I'm a 19 year old male and I constantly have thoughts that I have missed a big part of my life because of of having extremely little contact with my age women.
I believe that I can talk to girls just fine (one on one especially) but I dont find myself being in a situation around girls naturally and having a chance to do so. The feeling that nobody likes me, doesn't want me, although I dont view myself as ugly I think quite the opposite. Then it comes down to my personality right...
Like I have courage because I have met with like 3 almost total stranger girls ( through snapchat lol) to do some activities etc but all of them were a one or two-time meet basically.
Since middle school I have grown apart from girls i dont know the reason for (porn?) and havent made any female friends. Although when I was younger until age 7 my bestfriend was a girl who was very close to me, until we moved and grew apart.
I know I should just wait for it to come naturally but meanwhile the thought of it is causing me sadness/depression - feelings that other people my age have experienced more than I have.
I need constant reassurance in my head that it will get better and there are people like me everywhere who don't have social circles with women going to beaches, houseparties etc.
I really don't know how to communicate this better, it just makes me feel like I have wasted my life in these terms. I don't want to be a 40 year old man when i experience my first kiss. I havent experienced anything remotely romantical (except a hug) with any girl.
Even a girl from my new class who i have known for 3 years and have had sufficient contact with her, i still feel awkward when approaching her.
Man being socially anxious is tough

Even before I left the Org, I always loved to read. Mostly historical books, True Crime and the most odd subjects. After I left the Org at 14, I would have to hide any book that I was reading for fun as everything was a sign of how I am being influanced by outside sources.
Some of my friends would pass books around like I remember when the book Helter Skelter book was pass around, a book about the Zodiac Killer.
Just as the 1980's ended there were a ton of paperback books about Satanic Cults. Not like how to join one or promoting but like crimes and mysteries surrounding Satanic Cults and one book that stuck in my head was Called Satan's Underground.
I know that years after this particular book was published the Author was found out to be a fraud and suffered from mental illness, even though that was the case I was like well damn it was still a great work of fiction then.
So this book was popular in my circle of friends yes worldly. My friend Tina let me borrow her copy and I wanted to read it but had to do it in private. I kept the book in my school backpack and mixed it in with my school books.
One day my mom in one of her searches in my room for drugs, or whatever (Even though I was against drugs) Found the book. She was livid.
The title of the book and the cover made her go ape shit. I was able to stop her from setting the book on fire, mostly because it belonged to my friend Tina.
I told her it was a school assignment against joining Cults and Satanic Groups, you see the author claimed that she escaped from a Satanic Cult.
My mom let me read some passages to her to prove that it was against Satanic cults enough for her not to destroy the book like she had done so many others.
She told me to take it out of the house and never bring it back, she said "Oh what would the Elders say"
I remember some of the books she threw away were an autobiographical book about a WWII Bomber pilot, A book about a young boy and a slave who got shipwrecked on an Island, and another was a book about Lindberg.
Even when I was a kid my parents did not like me reading books that weren't from the ORG.
As soon as I moved out and lived on my own I started my own library of books.

It's been 2 days, so I think it's time for part 2- it's gonna be short. Don't wanna ruin my sleep schedule It's messed up already as it is, but we won't mention that.
I wanna take a moment to thank all of you reading this, I was honestly surprised at how well this was received. So thank you!
Lastly, all love to for having made such an amazing universe.
===---===
Memory Transcription Subject: Alan Voor-hein, UN Secretary-General.
Date [Standardized Human Time]: January 1st, 2300, 12:00
It's 12:00, and the meeting is about to begin. I had only arrived like 30 minutes ago, and took the remainder of my time to grab a quick bite (as I was unable too back home in my rush) and to freshen myself up a little. I only had gotten into my seat just a mere 10 minutes ago- and over the course of those 10 minutes, I was joined by various Diplomatic and Military advisors.
I was seated across the room from the door, having a chair at the far-middle-end of the circular table. Above me, as usual, was the symbol of the UN. The Symbol of the peacekeepers, the symbol of hope and peace. Underneath it, there was a smaller symbol, that smaller symbol replaced Earth with a Star symbol. This was done in order to placate the Colonies we have sprinkled around the Solar System. After all, the UN was now no longer just an Earth bound organization- hasn't been for a while now. So it felt fitting to slowly move over towards a newer and more relevant Symbol. On Earth we still use the Earth having logo, while on our colonies we use the Star having one.
To my right was the seat for General (John) Remau, an elderly French descending man at 60 years old. Short prickly grey hair, and a mustache to accompany him. Blue eyes. His experience is mostly based on Counter-Terror actions. But by the Gods, he is good at his job. He is the "tough yet caring" father type of guy, even the men he used to command gave him he nickname of "Father John".
To my left is the seat of Minister (Ayumi) Kamura, a younger Japanese lass, 27 years old. One of the youngest people in the room, and yet one of the most capable in her duties as Minister of Diplomatic Affairs. Long flowing black hair. Brown eyes. She started as an Intern roughly a year and a half ago, under me. Shy at first, but she quickly managed to move up thanks to her charm and intellect, and I offered her the job of MDA. And she has been killing it ever since.
These 2 are my most trusted advisors in their own field of expertise. There are many more seated in the room now, but these 2 are the ones I am on a first-name basis with.
And now.... time for the meeting.
...
There was a slight chaos among the entourage of advisors. None of them had any idea why this meeting was called, only my two trusted seconds had gotten messages with the most relevant details about all of the happenings surrounding the discovery. Gotta love the quick work of AI. Once everyone had sat down on their allocated seats, I stood up, all eyes glued to me, and began speaking.
"All of you may be wondering why I called you all here today. Earlier today, in the early morning hours, the drone we had ordered to be sent into the void...-" I took a second to think on how to actually bring this news to the others, but I knew there was no dancing around the issue. "- The drone has encountered Alien life."
The second those words left my mouth, the room erupted into whispering murmurs, some thinking it was a lie, other's in a show of disbelieve.
I began speaking again, not giving them anytime to start asking questions. "The drone arrived onto this new star system at 10:15, and it initiated it's automated surveying. It already detected something "grey-ish" above a tidally locked planet. At 10:35, the drone went into it's Warning signal mode, the drone went into Cloak and began sending details about it's discovery. The drone had laid it's eyes on an orbiting space-station."
While I was speaking, John, our General, was having his own conversation over the phone with- who I assume, is one of his goons. John said something along the lines of, "Alright. I'll tell 'em.", before taking a look at me and interrupting me in my speech. "Sir, with all due respect, I have just received a call from one of my guys, who I had put on it after I had gotten the AI's message. And uh.. I think this is interesting for all to see."
"Very well. -" I said, pressing the button in the table in front of me, lowering a screen from the ceiling of the room. The screen covered the southern wall of the room, opposite of me. "- Have the room, General."
"Thank you Sir." John walked up to the screen, scanning his badge on the nearby security system which was connected to the screen, it auto-logged John in. John proceeded into his classified filed stash, and pulled up a newly made folder labeled "Unknowns".
The first thing John showed on the screen was a picture taken by the drone, the picture that showed the drone spotting the weird "grey" blob above the planet, followed by a picture closer to the blob, clearly showing it to be a space-station of some kind. "This here, gentlemen and women-" John began with, "-is what this meeting is about. Here is the undeniable proof for all you naysayers in the crowd."
The ones who had more doubtful looks on their faces before, looked on now with curiosity.
"And the newest details I have gotten-" John went on, "-can be seen right here." John pulled up a video the drone recorded. The video showed the drone moving at insane speeds towards the orbit of this planet, which was shown to be quite earth-like, moving past the Station quickly. The drone was starting to slow itself down rapidly as it reached into the atmosphere of the planet. The drone hovered for a moment before resuming it's move.
Our lovely drone stayed as high as it possibly could, while not breaking sight of the ground in a clear camera view. It rapidly moved towards what looked to be a small rural town of sorts. The drone halted it's flight dead in the center of the sky, high in the air above the town, turning it's camera downwards and zooming in even further for more of a clear view of the town.
As it slowly zoomed in, smaller dots appeared on the screen. You wouldn't have to be a rocket scientist to tell that those would, most likely, be the natives of this planet, moving about in their daily life- however they may live it. It still wasn't clear how these Aliens looked like. The drone elevated itself lower, and kept zooming in more.
Once the drone's camera had fully zoomed in, we could finally make out what these Aliens looked liked...
...
...
Question began flowing through my mind. Fur- Knock-kneed hind-legs too? Are these not the natives, are these just their version of ...a Sheep?? If so, where are the actual natives... why would they let their cattle run around freely?
... There has to be natives on the planet.
The drone went on and on, going from town to town, and in all towns it was the same sight. These "sheep" walking around, and doing their own things. To say I was dumbfounded would be an understatement. Guess these ARE the natives of the planet then.
John spoke up again after closing the video- "As you can see, Gents. We've come across an Alien civilization. That's why we're here. - Sir, the floor is yours again." John nodded at me and sat back down at his seat.
...
Straight to the point like always, aren't we John?- "Right- .. Now, as General Remau has stated, we have encountered an Alien space going civilization. It's up to us to come up with a strategy on how to deal with this, and how we'll proceed from here."
The flock of advisors all looked at each-other, either not knowing what to say, or refusing to say anything on it - like always.
I spoke up again. "I propose a few options on how to proceed, we'll discuss all of them, and decide on the eventual future proceeding on this issue. We have a few options to choose from.

1. We'll spy on the native of this planet, try to find enough intelligence as we are able too, while also ramping up our military production tenfold, as we do not know if these aliens are friend or foe.
2. Isolate ourselves, and stay clear of them. Letting them live their lives, and hope they let us live ours.
3. Opening up communications right away, and see if we can befriend them.

The floor is now open to voting, click the link on your pads which you receive-" the sound of multiple pads receiving a notification can be heard-, "- now, and vote which option YOU think we'll have to go with. Understood?"
Everyone nodded, and the voting commenced as it always would. Unlike most situations, now the voting seemed to take longer, as everyone was truly thinking of all possible scenarios. One's we are all familiar with.
...
After 5 minutes the voting concluded, and the result were shown on the screen. 78% voted for option 1. Spying and intelligence gathering it is.
"Thank you all for voting. I, Kamura and Remau shall continue speaking on the best course of action regarding option 1. You're all dismissed. Keep in mind, this will be kept secret until we say so, understood?" Everyone in the room nodded once again- and began gathering their stuff to leave.
John and Ayumi walked over to me, and the 3 of us waited for the room to clear out of all occupants- apart from us. Once everyone left the room, the door locked itself shut. Allowing the three of us to speak undisturbed.
...
"Well, that's over-" John grumbled.
"You can say that again- I hate meetings as much as you do." I retorted back at him, giving a slight chuckle.
Ayumi perked up, "Come on guys, it wasn't that bad-"
"For you, yeah. You love 'em." I told her as I looked right at her. "They're like a party for you"
"That's not entirely true! .... for the most part-" She clapped back.
I gave her a smile. "Sure... back to the topic at hand- the best way to gather as much info on these sheep-ish people as possible. I propose sending more drones to the planet."
John let his own mind run with an idea, "What if we send one of our own guys to the planet with Cloaking armor, so he or she can do some ground work. See how they live, how they act, all that stuff."
"Wouldn't that cause political backlash?-" Ayumi spoke out in protest "-I mean.. sure, they will be cloaked, but what if they are discovered? We know nothing about their technology. For all we know, they surpass us in all fronts. Why not sent a "diplomatic" mission or somethi-"
"That's not going to work, Ayumi" I said, interrupting her. "-We can't let them know of our presence... yet..."
...
Minutes went by as we continued speaking on this- the three of us eventually decided on just sending a couple drone to the planet, and letting them do the work. Some drones would also be carrying probe droids. Tiny ones which can be hidden among furniture even, and the smallest cracks.
We are also going to increase our military spending and development. An order of 8K more ships will be placed later today- ... I honestly can't wait to get home soon. Just an hour more of chatting with these 2 nut cases- and I'm free. ... love 'em though.
...
===---===
Sorry for it being short, as said, gotta think of me sleep bois!
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With the industry very quietly allowing access to Dabs by recreational users, they have now scooped up that generous 20% of the market that is Dab Sales, and they flood it into recreational land. This will inevitably skyrocket the price of Dabs, even though logically speaking over time it should decrease the price. 

Advoc8 always Meduc8 Daily 

“So, how much?”
I didn’t know Charles well, but well enough to guess that the grizzled hog farmer was a talented salesman. ‘No lowballs,’ I imagined him drawling, waggling his finger, and speaking over his exceptionally jutting chin.
“Three-hundred fifty for the land, the pen, and the house,” the man said. He spat, hard, and the tobacco-black phlegm stuck to the side of the fence post and slowly ran down the side in three rivulets.
“Then another twenty grand for the hogs. Two-hundred thirty-three of ‘em, not a large passel. Price of swine is goin’ up, I’ll tell you, so t’s the best I can give you for what you’s gettin’.”
I had expected to hand him even more money. Charles and his wife had a small operation, but big enough to matter, with a beautiful two-story farmhouse to accompany it nicely. I wasn’t getting a better deal anywhere else. At least not anywhere I wanted to be. I’d longed to live as a farmer in Tennessee ever since my family’s entire property burned to the ground back in the fall of ‘68. It was dry, and we’d just fertilized after the harvest.
Not a living thing was left untouched by the flames, not even my father, who ran back to get the horses after the barn shot up with a pillar of fire. We never found his body. Or maybe we did, but the charred dust of the barn, the corn, and the animals we called our lives and the blackened remains of the man that was my world were all reduced to ashes in the end. And when the wind came, they all blew away just the same, forever to leave me, my two sisters, and my mother behind.
I held out my hand to Charles and we shook on it.
It wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself. Not when I got my engineering degree from Georgia Tech. Not when I began work at a small engineering firm. Not even when I saw the hog farm for sale less than an hour from my house did I realize that was the world I lost that I needed back. My wife didn’t care; in fact, it brought her work commute down to forty minutes from an hour ten.
After we moved there and I began consulting part-time to make allowance for the time I needed to spend raising the hogs, caring for the land, and tending to my now-pregnant wife, the fulfillment I sought seemed that much closer. But only that. Closer, yet still out of the reach of my yearning clutches. It wasn’t until two years after I bought the farm, almost to the day, that the chips seemed to fall on my side with her.
“Micah?”
Jackie was calling from the cubicle over. Then I heard footsteps coming towards my own office space.
“Hey, yeah, did you finish the drainage plans for the floodplain you were working on? If so, I’d happily review and sign off on them.”
Jackie had come here a couple of years after I did. She was an intern at first, and everybody loved her cheery smile and sharp intellect, so she was hired on after she finished her degree. The youngest of our crew, she lived by herself in an apartment, but her lack of experience didn’t keep her from coolly sharing her opinion on matters of work when she knew she was right. And she was always right.
Jackie had always taken a liking to me in a way she didn’t seem to show toward the others. I never became sure of why she did, but I had my suspicions. Trauma and mystique go hand in hand. Maybe she saw me as broken in the same way she saw herself. After all, it didn’t take a psychologist to tell Jackie had her own skeletons in her closet. She just had that aura, the one that neglected children and broken adults share with each other. Nobody knew what life she walked out of and nobody cared. She did her job, and that was all the company cared for. But not me.
I turned away from my computer screen towards the opening of my cubicle and she was there, half silhouetted by the light behind her, staring me in the eye. Jackie trailed a finger down the edge of the cubicle wall, her mouth open barely enough for me to see her tongue flit deftly over her perfectly-aligned incisors. Ignoring my question, she continued.
“Your wife, I take it?”
She gestured with an outstretched palm toward the wedding photo I had framed on my desk.
“Yeah. Hard to believe we’ll be a family of three soon. Ha!”
I chuckled, nervously. Slightly excitedly, too. I can’t tell if Jackie knew that the latter was for what I knew was coming rather than what I had already said, but I don’t think she would have cared one way or the other.
“Say, she must be lonely waiting for you at home? I know that feeling. Being lonely.”
She took a step towards me and I glanced down at my feet. Looking back, it felt like an eternity, that looking down, that knowing what was happening and making a decision. It was a choice. And while it felt like it stretched for minutes, hours, I knew it was but a moment. Yet it only took a moment to make my descent into sin.
“I know it too. Well. Too well. She’s on a business trip - a long one. Say, I raise hogs. Prize swine, there’s good money in them. What’d you say about coming to see my farm sometime?”
It had been two hours since Jackie had left the farmhouse and was almost one-thirty in the morning, yet I wasn’t tired. According to my doctor, I have insomnia. According to my mother, I have “bad juju.” According to myself, well, I guess I just don’t feel like sleep is worth the trouble sometimes. That night, though, I didn’t sleep at all until the sun shone through my window in the early hours of the morning.
Living among swine never gave me a lot of grief before then. Some people hated the stench - my wife among them - but the manure never bothered me, and, come to find out, it didn’t bother Jackie, either. I would have asked if she had been on a farm as a child, but her demeanor and attitude told me that she wasn’t interested in the slightest in my life and that I shouldn’t be in hers, either. I suppose I wasn’t - not in the one outside of our affair, at least.
But that night, when the stars were out and shining like eyes in a limitless black sea, and when the wind rustled through the trees, a gigantic army moving across the land like a plague towards destinations unseen, I started to feel bothered in a way I never had before.
I had been sitting on the back porch in view of the pig pens after having just finished the chores. I knew I wasn’t drunk, I was only on my second beer, but sitting outside, half-empty bottle in hand, I suddenly wished I could be completely wasted. I’d never been one to believe in those types of things that you can’t touch with your hand or see with your eyes. The hair stood up on my arms and the taste of metal lapped my tongue as if a storm was coming. No, I didn’t believe in the things you couldn’t really feel, but I could sure as hell feel something now.
Unsettled, I was turning around to go get another beer before something caught my eye in the pig pen that made me glance over.
All of the pigs visible from this side of the house could be seen, through the metal fencing, staring in my direction. The ones who were blocked by the lumpy bodies of the other swine stood on the hind ends of the others to see. With their combined mass, the pigs strained the metal of the pen stalls until each stall’s fencing bulged out in the middle where the weight was distributed.
Most unique of all was the unanimous behavior of the swine. Not one fell out of sync. Each one, eyes glowing like headlights in the dark, bodies silhouetted against the light of the moon, was without noise or disturbance. Once all of the pigs were in position, they all stayed ominously still.
As I watched, one by one, hundreds of eyes closed, and a wave of darkness spread over the pen as no more eyes were open to reflect the light. I swore for a moment that the stars did too and that the world around me plunged into complete darkness, but I cannot be for certain, because at that same moment, I involuntarily blinked.
I say involuntarily because, frozen in place, the scene was too strange for me to willingly turn away from. I do not know if the same force that caused the swine to flicker their eyes caused me to do the same, perhaps a gust of wind - or of something less tangible - but upon opening them, the pigs had returned to their discord, with several having already gone to sleep. Deeply disturbed, I went inside the house and drank until the morning came and I finally found sleep.
My wife returned from her trip soon enough and without much ado upon her arrival. For the next month or so, the two of us were together, and our lives were lived without significant discord. None that she knew about, anyway. I never told her about Jackie and I certainly didn’t mention the times I saw my coworker after my wife returned, either. And while I did float an innocent question to her asking if she had noticed any of the hogs’ strange behavior, I didn’t enlighten her as to the motivation for my interrogative manner. She never appreciated being in the company of swine as it was, and turning her disdain into disgust wasn’t on my agenda.
Almost as abruptly as she had returned, my wife left, again, to be gone for the next week and a half on another trip. Probably best for her, too, because the hottest days of the year hit western Tennessee when she wasn’t there to experience them. And no sooner had she gone than Jackie resumed her nightly visits to the farm. Each time, she showed up without much notice, if any at all, and left just as abruptly.
Funnily enough, I didn’t care much. I felt no more and no less empty after she left than when she was here. So after I spent my days with my eyes on my screen and my nose in my boss’s ass, I spent my nights staring up through the bottoms of bone-dry bottles, faintly wondering if the path I walked down could’ve been just a little warmer or just a little brighter if things were different.
In spite of my catering towards my boss’s every wish at the office, he didn’t return the good-will in kind.
“What do you mean you’re asking for a raise?”
I swallowed and continued.
“I mean that it’s been five years, Glenn. I simply asked that my pay might increase to match inflation.”
My boss folded his hands across his desk and sighed. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at a couple of beads of sweat running down from his brow. We were in the heat of summer, and the air hung thick and humid around us. The office had air conditioning, but the unit was old, and the fan whistling away in the corner didn’t do much good against the record-breaking heat pressing in around us.
“I’m sorry, Micah. It’s just that you’re consulting, now, and… I can’t afford you those kinds of benefits-”
“What do you mean benefits? I’ve been here long enough I’m owed at least that, Glenn! What the fuck do you think I’m still here for? Pot lucks?”
That was the first time I had lost my temper at my boss; at least, the first time since he ripped up one of my drafts for a project several years back. That had been a long day for both of us. Now, Glenn sat back and scowled ever so slightly, and only for a brief moment, an indication that his inhibitions keeping his attitude in check were wearing thin. Nonetheless, he put on a smile, and chuckled coldly.
“Micah, look- you always were my right hand man, but you’re here so little now. One could say you’re more like my right thumb man, now.”
That was a long day too. The heat didn’t help. Somehow some bugs got into the office. Somebody probably left a door open to quash the heat, fruitlessly.
No wonder the AC’s shot, I thought to myself.
By the time it was the hour for me to leave, there were moths flitting around the lights, flies eating the stale food in the cafe, gnats alighting on every exposed surface in the office- insects were everywhere. I figured that door must have been left open most of the day.
Gotta be pretty stupid bugs, if this is where they want to be.
The time came for me to leave and I did so without a fuss. As little as I could manage, anyway. I took time to complete some errands and returned home, only to realize the heat wasn’t much less oppressive there than it was at the office, even if there weren’t any insects. If anything, it felt oddly empty without them, even after Jackie showed up. The rest of that evening was a blur of empty bottles and used cigarette butts littering the porch.
At some point — two in the morning, three, it didn’t matter — I was pulled out of my drunken slumber and forced into sobriety by a noise I could no more determine the source of than what I had eaten for dinner a year ago from the day. I sat up with a jolt and listened, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The sound, if it could be called that, was discordant, unnatural, wrong — and yet, I couldn’t remember another thing about it. It wasn’t a sound heard through your ears, a vibration in your skin, nor even a sensation of one’s physical brain; it was a thought processed through one’s sleeping soul, something that certainly cannot be described with words without diminishing the weightiness placed; without negating, in full, the sense of abject horror at its state of being.
I had sat atop that precipice between reality and unreality; sleep, the abyss, where devils absently play amongst the nightmares of men. I told myself it was just that, a dream, but I know now that the place I was and the places I was soon to go were gateways between the waking world and the one beneath it. Before I had time to process what I had just felt, I heard another sound, this one very much real, and resembling a dying animal. Slowly, I made my way out of my crumpled bed and opened the blinds. I almost wished, upon doing so, that I was back on the precipice.
Thirteen of the hogs stood in a circle on the lawn; how they had gotten out, I don’t know. Each stood perfectly still, equidistant from the next, and faced a quivering shadow in the middle of them all. I could make out faint features: a scraggly beard, a bottle- whether the man was a hiker or a drunk, I couldn’t tell. Nonetheless, he had wound up on my property, and found himself caught in a circle of pigs.
I watched the man’s motions and noted with rising horror that as he walked in one direction, the circle of pigs shifted to keep him at the center of the ring, and all the while they drew nearer to him. The man was clearly intoxicated now; it was almost half a minute before he stumbled, fell, and no sooner squelched in the dirt than thirteen squeals rang through the night and the animals blotted out his body from sight with their unified mass.
The man let out one scream but could manage no more than one. The ring was a blur of motion. I saw little but I saw enough; one pig reared its glistening head and I watched part of a scalp fly from its gaping mouth, arcing dark liquid as it trailed across the yard. Another couple chunks of meat rolled away from the pile and reached a stop several feet away in the yard; once the pigs were through with their feast, they broke off from the previous site, now nothing but a red stain on the earth, and gobbled up the pieces that had got away.
It took me the next four hours to get the pigs back into their pen, but I managed it. And, none had to be shot in the process, though I surmised I should come with a gun readied. A cleanup wasn’t necessary either; it was a hog farm, so it’d be getting dirty again soon. I considered another individual might find the stain, but there was no proof it was human blood, and I had no intention of calling the police out there.
That morning, my boss was late to work. I suppose that’s to be expected, though, when one has had their tires slashed. He was livid, and I didn’t correct his supposition that his ex-wife had committed the act, though I’m sure he would have loved another reason to fire me. After all, I was nothing more than a right thumb man.
The day had gone quicker and cooler than the former, and the low droning of the rain made the day seem just a little less lonely. Of course, I was slated to see Jackie that night, and after lunch I had left work, gone off to purchase more drinks from the local liquor store. I remember having gotten enough to fill the passenger seat of my truck, and felt almost as if the pile of liquor was a singular being, watching me; the silently judgemental friend. I had a twinge of anxiety, and half wondered if I was going insane; at that, I laughed.
The air was cool when Jackie got there. My mother always used to call that the first breath of autumn, when the reaper opened his eyes and cooed softly to his crop before the inferno was snuffed out by the frigid winter. As a child, I didn’t pay much attention to her words, but as I grew older I felt the cold in my bones, and tonight I felt it in my soul, a faint whisper of death like the mark of the beast. I watched Jackie’s hair whip to the side, a black flag in the wind, as she approached the house. On the doorstep, we embraced, and I recall she said she needed to talk.
“You’re an awfully successful man, Micah. And I know you’ve got a lot of money. Maybe you’re not wealthy, no, but you’re richer than me, and there’s enough to go around. It’d be a damn shame if your poor wife found out about me. No, I haven’t said a thing yet, and I know you know that, for the poor thing couldn’t take the stress and might just die. But I could say a thing, and maybe even a little more. And a nasty thing it’d be, too. I’d just ask for $1,000 a month, but times are tough, so I’m inclined to say $2,000 would be enough to keep my mouth shut. And, of course, we could continue seeing each other. . . if you’d so please.”
Some say they see red when they’re angry enough, but I still remember how I saw even less; the next five minutes of my life were no clearer to me than several brief glimpses of reality, interspersed by periods of unreality before the next glimpse. A scream, and then another. The thought: she’s got a knife. A bone snapped: mine, hers, it didn’t matter. Blood; spattered on the carpet, on my shirt, and the drip-drip of a glistening red globe, smashed in through the side like a cracked egg. I remember the silence before the adrenaline eased and I felt pain, and I remember the pain before the squelch when I issued one last kick to the body, lying on the ground.
It had been time for me to feed the pigs. Jackie usually helped me with the feeding when she came over, always with a coy look, and often it was short lived and I needed to finish the job on my own after she left. I was betting that she could help me again. Hoisting her up onto my shoulder wasn’t difficult, though I supposed she was lighter than usual. I stooped to pick up the last few pieces that didn’t come with the rest of her and took the two of us to our yard.
The part of the brain we, as people, already understand cannot possibly encompass every sensation which we, as people, feel. Scientifically, maybe- but that feeling that makes dogs bark at empty rooms; that makes cats stare into walls before jumping away, frightened; that feeling exists in humans, too. Call it a sixth sense, or ESP, it’s there, and I felt it when carrying Jackie. The birds had stopped calling, the trees had ceased rustling, and a low, droning buzz resounded outside the pig pen. It rose in volume and pitch, and as I dropped Jackie’s lifeless corpse onto the ground, it blocked entirely the noise of the world around me.
I didn’t even hear the thump. Nor did I hear the pigs, for it wasn’t until I looked up from her body, panting heavily from the effort of what had transpired, that I saw that we stood on the fringe of a gathering of the pigs. I couldn’t see if any remained in the pen, but I could see that at least a hundred gathered here outside the pen, all staring at me with glassy eyes and salivating mouths. Some stood on the haunches of the others to see, and many were covered in blood, having been left uncleaned since the events of the previous night. Even through the foggy daze I was in, my fear registered on a guttural level and, in horror at the unreality of what I was seeing, I backpedaled, eventually tripping over a rut in the earth and falling to the ground.
The next moment, each of the pigs had turned to look at what was left of Jackie. For a couple of seconds, they stared at her, and I realized that the droning in my ears had stopped, replaced with nothing but an ominous silence. That silence was short lived, for in one, unanimous, ear-splitting squeal, the pigs raced each other to the body, and carnage ensued.
The hogs in front no sooner reached the body than were ripped apart by the pigs behind them. Huge flaps of fatty skin hung in ribbons from the napes of their necks and blood sprayed in all directions as necks, limbs, tails, and extremities were mangled with the reckless abandon of a pack of wild dogs. I suppose that’s what they were; even if I treated them like domesticated creatures, they were animals, and they were out of the control of any constraints that civilization wanted to place on them.
The mass of flesh moved rhythmically and dripping bodies were flung like oversized rag dolls from the fray to land wetly and lifelessly on the earth. Occasionally, I would hear a crunch as bones were rent and snapped under the pressure of the fray, and squeals as the broken limbs stabbed through the fleshy bodies of the animals atop them. Hooves, teeth, and bones carved the flesh of the other pigs, and while blood and feces sprayed freely, chunks of gore rolled out of the fray like meaty baseballs.
The pleasant temperature drop had undone itself, as the wind had stopped blowing, and the stench of the scene hung thick in the hot and heavy air of late summer. I vomited, over and over, bent over in the shit and the blood, eyes watering from the smell, and blood dripped from everywhere on my body. It ran off my body in rivulets and pooled around my feet. Some was mine, but more was Jackie’s, and more yet was the remains of the pigs. Blood dripped from my mouth onto the dirt, and I could no longer tell if I was looking up towards the cruel stars, down at the earth, or witnessing the slaughter before me, for my sight was veiled by a coating of blood, and my senses were clouded by the rush of adrenaline, though I could do nothing but sit in shock.
Breathe.
A chunk of meat smacked me in the shoulder.
Breathe.
An ear bounced off of my forehead.
Breathe.
An opened artery sprayed blood across my face in a line.
Breathe.
My eyes recognized four pigs on the fringe of the conflict abandoning their course for what was left of Jackie and I saw turn to me, each foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. I saw two get ripped away by two other pigs, but the remaining couple charged. The one that reached me first clamped its maw around my leg not a moment before the next reached it, bit into its neck, and thrashed it back and forth.
I couldn’t hear my own screams above the countless squeals of the hog pile and the constant wet ripping that resounded through the dark sky. Eventually, the pig that had bit me gave out with a squeal, but not before the lower half of my leg was snapped with one, final pull, and the pig behind then buried its face in the body of the dying hog before being dragged back into the conflict by another. I failed to even hear my cries of pain over the sounds of the fray; I knew I screamed only from the burning in my throat.
Breathe.
A second later, I was thrown by the arm and crashed against the soggy earth several feet away from the conflict. For a moment, I wondered if I was alive, or if the world I was seeing around me was really Hell, and I was a damned soul being punished for my sins. At that, I blacked out, and entered a timeless, dreamless slumber that sent the world back into the buzzing mayhem I had felt before the carnage.
I opened my eyes some brief time later to find that the buzzing persisted in my ears while awake. Perspiring heavily from the heat, I found I was lying on my back on the ground, facing the burning remains of my house. The buzzing was really the rush of flames lapping at the sky and the crackling of embers as the roaring fire pulled them out of sight.
“Swine,”
The voice, which rang impossibly clear in the noise of the night, above the roar of the inferno and the sounds of the approaching sirens, had come from but a few feet behind the back of my moist head. Even after all that had transpired, the word made my hair stand on end, for it was spoken with a voice that could snuff out the stars if it were to say that they ought to stop shining.
I turned my head to face behind me, groaning sharply from the pain, to see a man atop a mountain of hundreds of mutilated hogs. The pile ran with a constant stream of blood and feces, which dripped slowly over the terraced stack of corpses to form a small lake underneath, the edge of which lapped my face with miniature waves of gore.
“. . . they never learn.”
Then, the man smiled, and I realized with horror that his legs resembled those of ruminants.
And atop his head rested two ebony horns, glistening in the moonlight.

I’ve always been anxious. Growing up in a remote area, driving was a necessity. I had my first panic attack the day before my test and my relationship with my mother was difficult since, she didn’t understand that I was terrified of driving.
My anxiety and OCD increased exponentially during my studies. I had difficulty maintaining healthy relationships. I was afraid to travel, to go out with friends, to simply enjoy life. I also had a very bad case of paruresis which prevented me from so much.
A year ago, I wanted to finally be able to live my life peacefully. I found a psychologist and started therapy. At the same time, I decided to try to finish my driver’s license again to test my new found skills in therapy. I gave myself from October to May to complete it, here are my observations and advices:
-Set yourself a time limited for completing your license: for anxious people, avoidance is a trap. It creates an instant feeling of relief that can quickly become dangerous. It’s a vicious circle with anxiety decreasing dramatically only to return stronger the next time. Setting a time limit to take the test is crucial. I wanted to take my test in spring therefore I booked it in March for May.
-Practice gradually: it’s normal not to want to do complicated routes right from the start. I started my practice on small streets. For a whole month, I was just driving back and forth on my street and trying to learn how to park. I then tried the same route in a more crowded part of my town. Then I modified my route a little, took different streets and tried higher speed limits. It took me over 4 months to try to drive at a mere 70 km speed limit. After 6 months, I had made my first trip on the highway. Finally, two weeks before the test, I practiced three times a week at the test site to fully understand the area.
-It’s okay to have a bad driving day: I panicked and ended in tears so many times. My first reaction was always to stop driving and give up. It’s normal not to be perfect the first times. Let’s give ourselves the love and respect we deserve. When panic sets in, we find a place to stop, take the time to breathe and calm down and if possible drive back. If not, we simply stop, hand over the wheel, and try again next time.
-Driving evaluators don’t want us to fail: I failed my attempts at parallel parking. I was going much slower than the speed limit. I was so nervous, I thought I was going to faint. However, the evaluator was very helpful and understanding. I explained that I was anxious about taking the test. He took the time to explain the instructions, the rules to follow and the route ahead. I was so scared that he would suddenly ask me to change lanes. Every turn was indicated two blocks in advance.
-Most people who took the test passed it: this is not a certainty but from what I observed while waiting for my test, most passed. I saw all kinds of people (teenagers, adults and older people). Some were unbothered and others very anxious. A large majority got their driving license. For those whom it was inconclusive, the explanations for improving were very clear. It was possible to retake the test quickly and the evaluators were reassuring about the eventual success.
-Our worst enemy is the limits we hold to ourselves: everyone drives poorly at the beginning. It is practice and consistency that are the necessary tools for improvement. The limits we set to ourselves are not rational. Believe in yourself as you would in a friend.
I hope it will help some. I firmly believe you can do it. Lots of love.

Was playing and joined a public lobby ~3 am EST. Host’s name was “SickMind” they were lime the whole game. I was extremely stoned. We did skeld for a couple rounds then switched to polus. I never do polus and being high I was running in circles trying to figure out how to do tasks lmao.
Anyways you were super smart and great at figuring out imps so when I got imp I made sure to kill you so that you wouldn’t deduce it was me lmao
Just wanna thank you for a few fun games, being a good host and not tolerating bullying/discrimination/cheating from other players also you’re super good at the game hope to play again sometime

We were good friends for a couple years first. He was in an open relationship (this is true and confirmed he is not lying about this). He’s never told me that he has bpd but this is the only explanation for the behaviour. He told me he had a crush on me. I finally revealed it was reciprocated after initial hesitation due to the situation. He love bombed me at first and then became hot and cold. He always managed to come back around. A year and a half passes and a long standing promise that was made was broken by him. I felt humiliated and embarrassed as a result. I tried to chalk it up to it being impossible to being fulfilled. We talked and I thought it was somewhat resolved despite still being hurt. But then he began to avoid me. 2 months have gone by where he would ghost every other message. But I’d always check back in to see if he was ok. Responses were curt. Now it’s been 2 weeks of radio silence. We are in the same social circle in which he’s still active. I don’t know what to do since we share a friend group.
Edit - grammar. Also this is a really high level basic overview of the situation. My friend is a therapist and she told me this person definitely has bpd from my description and stories.

Season 1:

Episode 1: Severus Snape starts his final year at Hogwarts. His friendship with Lily Evans is strained due to his growing interest in the Dark Arts and his association with future Death Eaters. He observes James Potter and Lily growing closer, fueling his resentment.
Episode 2: Snape excels in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, impressing his professors. He delves deeper into dark magic, alienating many of his peers. Lily confronts him about his choices, leading to a heated argument.
Episode 3: Snape's friendship with Lily reaches a breaking point. He calls her a mudblood in a moment of humiliation, damaging their relationship irreparably. Snape seeks solace in his Dark Arts studies and his newfound Death Eater connections.
Episode 4: Voldemort takes notice of Snape's talent in Potions and tasks him with creating a powerful elixir, claiming it will be used to strengthen the Death Eaters. Snape, eager to prove himself, throws himself into the project.
Episode 5: Snape completes the potion, believing it to be a tool for empowering Voldemort's followers. However, he soon learns that Voldemort has used the potion to kill a group of "anti-wizard" mudbloods, including Lily's good friend. Snape is horrified by the realization of his indirect role in their deaths.
Episode 6: As graduation approaches, Snape is haunted by the consequences of his actions. He grapples with the weight of his choices and the lives lost due to his potion. The season ends with Snape at a crossroads, torn between his allegiance to Voldemort and the growing realization of the true nature of his actions.

Season 2:

Episode 1: Snape graduates from Hogwarts, carrying the heavy burden of his involvement in the deaths of the mudbloods. Despite his guilt, he continues to serve as a Death Eater, desperately trying to justify his actions to himself.
Episode 2: Snape struggles with the aftermath of his choices, constantly haunted by the lives lost. He throws himself into his work as a Death Eater, hoping to find a way to redeem himself in his own eyes.
Episode 3: Lily and James Potter announce their engagement, which sends Snape into a spiral of conflicting emotions. His love for Lily and his resentment towards James clash, further complicating his already troubled state of mind.
Episode 4: Snape, now deeply entrenched in Voldemort's inner circle, overhears part of a prophecy foretelling the Dark Lord's downfall. He relays the information to Voldemort, unaware of the dire consequences it will have for the Potters.
Episode 5: Snape discovers that Voldemort intends to kill the Potters and their young son, Harry. Realizing the grave mistake he made and the danger Lily is in, Snape turns to Dumbledore for help, secretly defecting from the Death Eaters.
Episode 6: In the aftermath of Voldemort's attack, Snape learns of Lily's death and is consumed by grief, remorse, and self-loathing. Dumbledore convinces him to help protect Harry when the time comes, giving Snape a purpose. Snape starts his new role as Potions Master at Hogwarts, setting the stage for his pivotal role in the events to come.

Never before have I walked into an exhibition and felt like a guest. A fortnight ago, at Hospital the solo show by Pope.L at the South London Gallery, I was struck by this feeling.
"I have a friend who is very sick and I've been visiting him quite a bit. And there are always things with illness that make you a stranger to your own experience. You know, this is going to take me into thinking about my own body, the bodies of people that I care for, and the bodies that may not be there in the future" the artist explains about the exhibition's title. The word comes from the Latin hospes: guest, stranger, visitor. It implies both being hosted and receiving visitors. The inherent ambivalence of the term confronts us with a necessary reconsideration of what kind of relationship a state of recovery implies.
The whole exhibition is a constant 'recovery', not only as a progressive change of stages of convalescence, but also as a practice of reactivating his archive. Since the 1970s, Pope.L's multidisciplinary practice has explored the relationship between society, politics and contemporary culture through performance, installation, video and writing, questioning issues such as language, gender, race and community.
The first work we encounter is an installation "reenactment" of Eating the Wall Street Journal (1991), one of Pope.L’s most famous works. In the original performance, the artist ate newspapers lubricated in ketchup and milk while sitting on a toilet atop a wooden tower. Dismantled from its original condition, the central installation in the main gallery looks like a collapsed piece of architecture, in front of which we find ourselves confused, trying to scan the remnants of the wc and the newspapers that belong to the original. As we walk around the installation, looking through the cracks in the beams, we find small bowls of fine, almost impalpable grey dust on the walls surrounding the installation. Scattered over them is an invitation to enter the work, to reimagine its fruition, not only visually but also gesturally. In the room there are also bottles of Buckfast and Cactus Jack, pharmaceutical bottles and cheap alcohol, metaphors for the relationship between family, alcoholism and self-medication.
The entire body of the installation seems to give way under the weight of such an imposing structure. At the top are some fishing rods with newspapers from the original work on the hook. Another level of recovery. Another level of reading. Like metastases running amok in a healthy organism, the objects become outgrowths, conceptual and visual ramifications of the original form.
A dusty white envelops the entire exhibition; it is not just the paint with which parts of the installation are painted, but an integral part of the body of work. Leaving the main gallery and walking down the road that leads to the Fire Station, a branch of the gallery, we find Blanket, a work created on the external banner that the gallery usually uses for communication, which the artist has reprinted in white with a small pale pink cross in the centre. As in other works by the artist, the connotations behind the use of white and the meaning of 'whiteness' are central to this exhibition. In this particular case, the banner refers to the use of white in funerary practices in Africa and Asia, countries where death is seen not as the end of life but as a key reference point. The title of the work, Blanket, on the other hand, suggests the healing role of the hospital, but also the idea of secrecy, cover and suffocation. Always questioning the symbolism of white as an element of supremacy.
On entering the Fire Station, the first thing you notice is the presence of flowers on the floor. Every week, dried marigold buds are scattered on the floor and gradually accumulate. In many cultures, marigold plays an important role as a protective amulet against evil spirits and bad energy. At the same time, it symbolises the connection between life and death, which is why in Mexico it is often bought as a gift for hospital patients.
The second part of the exhibition is spread over several floors. On the ground floor is a projection of Small Cup (2008), a video work by the artist in which an architectural model made from seeds of the US Capitol in Washington is devoured by a group of goats and chickens in an old abandoned textile factory. A radical and ironic critique of the food production system and how the food chain mirrors the failed political condition in the US.
In the front room, the metaphor of disappearance introduced by the dismemberment of the miniature replica by the hungry group of animals becomes darker and more grotesque. A set of torches is placed at the entrance to the completely dark room in which the work Space Between the Letter Drawings is installed, consisting of letters covered in wood and aluminium and others that are absent. Absence becomes more important than presence. The text still becomes something to be experienced physically, organically. Pope.L again reverses fruition and medium to lead us to the conceptual result by a different route.
On the upper floors, dripping broken bottles and hospital jugs are installed upside down, as if gravity were pushing the drops to penetrate the deepest layers of the exhibition space. As if the drops could traverse the space, the viewers and the floor, making the whole body of the exhibition a porous, resonant and inviting body.
I walk down the stairs and out into the street, which is full of people outside and inside the exhibition space. Some people are even sitting inside talking. It looks like a waiting room. I turn to look at the gallery as I leave, like saying goodbye to a loved one you won't see for a while. Goodbye Pope.L.

Ok, so I’m back!!! Still same problem!!
I have Astro a50 I think Gen 4 lol the base station looks small lol
So I have them hooked up through an optical cable, into an hdmi to optical splitter so I can have it connected to my Xbox series x.
To use them I have to unplug the base station and replug it back in for it to work properly. Randomly the base station will shut off, leaving the Xbox symbol as the only lit up light on the base station. I still have sound in my headset but it’s almost monotoned. It almost sounds as if I’m under water, and to get my good sound back I have to unplug the base station and replug it back in. This happens a lot.. like when switching from Netflix to COD or from one app to another. It will shut off.. or just randomly it will turn off..
It’s getting so frustrating… I’ve heard people saying it’s the internet connection but there is NO internet hooked up to it lol and my internet is amazing.. I don’t have any problems with it.
But I’m almost going crazy because of this… does anyone know why it keeps doing this?
Also when I first brought my Xbox series x it made me update the base station for the hdmi input not the optical. But then I switched to the optical( way better sound). But I only had the hdmi hooked up for hours at most. Then switched to optical.

First / Previous / Next
The ministry of secrets was indeed a busy place these days. Only the most loyal and trust worthy women and dare she say a few men worked beneath the halls of the Imperial palace, although who they were loyal to was sometimes a mystery. Mon’Kelron had visited a few times over her career, once at the behest of now Admiral Nar’Vala, and once at the behest of the Empress.
Once more, she followed one pace behind the Empress into the dark halls the ministry of secrets utilized. It was a strange mixture of the ancient dungeons of the past combined with almost magical Human technology. Spy-Mistress Kel’Taraan awaited the Empress as they passed the thick metal doors that although old, were without blemish.
Two of the ministry of secrets guards stood to each side, each in strange charcoal colored uniforms of some kind of thick cloth material and brandishing rifles that glowed blue from within their barrels. “More new Human technology.” She thought as they passed the check point and entered the sanctum of secrecy. Once inside, the two guards closed the impressive door and pressed a button on the wall, an intricate mechanism spun, forcing metal bars into place on all four sides of the door.
Empress Shi’Lana addressed the once ancient, but now middle aged Spy-Mistress. “How is our prisoner doing this morning?” She asked in a cold tone.
The Spy-Mistress waved for the group to follow her, “She is doing better now, we found a false tooth laced with poison and extracted it. We also used some of the medical nannites the Humans gave us to repair her face, Mon’Kelron did a staggering amount of damage, breaking her nose, maxilla and zygoma. She could not talk with all the swelling of her injuries.”
The Empress looked over to her Captain, “I heard you dispatched her, I did not know it was quite that brutal.”
Mon’Kelron sighed, “It wasn’t intended to be, it was instinctive, muscle memory. During that moment of terror I felt as if something unlocked inside me and I found I has incredible strength that was not there before the Humans repaired me.”
The Spy-Mistress cackled as they entered a room with a single chair in it’s center. In that chair was a woman, who appeared to be quite worse for wear. She was strapped to the chair by her ankles, shins, thighs, chest and neck. She did not look happy. “How are we doing this afternoon young Vir’Athen?”
The woman struggled against her bonds as she spat, “Better than all of you will be when our masters arrive with their fleet!”
The Empress raised an eyebrow to Kel’Taraan, “She speaks of the Howrons? Is she part of the lunatic fringe group New Beginnings or something else?”
“Oh, she is part of something else entirely. A group we had heard only whispers about in the past centuries, but we knew must exist.” Kel’Taraan sighed. “She is part of a group that calls themselves the Redeemers, who worship the Howrons, and have existed since they first came to our world.”
The woman settled down but spoke with vehemence, “We don’t worship them, they aren’t gods, but they are the rightful rulers of our race. For over ten generations we have been their presence on Alandra, and we don’t follow the orders of a false Empress!”
Mon’Kelron looked over to the Spy-Mistress, “I’m surprised she is speaking at all, if this group is as secretive as you say and even resorted to poisoning themselves rather than being captured.”
Kel’Taraan pointed to the tablet on the wall, one identical to the one in her quarters. “The Human’s gave us such wonderful toys. That medical tablet is monitoring a device that we implanted in the base of her spine, it completely inhibits the parts of the brain that control duplicity. Simply put, she can not lie to us, nor does she want to.”
“Humans!” The prisoner spat, “They are a blight on our universe, and the mortal enemy of the Howrons and the Ulraar!”
The Empress looked over to the Spy-Mistress, then back to the two other guards behind them, “I think I have seen enough for now, let us go to somewhere more private.”
As they turned to leave the prisoner shouted from her chair, tears running down her bruised and swollen cheeks, “The fleet is coming, and once they destroy the Humans they will lay waste to our world for siding with them! You will be the death of us all if you don’t repent!”
Mon’Kelron smirked at her, and slammed the door as she followed the group to Kel’Taraan’s private office. Leaving the two guardswomen outside the door she closed it and ensured it was locked before sitting in the only other chair in the office. The Spy-Mistess walked around her huge desk and sat in a strange chair that was obviously of Human manufacture.
“The prisoner, Vir’Athen has been grilled by myself and Spy-Mistress Isa’Bella for most of the morning. Her name is on no census, and other than her clothing and the pistol and reload cartridges she carried nothing else. Thankfully the devices the Human’s provided us with worked on our physiology. We have learned quite a good deal about this group from her, and will require Imperial permission to take out this group.” She stated, pressing her finger tips together.
The Empress sat back in the overly stuffed leather chair, “And you will have it of course, what will you need?”
Sighing the Spy-Mistress turned her computer monitor around, showing a map of the world with an island circled. “The group operates off an island compound near the equator, forty kilometers off shore. Evidently the Howrons set this group up with the means to operate and communicate with them.”
The Empress looked horrified, “They can communicate with the fleet even now? Have you informed the Humans?”
Kel’Taraan sat back and smiled, “Of course, they have been receiving everything we enter into our computers about this Redeemer group. Luckily this fleet believes they are only up against a single human warship. This other race of aliens are the ones that have Alex a bit nervous.”
Mon’Kelron spoke up, “The Ulraar? Yes, I wondered what the prisoner meant by that myself.”
Turning the computer monitor back around the Spy-Mistress grumbled, “As if things weren’t complicated enough, it seems the Howron have an alliance with this more advanced race against the Humans and have been in a state of on again, off again war for three centuries.”
“Hold on, I’m confused, why didn’t Alex and the others know their people were at war with the Howrons and this other race? They’re human after all!” Mon’Kelron asked.
Looking first at the Empress, then to Mon’Kelron, “You didn’t tell her?” She asked.
The Empress shook her head, “Nar’Vala was read in, but she is Admiral of our space based fleet, the Captain of my Guard didn’t need to know. She might as well now, tell her.”
“Very well your majesty.” She stated to the Empress before turning to Mon’Kelron, “The Humans are not from our Universe, thus far all who have arrived have come here by accident, including the first ship to grace our skies as well as the Missive of Dissent.”
Mon’Kelron nodded, “Yes, that is part of the fairy tale, that they were from another realm, that doesn’t explain why they don’t know about this ongoing war.”
“Ah, but it does. Alex and his crew have been piecing together a series of events over the last three and a half centuries. A huge Human warship known as the IFS Conquest of Mars was the first to arrive in our universe, and was met by hostility from a Howron colony a little over four light years from our own solar system. They destroyed the colony world, sending it into an ice age and starting this war with the Howrons.” Kel’Taraan stated.
Mon’Kelron nodded, “Ok, go on.”
The Spy-Mistress swiveled in her chair, “The Humans aboard the Conquest left for a system near a pulsar to a group of systems inside a nebula. It is a place the Howrons cannot reach, the pulsar bathes the entire region of space in harsh radiation, but the Ulraar can attack them. The reason Alex, and even the first crew of the Prosperity didn’t know about the other Human’s was simply a matter of timing, by the time they had arrived, the previous humans had started a war and left.”
Mon’Kelron looked over to the Empress, then back to the Spy-Mistress, “So when the Howron found a Human ship in orbit above our planet they decided then that we needed to be conquered to keep the Humans from having allies?”
The Empress spoke up, “Perhaps at first, but once they found our planet to have vast reserves of Adamantine it became far more lucrative to them to take it from us as tribute. Though why they want it we still don’t know.”
The Spy-Mistress sighed, “Thanks to our esteemed guest, we now know why. Although she stated they were equals in their alliance, we believe the Howrons are buying technology from the Ulraar with Adamantine mined here. Alex noted the Ulraar ships, which he had been calling Trinar since they were all triangular in shape, used a vast amount of the substance in their hulls.”
The Empress balled up her fists, “So we have been slaves to these, these, beings simply because we had a resource they could use to bribe another group for technology?”
The Spy-Mistress shrugged, “It was always a mystery why they wanted the adamantine they forced us to extract, now we know. The Ulraar are more technologically advanced than the Howron, but neither seem to be able to get the upper hand on the group of Human’s in the nebula.”
Mon’Kelron tapped the overstuffed arm of the chair as she thought, “If the Humans here know where the Conquest went, what is stopping them from leaving us to the Howron to find more of their kind?”
The Spy-Mistress stopped swiveling her chair, “I spent the best seventy five years of my life with the Humans on the Prosperity, my Emmet…” She broke off her words and put her knuckles to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. “The Humans will not abide slavery of any kind, Alex has made this abundantly clear. He will not leave until our system is safe and we can defend ourselves properly.”
Neither the Empress or the Captain had ever seen Kel’Taraan this emotional before, they both waited, giving her time to compose herself. “They will not leave us to our fate, they have committed Humans to crew the last two vessels. This new information changes nothing in the short term, in the long term they may reach out to the other group of Humans.”
______________________________
Monty looked over to Kelly as she sat down on the couch beside her. She had a plate full of cake and a huge glass of milk. “Are you alright? You kind of lost it there for a moment in your office.”
Kelly sighed as she put her glass on the side table. “Being a replicant is taking some getting used to. I can remember things as clearly as if it happened only moments ago, even if it were centuries past.”
“I guess Emmet was someone special to you?” Monty asked.
Nodding, Kelly answered, “He was the most important person in my life. He was my husband, and although we could never have offspring, I always wanted a family. I had health issues when I was young and he was the ships doctor. I was the advisor to the Empress and he took a liking to me, bringing me up to their ship to fix what ailed me.”
Monty nodded, “So that explains your exceptionally long lifespan. You spent seventy five years together?”
Kelly picked up her fork and took a bite from the piece of cake, nodding to Monty, “I did, seventy five wonderful years.” She started tearing up again. “I’m sorry, now I can recall everything with perfect clarity, it’s painful remembering those times, and my mind wondered to a time when I feared Emmet would leave me.” She wiped the tear away with her napkin.
Monty reached over and hugged her, letting her get it out of her system. “How about a comedy, something raunchy and stupid?”
Kelly nodded, “That sounds good, want some cake?”
Monty shook her head and got up to go over to the buffet table, grabbing some chocolate brownies and bringing back a plate full of them. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
______________________________
“Thank you all for coming, have you all seen the information Kelly has collected from the Redeemer prisoner?” Kara asked as she stood in front of the now enlarged buffet table surrounded by Alex, Monty, Riven, Izzy, Valarie, John, Erin and Kelly. Nods from all around the table let her know that they had indeed read the latest bombshell from the planet.
Kara swiped her holo-tank to show the first time a Bells Inequality was detected from the surface of Alandra. “At the time we assumed this was sent from the Palace, however, after some talks with Kelly we have found this was not the case. That particular communication was sent from this Redeemer group. Kara looked to Kelly to continue.
The new replicant easily picked up the presentation, “We often wondered how the Howron knew where our research facilities were located. They have attempted to keep us technologically backwards to ensure we can never threaten them or leave our planet. It appears they setup this group centuries ago, and they have used their extensive spy network to pass on that information to the enemy. The city they destroyed housed a research lab working on nuclear fission.”
Kara picked up after Kelly, “Luckily Kelly is extremely paranoid, and the exact information as to our alliance has never been disclosed outside the Empresses inner circle. The prisoner, who was very highly placed in the Redeemer group is completely unaware of the mine field, the planetary defenses, or the new frigates. As of one hour ago the entirety of the Alandran navy, which isn’t as impressive as it sounds have been secretly launched to attack their island base.”
“We could just nuke it from orbit, it’s the only way to be sure.” Monty stated.
Kelly shook her head, “Sadly that is not a possibility, we need to capture those in charge of the organization and capture any equipment they may be using to contact the Howron. The news has stated the Empress was gravely injured in the attack and the assassin is still at large, with any luck this story will hold until the assault on the island.”
Alex spoke up, “So will it only be the navy that will launch this assault on the island?”
Kelly grinned across the table to Alex, “No, Spy-Mistress Isa’Bella and our best agents in the ministry of secrets will also be going. Not only will they know what to look for, they are also equipped with modern body armor and light rail guns, they should turn the tide of any technology the Howrons equipped the Redeemers with.”
John spoke up as he picked up a small sandwich cut at an angle from the table, “I take it you have a plan?”
Kelly walked over to the holo-tank and Kara moved over to allow her to use the device, “We believe the device they are using to communicate with the Howrons is in fact Ulraar technology, and will look quite different than the examples we have seen before. Kara had her doubts about the Howrons having the knowledge to create particle entanglement, it seems this is a pass me down from the Ulraar who have discovered string radio, though not its full range yet.”
Continuing, she swiped the holo-tank to show the last information about the alien fleet in the Lynx system. “If we can capture that device intact we can send false information to the Howron fleet. We could maneuver them directly into the minefield!”
Valarie shook her head, “How would that work, if they are as fanatical as we believe them to be, even with an implanted neural inhibitor they still couldn’t be controlled enough to send them a video message.”
Kara nodded to Kelly, who moved away from the holo-tank. “I’ve researched both Bells Inequalities that we have encountered since arriving in this universe. There isn’t enough bandwidth to send a video file, or even an audio file. I believe there are only three entangled atoms in the device, allowing for transmission of only one bit at a time with error correction. They are limited to text transmissions.”
Monty bounced as she understood, “So the Howrons would have no idea who was on the other side of the transmission, they would simply have to trust it was still their group sending the message.”
Izzy spoke up next, “But this could all be ruined if they manage to send a message to the Howron fleet?”
“Yes, which is why my agents will infiltrate the base and capture the device before the navy begins bombarding the island.” Kelly stated.
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Never before have I walked into an exhibition and felt like a guest. A fortnight ago, at Hospital the solo show by Pope.L at the South London Gallery, I was struck by this feeling.
"I have a friend who is very sick and I've been visiting him quite a bit. And there are always things with illness that make you a stranger to your own experience. You know, this is going to take me into thinking about my own body, the bodies of people that I care for, and the bodies that may not be there in the future" the artist explains about the exhibition's title. The word comes from the Latin hospes: guest, stranger, visitor. It implies both being hosted and receiving visitors. The inherent ambivalence of the term confronts us with a necessary reconsideration of what kind of relationship a state of recovery implies.
The whole exhibition is a constant 'recovery', not only as a progressive change of stages of convalescence, but also as a practice of reactivating his archive. Since the 1970s, Pope.L's multidisciplinary practice has explored the relationship between society, politics and contemporary culture through performance, installation, video and writing, questioning issues such as language, gender, race and community.
The first work we encounter is an installation "reenactment" of Eating the Wall Street Journal (1991), one of Pope.L’s most famous works. In the original performance, the artist ate newspapers lubricated in ketchup and milk while sitting on a toilet atop a wooden tower. Dismantled from its original condition, the central installation in the main gallery looks like a collapsed piece of architecture, in front of which we find ourselves confused, trying to scan the remnants of the wc and the newspapers that belong to the original. As we walk around the installation, looking through the cracks in the beams, we find small bowls of fine, almost impalpable grey dust on the walls surrounding the installation. Scattered over them is an invitation to enter the work, to reimagine its fruition, not only visually but also gesturally. In the room there are also bottles of Buckfast and Cactus Jack, pharmaceutical bottles and cheap alcohol, metaphors for the relationship between family, alcoholism and self-medication.
The entire body of the installation seems to give way under the weight of such an imposing structure. At the top are some fishing rods with newspapers from the original work on the hook. Another level of recovery. Another level of reading. Like metastases running amok in a healthy organism, the objects become outgrowths, conceptual and visual ramifications of the original form.
A dusty white envelops the entire exhibition; it is not just the paint with which parts of the installation are painted, but an integral part of the body of work. Leaving the main gallery and walking down the road that leads to the Fire Station, a branch of the gallery, we find Blanket, a work created on the external banner that the gallery usually uses for communication, which the artist has reprinted in white with a small pale pink cross in the centre. As in other works by the artist, the connotations behind the use of white and the meaning of 'whiteness' are central to this exhibition. In this particular case, the banner refers to the use of white in funerary practices in Africa and Asia, countries where death is seen not as the end of life but as a key reference point. The title of the work, Blanket, on the other hand, suggests the healing role of the hospital, but also the idea of secrecy, cover and suffocation. Always questioning the symbolism of white as an element of supremacy.
On entering the Fire Station, the first thing you notice is the presence of flowers on the floor. Every week, dried marigold buds are scattered on the floor and gradually accumulate. In many cultures, marigold plays an important role as a protective amulet against evil spirits and bad energy. At the same time, it symbolises the connection between life and death, which is why in Mexico it is often bought as a gift for hospital patients.
The second part of the exhibition is spread over several floors. On the ground floor is a projection of Small Cup (2008), a video work by the artist in which an architectural model made from seeds of the US Capitol in Washington is devoured by a group of goats and chickens in an old abandoned textile factory. A radical and ironic critique of the food production system and how the food chain mirrors the failed political condition in the US.
In the front room, the metaphor of disappearance introduced by the dismemberment of the miniature replica by the hungry group of animals becomes darker and more grotesque. A set of torches is placed at the entrance to the completely dark room in which the work Space Between the Letter Drawings is installed, consisting of letters covered in wood and aluminium and others that are absent. Absence becomes more important than presence. The text still becomes something to be experienced physically, organically. Pope.L again reverses fruition and medium to lead us to the conceptual result by a different route.
On the upper floors, dripping broken bottles and hospital jugs are installed upside down, as if gravity were pushing the drops to penetrate the deepest layers of the exhibition space. As if the drops could traverse the space, the viewers and the floor, making the whole body of the exhibition a porous, resonant and inviting body.
I walk down the stairs and out into the street, which is full of people outside and inside the exhibition space. Some people are even sitting inside talking. It looks like a waiting room. I turn to look at the gallery as I leave, like saying goodbye to a loved one you won't see for a while. Goodbye Pope.L.

So i made the unfortunate mistake of using the CTRL-ESC method of flashing the bios from version 1.10 (the version that it shipped with) to version 1.8. All went well with the flashing process, but when the machine restarted all I get are max fans, the rainbow colors on the keyboard, and the power button blinks red twice and blue twice.
I'm guessing at this point the bios chip itself needs to be re-flashed with a programmer. Does anyone know where the bios chip is located on the motherboard?
EDIT: I should also mention that the screen does not light up, so going into any kind of menu is not an option.

INFO: 28M 5"10 155 pounds United States
So, yeah, at this point I'm kind of just trying to survive. I've tried going to doctors and I realize that...this might be it for me. Was already a lethargic, slightly fat child growing up and got "fit" in my early 20s--to my shock, it had 0 influence on my condition. But hey, at least I have muscle now, eat better food, and I'm a healthy weight?
The one good sleep took place under weird circumstances; stayed up all night - I usually sleep at a good time and get 8 hours - was talking to a friend, etc. I woke up late in the afternoon and...everything felt different instantly. I flew out of bed, noticed my dark circles I've had since I was young were gone, could actually THINK for once, etc. Even walking outside just felt...different. I wasn't getting far more tired just walking around like I usually get. I have had a few other decent days, of course, though they were pretty rare and weren't quite the same feel. I also went to the hospital for a GI illness and was given some sort of IV or injection that made me feel more alive than I had in a few years--but it only lasted, what, an hour? Maybe it was just drugs. Note that I have been treated before with meds and given pain killers before. None ever made me feel that great. Some foods do make me feel weird, but a basic allergy panel just indicated I am severely allergic to shrimp, mold (like everyone), and dust. Antihistamines don't make me feel better.
Misc. symptoms or odd things:
Eyes and eye area feel and look fucked up; sunken, red, dark, etc. They sometimes get worse, they pretty much directly reflect how horrible I feel. My eyelids constantly twitch. Oh, I was told, "wow, your eyes don't look fucked up for once!" by someone after I had that one good sleep...predictably. I also have extremely severe dry eye.
I nearly constantly yawn. It is usual for me to wake up and yawn several times--and it sucks because it sets off my TMJ (jaw pain).
My body is constantly tense and uncomfy. When I briefly have felt better, my body felt much better in general.
Headaches have gotten far more common in recent years; I probably have one a few hours every day. Head also feels very pressured and uncomfortable 24/7.
Caffeine or aspirin makes me feel like hell; in fact, a few weeks ago I got deathly ill and I realized it was from aspirin, when I stopped taking it I felt much better in the next hours. I didn't even overdose!
I have one of the worst cases of cystic acne in the entire world and it has been getting worse and worse with age. I have dozens of cysts and even more pimples. Accutane and derm-recommended skincare failed. I'm sure it's completely unrelated to the fatigue issues though.
Other issues: on/off zinc deficiency (I do take zinc consistently), asthma (it's mostly very bad lung capacity inhalers don't help), bite/jaw issues (ortho recommended surgery; I can't afford it), past nose deformity breathing issues (insurance paid for surgery and, hey, it at least improved my life a little).
I did try to get some things, like a sleep study, but it fell through. I spent almost a year to finally get one referred by my insurance and...I wasn't able to fall asleep. I spent 9 hours just lying there, my body extremely uncomfortable and tense, exhausted out of my mind. I realize I will never be able to get a sleep study done.
Anyway, I'm sorry for the poor formatting, just really wanted to cover everything and I'm not even sure what's relevant anymore.

Namesake: They Might be Giants song of the same name.
Appearance: IS-DG modifies the camera app of whatever applicable device its user is currently operating.
Ability: A prompt pops up after anyone takes a picture with IS-DG, with the subject's label spelled out. The user must then select a known human language from the dropdown to begin using the ability (so a picture of a lamp will show the prompt LAMP, if the user chooses English as their language). By changing letters, characters, symbols, etc of the prompt, if a new word is made in the chosen language, the subject will transform into that prompt (changing the P in LAMP into a B will change the lamp into a lamb). IS-DG doesn't give a person's name as a prompt (Mary and Jane will both read as "HUMAN") and the altered word must be a physical thing for the transformation to occur.
The duration of the transformation is tied to how many characters are changed in the prompt. One character change makes the transformation permeant until changed back by IS-DG if a clear, full bodied photo of them was taken. Blurry photos, photos of a subject from far away, and/or multiple character changes will apply shorter durations. A photo that is too far, unclear, or has more than one subject in focus won't have a prompt. Changing all of the characters of a prompt won't result in a transformation.
Stats: Power: None Speed: None Range: C (Max distance for a photo to be considered "close enough" not to have a duration.) Persistence: A Precision: C Potential: None