My 10 year old loves to fish and I’ve decided to give it the ole college try. My dad loved to fish and tried (unsuccessfully) to get me “hooked” in my youth. Sadly, dad can’t take over for me here because he passed a few years back. I purchased an ugly stick 6’6” combo and some lures. I have successfully put 8 lb mono onto the spinning reel. I’m practicing knots in mono. Have pulled off a uni and a double uni with confidence. I live in central NC and most of our fishing will be freshwater lakes. What are some setups that I need to learn? To this point it has been bobbers and worms for the kiddo, but I’d like to learn so I can teach him stuff. I have been watching YouTube vids from Fishing with Nat and Just the lil fishing as well. I guess my biggest concern is. Other than hook, split shot weight, bobber and a worm what else can I do. Thanks in advance.

https://open.spotify.com/track/72hSmnleYTiiOo23q8ZJIS?si=L4NE6mtMQvydXPLd-KBQXQ
To start, the number in my name helps explain me before you know my name.
Evf stands for energetic vibrational frequencies. Basically im what happens when a mage is awoken from a sleeper cell sort of condition.
Think MK Ultra, cause i understand that MK means memetical knowledge.
Yep, bout a good time to toss on muysic and get ready to rabbit hole any terms you dont get.
Synchronicities and the ouroboros are good starts, then research into knot theory. Finally read through the book Kozyrev put out on his mirrors experiments.
Tesla was another good key. Quotes, music, all sorts of knowledge is hidden in plain sight, but it takes a real madman to understand what ive found.
The point being, the more you end up fulfilling this quote:
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents... some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new Dark Age. H.P. Lovecraft
My birth name is Merlyn. Im looking for any witches who want to adapt my knowledge and help me with the craziest thing.
Imagine if Crowley used sex magics for improving the human minds. Since porn has become such a quagmire for bored lonely men, the right director with the right understanding of memetics could change a few things.
Sadly im a middle aged average man, so not my wheel house to get on vid, and im too poor to pay for anything.
Im an angel awoke as a human, would he be rich or poor?
https://open.spotify.com/track/5yaEx1flpZmNBiPyAT8iUx?si=LwLgPIYsSW-BNjnARDpuAw
Im rich in knowledge and so long as i can get it to the right witch, they can do what i cannot. Ive got the youtube plans on my own.
Yet to change that primal programming, to actually use it for good instead of wealth, it takes something as primal, beautiful freaky naked ladies.
So hit me up, least i can do is explain myself. Be blessed, as above so below.

Yeah , I don't know how people do it for real . I get the IV and EV now after some days of reading , watching youtube vids etc . But every fcking trainer has either maxed ev or something . They always attack first have every possible move that will counter something etc. I don't know how I'm going to beat insane difficulty . And I'm playing on new game+ and not clean save insane . Breeding is OFF since I don't have the perfect ditto and I'll have to get to sea port city again and then dehara city for the destiny knot . I'm cooked . I don't think I can beat it , I'm stuck at Crater Town gym and seems impossible . Even though the npc says having fighting , bug , fairy will be easier . I don't think that's true . Having 3 fairies , a hariyama and 2 bug mons while having their speed ev maxed and attack from desco town , yet still getting my ass kicked . Can't do shit . Indeed is insane difficulty and I get mad that I can't proceed because I don't take defeats easily

One of the BEST things about SNW for me was the camaraderie I felt and character of the folks in the Static-X pit. It was definitely a smaller pit (15 people?) but there were 2 sometimes 3 other ladies with me having a great time moshing. Everyone really looked out for each other which is how it should be. I fell twice and was quickly swooped back up before I even knew what happened and all the dudes were making sure we had fun and got rowdy without taking it too far. THANK YOU! I felt as safe as I could be doing that sort of thing and I really enjoyed screaming with everyone. Magical vibes ✨
P.S. I have some gnarly knots and bruises to show for being there but not much else! If you have vids of the static-x pit please share 🖤

I can never bring myself to study. No matter what i do. I try studying and get stuck on the same page. No matter how interesting the chapter is I am unable to do it. It feels like I have a force stopping my brain whenever I try to put the simplest amount of work into thinking. I can do physical tasks all day long but when it comes to mental effort, my brain just shuts down. I feel 'tired' in my brain(if that makes any sense).
If I decide to take a short break from studying, 5 hours fly by like 5 minutes.
I especially cannot study in the presence of someone, as my brain just decides to stop working.
TLDR: My brain shuts down when I try to study. How do I restart it?
Edit: some wonderful advice from the comments for anyone coming across this post later:

• Goblin Tools :helps break down tasks quickly using an AI - u/Goblynoid

-study till the 'candle' (or laptop battery) goes out u/scarborough_bluffer

• block the last few days before a test for last minute cramming - u/KnotARealGreenDress
• procrastiplanning is your enemy- u/rufflayer
• You pretend you're on a spy mission to save the world- u/fortfisherhermit
• use physical books and interact with content. add footnotes - u/BetterSnek
• -Make it VISUAL: Draw little cartoons, find images online to compile in a document, use a particular picture or even a place you know well and "attach" different facts/names/dates/whatever to elements in the image. (Example: Parts of a cell as items in a hotel room. Doesn't have to make sense. Maybe TV=mitochondria, coffee maker=ribosomes, etc). Use external sources, esp. VIDEOS. Don't just try to memorize the textbook. Getting info from multiple sources helps to solidify it in your brain.- u/Original_Ad7189
• -reward yourself. If I study for ten minutes, I get to watch 5-10 minutes of a YouTube video or show or movie I want to watch. Then repeat. Or maybe I get a snack, or get to go on my phone, or whatever hobby im interested in in that moment. - u/jessalov3
• -Use timers so the 5 minute break can't turn into 5 hours and use rewards.- u/Rose_Wyld
  
• taking my messy notes from class and doing clean ones. -u/AriFR06
  
• I constantly have a ton of books open, and when I get tired of one, I flip to another. Not the most efficient method, but the only one that allows me to concentrate on my studies.- u/Pleasant_Beginning11
  
• goblin.tools/estimates how long a task will take
  
• increase font size
  
• add inside jokes to your material so that you can remember better.
  
• try making sense of the material in a logical manner(i.e. this comes after this and therefore this). it helps in processing the material.
  
• -for homework(and things you don't need to memorize) watch that one movie that you want to watch but you couldn't get past 5 minutes. when the movie's boring, do homework, when the movie is interesting, watch it.
  
• challenge yourself to finish a task in a certain short amount of time(not too short not too long)
  
• write headings with 3 different colours randomly, each time you revise, chose a particular colour and revise the parts in that colour.(this causes lesser work at a time- aka breaking down tasks)
  
• goblin.tools/Compiler converts into a task list
  
• give a practice test and try to figure out why you went wrong
  
• whitenoise, exercise, read out loud(add accents, slang or whatever you want) study with me vids, write notes in the form of lists, flashcards, group study, text to speech, stretch, stay hydrated, relaxing music without any words(must be a bit monotonus so that you don't get distracted or overstimulated by it.)
  
• try pomodoro timers(these may or may not work for you). take a walk or exercise in each break. also works as a reminder to drink water and take a deep breath every break.
  

Hello, I'm not having much luck with finding the name of the knot so I can look up how-to vids lol Any help is greatly appreciated!
Dog Toy with Rope

I gotta spill some tea about this chick Joelle Grainger. She been droppin' vids frontin' like she was this 26-year-old virgin dealin' with some messed-up life drama. She whinin' 'bout her hubby who never said "I love you" before or after they tied the knot. Then she spills she cheated, dude bounces, and she pulls some fake terminal cancer stunt, no treatments, just vanishin' symptoms. But hold up, it gets wilder! Shorty flips the script starts yappin' 'bout fake abductions, court drama, and even claims she won a sex assault case outta thin air. And get this, she's talkin' 'bout this fake cousin pullin' strings in some whack revenge plot on Reddit. It's some next-level nonsense. Straight-up head-spinning, right?
So, picture this scene: she spits some wild tale to Phvil on live, talkin' 'bout Somali dudes suited up, shades on, ninja-ing up to her balcony in broad daylight, 9 in the mornin', scorchin' heat. They roll in her crib, flip her like a pancake in her sleep, hogtie her, then gettin' all handsy. While she's sportin’ a tracksuit, hogtied, but somehow still keeping the party rollin'. Drag her out, still hogtied, to her wheels, no witnesses, no cops. Then they cruise around with her in the trunk for hours, and she wakes up from nappin’ kickin' and screamin'. She claims bruises from kickin', but hogtied and still throwin' knees? Talk about a contortionist act! Oh, and peep this, she busts out a ring light mid-fiasco, snappin' pics for socials, but her ride's an SUV, no trunk! Then she's talkin' 'bout some old lady hearin' her racket but not callin' 5-0. Sketchy as hell, right?
But wait, there's more. Shorty’s got folks losin' their minds over the fake cousin drama when she starts playin' victim, cryin' out for her crew to hunt down this so-called stalker. Turns out, she knew who it was all along, playin' dumb while innocents get dragged into her drama. And yo, she's droppin' tales left and right, like how she's period-free 'cause of some surgery, but then spin this yarn 'bout some dude raidin' her crib, messin' with her feminine hygiene stash. And she's givin' out her addy to randos in hotdog costumes and actin' surprised when they ain't lookin' for a ring. But here's the kicker, her fans, clueless 'bout her web of lies, droppin' cash/gifts like it's rainin', and she's still yappin' 'bout it ain't enough. Roses? She laughin' and yellin’, sayin' they ain't worth squat. Ain't nothin' but a scam artist hustlin' her way through the 'gram. Straight-up wild, bro.

Happy Friday Swappers! Working through the last of my collection. Everything ships Tuesday 2/20 (Monday is Presidents day). Included shipping is CONUS only. PPFF or Venmo. Yolo’s trump chats. No trades, need the cash. Any questions, just ask! Hey that rhymed🤷‍♂️
Timestamp/ pics / vids
+++SOLD+++Chris Reeve Large Sebenza 21 w/ Macassar Ebony inlay and knotted lanyard w/ Dot bead / leather slip New Retail on a 31 version of this knife is $650 without the lanyard, yours for $495 shipped. Light carry, no scratches on blade, see photos for complete condition. Ships with full kit. Honestly, I prefer the 21 over the 31 aesthetic and OG S35VN steel over Magnacut (blasphemous I know). Bonus MX gear deep carry clip included at n/c.
+++SOLD+++***\**Chris Reeve* Small Sebenza 21 w/ Macassar Ebony inlay and knotted lanyard w/ Dot bead/ leather slip New retail on a 31 small inlay is $575, this one is yours for $435 shipped. Light carry, no scratches on the blade, some marring on the scale and inlay, see photos for details. This small Sebenza has the best action of any Chris Reeve I have owned, can be thumb flicked and is incredibly smooth.
*****SOLD*****Pena Bravo black micarta with brass pivot collar, original release
New retail $274, this guy yours for $215 shipped. I am the original owner and have had a hard time letting this go. I have had most of the uber high end knives (Brown, Holt, Grimsmo, Skiff etc.) and the action on this magnificent knife is seriously nuts for the money. You will not be disappointed. Light carry, some snails on clip.
*****SOLD*****Jho Knives #18 nude titanium finish w/ brass inlay
Holy moly what a knife for the money. Had the scalpel version and had to scoop this up when it was released. New retail $255, this one yours for $210 shipped. Original owner, can’t find a mark on her condition, ships with full kit. Action is superb. You will love the feel of the knurled titanium in your hands and the overall build quality rivals considerably more expensive knives.
*****SOLD*****Tactile Knife Co Bexar Ultem w/ Lanyard Bead (limited edition) Magnacut
Retail $220 yours for $149 shipped. Original owner, never sharpened, OG packaging. This one is so light you will completely forget its in your pocket but there when you need it. Super slicey.
Tactile Knife Co Rockwall Thumbstud 20cv
Retail $299, yours for $215 shipped. Original owner, used and carried condition. Factory edge but shows wear and very small chip towards the tip which can be easily sharpened out. Ships with OG packaging. Once of my al time favorite EDC’s, only selling because I have another.
Hodinkee Pendulum Pen in Titanium
New retail $120, yours for $69 shipped. Original owner, favorite EDC pen due to size and weight- really disappears in your pocket. Made in the US of A. Ships in original box.
***SOLD**\**Grimsmo Saga Pen #2659 Stonewashed Titanium*
New retail $330, yours for $275 shipped. I’m the original owner purchased direct from Grimsmo, very limited use, ships with full kit. My favorite pen.
Prometheus Beta QRv2 stonewashed TITANIUM
New retail $145, yours for $109 shipped. Original owner, perfect condition, includes battery. Perfect titanium EDC light if the CWF microclick is too spendy. Don’t see these come up too often and they are sold out.
***SOLD***Iron Bull Brushed Titanium Pacific Pry Bar and Bottle Opener (Iron Bull Casey Lynch Collab, limited edition)
Rare. Current lynch pry bars retail for $129 this guy yours for $79 shipped. Second owner, no original packaging, great condition.

20 Year old, Male, 5'11, 70kg Hi docs, im studying physio currently. In my 3rd year. I've faced this probl3m for a year now where when i go to perform extension in my neck i feel pain in my middle area of the neck. Probably c4-c5. It was worse before but got better. But its still there. Also sometimes if i watch a movie or a vid and then change try to extend my neck it pain but i hear a loud pop then ROM sets back to normal. This keeps on going. Ive vistied a physio before he helped release some muscle knots in my upper back which did help me in terms of my ROm but not a lot in terms of pains

Part 1 Part 3
What a new year’s it was. The fireworks were blazing, and the people were chugging beer non-stop like it was 1999. It has been almost a month since then. You’re sitting in your bed, keeping warm under the blankets, sipping hot coffee once again. What a peaceful night, you think to yourself. Suddenly, your window slides open and a small animal invades your bedroom. It’s a stray cat that has grown a little too comfortable in your apartment. You knew giving it so much free food was a bad idea. But the cat is carrying something in its mouth. Before you can stop it, it jumps onto your bed and drops the item*.* It looks like an envelope*.* The cat is staring at you expectantly. Very warily, you pull out a letter from inside the envelope. It’s an ASMR script. A cat just delivered you an ASMR script. But you, as a VA and/or reader, have gotten to the point where nothing really surprises you anymore. The cat curls up on your pillow and peers over your shoulder. Together, the two of you begin reading….
Before we get into the story, here’s an excerpt from a recent conversation between me and an online friend:
“Hey! How’s it going, rains?”
“Could be worse. But not by much. How ‘bout you?”
“Ah, you know. Same old. Filling scripts, attending college, playing Valorant and Genshin, trying to ask out Stephanie for the third time in three days.”
“Like that’s ever gonna happen.”
“Yeah, screw you too! Like you’ve ever had any luck with women.”
“You really don’t have to announce that to the world, you know.”
“Hey, quick question. Can I monetize this script?”
“….That was a little random, but sure. All my scripts can be monetized and uploaded to YouTube and/or Patreon. I only ask that I’m credited and sent a link to the audio. Why? You planning on recordin’ it?”
“Why? You want to listen to me roleplaying as a seductive dom lamia queen that kidnaps the listener and basically drags them around like a pet?”
“….”
“…..”
“………..”
“……………….”
“……………………..”
“…..yeah, sorry. This got weird way too quick.”
“Chats get auto-cleared on this site, right?”
“Yup. But hey, if I were to fill this- purely hypothetically, of course- could I make some minor changes to the script? Like, dialogue and SFX and stuff?”
“Yeah. That can be done on any of my scripts. Always nice to see different takes.”
“Cool. What about genderflipping it though?”
“I mean, you’d kind of have to….given how it’s tagged F4M and you’re…you know….a dude.”
“You saying I can’t pull off a female voice? Have you LISTENED to that femboy audio I made a while back? People genuinely thought it was a girl on the mic! Which would….technically make it a tomboy roleplay if it were a girl playing a femboy, I think….although-“
“Bro, it’s 1:47 a.m. and I’m not getting into this. I have class tomorrow.”
“Fine. But why’s the script called ‘Desert Dreams’? Come to think of it, why do all your scripts have such funky names? Like, what’s up with that?”
“What is this, a casual chit-chat or an FBI interrogation?”
“Just answer the question!”
“I like to….be a little edgy, I guess? I just want to organize my scripts and give each a unique title that I feel somehow ties in with the content and themes. A VA can upload their fill under any title and with any tags of their choice, though. In fact, it’s recommended they pick something more mainstream. ‘Desert Dreams’- can you imagine yourself clicking on an ASMR vid titled like that? ‘Yandere Lamia Empress claims you!’, on the other hand….”
“Did you just roast yourself, bro?”
“….can I log off already?”
“Wait! A couple more queries. Can it be made 4A instead of 4M? You know, for inclusivity and stuff?”
“Sure. Just change the ‘he/his/him’ to ‘they/theithem’. Not too many instances of mentioning gender in the script.”
“Cool. And can you, like….uh…”
“Yes?”
“Make this one hot, maybe?”
“Hot?”
“Hot.”
“I….I don’t know, man. I mean, I’m not really too comfortable writing spicy stuff. I’m not sure if I can pull it off. Also, there are quite a few scripts like that out there. I want to…I wanna do something different, you know? I want to help create a world where….where all kinds of scripts get representation. Like, joke scripts and meta scripts and awkward speaker scripts and ‘Introducing your alien girlfriend to The Beatles’ greatest hits’ kind of scripts. We need more of those! I’m sorry, I just don’t think spicy yandere scripts align with my philo-“
“I’ll request your favourite VA to read it.”
“….which one? They’re all my favourite.”
“You know which one. The one you wrote a script about, and thought nobody would notice. What was her channel name again? L-“
“BROOOOOOO! THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVER!!!!”
“Jeez, chill! Just think about it.”
“I’m sorry. I…I can’t do it. I don’t think I could even if somebody commissioned me, and I’m not worthy to be taking commissions.”
“I’ll tell you her email address. Word on discord is she’s currently accepting fan-mail.”
“…….”
“Dude? You there?”
“…………..”
“Uh….rains?”
Woah, why’s he switching to voice call?
“Hey, what’s up? Why are you call-“
“OKAYTHENIGUESSWEDOINGTHISANDYOUCANNOTFREAKINGSTOPMEEEEEEE!!!!!!”
“Fuck! My eardrums!”
……Okay, that conversation totally didn’t happen. But just imagine if it did :P
Synopsis: After the events of last night, the empress asks for the listener's presence in her royal court. This has never happened before. She takes the listener to a hidden chamber in the palace and they share a sweet moment together, before the reality of their situation and the echoes of war in the distance sink in once again. The consort of an apophis is entitled to many gifts and luxuries, but free will isn't one of them.
The Script:
Mmn. My dear. How lovely of you to join me.
What’s with that look? Did you not get any sleep last night? I thought my venom….did a lovely job, of washing away all that stresss. (giggles)
Oh, I disagree. I think it’s quite funny. Adorable, really. You slept like a baby. You make the cutest little noises when you’re asleep.
I just….I just can’t help but wrap you up tighter, and pull you even closer to me when you look (whispers) so….very….innocent. Not a single worry on your face. None.
Yes. That’s probably why your body feels a little sore. I am sorry, pet.
Oh, come now. You can’t seriously stay mad at my coils for wanting to hold you.
Maybe…you’d like me to make it up to you? Perhaps I can cuddle you right here in open court, in front of all my advisors and attendants? I think that…would be a nice way to show everyone just who you belong to, don’t you?
No? Well, I could always bite you a little harder than usual. I think your neck would look absolutely lovely, covered in fang marks.
(giggles again) Don’t back away, darling. I’m only teasing. …..Maybe.
(sighs) Oh, just….I’m not going to hurt you. You know that by now. I would never hurt you. You’re my precious little mouse. My darling pet, the one I just can’t stop thinking about. The one I never want to stop thinking about.
Here. Come close. Give me a kiss.
It’s okay. Don’t be shy. Just lean in to me.
Darling….I’d rather not make you, with everyone watching. But you know I will, if you force my hand.
(A gentle, slow kiss)
Mmnn. You taste….delicious. I will never get tired of this.
Not so soon, pet. I….I want more.
(A few more kisses, interspersed with soft sounds of happiness.)
Look at that. I can (sighs) I can almost feel a blush colouring these cold cheeks of mine. You’re the only one in the world who can make me feel this way. You know that, don’t you?
(sighs) Don’t be like that, angel. I may be an evil empress, but I have feelings too.
(chuckles) No need to get all sassy, dear one. No. This isn’t the only reason why I summoned you here.
My court is almost adjourned for the day, you see. And I thought that, maybe, before the two of us….you know….’turned in’ for the night (giggles)….you’d like to spend a little time with me, doing something else.
What is it? Why do you look so shocked?
(laughs) Oh…you have grown so wise, my little mouse. You are right. I wasn’t asking for permission.
Come. Take my hand. Let’s unwind somewhere a little quieter.
Come. Let me guide you.
(She takes the listener’s hand, and begins leading him out of the courtroom. Sound of slithering is heard, and then there’s a brief spell of silence.)
(Gentle fireplace ambience)
Isn’t this nice?
The soft cackling of the flames. Slow, and hypnotic. I still lose myself in their glow sometimes. Thinking of earlier days. Back….to when I was just a little girl. Oblivious to the worries of the world. (In fond remembrance) Just a young lamia, quietly slithering out of the palace when my mother wasn’t looking. Racing through the endless dunes, trying to catch the sun. Playing, with the sandworms that slumber deep below the sands.
Don’t sit so far away from me, darling. Nights here in the desert are cold, and the fire simply isn’t enough to warm my scales.
(sounds of rustling, and coiling)
(sighing contentedly) We used to be like this, didn’t we? Snuggling by the fire. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it has only been a few weeks since you found me. To a creature such as myself, one that has lived and ruled for centuries, a few weeks is like…a brief daydream. A reverie.
And yet….these have been the most wonderful few weeks of my life. It still feels like a dream. One I never want to wake up from. You have no idea how much I treasure you, pet.
(She softly kisses the listener’s cheek)
What is it, love? (giggles a little) Don’t you remember?
You used to let me coil around you when I was in my snake form. You would sit in that comfortable old chair before the fireplace, and I would wrap myself all around you. You laughed when you felt my familiar scales, sliding against your soft skin. I wish you would laugh more these days. I’m still that purple snake, aren’t I? I’ll always be your snake.
(smiles) And you’d always fall asleep before me, in that cozy little home of ours. It’d take me a while to join you. I would keep staring into those orange flames, dancing and swaying with a life of their own. They reflected in my tiny slit-like eyes as I fell into a trance watching them. But not because I found them alluring.
No. They reminded me of that orb of fire in the sky. Of that false prophet who claims to be the voice of God. My armies are sieging her city as we speak. It won’t be long before the fortress of the Sun falls to ruin. Change is washing over this desert. It’s washing over everything. Even the sandworms have begun to stir. Soon, they’ll surface to find a mate as hundreds of men and women flee from the pharaoh’s crumbling city.
(sighs) I’m sorry. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. You really are innocent. A complete stranger to the ways of war. And it’s fine. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, my sweet.
(sounds of soft rustling)
Let us not dwell on such matters. Can you see those vials of scented oil on the shelf?
Fetch the one at the edge of the top row. It’s rose and sandalwood, if I remember correctly.
Why? (giggles) Because my shoulders feel a little stiff from ruling this city, and I figured my consort would like to help me with that.
(pouting) You’re so mean. Do you really want your loving empress to feel all sad and neglected because nobody will rub her poor, stiff, overworked muscles? Hmm?
Of course it has to be you! You really think I’d let just anyone touch me? No, my little mouse. That privilege is afforded only to you.
(chuckles at the listener’s sarcasm) Well, I’m glad you are thrilled about it. A little more enthusiasm wouldn’t have hurt, you know.
Now, could you please bring the bottle over here? You know by now that I’m not a patient woman. I’d greatly appreciate some long-due attention.
(sighs) You think I’m treating you like a pet dog? Asking you to play fetch?
Think what you like. I really don’t mind, as long as you listen.
I could always make you crawl on all fours to fetch it. I’ve had a long time to learn quite a few….restraining….spells. Are you feeling adventurous tonight?
See? That’s much better. Why do I always have to resort to such un-pleasantries to get you to do a very simple task, darling?
Good. Good pet. (giggles)
Uncork the bottle. Start at the base of my neck. Make sure you apply a generous amount of oil on your hands.
(sound of vial being uncorked and of sloshing liquid, if possible. Else, just pause for a couple of seconds.)
Oh. Your touch is gentle as ever. I can feel the warmth seeping into my skin already. Keep working over those knots. Just like that.
(sighs happily) You know, this particular room in the palace is quite special. Only royalty is allowed access to this suite. Lamia queens- and their consorts- have spent many relaxing evenings in here, ever since it was first built. A very, very long time ago. The tapestries on the wall reflect this tradition well, wouldn’t you say?
Mmn. There’s a picture of a lamia coiled around her helpless human lover. You can almost see the look of bliss and adoration in her eyes, as she pulls him closer and they grow more and more….intimate (giggles). The painter’s hands were rather skilled, I’d say.
Almost as much as yours, pet. Mmn. I can feel all of the tension just draining away. You can move over to my shoulder blades now.
We’ve had a long….tradition….of taking human lovers from outside the desert. You see, in the olden days, we were frequently at war with the neighbouring nations. With the small human kingdoms dotting this continent. And war….meant prisoners.
See that painting of a procession of humans in chains? Being led by a pretty woman with ears like those of a jackal? Slavery was quite common. Those human prisoners would be taken to the marketplace, and each would be sold off or gifted to some lucky denizen of the city.
(Sighs) Just like that. Your hands are magic, darling. Work over those joints some more.
Oh, it’s hardly as bad as you think. Those ‘slaves’ wouldn’t be condemned to a life of harsh labour and toil under the desert sun. Life for them….would be one of soft sheets, and red wine, and of captivating pleasure as they catered to their new owner’s every personal need. (Laughs a little)
Hmm. Most would usually lose the stubborn attitude after a while. You, however….you’re a challenge. I can feel you glaring daggers of ice into my back this very moment. Oh, you delight me, pet!
Come now. You can be a little gentler, you know? (Sighs contentedly) We should do this more often. I’m tempted to drag you here every day after court. You’re so very….diligent….in your duties towards your queen. I’m flattered, darling.
In fact….I think you’ve earned a little reward.
(Sound of slithering)
The night breeze is calm tonight. Let us go to the balcony. (Whispers breathily) We can….’talk’ more over there.
(More slithering sounds. Gentle winds are heard.)
Why, yes. I had a servant bring us carpets and pillows ahead of time. It looks inviting, doesn’t it?
The scented candles are a nice touch, I think. I can smell myrtle, and more sandalwood. Let us enjoy them before the wind picks up, and blows out the tiny flames.
Here. Sit in my coils. For once, I’ll be the one keeping you warm.
(In a rare display of vulnerability) I always wanted to do something like this, you know? Ever since I was a young girl, I’d often come up here. Dreaming of holding someone in my coils one day….just like this….of having someone to call my own as the two of us dreamt in the desert together. I am an apophis. I crave love, too. Your love.
It can get lonely. Staring at all those dunes on your own for so long. My empire, my crown, my subjects- they kept me busy. But these sand hills at twilight- they’d always remind me of the emptiness in my life.
But that’s gone now. You….you saved me. In more ways than one. I’m so very glad you found me, angel. My darling pet. My….everything. (soft kisses)
What is it? You’re all fidgety. Are you cold? (She kisses him again). No. (Kisses) Don’t…Don’t pull away. (Kisses become more assertive) Don’t pull away from me. (Keeps kissing him). You are mine. Mine to hold, mine to caress, mine to punish. Mine to love.
Look at me. Don’t avoid my gaze.
Will you tell me what is the matter? You seem….jittery. Distracted.
Wait. Oh. But of course. It’s…. It’s the effect of my venom, isn’t it?
(Exhales excitedly) You’re starting to crave it. You miss feeling the gift of my venom coursing through your pretty veins. Filling your mind with that wonderful fog of softness and pleasure. You….are you getting addicted to my venom, love?
(Laughs happily) Oh, don’t deny it. I know the effect my ‘poison’ has on humans. Everyone who’s ever tasted the venom of an apophis always comes back for more. (Whispers) Not that I’ve ever sunk my fangs into anyone else, pet. You’re the only one who gets to taste my gift.
(Playfully) And I haven’t given you a taste all day. What a terrible owner I’m turning out to be. I must fix this immediately.
(rustling of blankets)
Oh, don’t struggle. You know how much you like it. What are you so worried about?
(More rustling)
Come on. Don’t you want a taste? Don’t you want my fangs to gently bite into that precious, delicate little neck? Don’t you want me….to claim you?
You know you do. It makes you feel so good. To be owned, and held, and loved. I would never try to control your mind. Oh, no. I happen to like that cute, adorable little mind of yours. I just….want to wash away your worries for a while. To drown all those pesky, troubling thoughts of escape and…resistance…in my venom. I just want to make my pet happy, so he can stop trying to get away from my embrace. From my kisses.
(Teasingly) Come on. Just a little drop. A teensy….tiny….little bit. A smidge. (Giggles) Aww, don’t you want it? Don’t you?
Go on. Ask me for it.
Ask me to bite you. I can see my little mouse really wants me to.
Ask me.
(Laughs, and then sighs) You really are stubborn, you know? Come here.
(More kisses)
Oh? You’re not my toy? Of course not, darling.
(Kisses)
You’re my property.
(Even more kissing, until she finally- finally- pulls away)
(Softly) Oh, look. There’s a tiny cut on your lip. And my fangs seem to be dripping. How did that happen? (Giggles)
Oh, quit looking so worried. Come here*. (Sounds of coiling)*
(whispers) Let me hold you. It’s just the two of us up here. It'll always be the two of us.
You can see the entire city from here. All those rooftops….those charming little towers and minarets….all the men, women and monsters filling up the streets. So many colourful little lights streaming from all those windows. Each a glimpse into the eventful lives of my people.
Are the colours of the world starting to swim a little, pet?
Oh. You look confused. It’s okay. It’s alright. (sound of coiling) I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ll protect you from the world. From all that’s out there. Just listen to my voice.
You can see the gates of my city in the distance. See the black and purple inlays all lit up with the city’s glow. Trace the moon and stars so carefully crafted into the rock. And the sculpted serpents that surround them, rising to the very top of those tall walls.
(exhales gently) And even further, right at the horizon, you can see red. Thousands and thousands of lanterns and light spells. The sound of war is on the night breeze. I can hear it clearly. I’m kind of glad you’re starting to drift off, pet. I know how much conflict pains you.
You met the pharaoh once, didn’t you? You whispered the story to me as I lay coiled up on your lap, stroking my scales with those gentle hands of yours. She was….kind to you. A famine had befallen your town. The crops dried up and the people were sick and starving. She sent aid. She helped you rebuild. She brought hope and life with her. You were just a child, and she helped you up on your feet. You said she wiped away your tears, and comforted you. Promised you that things would get better. Her smile was radiant like the sun.
Well….it was also she who caused me to bleed in the rain. The sun may grant life, but it blinds you if you look at it for too long. You said the pharaoh’s kindness inspired you to always help a creature in pain. It’s strange, isn’t it? She helped you- and you, in turn, saved me. Your kindness led you here- all wrapped up in my coils, delirious from my venom. My beloved consort. And hers….well.
Hush. I’m right here, my sweet. It’s going to be night soon.
Would you look at that? The candles have all gone out. I’m going to carry you inside after this. For now, just breathe. In….and out. There. Good job.
When you awake, it’ll be night. There will never be daylight in this desert again. I have to leave your side for a while to…pay back my nemesis in full….but I’ll return before you awake. To hold you, and kiss you back to sleep.
You don’t have to worry about a thing. The war- it’s far away. It doesn’t concern us. Mistress knows best. She knows exactly what her pet needs. Her bite is out of love, and her coils are safe and snug. You’re safe in them. You’re safe with me. Mistress will always treasure her precious…silly….wonderful little mouse. (She kisses the listener’s forehead.)
I hope I can slither into your dreams. Hmmn. (she laughs softly)
(sound of coils tightening one last time, and the desert winds blow over the balcony)
And that is why I don’t trust snakes, the stray cat mutters and hops off the bed. It quietly trots over to annihilate your kitchen. You turn over the script and find a posted note from the writer:
P.S. I plan to write one more part, but that’ll have to wait for at least a month. What with exams coming up and all.
P.P.S. If you liked this script and/or my shenanigans, or think I should be stuck in a toilet at a gas station for a month just so I can’t write anymore…..you can always let me know your thoughts and feedback!

My childhood is a far away memory, abstract and somehow serene. Green trees and mountain hikes in nature are what I remember best. Their tranquillity is such a jarring divorce from today. Today, everything that seems to matter in life happens on our smartphone screen, but don't confuse this with the smartphones of old. Those are the smartphones on which we happily shared pics and vids of our gay lives on Instagram or Tic Tok, and thought nothing of paying exaggerated compliments to each other in the comments sections in the hope for reciprocity. In contrast, today's smartphone is your life, literally. No smartphone, no money. No, smartphone, no freedom, that’s even if freedom is what it could be called anymore.
Covid 19 came and went, then it was the climate crisis overlaid with a bunch of foreign forever wars, then Covid 25 appeared and we thoroughly got the bejesus scared out of us. This is when we got a taste of his real lockdowns and forced injections, then Covid 27, 28,... and then we stopped counting. Just a merry-go-round of lockdowns, medications, social restrictions and of course, the ever tightening noose of censorship everywhere. The Great Reset is what they called it. It’s all about the climate, they kept saying. It’s for future generations, and finally it darkened to simply humanity is a virus on the earth. The dichotomy was obvious, yet silent.
When the fight went out of us, we were slowly herded into Smart Cities for our own convenience. Or another misleading name that was used was the Fifteen Minute Cities or FMC’s. We discovered what that really meant. It would only take you fifteen minutes before you wanted out. We all realised it just a little too late. Smart these cities definitely were, but not the kind of smart you think. They were oppressive, high density slums, controlled by cold and insensitive droids and drones and the omniscient AI behind it all. These drones constantly hovered overhead. Watching. Scanning our smartphones, checking us for violations in vaccine status, and of course administering our precious social scores. To add to the insult, our phones hosted CBDC wallets which capriciously choose what you can or cannot have, and how much of any of it. This electronic cornucopia corralled us, controlling where you can go, and what you can do. Everywhere, and all the time. There was not a single human to intermediate. The machines became god’s deciples.
At the gigamarket, a single litre of synthetic milk (cows are banned or extinct, we are not sure anymore which) is all a family of four was permitted to purchase each day. Bread is still worse. It’s more like a thick tasteless cracker. But at least we have ‘matties’. A fried patty of fake meat. Cost: virtually zero. Shelf life: forever. Matties are about the only thing that we were allowed to eat without limitation. We had long been encouraged to stop speculating what they were made from, so the popular debate shifted to, ‘how close to real meat it in fact tasted?’ As if anyone was any longer an authority on what real meat tastes like, so we all were.
Your social score is everything. Your entire worth as a human condensed into that one little number. Those that fall below 8, vanished. Theories as to thief fates were whispered in hushed and paranoid tones. Discussing it is taboo on Meta.X, the only social media platform that exists. Conversely strategies on how to improve your score abound, they’re easily the most discussed topic online. Through bitter experience though, raising your points was akin to blitzing a snap test in a subject you never knew existed. But losing points! Now that's as easy as breathing.
I had 9.2 and John, my brother, had 9.3. Clive, from next door showed me with mock rebellious bravado that he had only 8.1. That was a few weeks ago. I have not seen him since. I wonder how brave he feels now, or indeed where he is.
I thought a lot about Clive and his fate, but in the end he had asked for it with his cavalier attitudes..
***
Clive had a sister that I liked, but I was sure she didn't even know I existed, that is until today.
I was coming back to our apartment with whatever the CBDC wallet allowed me to buy at the gigamarket, when she suddenly grabbed my arm in the crowd. What I remember was the look in her mesmerising blue eyes. It looked like manic fright. But to me, in a hypnotic counterpoint, I couldn’t ignore that pink tight woven cardigan she wore, with the top button undone, invitingly constraining her bare breasts. I could not help but smile to myself for the sudden attention. She grabbed my hand and sharply led me to one side out of the crowd, behind a large dumpster. She pulled my head close to hers and in a raspy desperate whisper said: “Clive, they took him!”
Before I could ask where?, my smartphone chimed. I looked at it, and saw the screen: bright red, and in the middle -1 flashing in huge bold yellow characters. My knees went weak! A -0.1 was chilling enough, and the rare -0.2, was something that would be accompanied by a colourful story, but -1!
I reacted out of panic. I tore out of her grip and boldly reentered the crowded lane. Looking up for a ubiquitous drone, and then loudly proclaiming to it,
“What have I done wrong? why a minus 1”.
The crowd gave me immediate space, the passersby consciously ignoring me.
“What did I do?” I hollered desperately into the air. I could feel my irrational panic rising in my blood.
I looked back at the dumpster and Clive's sister had melted away. I was alone in the crowd again, then my smartphone chimed again. -0.1!
“Aggr, What's going on here?” I yelped into the air with renewed vigour and desperation.
A drone silently approached. Then a second. I was looking up at them questioningly when I felt a yank on the plastic bag in my hand. A grubby child, face hidden in the shadows of a stained hoodie, was tearing at it. The strength was unexpected. I lost interest in the overhead drones, and began convincingly losing the tug-o-war over the bag which dragged me deeper down the darker lane behind the dumpster. Only a handful of metres away from the thongs of people, the urchin turned on me and stabbed my hand with something sharp, then everything went dark.
***
I woke up in a dimly lit space, lying prone on warm concrete, surrounded by crowds of people, all ignoring me. Knots of them stood at concrete tables illuminated by anaemic lights, toiling at some strange tasks. Others just stood, or milled about, occasionally whispering to each other. Everyone was naked except for black boxer briefs, and the mood was darkly sombre. Men and boys of all ages, except the very young, were here. And then the smell hit! An intense cocktail of faeces, urine, sweat and vomit scorched my nose.
An older gaunt man slowly approached me and gave me a hand as I tried to stand up.
“Your headache will pass,” he said in a quiet voice.
“What's going on? Where am I?” I replied with a croaky voice.
“Block 9”
“What’s block 9?”
“Everyone has the same questions when they get here, but it's too dangerous,... some questions must be left as questions”, the man said with ominous foreboding.
Before I could get another question out, a loud siren wailed. Its intensity hurt. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and began to head in one direction. The old man clapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, “Chow time”.
***
It took me about half an hour pushing and shoving in the crowd to get to the ‘feed trough’ filled with matties. I managed to grab 2 of them in the melee of hands. They were cold and definitely inferior to those I was used to. There were bits that did not chew like real food which I spat out. As I was retreating through the crowd, the man from before came up next to me and led me away to a quieter spot.
“I am A3F49r-9, but you can call me Alex” I gave him a blank look. “Your ankle tag…”, he added pointing down.
I looked down and that was the first time I noticed the red ankle bracelet fixed to my right leg with a large bold white number V8h8R2-9 written on it.
“We are the sub 8’s” Alex added, wolfing down his food. A lingering question about Clive was now finally answered.
“How long do we need to be in here?” I asked.
Alex shrugged, then added, “I only know of people going down.”
“Down?”
“Yes, down. I don't think any of us really know for sure, but we know there are levels below us”
The stunned look on my face triggered Alex to stand and lead me off through the crowds. The entire place was a single open space with concrete floor and ceiling interspersed with fat round columns stained with urine and vomit. I was reminded of an underground carpark overtaken by the homeless from my distant youth.
As we walked on, the smell in the air freshened somewhat, and a new quality to the light grew. We finally reached the edge marked by a low concrete wall, above which was, the outside. The vista beyond the wall was stunning. With a hand over my eyes to attenuate the extreme brightness, I beheld an enormous pristine yellow desert vista, topped with an intensely clear blue sky. A warm dry breeze gently blew, tussling my hair and teasing me with the smell of freedom. I had never beheld something so,... overwhelmingly huge.
The vista was as barren as it was huge, except for the blocks which dotted the landscape. Each emblazoned with a single massive number painted in red on each side. 8, 7, and 6, being barely legible in the distance. Many more blocks stretched out till the horizon. Block 8 was the closest and you could make out detail on its austere facade..
Block 8 was a sun bleached concrete monolith protruding from the sea of sand. It was ringed with black bands of dark shadow, in which I could just make out tiny figures moving around. There were dozens of these horizontal bands ringing each block, and they became narrower and more tightly spaced the closer to the ground they were. The only interruption to the minimal cubic form was a circumnavigating wall protruding upwards from each cube’s footprint at 45°. I guessed it was to catch rainwater, but in the desert, the idea suddenly sounded ridiculous to me.
Apart from the tiny figures in the shadows, the only other movement was from large drones flying back and forth between the blocks and beyond.
“Well maybe down is out?” I suggested, but Alex’s jaded look did not support my optimism.
“The only rule I have figured out is that if you work at the tables, you get a few minutes advance notice of feeding time. That gives you a chance to get to the trough before everyone else.” Alex elaborated.
Just before Alex was about to wander away, he turned around and said, “If your bracelet keeps vibrating, you have to go to the lifts that will take you down” Alex said in a flat voice.
I ventured with naive hope: “And out perhaps?”
Alex just shrugged and cocked his head with mock optimism.
***
Over the next few days, I caught on to the simple routine. I also caught sight of Alex a few times, but otherwise I kept to myself like everyone else did. I tried to get to the work tables but they were too popular. But my highlight was running into Clive.
“Hey neighbour” I said, siding up in the crowd.
At first Clive looked at me with shock, then recognition, and finally manic glee. We hugged each other despite us not really being much of friends at all. But then a second later, his mirth drained away leaving concerned sorrow. A tear accompanied his sharp change of expression.
“Hey man, it will be OK, we will get out of here sooner or later” I said reflexively trying to offer some comfort.
His face did not brighten. “I was so stupid man. I thought I was so cool man. Well now I am here, and I don't see a way out. I don't even know where here is.”
His distress was infecting me with doubts which I needed to fight back. “Come on Clive, do…”
Clive’s eyes bulged with panic as he forcefully clamped down on my mouth with his hand arresting my statement mid delivery. He whispered close to me, “I am not Clive. Never use my name. Never tell anyone your name, I mean your outside name. NEVER! Do you understand?”
“Ah, OK” I said, with some surprise, fitting this new fact into my growing understanding of Block 9.
“How did they get you,... aah…” I looked down at his ankle. ‘D2Jf76-9’, I thought quickly for a name and settled on, “…David?”.
He shook his head in short jerky movements, telling me with his eyes that I was again straying into dangerous waters. To fill the silent gap he said: “Have you seen Claire?”
Understanding his signal, I answered “Yeah, she’s fine” and I tried to add as much context with my eyes as I dared. I now hesitated to recount my last encounter with her.
“Ahh, she’s a great kid, everything I am not. Beautiful, smart,...” Clive really wanted to continue, but his paranoia held his tongue still at that.
A strained relief spread over his face. “I feel better knowing she is OK”.
A strained silence fell between us, till he broke it by leaning in to me, and saying in a conspiratorial whisper, “I only have this one thing to remind me of her”. At that, he stuck out his tongue. On it, in the dim light I could see a pearly pink button glistening with all the majesty of a rare exotic gemstone. Seeing it flood me with that memory. This button is from her cardigan. Her tight pink cardigan. It was the missing top button!
It was the last, and most endearing memory I brought with me from the outside. One that had kept me going over the past few days. Now it was my turn to shed a tear, at which Clive, no David, gave me a glance with as much concern as he could. I simply nodded and gave a thumbs up as the tears ran freely down my face.
***
Day and night were only really visible to those that jealousy held their positions around the perimeter of Block 9. The work tables were near the centre of the massive floor space, and the feed troughs not far from them, so the population was in constant migration. Holding onto any territory felt pointless, but despite this, bullies still persisted in their vain territorialism. I managed to get a few sessions at the tables, but the hard toil earned me no discernible advantages, so I stopped bothering.
I managed to take up a position near the perimeter one day when my bracelet buzzed and would not stop. A few guys nearby gave me looks of trepidation mixed with hope. Perhaps I’m not alone thinking that this is the way out of here. In the very corner was a group of round disks. One of them was lit with my number clearly showing, I stood on it and a metal tube came down around me, followed by the gentle sensation of descent. The tube retracted, and I found myself on a new level. It appeared much the same as the old one, except the ceiling was noticeably lower, and the light dimmer.
***
And so the next few weeks progressed, and I sporadically moved down the levels. I saw Alex in the crowds one more time, but he didn't reply to my gaze. It dawned on me, perhaps slower than most, that forming any bonds with my fellow inmates was not something that was done here. As I contemplated this, the signs multiplied. There is absolutely no signs of gangs or bullies on these lower levels. Everyone is alone. This abstract solitude in such a densely crowded space was hard to handle.
The days were very long and tiring, shuffling around the huge featureless space. I lay around sleeping a lot despite developing some painful sores on my hips from the filthy hard floor. One day I found a spot close to the elevator. The constant activity of people vanishing and appearing from the tubes was a treat to the otherwise torturous monotony.
A disc lit up with a number. A tall man with black hair, his head virtually scraping on the ceiling, approached with trepidation and stopped just one step before his disc. He looked with dread at the lit circle on the floor. Something held him back from the final step. His hesitation was beginning to attract attention. Then the disc began to flash, and I could see that the man was experiencing increasing discomfort from the bracelet. Now his bracelet began flashing angrily. The tension of the moment was rising fast. Just as I was imagining him about to take that last step, the ankle bracelet exploded with a dull thud. The man fell heavily to the ground, his right leg now shortened to the shin, ending in a tattered bloody mess. A large splattered blood stain with pieces of meat and bone were strewn about.
If that were not bad enough, it's the reaction that I was not expecting. It was not a scream of shock and pain he gave, but it was the whimpering cry of pathetic defeat. It was a sound that will haunt me forever. Absolutely nobody came to his aid, instead those nearest just turned and shuffled away from the scene. Three round sections of floor, which I had not noticed before raised into the air, disgorging three droids. Two of them came to either side of the prone man and lifted him bodily into the air. He made a feeble attempt at resistance as they carried him to the low wall, and smoothly threw him over. The third busied itself cleaning up the mess. It played a kind of electronic elevator music as it worked. Is this the AI’s demented idea of a ‘human touch’. It was completely surreal and horrifying. The whole episode concluded in under 30 seconds.
***
The inventor of this abomination must have had a macabre sense of humour, or was an especially bitter midget, because with each subsequent level, the ceiling noticeably got lower which forced virtually everyone into a permanent slouch or hunch. The taller amongst us were reduced to sitting or crawling. Defeated and broken would sum up the collective mood perfectly.
Few bothered with the work tables any more. The hymn of the droids as they carried out their grim work was heard more often down here. The only highlight I can share, if that's what you could call it, is spotting Clive again. I tried to engage him, but the blank look in his face made me pause. His posture was sallow and gaunt, as he blindly shuffled about, chin buried in chest. He was lost in his own world. His personal version of escape I guess.
I had to admit that I was not far behind him, but I am a stoic optimist by nature and was probably proving harder for this prison to break. I found stupid trivialities funny, and broke out in manic laughter at the slightest prompt. Others would look at me like I had succumbed to insanity, and perhaps I have, but one thing was very clear: everyone had to dig deep into their souls to find a way to cope down here.
Staying near the edge was very popular now. The natural light hardly filtered to the centre of this lower level. I was scared to venture anywhere away from the edge, fearing what I may find. Around the edge, the air was somewhat more bearable, but the price was steep. The fee was being witness to the steady stream of human tragedies. I watched as inmates would take their own lives over the edge. The regular monotony of it destroyed our souls. Some prayed beforehand, some just lept, while others hollered their epitaphs. Nobody tried to talk any of them out of it. We just watched like drugged spectators, anaesthetised from the gruesome spectacle repeating itself over and over again.
A space at the wall became free which I took so I could look out at the tranquil panorama for a while, but I deeply regret it after I glanced down. I beheld a new gruesome discovery. That angled wall I theorised upon back on the first day, well I learnt its true purpose: it’s for catching bodies, not rain. The concrete was thickly stained with blood and gore, both fresh and old. A long mechanical arm swept the trough and latched onto a fresh, still twitching body, then pulled it into some hidden processing level below. I became nauseous at the revelation and stepped away, vowing to never look down again.
***
I just got sent down this morning, but where I landed can only be described as an abomination. As the tube retracted, it stopped at my waist. Not sure if there was a malfunction, I squatted down on rickety knees, and froze at the scene before me. A dim light filtered past black silhouettes crawling about on hands and knees. The ceiling is so low here that even standing on your knees was impossible. Moaning and despair filled the air, along with the heavy smell of defeat and death. Inmates now uncaring about their fate, ranted and raved. Their echoes tormented those still clinging to sanity.
I crawled away from the lift, but I didn’t get far. I doubt anyone gets very far down here. I lay down the first chance I got and shut my eyes in a vain attempt to block out the despair, till the siren howled for meal time. It took an enormous effort to crawl to the trough and fight through the miserable humanity to get a hand on something to eat. I managed to get hold of a cold mattie and shuffled away to eat it in peace. As I chewed on a mouthful, I bit down on something hard. A pebble or rock perhaps. I spat the piece out into my palm. This was no rock, it was a broken piece of plastic, and not just any plastic either, this was a piece of Claire’s pearly pink button.
That was the moment I died, inside.

So after spending a couple hours watching vids and touring around online I have yet to find a solid enough answer to this.
Currently sitting on 2 perfect 31 IV Chimchars. Is there a way to GUARANTEE* pass all 6 traits down to the egg pokemon? Or is this still just a game of chance?
- I tried using 2 destiny knots now thinking since both parents are same nature it would somehow stay on the baby (That didn't work obviously and just left me getting random natures cause no everstone)
- I also tried for kicks giving one parent the corresponding power item(s) but that was just a waste of time as well.

My childhood is a far away memory, abstract and serene. Green trees and mountain hikes are what I remember best. Such a jarring divorce from today. Now, everything that matters in life happens on our smartphone screen, but don't confuse this with the smartphones of old. The smartphones on which we happily shared pics and vids of our happy lives on Instagram or Tic Tok and made compliments in the comments sections. Today's smartphone is now your life, literally. No smartphone, no money. No, smartphone, no freedom, that’s if freedom is what it is anymore.
Covid 19 came and went, then it was the climate crisis overlaid with a bunch of foreign forever wars, then Covid 25 and the first real lockdowns and forced injections, then Covid 27, 28,... and then we stopped counting. Just a merry-go-round of lockdowns, medications and ever more censorship. The Great Reset we were told it was all about. It’s all about the climate, they keep saying. It's for the children. For the future. The dichotomy was both obvious and silent.
When the fight went out of us, we were slowly herded into the Smart Cities better known as FMCs or Fifteen minute cities. Named such because it would only take you fifteen minutes there before you wanted out. Smart they were, but not the kind of smart you wanted. They were brightly coloured oppressive slums controlled by cold and insensitive robots and drones.
Drones constantly scan our smartphones from above, drones check us for violations in vaccine status, and of course enforcing our precious social scores. To add to the insult, the CBDC wallets on our phones capriciously choose what you can or cannot have, or how much. There was no rhyme or reason to the rules, and they rarely applied to us all at once. Today you get no milk - tomorrow I get no milk. Our phones corralled us, controlled where we could go, and what we were allowed to do.
At the megastore, a single litre of synthetic milk (cows are banned or extinct, we are not sure anymore which) is all a family of four is permitted each day. Bread is worse. It's more like a thick tasteless cracker. But then there are ‘matties’. A patty of fake meat. Cost: virtually free. About the only thing that we can eat without limitation. We had long been encouraged to stop speculating what they were made from, so the popular debate about them was, ‘how close to real meat it in fact tasted?’
***
Your social score is everything today. Your entire worth as a human is captured in that number. Those that fall below 8, vanish. Theories as to where they go are whispered in hushed and paranoid tones. Discussing it is taboo on Meta.X, the only social media platform that exists. Strategies on how to improve your score abound and are easily the most discussed topic online, though from my bitter experience, raising your points was akin to blitzing a snap test in a subject you never studied. But losing points, now that's as easy as breathing.
I had 9.2 and John, my brother, had 9.3. Clive, from next door showed me with mock rebellious bravado that he had only 8.1. That was a few weeks ago. I have not seen him since. I wonder how brave he feels now, or indeed where he is. This was the other eternal topic, where did the sub 8’s go. Nobody I know had ever witnessed any abductions, or arrests, but nobody dared to discuss this on Meta.X.
***
Clive had a sister that I liked, but I was sure she didn't even know I existed, until today.
I was coming back to our apartment with whatever I was allowed to buy at the megamarket for us to eat, when she suddenly grabbed my arm in the crowd. What I remember was the look in her mesmerising blue eyes: manic fright, as a bizarre counterpoint was that pink tight cardigan she wore, with the top button undone, hugging her inviting breasts. I could not help but smile to myself for the sudden attention. She grabbed my hand and sharply led me to one side out of the crowd, behind a large dumpster. She pulled my head close to hers and in a raspy whisper said: “Clive, they took him!”
Before I could ask where, my smartphone chimed. I looked at it and saw the screen: bright red and in the middle -1 flashing in large bold yellow characters. My knees went weak! A -0.1 was chilling enough, and the rare -0.2, was always accompanied by a colourful story, but -1!
I tore out of her grip and boldly reentered the crowded lane. Looking up for a drone, I loudly proclaimed “What have I done wrong, why a minus 1”. The crowd gave me immediate space, the passersby consciously ignoring me. “What did I do?” I hollered into the air.
I looked back at the dumpster and Clive's sister had melted away. I was alone in the crowd. My smartphone chimed again. -0.1! “What's going on?” I yelped into the air in desperation. A drone silently approached. Then a second. I was looking up at them questioningly when I felt a yank on the plastic bag in my hand. A grubby child, face hidden in a hoodie, was tearing at it. The strength was unexpected. I lost interest in the overhead drones and began convincingly losing the tug-o-war over the bag deeper down the darker lane behind the dumpster. Only a handful of metres away from the thongs of people, the urchin turned and stabbed my hand with a needle, then everything went dark.
***
I woke up lying on warm concrete surrounded by crowds of people, all ignoring me. Knots of them stood at concrete tables toiling at some strange tasks under anaemic lights. Others just stood, or milled around whispering to each other. Everyone was naked except for black boxer briefs. All ages except the very young were there, but no women at all. Everyone's faces: grave and serious, and the smell! An intense mix of faeces, urine, sweat and vomit scorched my nose.
An older gaunt man slowly approached me and gave me a hand as I tried to stand up.
“Your headache will pass” he said in a quiet voice.
“Whats going on? Where am I?”
“Block 9”
“What is block 9?”
“Everyone has the same questions when they get here. Sorry but it's too dangerous to answer some questions. All I can tell you is where you are,... or else”, the man said, ending with ominous foreboding.
Before I could get another question out, a loud siren wailed. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and began to head in one direction. The old man clapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, “Chow time”.
It took me about half an hour pushing and shoving in the crowd to get to the ‘feed trough’ filled with matties. I managed to grab 2 of them in the melee of hands. They were cold and definitely tasted inferior to those I was used to. There were bits that did not feel like food which I spat out. As I was retreating through the crowd, the man from before came up next to me and led me away to a quieter spot.
“I am A3F49r-9, but you can call me Alex” I gave him a stunned look. “Your ankle tag…”, he added.
I looked down and noticed the red ankle bracelet fixed to my right leg with a large bold white number V8h8R2-9 written on it.
“We are the sub 8’s” Alex added while wolfing down his food. A lingering question about Clive was now finally answered.
“How long do we need to be in here?” I asked.
Alex shrugged, then added, “I only know of people going down.”
“Down?”
“Yes, down. None of us really know for sure, but we know there are levels below us”
The stunned look on my face triggered Alex to stand and grab my arm and lead me off through the crowds. The entire place was a single open space with concrete floor and ceiling interspersed with fat round columns stained with urine. I was reminded of an underground carpark from my distance youth.
As we walked on, the smell in the air freshened somewhat and a new quality to the light grew. We finally reached the edge marked by a low concrete barrier, above which was the outside. The vista was stunning in contrast to the squalor. An enormously broad brown/yellow desert vista, topped with an intensely bright clear blue sky. A warm dry breeze gently blew, tussled my hair and teasing me with the smell of freedom. The vista was barren except for the blocks.
Large concrete cubic structures dotted the landscape. Each emblazoned with a single huge number on each side. 8, 7, and 6, being barely legible in the distance. Many more blocks spread out till the horizon. Block 8 seemed only at most a kilometre away, but distance was hard to judge.
The bleached concrete block was ringed with black bands of shadow, in which I could just make out small figures moving around. There were dozens of these horizontal bands ringing each block and they became more tightly spaced the closer to the ground they were. The only interruption to the minimal form was a circumnavigating wall at 45° protruding upwards from each cube’s footprint. I guessed it was to catch rainwater, but the idea sounded immediately ridiculous in my mind.
Apart from the tiny figures in the shadows, the only other movement was from large drones flying back and forth between the blocks and beyond.
“Well maybe down is out?” I suggested, but Alex’s jaded look did not agree with my optimism.
“The only rule any of us have figured out is that if you work at the tables, you get a few minutes advance notice of feeding time. That gives you a chance to get to the trough before everyone else. Just remember one thing: If your collar vibrates, head to the troughs.” Alex elaborated.
Just before Alex was about to wander away, he turned around and said, “If your bracelet keeps vibrating, you have to go to the very corner of the level where there are lifts that will take you down” Alex said in a flat voice.
I ventured with naive hope: “And out perhaps?”
Alex just shrugged and cocked his head with mock optimism.
***
Over the next few days, I caught on to the simple routine. I also caught sight of Alex a few times, but otherwise I kept to myself like most of us did. I tried to get to the work tables but they were popular. But the highlight was running into Clive.
“Hey neighbour” I said, siding up in the crowd.
At first Clive looked at me with shock, then recognition, and finally manic glee. I hugged him despite us not really being much of friends at all. But then a second later, his mirth vanished to be replaced by concerned sorrow. A tear accompanied the sharp change of expression.
“Hey man, it will be OK, we will get out of here sooner or later” I said immediately to offer some comfort.
His face did not brighten. “I was so stupid man. I thought I was cool. I am a stupid fool full of bravado, showing off how low my score was. Well now I am here and I don't see how I will ever get out. I don't even know where here is. None of us do.”
His distress was infecting me with doubts which I needed to fight back. “Come on Clive, do…”
Clive clamped down on my mouth with force before I could say anymore. He whispered close to me, “I am not Clive. Never use my name. Never tell anyone your name, I mean your outside name. NEVER!”
“Ah, OK” I said, with some surprise, fitting this new fact into my understanding of Block 9.
“How did they get you,... aah…” I looked down at his ankle. ‘D2Jf76-9’, “…David?”.
He shook his head in short jerky movements, telling me I was again asking a dangerous question. To fill in he said: “Have you seen Claire?”
Understanding his signal, I casually answered “Yeah, she’s fine” and I tried to add as much context with my eyes as I dared.
“Ahh, she’s a great kid, everything I am not. Beautiful, smart,...” Clive really wanted to continue, but his paranoia held his tongue still at that.
A strained relief spread over his face. “I feel better knowing she is OK”.
He leaned in to me and said in a whisper, “I only have this one thing to remind me of her”. At that he stuck out his tongue. On it, in the dim light I could see a pearly pink button glistening like a rare gemstone. Seeing it triggered the memory to flood back. This is from her cardigan. Her tight pink cardigan. It was the missing top button.
It was one of the last memories I had from the outside. One that had kept me going over the past few days. Now it was my turn to shed a tear, at which Clive, no David, gave me a glance with as much concern as he could. I simply nodded and gave a thumbs up to dispel his anxiety.
***
Day and night were only really visible to those that jealousy held onto their positions around the perimeter of Block 9. But the work tables were in the centre, and the feed troughs not far from them, so the population on our floor was in constant migration. Holding onto any territory was almost pointless, but despite this, bullies still persisted in vain territorialism. I managed to get a few sessions at the tables, but the hard toil earned me no advantages, so I stopped bothering.
I managed to take up a position near the perimeter one day when my bracelet buzzed and would not stop. A few guys nearby gave me looks of trepidation mixed with hope. Perhaps I was not alone in thinking that this is the way out of here. In the very corner was a group of round disks. One of them was lit with my number showing, I stood on it and a metal tube came down around me, followed by the gentle sensation of descent. The tube retracted, and I found myself on a new level. It was much the same as the old one, except the ceiling was noticeably lower, and the light dimmer.
***
And so the next few weeks progressed and I sporadically moved down the levels. I ran into Alex one more time, but he didn't reciprocate my interest. It dawned on me, perhaps slower than most, that forming any bonds with my fellow inmates was not something that was done. As I thought on this more, the signs of it multiplied. Absolutely no signs of gangs or bullies existed on these lower levels. Everyone was on their own. This abstract loneliness in such a densely crowded space was hard to handle.
The days were very long and tiring, shuffling around the huge featureless space. I lay around sleeping a lot despite developing some painful sores on my hip from the filthy hard floor. One day I found a spot close to the elevator. The constant activity of people vanishing and appearing from the tubes was a treat to the otherwise dull monotony.
A disc lit up with a number. A tall man, his head virtually scraping on the ceiling approached with trepidation and stopped just one step before it. He looked at the disc but something held him back from the final step. His hesitation was beginning to attract attention. Then the disc began to flash. I could see that the man was experiencing increasing discomfort from the bracelet. Now his bracelet began flashing. The tension of the moment was rising fast. Just as I was imagining him about to take that last step, the ankle bracelet exploded with a dull thud. The man fell heavily to the ground, his right leg now shortened to the shin, ending in a tattered bloody mess. A large splattered blood stain with pieces of meat and bone were strewn about.
If that were not bad enough, it's the scream that I was not expecting. It was not a scream of shock and pain, but it was the whimpering cry of pathetic defeat. It was a sound I thought would haunt me forever. Nobody came to his aid, instead most just turned and left the scene. Three round sections of floor which I had not noticed before raised into the air, disgorging three drones. Two of them came to either side of the prone man and lifted him bodily into the air. He made a feeble attempt at resistance as they carried him to the low wall and threw him over. The third busied itself cleaning up the mess. It played a kind of elevator music as it worked. An AI’s demented idea of a ‘human touch’. It was completely surreal and horrifying. The whole episode took under 20 seconds.
***
The inventor of this abomination must have had a macabre sense of humour, or was an especially bitter midget indeed. The lowering ceiling over the next 2 levels brought almost everyone to a permanent slouch or hunch, with the tall reduced to sitting or crawling. Defeated and broken would sum up the collective mood perfectly.
Few bothered with the work tables any more. The hymn of the droids as they carried out their grim work was heard more down here. The only highlight I can share is spotting Clive. I tried to engage him, but he looked all together disengaged. Sallow and gaunt, he was blindly shuffling about with his chin buried in his chest.
I had to admit that I was not far behind him, but I am a stoic optimist by nature and was probably proving harder for this prison to break. I found stupid trivialities funny, and broke out in manic laughter at the slightest prompt. Others would look at me like I had succumbed to insanity. Perhaps I have in my own way. One thing was clear: everyone had to dig deep into their souls to find a way to cope.
Staying near the edge was popular now. The natural light hardly filtered to the centre of the level any more. I was scared to even venture there fearing what I may find. Around the edge, the air was somewhat more bearable, but the price was steep: being a witness to the stream of human tragedies. I watched as inmates would take their own lives over the edge. The regular monotony of it destroyed our souls. Some prayed beforehand, some just lept, while others hollered their epitaphs. Nobody tried to talk any of them out of it. We just watched like drugged spectators anaesthetised from the gruesome spectacle.
A space at the wall became free which I took so I could look out at the tranquil panorama for a while, but I deeply regret it now as I glanced down. A new gruesome discovery: that angled wall I noticed back on the first day on Block 8, is for catching bodies not rain. The concrete was thickly stained with blood and gore. Mechanical arms would pull in body parts to some lower processing level. I became nauseous at the revelation and stepped away vowing to never look down again.
***
I just got sent down this morning, but where I landed can only be described as an abomination. As the tube retracted, it stopped at my waist. Not sure if there was a malfunction, I squatted down on rickety knees and froze at the scene before me. A dim light filtered past black silhouettes crawling about on hands and knees. The ceiling is so low here that even standing on your knees was impossible. Moaning and despair filled the air, along with the heavy smell of defeat and death. Inmates now uncaring about their fate, ranted and raved. Their echoes tormented those still clinging to sanity.
I crawled away from the lift, but did not get far. I doubt anyone gets very far down here. I lay down the first chance I got and shut my eyes in a vain attempt to block out the despair, till the siren howled for meal time. It took an enormous effort to crawl to the trough and fight through the miserable humanity to get a hand on something to eat. I managed to get hold of a cold mattie and shuffled away the best I could to eat it in some peace. As I chewed on a mouthful, I bit down on a pebble or rock. I spat the piece out into my palm. This was no rock, it was a broken piece of plastic, and not just any plastic either, this was a piece of Claire’s pearly pink button.
That was the moment I died, inside.