlikely. In any case, I am canceling Noom and going back to MyFitnessPal Premium, which I have used sporadically for ~4 years. I wanted to try Noom for the lessons and coaching, but I can't deal with its deficiencies anymore.
TL;DR the food tracking, reporting, and usability on MFP is miles better. The part you lose is the daily lessons and color coding.
Things MFP does better:

1. Macros. Noom keeps telling me to eat 30g protein/meal but offers zero way of tracking this. MFP tracks everything and lets me set custom goals for each macro and meal.
2. Recipes. On Noom, if I am eating one serving of a 4 serving recipe, I have to enter each ingredient as a fraction of the whole, then save it as a meal. MFP lets me enter a recipe as it's written and how many servings. Then it auto calculates. Better, if the recipe is online, I can paste the URL and it will automatically match the ingredients and quantities. I can edit this as needed. I also like this if I am considering a recipe that doesn't list nutritional information. Paste the URL and now I know.
3. Desktop site. Especially when adding a new recipe, I like having this option.
4. Easier visibility into what you've eaten. Say you are eating the same lunch as some day last week and want to copy it to today, but you didn't think ahead last week to save it as a meal. In Noom, you have to go into each day, scroll down, click food, click lunch, and hope to find which day you had that so you can save it as a meal. MFP shows you everything you ate at once on the screen as you page back by day.
5. Better food database and more flexible servings. At least once per day Noom does not recognize a food by barcode or search. Other times it returns the wrong item (whole milk yogurt instead of fat free, oatmeal instead of polenta). MFP is better for this, and if you do find a new item, you can enter all the data and have it in your log immediately. Noom doesn't even show it on the log! MFP also doesn't have the problem I often have on Noom of the barcode camera not focusing/scanning. And it lets me enter any fraction of portion I want, like 0.383 cups, not just 1/4, 1/2, etc.
6. Food history. When I go to log food, MFP shows me my common/recent foods. Noom seems to reset daily and show me things I have never eaten. MFP also lets me save things not just by meal but by recipe. Because coffee with half and half plus a bowl of fruit and yogurt is a meal, but three bean chili is a recipe.
7. Reporting. It is bizarre to me on Noom that if I want to see my weight chart for more than a few days, I have to export/share this as a photo. MFP just shows you charts for whatever time period you want. They also have weekly reporting on calories, macros, exercise, etc. Plus they show you your top foods by calories and category, like what you eat that is highest in protein or fat. You can even export CSV files of your data.
8. Cheaper. $80/year for MFP premium, which is < $7/month.

Still get: free recipes, workout routines, integrated apps (but way more apps).
What you lose:

1. Color coding. I think this was good to make me feel okay with eating more starches, but I can live without it. It was frustrating for it to be directing me to eat 30% green/45% yellow/25% orange and then give me no way to see how I'm doing unless I want to add up calories and divide ratios every meal. If it showed percentages or status bars in the meal tracker, I could adjust and maybe add more yellow at dinner, but no.
2. Coaches. This was what I was really looking forward to with Noom but each time I send a message I wait 2-3 days for a response, and then if I've asked 3 questions I will get a vague answer on only one of them. I asked several times about how to hit my protein goals as a vegetarian while staying in the color limits, and the most direct answer I got was, "how does your body feel?"
3. Lessons. I find these frustrating because they are oversimplified and ignore other responsibilities. "Grocery shop in the morning" like I don't have kids to get on the bus or meetings to go to. "Don't buy tempting snack food" is not realistic when one of the members of your household is a teenage boy, and "find new healthy restaurants" ignores that your family has loved the same Mexican place for the last decade. Or they'll give me goals like 30g protein/meal and then I have no way to track them.

Good luck, Noomers. I hope whatever it is you find the thing that works for you!

update:

1. I did more 2-3 tries of Haiku generation, unfortunately I never got the correct answer
2. I've always thought that GPT-3.5 is the most underpowered of all
3. Further tested it with Llama-3-8b & Llama-3-70b, both got it right*

the prompt

A man said to his son, "I was one-third of your present age when you were born". If the present age of the man is 48 years, find the present age of the son.

correct answer is: 36

model replies:

1. Gemini 1.5 Flash:

Here's how to solve this problem:
Let's use variables:
Let the son's current age be 'x'
Set up the equation:
The man was 1/3 of the son's current age (x) when the son was born. This means the man was (1/3) * x years old when the son was born.
Since the son was born 'x' years ago, the man is currently 48 years old, which is equal to the age he was when the son was born plus the son's age: (1/3)x + x = 48
Solve the equation:
Combine like terms: (4/3)x = 48
Multiply both sides by (3/4) to isolate x: x = 48 * (3/4)
Simplify: x = 36
Answer: The son's present age is 36 years old.

1. ChatGPT 3.5:

Let's denote the present age of the son as 𝑥x years.
According to the information given, when the son was born, the father was one-third of the son's present age. So, the father's age at that time was 𝑥33x​.
If the present age of the father is 48 years, then the age difference between the father and the son is the same as it was when the son was born. So, we can set up the equation:
48−𝑥3=𝑥48−3x​=x
Now, let's solve for 𝑥x:
48−𝑥3=𝑥48−3x​=x
Multiply both sides of the equation by 3 to eliminate the fraction:
3×48−𝑥=3𝑥3×48−x=3x
144−𝑥=3𝑥144−x=3x
Add 𝑥x to both sides of the equation:
144=4𝑥144=4x
Now, divide both sides by 4 to isolate 𝑥x:
𝑥=1444x=4144​
𝑥=36x=36
So, the present age of the son is 36 years.

1. Claude Haiku:

Okay, let's break this down step-by-step:
The man said he was one-third of his son's present age when his son was born.
The man's present age is 48 years.
So, we can set up an equation:
Let x = the son's present age
The man was 1/3 of x when his son was born
Therefore, the man's age when his son was born = x/3
Now, we know the man's present age is 48 years, so:
48 = x/3 + y
Where y is the number of years since the son was born
Rearranging, we get:
x = 3(48 - y)
We don't know the value of y, but we can solve for the son's present age x:
x = 3(48 - y)
x = 144 - 3y
Since the man said he was one-third of the son's present age when the son was born, we can conclude that:
y = 2/3 * x
Substituting this into the equation for x:
x = 144 - 3(2/3 * x)
x = 144 - 2x
3x = 144
x = 48
Therefore, the son's present age is 48 years.

Life insurance is a financial product that provides a lump-sum payment to designated beneficiaries upon the death of the insured person, through life insurance companies in Sri Lanka. This payment, known as the death benefit, can help cover funeral expenses, replace lost income, pay off debts, and provide financial security for loved ones left behind.

For self-employed individuals, life insurance in Sri Lanka is particularly important for several reasons:
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Life insurance, similar to retirement plans in Sri Lanka, provides peace of mind for self-employed individuals, knowing that their loved ones and businesses will be financially protected in the event of their death. It is a crucial component of financial planning for anyone who relies on their income to support themselves and their families.

How do I find the right life insurance policy for my needs?
Finding the right life insurance policy for your needs involves assessing your financial situation, understanding your goals, and comparing various insurance options. Here is a step-by-step guide to help you through the process:
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What should a life insurance policy include?
A comprehensive life insurance policy should include the following key components:
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· Cash Value (for Permanent Policies): Permanent life insurance policies typically accumulate cash value over time, which can be accessed by the policyholder through loans or withdrawals. The policy should specify how the cash value grows and how it can be utilised.
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· Coverage Exclusions and Limitations: The policy will outline any circumstances or events that are not covered by the insurance, such as suicide within a certain period after the policy is purchased or death resulting from illegal activities.
· Policy Renewal and Conversion Options: For term life insurance policies, the policy may include options for renewal or conversion to a permanent policy at the end of the term without the need for a medical exam.
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· Grace Period: The policy should specify a grace period during which premium payments can be made after the due date without the policy lapsing.
· Policy Surrender and Lapse Provisions: The policy should outline the process and consequences of surrendering the policy or allowing it to lapse due to non-payment of premiums.

It is important to carefully review the terms and conditions of a life insurance policy before purchasing to ensure that it meets your needs and provides the necessary financial protection for you and your loved ones.

I read the wiki and am still having a little brain hurtingness around pushing and pulling but want to experiment with it.
I get why you might want to do it out of necessity ie using sensitive film in a too bright situation or less sensitive film in a too dark situation. But what are some of the reasons you might do this intentionally for creative effect?
Any suggestions for good experiments to try out? Any specific film stocks to try pushing or pulling?
Will this be something any good lab will know how to do and will easily be able to do? Will they be annoyed? My usual lab is pretty cool folks. I will probably ask them for tips too but want to try to get a little understanding on my own first.
I had one specific question from the wiki here. In the example discussed the film stock was 400, the ISO was set to 1600, and then the film was marked as +2. I don’t really get this calculation. Is there any way to simplify what this means?
Probably will just do 35 because of the potential cost of doing some experiments but any specific considerations around shooting 120?
Sorry if this is a frequent topic, any tips/ideas much appreciated!

Digital ICs, also known as logic ICs, are designed to process signals in binary form, utilizing only two states, 0 and 1, to represent information. This binary signal processing approach offers several advantages, including simplicity, ease of performing logical operations, and reduced chip area.
Operating Principle:
The fundamental structure of a digital IC consists of logic gates interconnected according to a specific design. Each logic gate performs a basic logical function such as AND, OR, NOT, etc. When binary signals (0, 1) are applied to the logic gates, they are processed and generate new binary signals at the output.
Classification of Digital ICs:
Digital ICs are categorized into various types based on their function and structure, including:

1. Logic Gates

Logic gates are the fundamental building blocks of digital circuits. They perform basic logical operations on binary data, such as AND, OR, NOT, XOR, and more. These operations are essential for manipulating information and implementing various computational tasks in electronic systems.
Key Characteristics:
· Binary Inputs and Outputs: Logic gates operate on binary data, represented by two distinct states, typically 0 and 1. They take one or more binary inputs and produce a single binary output based on the specified logical operation.
· Truth Tables: Truth tables define the behavior of logic gates by listing all possible input combinations and the corresponding output values. These tables provide a clear representation of the gate's functionality.
· Hardware Implementation: Logic gates can be physically implemented using various electronic components, such as transistors, diodes, and resistors. The specific implementation depends on the desired logic family and performance characteristics.
Common Logic Gate Types:
1. AND Gate: Performs the logical AND operation, producing a 1 output only if all inputs are 1. It represents the "and" condition, requiring all inputs to be true for the output to be true.
2. OR Gate: Performs the logical OR operation, producing a 1 output if any or all inputs are 1. It represents the "or" condition, indicating that the output is true if at least one input is true.
3. NOT Gate: Performs the logical NOT operation, inverting the input. It produces a 1 output if the input is 0 and a 0 output if the input is 1. It represents the "not" condition, negating the input value.
4. XOR Gate: Performs the logical exclusive OR operation, producing a 1 output only if the inputs are different (0 and 1 or 1 and 0). It represents the "exclusive or" condition, indicating that the output is true only if the inputs have opposite values.
Applications of Logic Gates:
Logic gates are the foundation of digital circuits, enabling the construction of various electronic components and systems:
· Digital Arithmetic Circuits: Logic gates are used to build arithmetic circuits that perform addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division operations on binary numbers.
· Boolean Expression Simplification: Logic gates can be combined to represent and simplify Boolean expressions, reducing the complexity of digital circuits.
· Data Encoding and Decoding: Logic gates are employed in data encoding and decoding schemes, such as binary to gray code conversion and error detection and correction codes.
· Control Logic and Sequential Circuits: Logic gates are essential for designing control logic in sequential circuits, such as flip-flops, counters, and registers, enabling state storage and timing control.
Logic Gate Families:
Several logic gate families have been developed, each with its own advantages and disadvantages:
· RTL (Resistor-Transistor Logic): A simple and early logic family, but with high power consumption and slow speed.
· DTL (Diode-Transistor Logic): An improvement over RTL, offering better speed and lower power consumption.
· TTL (Transistor-Transistor Logic): A widely used family known for its balance of speed, power consumption, and noise immunity.
· CMOS (Complementary Metal-Oxide-Semiconductor): A modern family with extremely low power consumption, high speed, and high integration density.
· ECL (Emitter-Coupled Logic): A high-speed family used in high-performance applications, but with higher power consumption and complexity.
The choice of logic family depends on factors such as speed, power consumption, noise immunity, and cost. CMOS has become the dominant logic family due to its superior performance and integration capabilities.
Significance of Logic Gates:
Logic gates play a crucial role in the realm of digital electronics, forming the bedrock of modern computers and digital devices:
· Digital Computation: Logic gates enable the execution of complex computations and data manipulation, driving the processing power of digital systems.
· Logic Design and Circuitry: They provide the fundamental building blocks for designing and constructing various digital circuits, from simple logic functions to sophisticated microprocessors.
· Fundamental Building Blocks: Logic gates serve as the essential components that underpin the vast array of digital technologies that shape our modern world.
The development of logic gates has revolutionized the way we process information and interact with technology, enabling the creation of increasingly powerful and versatile electronic devices.

2. Memory

Memory is an essential component of any digital system, responsible for storing data and instructions that enable the system to function. It serves as the repository of information that the system processes and manipulates.
Key Components:
1. Memory Cells: The fundamental units of memory, each capable of storing one bit of data (0 or 1). Memory cells are typically based on transistors or other electronic components that can maintain a stable state.
2. Address Decoder: Responsible for translating memory addresses into specific memory cells. It receives an address from the CPU or other accessing device and identifies the corresponding memory cell where the data resides.
3. Read/Write Control Circuit: Manages the data transfer process between the CPU or other accessing device and the memory cells. It controls the reading of data from memory cells during read operations and the writing of data into memory cells during write operations.
4. Buffer: A temporary storage area that holds data during memory access operations. It acts as a bridge between the faster CPU or accessing device and the slower memory, reducing overall system latency.
Operating Principle:
Memory stores data by altering the state of memory cells. Each cell can represent one bit of data, either a 0 or a 1. The memory address serves as a unique identifier for each cell, enabling the system to locate the specific cell where data resides.
When the CPU or another device needs to access data from memory, it issues a memory request that includes the desired address. The address decoder translates this address into the corresponding memory cell. The read/write control circuit then activates the appropriate cell, either retrieving the stored data (read operation) or updating the cell's state with new data (write operation).
The buffer plays a crucial role in optimizing memory access by temporarily holding data during the transfer process. This reduces the overall delay experienced by the CPU or other accessing device, improving system performance.
Types of Memory:
Memory can be broadly classified into two main categories based on its data retention characteristics:
1. Random Access Memory (RAM): Volatile memory that stores data that can be changed or modified. Data in RAM is lost when the power is turned off. RAM is typically used for storing temporary data, such as program instructions, operating system data, and currently active applications.
2. Read-Only Memory (ROM): Non-volatile memory that stores fixed data that cannot be altered. Data in ROM remains intact even when the power is turned off. ROM is typically used for storing permanent data, such as firmware, boot code, and system configuration information.
Additional Memory Types:
· Programmable Read-Only Memory (PROM): A type of ROM that can be programmed once by the user, typically using a high-voltage device.
· Erasable Programmable Read-Only Memory (EPROM): A type of PROM that can be erased and reprogrammed multiple times using ultraviolet light.
· Electrically Erasable Programmable Read-Only Memory (EEPROM): A type of non-volatile memory that can be erased and reprogrammed electronically, without the need for external light sources.
· Flash Memory: A type of EEPROM that offers fast erase and write operations, making it suitable for use in portable devices and solid-state drives.
Significance of Memory:
Memory plays a fundamental role in modern digital systems:
· Data Storage: It provides the storage medium for essential data, including program instructions, operating system files, user data, and multimedia content.
· System Operation: Memory enables the continuous operation of the system by retaining critical information, such as system state, application data, and intermediate results of calculations.
· Performance Enhancement: Memory plays a crucial role in optimizing system performance by providing fast access to frequently used data and instructions.
The development of memory technologies has been a driving force in the advancement of computing, enabling the creation of increasingly powerful and versatile electronic devices.
3. Clock Circuit
Significance of Clock Circuits
Clock circuits play a crucial role in the operation of digital electronic devices. They provide the essential timing signal that synchronizes the operation of various components within the system, ensuring coordinated and efficient data processing. The frequency of the clock signal directly impacts the speed of the circuit, enabling faster and more powerful electronic devices.
Advancements in clock circuit technology have led to the development of higher-frequency, more stable, and lower-power clock circuits, contributing to the continuous improvement of electronic devices in terms of performance, efficiency, and reliability..
Components of a Clock Circuit
The basic components of a clock circuit include:
1. Oscillator: Generates the fundamental clock signal. Oscillators can utilize various elements, such as quartz crystals, ceramic resonators, or RC (resistor-capacitor) networks, to produce a stable and accurate clock signal.
2. Frequency Divider: Divides the clock signal from the oscillator down to the desired frequency. This is necessary because the oscillator may generate a much higher frequency than required by the circuit.
3. Counter: Counts the clock pulses from the frequency divider. The count value can be used for various purposes, such as generating timing signals or keeping track of time.
4. Decoder: Decodes the count value from the counter into specific time signals, such as seconds, minutes, or hours. This is particularly useful for applications that require real-time clock functionality.
Operating Principle:
A clock circuit operates by generating a clock signal with a stable frequency. This clock signal is used to synchronize the operation of other ICs in the system. The oscillator generates the basic clock signal, which is then divided by the frequency divider and counted by the counter. The decoder decodes the count value into time signals.
Types of Clock Circuits
Clock circuits can be categorized into two main types:
1. Internal Clock Circuit: Integrated within the IC itself. This type of clock circuit is commonly found in microcontrollers and other integrated circuits that require a clock signal for their internal operation.
2. External Clock Circuit: Provides a clock signal for multiple ICs. This type of clock circuit is often used in larger digital systems where multiple ICs need to be synchronized.
Common Clock Circuit Types
Several types of clock circuits are commonly used in electronic devices:
1. RC Oscillator Circuit: A simple and inexpensive oscillator circuit that utilizes resistors and capacitors to generate a clock signal.
2. LC Oscillator Circuit: A more stable and accurate oscillator circuit that employs an inductor and capacitor to produce the clock signal.
3. Phase-Locked Loop (PLL) Circuit: A sophisticated oscillator circuit that locks its frequency to a reference signal, ensuring high stability and precision.

4. Communication Circuits

Communication Circuits

Communication circuits enable integrated circuits (ICs) to exchange information with external devices, facilitating data transfer, device interaction, and system control. These circuits play a crucial role in modern electronic systems, enabling them to function as interconnected components within a larger network.
Key Components:
1. Physical Interface: Establishes a physical connection between the IC and the external device. This can be realized through pins, connectors, or wireless transmission mediums.
2. Data Transmission Circuit: Handles the encoding and decoding of data for transmission and reception. It ensures that data is converted into a suitable format for transmission over the physical interface and accurately interpreted upon reception.
3. Communication Control Circuit: Orchestrates the data transfer process, ensuring proper timing, synchronization, error detection, and error correction. It manages the exchange of data between the IC and the external device in a controlled and reliable manner.
Operating Principle:
Communication circuits operate by establishing a physical link between the IC and the external device, enabling the exchange of electrical signals. The data transmission circuit then encodes the data from the IC into a format suitable for transmission over the physical interface. This may involve converting the data into a serial bit stream, modulating it onto a carrier signal, or encapsulating it in a communication protocol frame.
Once transmitted, the data is received by the external device and passed to its communication circuit. The data transmission circuit then decodes the received data, converting it back into a format that the IC can understand. This may involve demodulating the signal, extracting the data from the protocol frame, or converting the serial bit stream into parallel data.
The communication control circuit oversees the entire data transfer process, ensuring that the data is transmitted and received in a synchronized and error-free manner. It may employ techniques such as clock synchronization, error detection codes, and retransmission mechanisms to guarantee data integrity.
Types of Communication Circuits:
Communication circuits encompass a wide range of technologies tailored for specific communication protocols and applications:
1. Data Bus: Enables multiple ICs to communicate with each other over a shared data path. Data buses are commonly used in microprocessors and other digital systems to transfer data between various components.
2. Serial Communication Port: Facilitates sequential data transmission between ICs, one bit at a time. Serial communication is often employed in applications where bandwidth is limited or long-distance communication is required.
3. Parallel Communication Port: Allows for simultaneous transmission of multiple bits of data between ICs, providing faster data transfer rates compared to serial communication. Parallel communication is commonly used in high-speed data transfer applications.
4. Wireless Communication: Enables ICs to communicate with other devices without the need for physical cables. Wireless communication technologies such as Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, and cellular networks are becoming increasingly prevalent in modern electronic devices.
Significance of Communication Circuits:
Communication circuits are indispensable components in modern electronic devices, enabling them to:
· Exchange data with other devices, such as sensors, actuators, and peripherals.
· Interact with user inputs, such as keyboards, buttons, and touchscreens.
· Respond to network requests and commands.
· Participate in distributed systems and control networks.
The advancement of communication circuit technology has led to the development of higher-speed, more reliable, and more energy-efficient communication interfaces, enabling the creation of more sophisticated and interconnected electronic devices that can seamlessly interact with the surrounding environment and with each other.

5. Central Processing Unit (CPU)

The central processing unit (CPU) serves as the "brain" of a computer system, orchestrating the execution of instructions and processing data to drive various operations. It is the heart of a computer, responsible for carrying out calculations, manipulating data, and managing the overall flow of information within the system.
Key Components:
1. Processing Unit: The core of the CPU, responsible for performing arithmetic and logical operations on data. It comprises components like arithmetic logic units (ALUs), floating-point units (FPUs), and registers that handle data manipulation and computations.
2. Control Unit: The maestro of the CPU, directing the overall operation and execution of instructions. It fetches instructions from memory, decodes them into understandable commands, and coordinates the activities of other CPU components to ensure proper instruction execution.
3. Cache Memory: A high-speed storage area that temporarily holds frequently accessed data and instructions, reducing the need for slower memory access. Cache memory acts as a buffer, improving overall system performance by providing faster access to essential data.
4. Data Bus: The communication highway that transports data between the CPU and other system components, such as memory and input/output devices. It serves as the data transfer channel, enabling the exchange of information between the CPU and various parts of the system.
5. Address Bus: The address decoder that identifies the specific location of data or instructions stored in memory. It acts as a pointer, pinpointing the exact memory address where data or instructions reside.
6. Control Bus: The traffic controller that manages the operation of the data bus and address bus, ensuring synchronized data transfers and maintaining overall system coordination. It regulates the flow of data and addresses between the CPU and other components.
Operating Principle:
The CPU functions by executing instructions stored in memory. These instructions dictate the operations to be performed and the data to be processed. The control unit plays a pivotal role in this process, fetching instructions from memory, deciphering their meaning, and directing other CPU units to carry out the specified tasks.
1. Instruction Fetch: The control unit retrieves instructions from memory, typically from the main memory or cache memory.
2. Instruction Decode: The control unit interprets the fetched instructions, breaking them down into their constituent parts and understanding the operations they represent.
3. Instruction Execution: The control unit directs the appropriate CPU units, such as the ALU or FPU, to execute the decoded instructions. These units perform the specified calculations or data manipulations.
4. Result Storage: The outcomes of the executed instructions, such as calculated values or processed data, are stored in registers or memory locations, making them available for further use.
The CPU continuously cycles through this fetch-decode-execute-store process, tirelessly processing instructions and manipulating data to drive the computer system's operations.
Significance of the CPU:
The CPU is the cornerstone of a computer system, enabling it to perform its fundamental tasks:
· Execute programs and applications: The CPU interprets and carries out the instructions that make up software programs, allowing users to run various applications.
· Process data: The CPU performs calculations, manipulates data, and transforms information, enabling the computer to handle complex computations and data analysis.
· Control system operations: The CPU manages the overall flow of information and coordinates the activities of other system components, ensuring smooth and efficient system operation.
The performance and capabilities of the CPU significantly impact the overall responsiveness, speed, and processing power of a computer system. Advancements in CPU technology have led to the development of faster, more efficient, and more powerful CPUs, enabling the creation of increasingly sophisticated and capable computers.
Many Sources

Cascaded control circuits, also known as ladder logic circuits, are a type of electronic circuit used to perform logical operations and control electrical signals in a hierarchical manner in automation systems. These circuits operate based on the principle of comparing the input voltage to predetermined voltage thresholds, thereby generating output signals at different voltage levels.
Basic Structure of a Ladder Diagram
Ladder diagrams are a visual tool for describing logic systems, particularly useful in the field of PLC (Programmable Logic Controller) programming. This diagram is composed of the following main components:
1. Power Rail (Left-hand Rail):

• Contains the program's inputs. These inputs can be signals from sensors, switches, or other devices.
• Represented by vertical lines on the left side of the diagram.

2. Output Rail (Right-hand Rail):

• Contains the program's outputs. These outputs can be control signals for motors, valves, LEDs, or other devices.
• Represented by vertical lines on the right side of the diagram.

3. Rung (Ladder Step):

• Each rung represents a step in the logic process.
• Consists of two parts:
  • Condition Part:
    • Contains contacts that represent the logical conditions that must be met to execute an action.
    • Contacts can be normally open (NO) or normally closed (NC).
    • Represented by square or round symbols.
  • Action Part:
    • Contains coils that represent the actions to be taken when the conditions in the condition part are met.
    • Coils are represented by rectangles.

4. Connections:

• Used to connect contacts and coils to each other, forming complete logic expressions.
• Represented by horizontal lines connecting elements within a rung.

Examples of Components and Sample Rungs
Example 1: Turning on a Light When a Switch is Pressed
Power Rail: Switch (input) Output Rail: Light (output) Rung:

• Condition: NO contact of the switch
• Action: Coil controlling the light
• Connection: Connect the NO contact of the switch to the coil controlling the light

Example 2: Using a Temperature Sensor to Control a Fan
Power Rail:

• NTC temperature sensor (input) Output Rail:
• Coil controlling the fan (output) Rung 1:
• Condition:
  • NO contact of the temperature sensor (when temperature > 25°C)
• Action:
  • Turn off the coil controlling the fan Rung 2:
• Condition:
  • NC contact of the temperature sensor (when temperature < 20°C)
• Action:
  • Turn on the coil controlling the fan Connections:
• Connect the NO contact of the temperature sensor to the coil controlling the fan (Rung 1)
• Connect the NC contact of the temperature sensor to the coil controlling the fan (Rung 2)

Explanation:

• When the room temperature is higher than 25°C, the NO contact of the temperature sensor will close, activating the coil controlling the fan and turning on the fan to cool the room.
• When the room temperature is lower than 20°C, the NC contact of the temperature sensor will close, activating the coil controlling the fan and turning off the fan to keep the room warm.

Note:

• This example only uses two basic rungs to control the fan at two fixed temperature levels.
• The diagram can be expanded with more rungs to control the fan at different temperature levels or combined with other sensors and devices to create a more complete automatic control system.
• The choice of temperature sensor, threshold temperature values, and control logic depends on the specific requirements of the application.

Structure of Various Sensors
NTC Temperature Sensor:

• Operating Principle: NTC (Negative Temperature Coefficient) temperature sensors are a type of resistor whose resistance decreases with increasing temperature.
• Structure: Consists of a semiconductor material made into a small resistor. When the temperature changes, the resistance of the semiconductor material also changes.
• Operation: As the temperature increases, the crystal structure of the semiconductor material changes, creating more conductive holes, leading to a decrease in resistance. Conversely, as the temperature decreases, the resistance of the NTC will increase.
• Applications: Heating system control, air conditioning system control, temperature alarm, etc.

Optical Sensor:

• Operating Principle: Detects the presence, position, or characteristics of an object using light.
• Structure: Includes a light source (such as LED, laser) and a receiver (such as photodiode, phototransistor).
• Operation:
  • Reflective Optical Sensor: Light from the emitter is reflected by the object and received by the receiver. When an object appears or moves, the received signal changes, activating the output.
  • Beam-Break Optical Sensor: Light from the emitter is blocked by the object, affecting the received signal. When an object appears or moves, the received signal changes, activating the output.
  • Spectroscopic Optical Sensor: Analyzes the light reflected from an object to determine the color, material, or other characteristics of the object.
• Applications: Optical sensors are widely used in various fields such as industrial automation, door access control, security, healthcare, etc.

Proximity Sensor:

• Operating Principle: Detects the presence of an object at a close distance without direct contact.
• Structure: Includes an emitter and receiver of electromagnetic waves, electric fields, or sound waves.
• Operation:
  • Electromagnetic Proximity Sensor: Uses a coil to create a magnetic field. When a metal object approaches, the magnetic field is distorted, affecting the received signal.
  • Eddy Current Proximity Sensor: Uses an antenna to transmit and receive electromagnetic waves. When an object approaches, the electromagnetic waves are reflected, affecting the received signal.
  • Ultrasonic Proximity Sensor: Uses a speaker to emit sound waves and a microphone to receive reflected waves. When an object approaches, the reflection time of the sound waves changes, affecting the received signal.
• Applications: Proximity sensors are used in various fields such as industrial automation, door access control, elevators, robots, etc.

Pressure Sensor:

• Operating Principle: Measures the pressure of a liquid or gas.
• Structure: Includes an elastic diaphragm, a strain gauge, or a semiconductor pressure sensor.
• Operation:
  • Diaphragm Pressure Sensor: When pressure changes, the elastic diaphragm is deformed, affecting the resistance or voltage signal.
  • Strain Gauge Pressure Sensor: Uses a strain gauge to measure pressure. When pressure changes, the resistance of the strain gauge changes, affecting the voltage signal.
  • Semiconductor Pressure Sensor: Uses a semiconductor chip to measure pressure. When pressure changes, the voltage signal on the chip changes.
• Applications: Pressure sensors are used in various fields such as healthcare, aerospace, automotive, industrial, etc.

Accelerometer:

• Operating Principle: Measures the acceleration of an object (rate of change of velocity).
• Structure: Includes an accelerometer mass, a spring, and a position sensor.
• Operation: When the object moves, the accelerometer mass is subjected to inertial force, causing it to move relative to the spring. The position sensor measures the position of the accelerometer mass, from which the acceleration of the object is calculated.
• Applications: Accelerometers are used in various fields such as aerospace, automotive, smartphones, robots, etc.

Force Sensor:

• Operating Principle: Measures the force applied to an object.
• Structure: Includes a mechanical deformation (tension, compression, bending) and a position sensor or strain gauge.
• Operation:
  • Electromechanical Force Sensor: When a force is applied, the object is deformed, affecting the resistance of the strain gauge.
  • Semiconductor Force Sensor: Uses a semiconductor chip to measure force. When a force is applied, the voltage signal on the chip changes.
• Applications: Force sensors are used in various fields such as industrial automation, electronic scales, robots, healthcare, etc.

Humidity Sensor:

• Operating Principle: Measures the humidity (amount of water vapor) in the air or surrounding environment.
• Structure: Includes a hygroscopic material (such as polymer, salt) and a resistance or capacitance sensor.
• Operation:
  • Resistance Humidity Sensor: When humidity changes, the resistance of the hygroscopic material changes, affecting the voltage signal.
  • Capacitance Humidity Sensor: When humidity changes, the capacitance of the hygroscopic material changes, affecting the voltage signal.
• Applications: Humidity sensors are used in various fields such as HVAC (heating, ventilation, and air conditioning), healthcare, food production, agriculture, etc.

Gas Sensor:

• Operating Principle: Detects the presence or concentration of specific types of gases.
• Structure: Includes a gas-sensitive material (such as semiconductor, conductive polymer) and a resistance or capacitance sensor.
• Operation: When the target gas comes into contact with the sensitive material, the resistance or capacitance of the material changes, affecting the voltage signal.
• Applications: Gas sensors are used in various fields such as industrial safety, environmental control, healthcare, gas detection, etc.

Additional Notes:

• The provided information on sensors covers a wide range of commonly used sensors in various applications.
• Each sensor type has its unique characteristics, operating principles, and applications.
• The selection of the appropriate sensor for a specific application depends on factors such as the target parameter to be measured, the required accuracy, operating conditions, and cost considerations.
• Sensors play a crucial role in various industries and scientific fields, enabling data acquisition, monitoring, and control processes.

The Advent of PLCs (Programmable Logic Controllers)

Prior to the introduction of PLCs (Programmable Logic Controllers), industrial control systems primarily relied on relays to perform control logic. However, the use of relays presented several drawbacks, including:
· Difficulties in Design and Programming: Designing and programming control systems using relays for complex circuits was time-consuming, labor-intensive, and required high expertise.
· Challenges in Troubleshooting and Maintenance: Identifying and rectifying faults within relay-based systems was a lengthy and laborious process.
· Lack of Flexibility: Modifying control logic in relay systems was intricate and expensive.
· Bulky Size: Relay systems often occupied substantial space due to their large size.
The advent of PLCs addressed the limitations of traditional relay systems, offering numerous advantages:
· Ease of Programming: PLCs can be programmed using user-friendly languages like Ladder Logic, Function Block Diagram, and others. This facilitates quicker and simpler design and programming of control systems.
· Simplified Troubleshooting and Maintenance: PLCs possess self-diagnostic capabilities, enabling faster and easier fault identification and rectification within the system.
· High Flexibility: Control logic in PLCs can be readily modified by altering the programming code.
· Compact Size: PLCs are compact, saving installation space.
Owing to these benefits, PLCs rapidly gained popularity as preferred control devices in industrial applications. Today, PLCs are extensively employed across diverse sectors, including:
· Manufacturing: PLCs control automated production lines, encompassing electronics, automotive, food processing, and other manufacturing industries.
· Building Automation: PLCs manage lighting systems, HVAC systems, security systems, and more in buildings.
· Energy: PLCs oversee power systems, water systems, gas systems, and the like.
· Transportation: PLCs handle transportation systems, including railways, roadways, aviation, and others.
The introduction of PLCs marked a revolutionary step in the field of industrial automation, contributing to enhanced production efficiency and productivity.
Many sources

Part 14.3

Heracles VS Lernaean Hydra

Author Note: I was thinking about it and I really wish that GT9 used more draconic symbolism throughout the story when (or if) I revisit Team Crowley VS Rosencreutz I'll have symbolism of Aleister (TheBeast666), Aiwass (Codename: DRAGON) and Coronzon (The Dragon of the Abyss) all have symbology of them being Dragons preying on a God/Hero like CRC and the reversed conflict of Chaos VS Order you see in mythology, I also wanted to achieve something similar with Kakine Teitoku as he can represent the Fallen Angel and the Seraphim but for now I'll try adding draconian symbolism into Gunha VS CRC.
True Expert Christian Rosencreutz, with his golden rosy cross sword, clashed relentlessly against the indomitable force of the Strongest Gemstone, Sogiita Gunha. With each clash of their powers, the air crackled and compressed, and the pavement trembled beneath.
CRC, observed Sogiita with a mixture of intrigue and disdain. "You fight like the legendary Heracles," he remarked, his voice carrying over the din of battle. "But know this, I am the Lernaean Hydra, and no matter how many heads you sever, I shall always rise again!" Rosencreutz roared to slice the #7’s midsection.
Sogiita, his entire body wreathed in unknowable energy, met CRC's blade unyielding. "Bring it on, old man!" he retorted, his voice brimming with confidence. "I'll knock you down as many times as it takes! I won't stop till you come to your senses and remember your roots, like the roses you love so much, Rosencreutz!!"
Their clash intensified, that old man’s higher dimensional sword colliding with the raw power of that boy’s fists and kicks as they pushed each other to their limits with each sword swing, punch, kick and flash.
Sogiita unleashed a barrage of punches, each strike carrying the force of a meteor, while that silver young man countered: he wielded his sword in his right hand and released impacts followed by white light that was enough to previously take down all of The Bridge Builders Cabal.
As the battle raged on, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and shift around them, bearing witness to the titanic struggle between two unparalleled forces.
The founder of Rosicrucianism who intimidated reality itself to obey his will and that Gemstone with an unstable personal reality that could change on a whim.
The atmosphere crackled with electrifying distortion.
Sogiita's fists tore through the air with the ferocity of meteors, their velocity enhanced by his ability to adapt and accelerate, surpassing even CRC's speed. As each blow was released, the friction with the surrounding air molecules ignited a scorching heat, intensifying the impact.
The rapid movement of molecules generated an escalating thermal energy, causing the air to seethe with increasing temperature. It was akin to a tempest of incandescent projectiles hurtling towards CRC, their speed surpassing the limits of human perception.
It was like a storm of brilliant fiery arrows was fired at Rosencreutz.
These blazing arrows of force were reminiscent of the elusive strikes employed by the Rose & Cross Leader, ignoring distance with deceptive agility.
With each thunderous punch, that bandana boy sought to overpower his adversary through sheer kinetic force, his unwavering resolve palpable in every motion.
But that wasn't enough for this superhuman.
CRC, wielding his cross sword with precision and skill, deflected each and every one Sogiita's flaming arrows with calculated strikes of his own. Each impact unleashed a burst of blinding white light, sending shockwaves rippling through the chaotic city.
"You think brute strength alone will defeat me?" the silver man taunted, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle. "You may be strong, but strength without strategy is nothing but raw power wasted."
Sogiita grinned, his confidence unshaken. "Strategies for cowards who can't handle a real fight," he retorted, his voice ringing with defiance. "I'll K.O. you with my fists and guts alone!!!!"
Rosencreutz's eyes narrowed as he parried another of Sogiita's punches. "Your arrogance will be your downfall," he warned, his tone tinged with certainty. "I may not match your overall speed, but I have something you lack: intellect and precision.”
Christian Rosencreutz then plunged his cross sword into the ground.
"This is what harmed Kamijou Touma," he declared, grinning and unleashing a torrent of lethal invisible attacks from his outstretched palms.
However, the #7 countered with a relentless barrage of flaming arrows from the thermal aftershock of his punches.
Each strike akin to a particle accelerator in its intensity and speed. That Gemstone was the particles being fired on the right and that True Expert was the particles fired on the left.
As the attacks clashed, the battlefield became a spectacle of raw power and precision.
“Roar!” CRC held his open palm to his mouth and blew gently on the tip of the middle finger.
That was all it took for a blaze easily outdoing a flamethrower to rush out. And this was not just any fire. It fed on the power of a ley line and stole vitality from space itself. This overwhelming mass of light and heat was wielded for no other purpose than to take lives. Anyone who tried to survive it using simple composite armor or special fibers would dry up and burn away in less than a second.
But that wouldn't kill another superhuman would it?
Of course not.
“Aaaaarghhhh!!!!” screamed the #7.
Some assaults bypassed the fray entirely, slipping through the chaos like elusive particles in a collider.
A smokescreen.
Those brilliant fireworks from hell weren't meant to take Sogiita’s life. They were meant to disrupt the Gemstone's senses and sight so he couldn't counter all of that old man’s deadly attacks.
Invisible strikes found their mark on that Gemstone, and the searing arrows of the arrows scorched Rosencreutz.
CRC was wounded but he rejected to make any whimpers. Instead with a sudden burst of velocity, the young silver man picked up his cross sword from the ground and launched a flurry of strikes, cutting at the #7’s body with pinpoint accuracy.
His arms, his head, his face, his stomach, his legs, his midsection, his back.
Each blow landed with devastating force, causing Sogiita to stagger back under the onslaught.
If that bandana boy hadn't had his defenses and general stats raised by the #5 he’d be cut to pieces.
The #7 fell on his back.
"There's a fire," Sogiita declared, his voice ringing out amidst the chaos of battle.
With each attempt to break his spirit, Sogiita's resolve only grew stronger, fueling the flames of his determination. "Every time someone tries to make me give up, it's like wind feeding my flames, making them burn even brighter just like my punches," he explained, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering determination.
He refused to stay down.
With a roar of defiance, Sogiita surged forward once more, his movements blurring with speed as he disappeared from view. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Christian Rosencreutz, catching the magician off guard.
"Hey, old man," Sogiita taunted, his voice filled with confidence as he seized Rosencreutz from behind.
Christian Rosencreutz's eyes widened in surprise as he realized he had been outmaneuvered.
As Sogiita Gunha faced off against Christian Rosencreutz in their airborne duel, he felt the flames of determination burning within him, driving him forward with unstoppable force.
Before he could react, the boy lifted him effortlessly and slammed him onto the pavement below with a resounding thud.
"I'm not just a kick-boxer!!" Sogiita sang.
As the impact reverberated through the air, the young silver man let out a pained cry. The force of the collision compressed the surrounding air, heating it up until it crackled with energy. Christian Rosencreutz's head struck the ground with a velocity equivalent to mach 20, igniting his body in flames upon impact.
This move is called a suplex.
Struggling to regain his bearings, Rosencreutz muttered in a daze, "The House of the Holy Spirit...the seven walls..."
"You said it yourself, didn't you?" the gutsy boy retorted, cocky. "My power and my guts can break through your impenetrable walls. And I can spread those same guts to the world around me."
With a grimace, Christian Rosencreutz acknowledged the truth of the boy's words. "Your uncontrolled AIM field grants you the ability to imbue non-organic objects with the properties of your virus," he observed, his voice tinged with begrudging admiration. "Allowing them to bypass even the defenses of the seven-walled tomb.”
"A virus? Don't be so gutless, CRC," the #7 retorted, his voice filled with defiance. "This battleground ruled by wills is a two-way road between you and me."
Christian Rosencreutz raised an eyebrow at the boy's words. "Hey Gemstone, you could've killed me if I weren't a superhuman with an idealized body that accomplished The Great Work and crossed the Ungrund, what then short-stack?" he questioned while fitting an insult against his height.
Even without the seven-walled tomb or sheets of diamonds Rosencreutz was cartoonishly durable.
"Sorry, old man," Sogiita retorted, a hint of irritation lacing his words at the jab about his height. "I may have let my enthusiasm get the better of me, but rest assured, I understand the magnitude of this battle. Just like the Hydra, no matter how many heads you regrow, I'll persevere until I've completed my labors.”
"Mhm, so you do know your mythology," CRC remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Lernaean Hydra, or simply Hydra, is a serpentine lake monster in Greek and Roman mythology. Its lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid, known as an entrance to the Underworld. In the canonical myth, the monster is slain by Heracles as part of his Twelve Labors."
"Yeah, I know," Sogiita replied confidently. "I studied the tales of great gutsy heroes in school.”
"So, short-stack," Christian Rosencreutz began, his voice carrying a hint of scholarly interest. “Have you ever considered the parallels between our battle and ancient Near Eastern religions?”
Sogiita listened intently. "Are you saying you see yourself as a god of war or a hunter?" he inquired.
CRC chuckled softly. "In a sense, indeed. We are both assuming roles in this grand theater, are we not? I, the Hydra, and you, Heracles."
He continued, "Consider the Second Labor of Heracles. Eurystheus, the king of Tiryns, sent Heracles to slay the Hydra, which Hera had raised specifically to defeat him. Heracles approached the swamp near Lake Lerna, where the Hydra dwelled. To protect himself from the poisonous fumes, he covered his mouth and nose with a cloth and shot flaming arrows into the Hydra's lair, causing it to emerge and terrorize the surrounding villages."
CRC paused, drawing a comparison. “In our own clash, the flaming arrows that Heracles hurled at the Hydra find their echo in your lightning-fast fists, generating shockwaves that ignite the air with their speed and force. It's as though each strike of yours is akin to shooting a flaming arrow, much like Heracles did.”
“Huh? Are you suggesting we're caught in a time loop? That some enigmatic group, like the Bridge Builders Cabal, manipulated events to resurrect you, pitting us against each other in a timeless struggle? I've never met them, and I'm certainly no child of Zeus. Are you implying that our battle will be distorted into a Greek legend by a meddling time traveler?!” frantically asked the boy.
“No, no, you simpleton. This world contains synchronicities. In Sumerian, Babylonian, and Assyrian mythology, the war and hunting god Ninurta was celebrated for his deeds. The Angim credited him with slaying eleven monsters during an expedition to the mountains, including a seven-headed serpent, possibly identical to the Mushmahhu, and Bashmu, whose constellation was later associated with the Hydra by the Greeks. In Babylonian contexts, the Hydra's constellation is also linked to Marduk's dragon, the Mushhushshu.”
“Uhhh….” That shounen boy was dumbfounded.
"Hhm, I suppose calling it a time loop isn't technically wrong," Christian Rosencreutz began, his tone measured. "I'll break it down from history class and reconstruct it through the lens of the occult. Historic recurrence, young Gemstone, is the phenomenon of events echoing throughout time. Whether it's the rise and fall of empires or the repetitive cycles within a single society, it's all part of this grand plan that was decided when Adam ate the forbidden fruit."
The #7 with his guard up but curious listened: "So, history just keeps repeating itself? Just a series of coincidences?"
Christian Rosencreutz shook his head sagely. "There is no such thing as coincidences. Take, for instance, the Doctrine of Eternal Recurrence, pondered upon by thinkers like Heinrich Heine and Friedrich Nietzsche. While it's said that 'history repeats itself,' it's not quite that simple. Rather, these recurrences stem from identifiable circumstances and chains of causality."
He continued, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of philosophical debate. "Consider the phenomenon of multiple independent discoveries in science or the reproducible findings in natural and social sciences. These recurrences, whether in the form of rigorous experimentation or comparative research, are vital to our understanding of the world."
Christian Rosencreutz paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "G.W. Trompf, in his seminal work, The Idea of Historical Recurrence in Western Thought, illustrates the recurring patterns of political thought and behavior since ancient times. Through these patterns, history offers us invaluable lessons, often leading to a sense of resonance or déjà vu."
Their words reverberated like a challenge to destiny itself, a testament to their unyielding determination in the face of adversity.
That Gemstone didn't surrender his characteristic fervor. "History echoing through time, huh? It's like the universe itself is stuck on repeat, and we're just caught in the cycle. But you know what? If history's gonna keep looping, then let's break the pattern! Let's smash through those chains of causality and forge our own path. Who cares about déjà vu? We'll create something entirely new, something that'll shake the very foundations of this world and we’ll do it with guts!!!" He defied that silver monster.
But Rosencreutz wasn't finished. He pulled out his Crystal World Map.
The supposedly old man listened intently to that boy's impassioned response, his expression inscrutable behind his clairvoyant card. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.
“Gemstone, you speak of breaking free from the chains of repetition, of forging a new destiny against the backdrop of eternal return. It is a noble aspiration, indeed. However, consider this: eternal return is not merely a philosophical concept or a whimsical notion of fate. It is the very fabric of existence, woven into the nature of time itself.” He pressed his finger on the Miniature Garden and a 3D holographic projection flew out—
“In ancient times, the Stoics grappled with the idea, seeing in it both a sense of cosmic order and a challenge to individual agency. Augustine and others recoiled from its implications, fearing it as a negation of free will and salvation. And yet, Nietzsche, in his brilliance, dared to confront the concept anew, exploring its depths in the crucible of human consciousness.”
Didn't Aleister Crowley say that he had to shatter every single phase in order to eliminate the concept of fate?
“I will shatter every last phase and put an end to all mysticism. It can be helped and we need not restrain our tears and bite our lip when faced with tragedy. I will bring back the pure world in which everyone can feel anger like normal and question it all like normal!!”
And didn't Coronzon appear to break down all the phases including the Pure World?
Partial destruction would be meaningless. If anything remains and an eternal distortion is born from that, then it will all happen again. I will eliminate the ten spheres, the twenty-two pathways, and the hidden eleventh symbol. Collisions between phases? Sparks and spray? You cannot save anyone if you only treat those symptoms. All of the fundamental clogs must be removed. All so we can pass the baton to whoever comes next.”
“Sparks and Sprays…” Rosencreutz muttered.
“Eh?” The #7 didn't quite hear him.
"Beside time stands fate, cruelty's steadfast herald. In the silent chambers of the soul, whispers the most profound wisdom. Humanity, in its folly, neglected to exalt life's splendor, its radiance, its grandeur. Truly, it is a rare gift to comprehend the forces that shape our existence.” That magician spoke in despair.
“From the moment man ate the fruit of knowledge, he guaranteed your species’ failure... Entrusting his future to the whims of fate, man clutches to a flickering hope. Yet, within the Miniature Garden lies the key to all revelation. Beyond the well-trodden path lies the ultimate terminus. It matters not who you are; Death is the sole certainty awaiting all.” he finished with scorn.
Shokuhou Misaki was currently linked to Sogiita Gunha so she was overhearing the entire conversation.
“Are you okay, Leader?” asked Kamijou back at the hospital.
“Yeah…” she responded.
*“Really?” Mikoto breathed a white sigh. “It wasn’t the shock of seeing their school destroyed. Nor was it the fear of having those rioters attack. …They’re afraid of their own power. And after learning how exactly to use that power to survive, they’re not sure they can just switch it off and return to their normal lives. So their gears have ground to a halt.”
Tokiwadai Middle School was a prestigious esper development school.*
The young ladies registered there were Level 3 at the lowest and Level 5 at the highest.
Almost all of the students had a power that surpassed that of a blade or handgun if used properly, but something had become twisted.
Yes.
“A lot of them weren’t really sure why they were training their powers.”
Shokuhou breathed a white breath, wrapped her own arms around herself, and rubbed her thighs together.
Why are you studying?
How many people could give a proper answer to that question? Because my parents told me to, because my teachers taught me to, because that’s how the world works. Those would be most people’s answers. Even the students with a clear vision of their future would only have something vague like “for the entrance exams” or “for my future”.
Only a small handful would have specific puzzle pieces in mind, such as “I need to learn how to use this equation so I can build a rocket”.
The young ladies of Tokiwadai Middle School were the same.
What if the very gears that humans have…their actions, reactions, inactions were all the result of some transcendental entity hovering above.
Like God or The Devil watching over humanity’s reality sphere and ordering around his system like everyone was a pre-programmed NPC that had specific events occur to them to get them to develop in the way that they did and determined their genetic bloodline that composed their psyche?
Is there truly a free will?
It was said that in order for you to break out of the system of society that the working class was stuck in you had to climb to the top where the corrupt elites resided.
Imagine Breaker negated sparks, Aleister Crowley could see through the veil thanks to Holy Guardian Angel Aiwass, Great Demon Coronzon could always see the cogs.
Christian Rosencreutz could view the entire world through his Miniature Garden.
The rest of humanity was at the mercy of their own destinies.
A Guardian Angel wouldn't arrive to save a parent’s child from fate every single time.
"Okay, nice poetry, can we get back to fighting already?" asked the #7 impatiently.
"Seems I got carried away," the old man conceded with a nod. "The synchronicities of this world, akin to the astral configurations in astrology, serve as an example of synchronicity, according to Jung. It describes circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection, much like the parallel relationship between celestial and terrestrial phenomena. Synchronicity experiences entail subjective encounters where coincidences between events in one's mind and the external world may lack a clear causal link but still harbor an unknown connection.”
"Ah," Sogiita chimed in, recalling his philosophy class discussions. "We talked about synchronicity back then. Jung thought it was a good thing for the mind, but said it could get dicey in psychosis. He cooked up this theory as a kind of mental link between those meaningful coincidences, calling it a noncausal principle. This term came about in the late 1920s, and then he teamed up with physicist Wolfgang Pauli to dive deeper. Their work, The Interpretation of Nature and the Psyche, dropped in 1952. They were big on this idea that these connections, even the ones that don't seem to have a cause, could still teach us a lot about how our minds and the world work."
“Mhm, you know more than you lead on, Gemstone.” pondered CRC.
“Oh this? My teachers say I'm not good at remembering speeches hahaha…” The #7 looked slightly nervous. “You know, analytical psychologists really push for folks to get what these experiences mean to boost their awareness instead of just feeding into superstitions. But funny thing is, when clients spill about their synchronicity experiences, they often feel like no one's really hearing them out, or getting where they're coming from. And hey, having a bunch of these meaningful coincidences flying around can sometimes ring the schizo bell. Delusions aren't healthy.”
Where was this conversation going?
"Delusion! Hah! That's a good one coming from you," CRC fired back.
"The real delusion is thinking humanity isn't worth a darn," Sogiita shot back, pulling out some info from Johansen and Osman. "Some scientists think coincidences are just random flukes, but counselors and psychoanalysts reckon there's more to it, like some deep-down stuff needing to come out. Unconscious material to be expressed."
Rosencreutz interjected, his expression reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. "Aleister Crowley's actions have left a lasting scar on this world and this city," he began, his voice weighted with solemnity. “The vacuum-like dichotomy between magic and science created by the use of that colossal psychotronic weapon, has damaged this world's memory almost irreparably.”
Psychotronic weapon?
The Archetype Controller?
He paused, his gaze piercing as he continued, "Jung's exploration of synchronicity as evidence of the paranormal paved the way for further inquiry, notably by Koestler and the subsequent embrace of these ideas by the New Age movement.”
Sogiita shrugged, "Some folks say synchronicity is impossible to test or prove, so it gets labeled as pseudoscience. Jung even acknowledged that these synchronicity events are basically just coincidences, statistically speaking. But hey, who's to say what's really going on without some solid scientific studies, right?"
"Dubious as his experiments may have been," CRC interrupted, "Jung believed in a connection between synchronicity and the paranormal, drawing parallels to the uncertainty principle and works by parapsychologist Joseph B. Rhine.” CRC posed a thought-provoking question, "How are we to recognize acausal combinations of events, since it is obviously impossible to examine all chance happenings for their causality? The answer lies in the fact that acausal events are most readily expected where a causal connection appears inconceivable upon closer reflection. It's impossible, with our current resources, to explain ESP or meaningful coincidences as mere phenomena of energy. This challenges the very notion of cause and effect, as these events occur simultaneously rather than in a linear cause-and-effect manner. Hence, I have coined the term 'synchronicity' to describe this phenomenon, placing it on equal footing with causality as a principle of explanation."
Getting closer to that Gemstone, CRC emphasized, "Esper abilities cannot be fully understood with science alone. They defy traditional cause-and-effect explanations, instead representing a convergence of factors that create a quantum phenomenon affecting both the micro and macro. Why were there the naturally gifted and the naturally ungifted?”
Why did some students get praised for their abilities while others needed to work harder?
Others among them would have worked every hour of their free time and not progressed anywhere in this city’s leveling curriculum.
Why did this city present such an unfair and unpredictable status quo of potential?
Why did hard work barely matter in a city of empirical evidence to record any possible progress?
Sogiita Gunha wasn't a normal Level 5 but he wasn't always this powerful. He went through the curriculum same as everyone but if the outside conditions for his Gemstone ability to manifest didn't form in the exact way that it did, in such an acausal form then would he even be here to challenge Christian Rosencreutz right now?
Everything just happened to fall right into place.
All those puzzle pieces that would lead to this moment here and now.
Was it all just talent? God picking a fool as his champion?
The #7 leaned back, absorbing CRC's words with a thoughtful expression. "So, what you're saying is, there's this whole other layer to reality that we can't quite wrap our heads around," he summarized, nodding slowly. "I mean, it's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—slippery and elusive."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Historic recurrence, synchronicities, all these things—they're like pieces of a puzzle scattered across this substantial reality. And sometimes, they just... click into place, right? It's like the universe has its own plan, and we're just along for the ride."
That bandana wearing boy's gaze drifted, lost in thought. "You know, CRC, it's funny," he remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Here we are, with all our powers and potential, but at the end of the day, we're still grappling with the same questions as everyone else. Talent, destiny, divine intervention—maybe they're all just different sides of the same coin."
He shrugged, the weight of the philosophical musings settling over the broken city. "Who knows? Maybe God does have a sense of humor, after all.” that boy chuckled.
There was a deep silence between them.
Rosencreutz’ response was swift and resolute, his tone filled with certainty. "All this ‘universe has a plan’ banter is just a distraction from the inevitable," he declared, his eyes narrowing. "We can debate the nature of us being all-powerful yet struggling with mortal issues until the sun burns out, but it won't change the fact that our fate was sealed upon the knowledge Adam learned."
“To think so many trivialities have developed while this old man wasn’t watching. Heh heh. Then I should assume the thread of fate has again begun to weave its strange connections between myself and some unknown human.”
He rose forward, his movements purposeful. "It's time to put an end to this dance of platitudes," CRC continued, his voice cold and unwavering. "We'll settle this the only way that somewhat matters—through objective action in this grand play."
“Silence, preserved doll. Illusionists are meant to remain silent. That is all we magicians are: wielders of substanceless illusions. Opening your mouth serves only to break the illusion.”
With a flicker of resolve in his eyes, he locked gazes with the #7. "I am Hydra, Gemstone," he said, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Our battle ends now.” CRC opened both his palms and began shooting at their surroundings, the buildings, the pavement, the apartments, the rubble.
It probably wasn't random as it seemed to create a pattern.
“Huh are you getting senile old man?” asked the young Gemstone.
“What fun. I never imagined someone would bother diligently polishing their skills this far while knowing it is all essentially an illusion. Didn’t you ever feel silly going to the effort?”
Rosencreutz dropped to all fours, his rosy cross sword gripped tightly in his right hand.
He moved—
“Arrgh!” Sogiita yelled amidst the relentless and precise and precise strikes from that golden cross. “Old man?” he asked.
That magician didn't say anything.
That silver man’s movements became more beastly.
Faster.
Stronger.
Fiercer.
Something new was beginning to manifest.
With each strike of his higher dimensional blade that old man’s blows seemed infused with an otherworldly energy.
The wounds inflicted by his weapon burned with a venomous intensity, sending searing pain coursing through Sogiita's body.
That boy grimaced as the poison from that silver man’s strikes surged through his being, each wound feeling like it was ablaze with venomous fire.
"Damn... That burns…like a killer hornet’s sting," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice strained with effort. Gritting, he fought to maintain his focus, despite the agony threatening to overwhelm him.
Was this another application of The Four Stages? Citrinitas? No, there was nothing yellow here, it was more like a dirty purple.
But it wasn't just the physical damage that posed a threat.
As the Rosy Cross leader leaped on all fours his movements took on an almost erratic quality, he was bouncing from one building to another with an animalistic agility.
With each jump, a shockwave rippled through the air, carrying with it a palpable sense of dread.
Something was spreading.
The air around them seemed to thicken with a toxic miasma. The #7 struggled to breathe, the noxious fumes clouding his senses.
Like a chaotic monster’s venomous poison breath.
The once-clear air now felt thick and suffocating.
Gasping for breath, the bandana boy struggled to maintain his focus amidst the swirling chaos.
His vision blurred, his movements sluggish as he fought against the oppressive atmosphere.
Blinded that heroic boy could only fire a flame arrow without his sight.
His fists striking out with all the strength he could muster. Igniting in that poisonous compressed air.
It seemed to be flammable like a dragon’s breath.
???
At the hospital, Shokuhou's voice carried a mix of surprise and relief. “He caused real damage.” she exclaimed.
Kamijou turned his attention to her, intrigued. “What happened?”
“It's hard to see clearly, but it looks like the #7 managed to blast off CRC's left arm,” she explained. “Though, I'd say it was more of a lucky shot. I can read he acted on pure instinct.”
Kamijou nodded, a hint of melancholy in his tone. “Yeah... the psychic link and all.”
Had the #7 Level 5 given up on the old man?
Back on the battlefield, Sogiita cursed under his breath. “Dammit... Sorry, old man,” he muttered. “I was aiming to hit your whole body to maximize the surface area, maybe break a few bones as a casualty. We can probably get your arm reattached at the hospital. Heaven Canceller has enough guts to even fix me.”
It was clear—he hadn't given up.
It was an accidental strike of his arm.
“As each ghastly head was severed from its serpentine form, dreadfully, two more writhed forth from the abyss.” a cryptic voice amidst the chaos spoke.
Wasn't it said that the Hydra’s lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid.
Lerna was reputed to be an entrance to the Underworld.
The abyss.
The Ungrund.
There is no limit to the depth of the Alcyonian Lake, and I know of nobody who by any contrivance has been able to reach the bottom of it since not even Nero, who had ropes made several stades long and fastened them together, tying lead to them, and omitting nothing that might help his experiment, was able to discover any limit to its depth. This, too, I heard. The water of the lake is, to all appearance, calm and quiet but, although it is such to look at, every swimmer who ventures to cross it is dragged down, sucked into the depths, and swept away.
The keeper of the gate to the Underworld that lay in the waters of Lerna was the Hydra.
The serpentine Lake Monster.
“Rosencreutz……?” The #7 muttered.
That magician chuckled ominously. "No, young Heracles, Hydra." he intoned, his voice echoing with a bizarre resonance. “The Lernaean Hydra's curse is upon you now.” as he said that he cut off a bit of his arm that was cuterarised with his golden blade and it began bleeding.
Anna Sprengel’s blood was said to create unknown miracles when spilled.
Christian Rosencreutz’ blood was so virulent that even its scent was deadly.
As Sogiita Gunha glanced at his severed arm lying on the ground, a creeping sense of horror enveloped him. "All of fate is a curse and that curse," he murmured, his words barely audible over the din of battle, "extends even to my severed limb.”
Christian Rosencreutz’ left arm grew back.
No.
Two new arms grew in its place.
The fate of chaoskampf? The hero battling the dragon?
The arm was fully functioning with no defects.
Although one of the arms appeared somewhat scaly and lanky like a serpent.
It had human anatomy but something was abnormal here.
He almost looked like a spider as he emerged from the poisonous fog as he remained on all fours.
“So short-stack. Are you ready to complete your final labor: Crossing the abyss!!!” He challenged that boy with his cross sword facing him.
"Boss, what's up? You look kinda stuck," Kamijou asked, his tone concerned.
Two students were sitting together in the waiting room at a hospital.
"—abyss, Hydra, curse, synchronicities, Historic recurrence." she replied, her words carrying a weight of unease.
"Huh? What? Can you give me the lowdown?" Kamijou prodded, his urgency evident.
"Can't quite wrap my head around it. But what I can tell you is that after CRC started talking about these esoteric concepts, he leveled up his power ability, managed to seriously hurt the #7 despite me cranking up all his stats for the win condition," the honey-blonde girl explained, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Can you beam all that stuff into my head, like a memory download? You're a psychological esper, right? My right hand won't mess with it, and we've done the telepathy thing before," Kamijou suggested.
"Memory download's not quite it, but I can send you a recording," she clarified.
"Got it," Kamijou muttered as he absorbed the info.
"You got any ideas to help the #7’s situation ability, Kamijou-san? We're kinda desperate here," she asked.
"I wish Index was still here, dammit.” he lamented, “But you know about magic, right?" he queried.
"Yeah, people converting their delusions into reality right?," she admitted.
"Well, magic's not just about delusions; it can be tied up to the whole world. Not sure if it's relevant, but based on Idol Theory, Rosencreutz might be pulling in 'energy’ from the Greek 'phase’ of Heracles for an edge," Kamijou theorized.
"Like a chessboard flip?" Shokuhou Misaki inquired, her brow furrowed with concern.
"No, more like... imagine you're playing checkers with a buddy, and you're totally crushing it because you're a checkers pro. Then suddenly, your buddy switches it up and challenges you to an arm wrestling match, and you lose because, well, arm wrestling isn't your forte," Kamijou Touma explained, trying to paint a vivid picture.
"So, by taking on the role of the Hydra from Greek myth, he's essentially forcing the #7 into the role of Heracles? But didn't Heracles defeat the Hydra?" Shokuhou sought clarification.
"Yeah, but..." Kamijou recalled the tale from the movies he'd seen. "Lichas gave Heracles a shirt soaked in the Hydra's poisonous blood from his arrows, which ends up killing him by tearing his flesh down to the bone," he elaborated.
"It was actually Nessus seeking vengeance and tricking Deianira into giving it to Heracles as a gift, delivered by Lichas without disclosing the tunic's lethal bloodstained secret from the Lernaean Hydra, but you're right," Shokuhou corrected gently. "So, Rosencreutz is harnessing the power of that legend to slowly poison the #7?"
"Not literal. I mean the poison is real but his slashes do significant harm now so it's more like shifting the paradigm in his favor…shifting his position.” The spiky-haired boy wasn't in the mood to explain Phases, “Earlier, he mentioned Sogiita spreading his 'virus' throughout the world. A virus isn't a poison in the traditional sense, but the Rosicrucians originally sought to create a universal cure for all illnesses. Now, CRC is spreading a literal poison, positioning himself as the ultimate predator and his opponents as prey rather than his savior role, the paradigm has been shifted." Kamijou concluded, his voice tinged with gravity.
“So he’s changed the environment to get the win condition? The #7’s durability doesn't matter in the face of the world being forced to go about a certain way because of Rosencreutz stage play?” The girl asked.
“Yeah…if things keep going this way…Sogiita will….goddamnit….” The spiky haired boy swore. “I can't let someone else die after all that's happened but I feel like if I go out there I really will kill him…” he muttered that last bit while clenching his right fist that began shaking uncontrollably.
The girl’s eyes seemed confused.
“What did you say?” The honey blonde middle schooler asked.
“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.” he spat out.
That boy and girl could never come to the right conclusion on their own without the aid of former Magic God Othinus by their side.
“Did you think I had challenged you with no hope of succeeding, you cesspool? The magic born on earth is bound by the directions based on the earth’s magnetic field and by the density and composition of the air which is determined by air pressure which is in turn influenced by gravity. That is inevitable when you are focused on the cardinal directions of north, south, east, and west or on the basic elements of fire, water, wind, and earth. But what you will find upon leaving the atmosphere is an unknown. Coronzon, are you sure there will be no malfunction in the magic giving you control of Avatar Lola? And before, my power was bound by the puny speck named earth which failed to become a black hole or even a sun, but once we enter outer space, just how far do you think that power will be released? I do not mind at all that I will lose the support of Academy City.”
Well the boy was half right.
“Let us test it out, you cuspidor. On one side, we have you using the planet and bound to an avatar. On the other, we have me exposed and freed from the planet. Now, who will be the star of this show?”
Christian Rosencreutz did not shoot at his surroundings for no reason.
The battlefield transformed into Rosencreutz's canvas, resembling the legendary battleground of Lerna where Heracles once clashed with the Hydra.
Yes.
He didn't unleash his powers randomly; every action was deliberate.
In the magical side of Idol Theory, mimicking an object, event, or person allowed one to tap into a fraction of its power.
And that even applied to locations that essentially worked as stage plays.
Idol Theory was so absolute that even the basic cross held a portion of the son of God’s power.
As Above, So Below.
As Below, So Above.
Macro to micro.
Micro to macro.
And the macrocosm and the microcosm are always linked.

Sending Compressed Excel Files: A Primer

Sharing Excel workbooks via email is a common practice in both professional and academic settings, enabling seamless collaboration and data exchange. However, large Excel files can pose significant challenges, including slow transfer speeds, email server restrictions, and data consumption issues. The solution lies in compressing the workbook, which not only reduces the file size but also ensures faster transmission and adherence to email size limits. This approach is particularly beneficial when dealing with extensive datasets, complex formulas, and embedded media that inflate the workbook's size.
Compressing an Excel workbook before emailing it also adds a layer of security and data integrity, as the zipped file is less susceptible to corruption during transit. Furthermore, this method supports batch sending of multiple files, allowing for a more organized and efficient way to distribute related documents. By understanding the steps to effectively zip and email an Excel file, users can improve their workflow, ensuring that recipients receive and can access important data without unnecessary delay or complications.

Command/Software	Description
Excel	Microsoft Excel is used to create spreadsheets that can be compressed into a zip file.
Compression Software	Software like 7-Zip or WinRAR is used to compress the Excel workbook into a smaller, zipped file format.
Email Client	An email client (e.g., Microsoft Outlook, Gmail) is used to attach and send the zipped file.
VBA (Visual Basic for Applications)	A programming language used within Excel to automate tasks, including zipping and emailing workbooks.

Enhancing Email Efficiency with Excel Compression

Emailing Excel workbooks is a staple in the realm of digital communication, especially for professionals who rely on the sharing of spreadsheets for collaborative projects, data analysis, and reporting. The act of sending these files in their raw form, however, can be fraught with challenges, primarily due to the size restrictions imposed by many email services. Large files can lead to delivery failures, extended upload times, and can even clog the recipient's inbox, hindering productivity and efficiency. This underscores the necessity of compressing Excel workbooks before they are emailed, a practice that reduces file size without compromising the integrity of the data contained within.
Compressing an Excel file serves multiple benefits beyond just ease of email transmission. It facilitates quicker download times for the recipient, conserves bandwidth, and can even provide a layer of added security against unauthorized access during transmission. When Excel files are zipped, they also allow for the inclusion of additional files in the same archive, making it convenient to send related documents together. This method of preparation and sending of Excel workbooks not only streamlines the process but also ensures that the information arrives intact and is readily accessible by the intended parties, thereby optimizing the workflow and collaboration efforts.

Automating Emailing of Zipped Excel Workbooks Using VBA

VBA in Excel

 Dim ZipFile As String, WorkbookFile As String, MailSubject As String WorkbookFile = ActiveWorkbook.FullName ZipFile = WorkbookFile & ".zip" Call ZipWorkbook(ZipFile, WorkbookFile) MailSubject = "Compressed Excel Workbook" Call EmailWorkbook(ZipFile, MailSubject)   ' Code to compress WorkbookFile into ZipFile   ' Code to email ZipFile with subject MailSubject  

Optimizing Workflow with Excel File Compression and Emailing

Excel's robust platform offers extensive capabilities for data analysis, project management, and financial reporting. However, the convenience of sharing Excel workbooks through email often encounters the obstacle of file size limitations. Compressing Excel files before emailing is a pivotal strategy to mitigate this issue, ensuring that large datasets, complex charts, and extensive calculations are transferred efficiently and effectively. This technique not only aids in overcoming email server restrictions but also facilitates a smoother collaboration process by enabling the quick exchange of information without the need for third-party file-sharing services.
The practice of compressing Excel workbooks before emailing also enhances data security. By zipping the workbook, one can add password protection to the compressed file, offering an additional layer of security during transit. Moreover, this method simplifies the process of sending multiple files by consolidating them into a single, manageable package. This not only saves time but also organizes the data in a way that is easily accessible to the recipient, thereby enhancing the overall communication and project management efficiency within teams.

Frequently Asked Questions About Emailing Zipped Excel Workbooks

1. Question: Why should I compress an Excel file before emailing it?
2. Answer: Compressing reduces the file size, ensuring it meets email size limits, speeds up the sending process, and can provide added security.
3. Question: How do I compress an Excel file?
4. Answer: You can use built-in compression tools in your operating system or third-party software to zip the file.
5. Question: Can compressing an Excel file affect its data?
6. Answer: No, compression reduces file size without altering or losing any data contained within the workbook.
7. Question: Is it possible to password protect a zipped Excel file?
8. Answer: Yes, many compression tools offer the option to add password protection to the zip file for added security.
9. Question: How can I send a zipped Excel file via email?
10. Answer: Attach the zipped file to your email as you would with any other attachment and send it to the recipient.
11. Question: Will the recipient need special software to unzip the file?
12. Answer: Most operating systems have built-in tools to unzip files. However, third-party software may be needed for additional features like password protection.
13. Question: Can I compress multiple Excel files into one zip file?
14. Answer: Yes, you can select multiple files and compress them together into a single zip file for easier management and sending.
15. Question: Does compressing an Excel file reduce its quality?
16. Answer: No, compression only reduces file size, not the quality or integrity of the data within the Excel file.
17. Question: Can I email a zipped Excel file from within Excel itself?
18. Answer: No, you need to first compress the file using a compression tool, then attach it to an email separately.

Wrapping Up the Excel Compression and Emailing Guide

Compressing Excel workbooks before emailing them is an essential practice for anyone looking to share data efficiently and securely. This method addresses the common problem of file size limitations imposed by email servers, ensuring that important information is delivered swiftly and intact. Beyond the practical benefits of reduced file size, such as faster upload and download times and bandwidth conservation, compressing files also offers an added layer of security, particularly when password protection is applied to the zipped file. Moreover, this approach supports the consolidation of multiple files into a single package, streamlining the sharing process. Ultimately, understanding and utilizing file compression for Excel workbooks enhances collaboration, improves productivity, and ensures that data is shared in the most effective manner possible.
https://www.tempmail.us.com/en/excel/how-to-send-a-compressed-excel-workbook-via-email

Feeling overwhelmed by manual HR tasks? Drowning in paperwork and spreadsheets? Oracle Fusion HCM can be your lifesaver. This cloud-based HR solution offers a suite of features designed to streamline your HR processes, saving you time and money. Here are 5 key ways Fusion HCM can revolutionize your HR department:

1. Automated Onboarding: Onboarding new hires can be a time-consuming process. Fusion HCM automates tasks like collecting new hire information, sending welcome emails, and assigning training modules. New hires get a smooth introduction, and HR frees up valuable time.
   
2. Simplified Payroll and Benefits: Payroll can be a complex headache. Fusion HCM streamlines the process with automated calculations, deductions, and tax filings. Managing benefits is also a breeze — employees can enroll and manage their benefits through a self-service portal.
   
3. Effortless Performance Management: Regular performance reviews are crucial, but can be cumbersome to manage. Fusion HCM offers a user-friendly platform for setting goals, providing feedback, and conducting performance reviews. Both managers and employees gain clarity and transparency in the performance management process.
   
4. Enhanced Talent Acquisition: Finding and attracting top talent is a constant challenge. Fusion HCM provides tools for applicant tracking, candidate sourcing, and interview scheduling. The system also facilitates collaboration between hiring managers and HR, ensuring a smooth recruitment process.
   
5. Data-Driven Decision Making: HR decisions are most effective when based on data. Fusion HCM provides robust reporting and analytics tools. HR professionals can gain insights into workforce trends, identify areas for improvement, and make data-driven decisions to optimize your human capital.
   

Oracle Fusion HCM goes beyond automating tasks. It empowers your HR team to be more strategic, focusing on fostering a positive employee experience and driving business success.
Are you looking to enhance your Human Capital Management (HCM) skills? Look no further than Triotech Software’s comprehensive Oracle Fusion HCM online training program. Our expert instructors provide in-depth knowledge and hands-on experience to help you master the intricacies of Oracle Fusion HCM. Whether you are a seasoned HR professional or just starting your career in HCM, our training will equip you with the latest tools and techniques to excel in the dynamic field of Human Resources. Join us today and take your HR expertise to the next level with Triotech Software’s Oracle Fusion HCM online training!

Hello you filthy bastards.
Time to learn what a poor mans covered call is.
Let's start with the basics of a traditional covered call:

• You buy 100 shares of a stock trading at $125 per share.
• This will cost you $125 * 100 = $12,500.
• You then sell a Call option, above your strike, say, $128, and receive juicy premium for doing so.
  • If the stock price rises to $130, you short call is assigned, and you sell your stock at $128, and keep your premium.
• If you're a little timmy and you don't have $12K in the bank. What do you do?

Enter: The PMCC, the poor mans covered call, the diagonal call spread.

• Instead of buying 100 shares of stock -
• We buy a deep, in the money, call option, for a fraction of the price.
• Some criteria people like to follow:
• At least 90+ days to expiry, at least 70 delta
• Let's use AAPL as an example here (Trading at $187 at time of this post)
  • 17th Jan 25 180C is currently $21 and it's delta is sitting at 0.698, the DTE is 247 Days. and it costs $2100 to purchase, instead $18,700.
  • This call acts as our synthetic 100 shares of stock. We can now sell a Covered Call against this call option.

But what should the strike be?! Ah I am glad you asked Timmy.

• You need to make sure you are covering your ass and not selling below your cost basis if you are assigned. This is because the flow is as follows:
• Buy 180C for $2100
• You sell the $190 call for $1.65 and get $165 in premium.
• AAPL goes to $192, and you are assigned. What happens?
• Your 180C is assigned and you get 100 AAPL for $18,000.
• You have to then sell your stock for $19,000, congrats you made $1000 in profit.
• You also made $165 from the short call, so in total, you made $1165.
• But wait, your CALL was $2100?! So you actually lost $935.
• What you need to do is calculate the short call strike to ensure a profitable outcome:
• $18,000 + $2100 for the call = $20100 / 100 = $201.
• So now if we redo the trade and sell the 200C for $1.20, we get $120.
• If we're assigned - we buy $18,000 worth of APPL, sell it for $20,000, make $2000 + $120.

The idea is to ensure you are always in an profitable outcome, and reduce the cost basis of your original long ITM call.

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 239: Standing Start
A wine bottle rolled against the side of my boot.
Amidst a gallery of stunned faces and open mouths, it was easily the second most lively thing here.
The first was a clockwork doll clutching at her stomach in pain.
“Ahahahha~ ahahaha~ ahah … uck … ack … ughh … ahahaha~”
I pursed my lips.
Still, I said nothing.
For one thing, this was precisely what happened when one ate the mouldy cinnamon rolls combined with any grass growing by the side of the road. If Apple refused to eat something, then so should she.
But for another–
“What … What is this … ?”
It was because the first response was reserved for the baroness.
Her words came out in a quivering tone, matching the disbelief upon her face.
Frankly, she had to do better than that.
Only the wine from the bottle I nudged away dribbled into the soil. And also the line of drool from a comatose farmer. But I didn’t want to think about that.
Still, it was an excellent benchmark. Until her tears could properly overpower the sour aroma from the Château de Riaré Hensoise, I would deem her bawling to be incomplete.
She had a long way to go.
“How … How are you still …” she began, slowly rising from her seat. “This … This is impossible–”
I offered a tidy smile alongside a flick of my hair, relishing in the moonlight adorning my figure.
“I agree. It shouldn’t be possible. But I assure you, my skin is 100% natural.”
“E-Excuse me … ?”
“No magical enchantments. No unicorn elixirs. No witchly glamors. Just a healthy sleep schedule of however many hours I desire and a diet of fresh strawberry shortcakes.”
The baroness mouthed silently at my secrets being revealed.
A strange way of offering her gratitude. Other princesses hounded my door for this knowledge. Given her pale, blotchy skin and lips as dry as a pond in a desert, she should be pleading for more.
Instead, she pointed at the fallen drunk beside us.
“This … This shouldn’t be possible … no, wait … the clockwork doll … did she–”
She suddenly snapped towards Coppelia, her eyes widening.
“Uuh … ahaha … ugh, it hurts ... ahaha … it hurts so much … ahaha … my tummy … aha … oh no … I’m … I’m seeing daisies … aha … I … ugh … I think I need help …”
Coppelia hugged her stomach, writhing like a freshly hatched caterpillar. Her eyes darkened as hiccups of laughter assailed her defeated form.
The baroness pursed her lips.
Then, she turned to Renise instead.
“Did you–”
“A-Amazing! … I … I have no idea what you did … but it wasn’t just wonderful … it was beautiful! The colours! The warmth! It was like a rainbow come to life!”
With a smile worthy of any attendant, the maid brought her hands together in polite applause. Naturally, to be praised for my brushwork was nothing new to me. Nor was the sight of stars shining in her eyes with greater brightness than any in the night sky.
Why, that even came whenever I left my bedroom.
“You … how did … how did you defeat him … ?”
The strands of the baroness’s golden hair began to frizzle as she turned towards me. All I saw were her tonsils. Bright red and healthy. She should be pleased.
“This was … this was no common man … do you know who he is … ?”
Without offering a chance to ignore her, she stamped a foot, pointing at the fallen drunk with maddened jabs. The man offered no defence, now as spent and drained as the bottle beside him.
I raised a brow.
“Indeed, I do. He’s a farmer who made poor life choices. And between leaving his farm and offering his pitchfork to an overly ambitious baroness, the greater was you. My congratulations on being the superior mistake. I acknowledge your triumph.”
Bwam.
The baroness promptly slapped her palms down on the table.
“This man … is Willem of Hagel,” she said, her teeth gritted together. “A man desperate and cursed.”
“Yes, well, to be a peasant is a dire thing. But it could be worse. At least he isn’t nobility.”
A mouth further widened before me.
Indeed, this was a terrible time to realise her affliction. But I was no famed angel of healing for nothing. There was a cure for ambition. And it involved copious amounts of tears.
I was still waiting.
“There is no world in which you should have been able to defeat him … not if half the tales about him prove true … he is a famed opponent … all the while you are … you are …”
Suddenly, her eyes left my face for the very first time.
No longer feeling that my cheeks were in danger of being poked, she swept her eyes upon my person, as though hoping to find some blemish to signify I was as false as a field of corn.
She stopped at the sword by my side.
And also–
“A copper ring,” she said softly.
Suddenly, my 29th house of cards I was subtly constructing collapsed.
… T-The ring!
The blot on my finger! The insidious badge of shame! The symbol of the Adventurer’s Guild!
Why, I’d taken it for granted that my masterful disguise was impervious! But this was no ordinary noblewoman I was seated across!
This … This was one I’d previously sat across before!
I’d made a terrible mistake!
I was mesmerising! A beautiful princess as charming as I was modest!
There was utterly no scenario in which I’d be forgotten!
I … I should have removed the copper ring!
“O-Oho … ohoho … w-what copper ring?” I said, my hands vanishing below the table at a speed con artists could only nod at. “Ah, do you refer to the ruby inlaid ring I often carry on my hand? The one which changes colour depending on the longitude and latitude? In that case, you may very well have briefly spied something which resembled a copper hue. But it is in fact a thing of unparalleled beauty and craftsmanship. Not a disgraceful copper ring.”
The baroness slowly looked up at me, her eyes blinking.
“No. I wasn’t mistaken. I … I recognise that ring. It is a copper ring, the same size and shape as those worn by … adventurers.”
My mouth widened in horror.
At once, I immediately sought a plant pot or a heavy book. Something to immediately erase the past few seconds of her memory.
Why … if she knew my secret, then the shame would haunt me all the way until I’d found something weighing at least equivalent to a standard hardback!
“I see,” she mumbled, as much to herself as me. “I understand now …”
The baroness removed her palms from the table.
She stood up straight, a hard expression upon her face. One which calculated with each passing moment the optimal way to exploit this devastating information.
Then, she took in a deep breath–just as I began assembling the playing cards into a thick pile.
“… it must be a legendary artifact.”
As I began eyeing her temple … I blinked in non-understanding.
“Excuse me?”
She nodded, her frown harsh enough to permanently crease her skin.
“To wear such a plain, ugly and shameful ring … one which utterly demeans your history, your worth and your pride, destroying any semblance of dignity you possess–”
My hand went to my stomach, struck by as much pain as Coppelia had experienced in a single moment.
“–indeed, to wear a ring so easily mistaken as one belonging to adventurers, the vermin of the world … it must be a truly terrifying artifact.”
I blinked.
And then–
“Ohhho … ohoohho! You … You see the truth of it!”
The baroness squeezed her fists by her side.
“I knew it.”
I nodded, my bangs bouncing against my forehead.
“I-Indeed … ! This ring I carry on me … it is a masterful item of supreme quality, passed down along generations of my family! Why, its appearance matching those of rings worn by adventurers is no coincidence! Theirs are based on this very design! Although they have since tarnished it, it was forged back in the first days of the kingdom when copper was greater than gold! Poured within it is knowledge now lost to time! A power beyond compare, called upon from the depths of the Royal Vault!”
The baroness sucked in a hateful breath.
“Then that explains it,” she said with bitterness ringing throughout her voice. “You were able to defeat such a powerful adversary through the use of your family’s ancient heirlooms.”
“Indeed, this powerful ring with a rare ability I cannot disclose defeated a terrifying farmer! Therefore, there’s no need for you to relay any suggestion that I’m anything but a princess, as far removed from the Adventurer’s Guild as hygiene is to their members!”
The baroness gave no response.
A respite which lasted far too short.
“... I see, then it means the plan continues. Different, yes. But I’ll not be deterred.”
She smiled, the familiar sight of aristocratic opportunism mixed with an utter denial of facts shining within her grey eyes.
I could only react with horror.
“Plan?” I replied, convinced she was well and truly several sandwiches short of a picnic. “Do you mean the plan currently lying in a fallen heap beside us? Did you not just say I defeated your farmer? Your only plan now is to decide which part of the ground you wish to offer your forehead to.”
The baroness shook her head with renewed confidence.
“I think not. To defeat Willem of Hagel, you must have expended every effort you had available. Not a crumb of power could be spared, for to underestimate him would have resulted in your certain loss. Meaning …”
Without hesitation, she gave a multipurpose wave of her hand.
“... You’ve nothing left but a sword you cannot wield, and two retainers against all of mine. One of whom is incapacitated. The other a maid.”
She continued to keep her hand raised. Her simple call to arms.
It took several moments before she cared to even look around her.
A sad thing.
If she had, she would have realised the curiosity of her hoodlums was less than their prudence.
She would have noticed the eyes without loyalty, seeing only the fallen figure of a drunk they’d been led to believe was more than a farmer now watering the ground with his drool.
And she would have noticed the state of her dress, as dishevelled as her ambitions as those she relied upon slinked away in search of newer gutters to inhabit, following instincts she could learn as the last of their feet shuffled into the darkness.
The baroness paled.
It was far too early for that. She had no idea Apple was currently resting in her tavern, and wouldn’t be helping her haul all of the goods which needed delivering to a place less damp than here.
But I could sooth her forthcoming backache with a smile, at least for the assistance already provided.
“You have my gratitude,” I said, brushing a speck of … countryside from my lap. “For so long as the nobility continues to concoct slapdash schemes with no hope of success, the kingdom can continue to assign blame on you when all else goes wrong. When the mobs come calling and heads start rolling, it ensures a steady queue of necks can be offered before ours are reached. That is why the nobility continues to exist, you see, despite the ceaseless treason. So allow me to offer a word of advice when next you wish to survive in a position of responsibility. When fleeing, the best defence isn’t to run faster–it’s to trip the person beside you. And this means better hiring practices.”
I glanced pointedly around me.
All this empty space and not even a single eyepatched second-in-command to use as a distraction? An amateur mistake. One the baroness now realised as her mouth opened wordlessly, the realisation of her solitude only now dawning upon her.
Yet all it invited was a newly wrought defiance.
“I do not mean to flee,” she said, her fists tightly clenched. “I am Arisa Sandholt. And even should I be captured here, you would not be afforded a night’s rest. I am not alone. Whether tonight or tomorrow, this kingdom will fall. I am not alone in planning its demise.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, please. Planning my kingdom’s demise is what everyone does.”
“What?”
“If it’s not being actively planned, it’s because someone’s in the middle of planning how to formulate a plan. And then once they’ve finished planning, they wonder why their plan didn’t work as planned. This is not a cause for concern. It’s a sign the world is still spinning the correct direction.”
The baroness feigned a dignified silence.
It was far too late, of course. By default, nobility had no dignity.
Still, I accepted the effort, and filled the silence with a tidy clap of my hands.
“Now, since you’ve no intention of fleeing, you can be useful instead. I’ll require a full inventory of your stock. I intend to requisition every single item you have in your possession. Every grain. Every crown. And every odd piece of tableware, carpet, candleholder and painting you might have.”
I pointed at the barn. A tragic thing to requisition. But if I was fortunate, it’d grow lacquered tiles and bay windows in the short steps between here and there.
Suddenly, the baroness’s eyes widened. The needless defiance dropped alarmingly from her face.
“Wait … what do you mean by that?”
I paused for a moment, puzzled by her reaction.
This was hardly the complicated part.
“I mean exactly what I mean. This should come as no surprise. I will be emptying every corner of the property you’ve misappropriated, including whatever manner of tunnels you’ve carved for your use. Rest assured, I’ll be employing the talents of my retainers extensively. With or without your cooperation, every single inch of your abode will be inspected by myself for the Royal Treasury’s benefit.”
She blinked between Renise and Coppelia. Although one was dressed as a maid and the other now appeared to be napping on the ground, their skills when it came to matters of unearthing valuables in my kingdom’s underbelly was not one I doubted.
Nor, from the way the baroness gulped, did she.
“I can do it,” she said suddenly.
I looked at her in confusion, uncertain what ploy this was.
“... Excuse me? Do what?”
“The items of value. I can bring them out. There’s no need to personally see to such a thing yourself.”
“While I’m in full agreement, I can hardly trust your reliability in this manner. And besides, I’ll hardly be playing the mule. I shall be supervising while closely assessing every item.”
Once more, the tonsils came out.
An appalling disregard of decorum. There was only one time that nobility was permitted to look so horrified in my presence. And that’s if they were copying my own after I discovered a list of marriage suitors posing as a napkin beneath the dessert spoon again.
“E-Even so … as the one who wronged you, I insist on not troubling a princess any further. If you give me a few moments, I can acquire the most important valuables for you in a fraction of the time you’d spend on finding them.”
“A few moments to hide them, you mean. No, I’m afraid that anything you wish to stuff beneath a floorboard will need to be appropriately examined first.”
I leaned away in mild alarm as a bead of sweat ran down the baroness’s face.
A moment later–
She finally did what only someone in her position could.
Adhering to the instincts of all nobility, she swept up her dress and suddenly dashed away.
Except it wasn’t towards the dark forest, to be lost amidst the shadows and the jaws of whatever awaited her there. It was back towards the barn.
I watched as she stumbled several times before even reaching the steps.
“... A desperate sight, no?” I said, with a sad shake of my head. “To throw away all semblance of the image she’d hoped to craft. Now she flees like a frightened towngirl. She should know that escape is now impossible.”
Beside me, Renise let out a hum.
Far from chasing after the baroness, she collected the pack of cards I’d assembled for memory wiping purposes. She began to build a house of cards.
I looked at her in puzzlement. She gave a strangely pained smile in reply.
“I believe we can offer her a few moments.”
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Hello cat preparation family, I've been in this group for quite some time now and I tend to follow all the discussions, especially during this time of the year where you make arguably one of the most important decisions of your life, choosing a correct B school. I'm a senior from GLIM from back in the day, and I've been in touch with many recent alums that seek guidance from me concerning the further recourse of their journey. I saw the interim placement reports of GLIM, and I want to articulate a much more palatable version of the same ; let's decode it further shall we ?

• I personally know the person who got the highest package from this year's batch, he's from my hometown. Even he is awestruck with the numbers that have been flaunted on the website and the offer letter that he has signed.
• The point about new recruiters is true.
• They are claiming that they have placed over 90% of people, but in reality these include people who were on a sabbatical and they had to join their parent organisations after their course had end. So what they are doing is including these bunch of people in the placed category, but not including their post MBA salary in the calculation. This is because sabbatical peeps generally get much lower CTC's as compared what one can expect from campus. This year however, people who went back to their parent organisations have got a much higher salary as compared to a larger fraction of the cohort.
• GLIM advertises this as a list of participating companies, as many of them either ran away from campus after not knowing that a 1 year MBA could exist other than ISB, or they simply revoked their offers and fled. The list includes many companies that simply floated a JD and never bothered to show up, like Zopper, Neo Roots Design, Chola MS, Laxai Life sciences etc.
• They have simply cut pasted the placement statistics of the previous year by changing the headings. The top 75% didn't have a 18.3 LPA, it would at most be the top 10-15%.
• Most of the batch got anywhere between 8-15 LPA, with a significant portion of them oscillating around the lower end of the spectrum. This is true only when you don't consider the folks who are currently unplaced and unlooked after, then in that case the range would be between 0-15 LPA.
• The industry wide classification of placements is a blatant lie. NO ONE GOT PLACED IN STRATEGY CONSULTING UNLESS YOU CONSIDER ACCENTURE STRATEGY, which is barely a strategy consulting firm. Whatever consulting there is on campus is tech consulting. Strategy consulting roles didn't come to us 4-5 years before, it doesn't come now. That is because there is a serious positioning problem for great lakes where they inherently only get companies famous for analytics, and the Placement cell doesn't put in that extra effort to help change the positioning of the B school.
• Accenture, Delloite, Infosys and TCS did make the highest no. Of offers. This has been a main stay for many years now.
• No way in hell the average is 17.3 , it's gonna be somewhere between 14-15 based on the inputs of the outgoing batch students. The numbers never made sense back in the day, and it simply doesn't make sense today as well. Don't just use a pinch, take a bag of salt before you trust the placement reports of any B school in general, not just GLIM.
• I don't recall anyone getting a General Managerial role from campus, I might be wrong though someone from the current batch please correct me if you're seeing this.
• The worst part that I'm hearing that never happened during my time is that the placement cell are continuously calling the unplaced students and harassing them to opt out of the placement process. Many of them have genuinely not been given enough opportunities, and this was never the case with GLIM back in the day. The GLIM I knew was compassionate, and helpful. But with the recent change in management, things have sadly changed for the worse. I'm hearing things like management is calling up these unplaced students one by one, and playing divisive politics. People who don't want to comply, are being soft threatened by saying that either further opportunities won't be given to that student, or worse, their marksheet and other documents wouldn't be released from campus. The placement cell is digging their own grave, as such threats can be legally binding, and the person who is responsible for harassing these students and playing with their career can actually face jail time if the student chooses to go down the legal route. If the GLIM administration is seeing this, please don't destroy the career of so many kids who have come to y'all with hopes of kickstarting their career. I was actually proud of being a GLIM Alumnus for quite some time now, but recent incidents have compelled me to take a tougher stance w.r.t the matter. Don't do this, GLIM. Just Don't.

Feel free to add any more pointers. Many people won't say this, but I believe it's your duty to analyse both sides of the coin before you invest your hard earned money into an MBA program. Misinformation is a serious issue, and the only way we can combat this is by actually engaging with the alumnus, not by taking everything the placement cell has to say at face value. All the best for your upcoming B school journey guys.