What scanners do people use these days? I just got Hasselblad 500c/m and want to buy a good scanner. I saw Hasselblad X1/X5 (Imacon) were one of the best before, but they use outdated interfaces and still cost a lot on eBay. Is there anything modern that is comparable in quality and resolution (X5 is up to 8000dpi). Another thing I noticed is that max resolution for 120 film is lower than for 35mm. I wonder why is that?

Hello there,
6 months ago I started scanning my negatives on my own. In my university we have an Imacon Flextight, I don't remember the correct model. I scan some images at 6300 ppi to print them but most of the times the grain is just too evident, too "big". So- maybe dumb question, but is 6300 ppi too high for 35mm film? I tried scanning the images for many hours but I only get shit results from the scanner, also with auto conversion. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I tried to figure it out but I can't. Is there a possibility that the scanner is wrongly calibrated? Are there any settings which enhance the grain or reduce, which I don't know of? I also tried scanning just the negatives and then convert them with NLP but also then it looks just awful. Any help is appreciated! Thanks

Hi I’m looking for a scanner to scan full rolls of negatives I have as contact sheets. I probably have 600-700 rolls in standard neg sleeves I would like to archive in Bridge. They are 35mm/120/4x5.
I was wondering what scanner would be able to scan the full contact sheets of print file negative sleeves. I dont want to do any photoshop stitching or anything else just have these archive scans.
I’m not sure if the glass on the v700/v800 series will scan the whole print file at once so I was looking at the 10000XL/11000XL series. I love the quality of the scans from there.
I also would love to scan my 4x5 negs, could the 11000XL work well for this? I saw holders. If not I wouldn’t mind continuing going to rent a Imacon. I’M UNINTERESTED IN ANY DSLMIRRORLESS CAMERA SCANNING.
Lastly, can I use the older Epson scanners with a Mac silicon? VueScan looks like $119 and silverdast is $349.
I would like to keep cost under $1k. Thanks!

Hi I’m looking for a scanner to scan full rolls of negatives I have as contact sheets. I probably have 600-700 rolls in standard neg sleeves I would like to archive in Bridge. They are 35mm/120/4x5.
I was wondering what scanner would be able to scan the full contact sheets of print file negative sleeves. I dont want to do any photoshop stitching or anything else just have these archive scans.
I’m not sure if the glass on the v700/v800 series will scan the whole print file at once so I was looking at the 10000XL/11000XL series. I love the quality of the scans from there.
I also would love to scan my 4x5 negs, could the 11000XL work well for this? I saw holders. If not I wouldn’t mind continuing going to rent a Imacon. I’M UNINTERESTED IN ANY DSLMIRRORLESS CAMERA SCANNING.
Lastly, can I use the older Epson scanners with a Mac silicon? VueScan looks like $119 and silverdast is $349.
I would like to keep cost under $1k. Thanks!

Hi, as mentioned i'm looking for a computer to work with an Imacon 949 scanner that I own, hence the old specs. Would be grateful if anyone could help, thanks!

I wanted to have the ability to scan A3 sized documents, but A3 scanners are hard to come by and quite expensive, so when I found a cheap beaten up Brother MFC-J6540DW on the local Craigslist, I decided to yolo it.
​
The MFC comes with no cartridges, pieces of plastic missing and a broken hinge, but that's just the beginning of the story.
After I switch it up, it makes some awful noises and instructs me to switch it off.
Checking the maintenance mode, it spews out an AF00 error code, which seems to indicate a problem with finding the home position for the CIS scanner.
​
Took it apart and there are no obvious broken parts, disconnected cables, etc.
If I move the scanning head / carriage to a non-default position and power on the device, it will actually finish booting up and start complaining about the missing ink cartridges, but will allow me to scan.
​
Two questions:
​

1. (scanning to a USB thumb drive) The best resolution option I get is 600 DPI, while the documentation states that scanner supports "Up to 1200 × 2400 dpi (optical) (from Scanner Glass)". What gives ?
2. Part of the image is garbled. There are a some streaks - see the picture. What is the most likely culprit ? How can I further diagnose this ? Could this be the reason that it fails initialization ? I am thinking a faulty flex cable, but this is just a guess and I have 0 experience with such devices.

​
https://preview.redd.it/y9teb8zy9znc1.jpg?width=6972&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bbfeb60580ec8a9658f08373369ac9625d0be590
​

Hello folks.
I've been developing my own B&W rolls for a while, but haven't digitally scanned any of them. I have a plustek 35mm scanner I got cheap on craigslist almost a year ago, but I need to pay for the software still. I also have a Nikon D3200 with a 24mp sensor, but as I understand it, I need a macro lens, which I do NOT have, nor do I have a light table for the negatives.
I've now built up such a backlog of rolls I know I've created a future headache for myself (gonna be a blast scanning 30+ rolls of film!) and I'm starting to question the best course of action. I need to invest some more money, but I don't know whether I should complete my Plustek set up, or just try DSLR scanning.
TL;DR: if you were gonna scan 30+ rolls of film, would you rather DSLR scan it, or use a Plustek 35mm scanner.

I currently reside inside a facility for victims of brainwashing. I was Rachel. Now, I am Astrid
Last week, I was Rachel.
Yesterday, I was Rachel.
But today, I'm Astrid.
I'm 24 years old, and I’m a victim of brainwashing.
It's weird. With the cocktail of medication I take every day, I feel numb. But then I stare down at my wrists and see where I've carved into my own flesh with my nails and smashed my mirror. I've clawed at my door, and there are marks on the wall where I've smashed my head into the tiles. I don't feel it or remember it. But I do see the clumsy stitches across my temple and blackened eyes, split lips and band aids when I’m cleaning my teeth.
According to Dr. Chase, I'm one of the worst cases inside this facility. I didn't know until yesterday that this place had WiFi. Harvey leaned over in his chair during Quiet Time and scribbled it on his whiteboard. He's the only one allowed a whiteboard. Unlike me, who chooses not to speak, he physically can't. If he does, bad things happen.
Harvey's been using the internet to play League of Legends. He's tried to describe the lore through scribbles and bad drawings, but I still don't understand it.
I have my own personal laptop to write down my thoughts, though I thought the Internet was blocked. There's an outdated Web browser, but it works. Harvey playing games is surprising, but it's healthier than what he's usually doing.
I've been encouraged to tell my experience on paper because I refuse to talk. Between you and me, though, it's not that I'm mute like the barrage of doctor’s here have concluded. I just don't want to talk. I don't even know what to say. How do I talk to these professionals pretending to care? They’re not subtle about being more interested in the brainwashing itself, than my mental state.
They prod and poke me with cocked heads and wide, fascinated eyes like I'm a newly discovered pathogen.
I'm surprised they haven't dissected me. Now, Astrid, we just want to help you! they croon, prickly fingers lingering a little too long on the back of my head. They want to shave my head again for more tests, but I’ve almost grown it to my shoulders. I'm not staying long enough here for them to shave my head again. I won't let them.
We just want to take samples, they say, which is a huge contradiction of their own words. Last week, we were told we could go home. But, like I said, that's not looking likely. I blame it on the boy's, who can't get a fucking hold of themselves. They use whiteboards for weapons and markers as makeshift knives. I admit our collective mental state isn't… great. But I feel well in myself. I can't remember a lot about myself. I had to be told my name, and I don't know if I have family out there.
There are splinters. Like, jigsaw pieces coming together. I have a sister, though I can't remember her face. I can finally think straight, and I've stopped trying to poke my eyes out. Nights are a lot better these days when I'm taking my medication. Days have colour, and I'm getting better with being separated from the others. It's still hard, being away from them. But I just count the days, minutes, hours and seconds.
22 hours.
4 minutes.
53 seconds.
Every minute, the clock ticks down in my head, counting down to when I can see my friends.
Dr. Chase told us in group therapy that we’re ‘a unique set of patients’. I don't think he knows what to call us. Officially, this facility is supposed to heal neurological trauma and brainwashing.
But according to several private conversations I've overheard, the four of us are the first actual victims of brainwashing. I'm not talking drug induced hypnosis or mental torture. (or in some way, I am) we’re the real deal.
Which means, I guess we’re valuable.
What scares me is these people whose lives are revolved around this specific technology, have no idea what it is or where it came from.
“We care about you, Astrid,” they tell me with soothing, patient tones that should calm me down. Bullshit. They want what was inside of me. Dr. Chase doesn't just want to cure me. He comes into my room in the night hours and just stands in the doorway scratching his head. Then he brings in others, dark silhouettes looming over me when they think I'm sleeping.
They all dress the same, dishevelled looking and kind of gorky. They all say the same thing: I've never seen anything like this before. Which is concerning. They have theories of course, but I don't think they even believe their own hypothesis. During lunch time, I see them slip into Nicholas’s room. He's considered a band red so I’m not surprised he's the mind they fawn over.
Fuck Nicholas. I wish the asshole would come back to earth.
I thought he was okay, and then in the middle of group therapy, the idiot attacks a nurse. I was dragged away before I could really see anything, but all I had to see was the glistening red puddle on the floor, the sharp scarlet smears staining the cuffs of his clinical white pants for me to know he in fact was not okay. He just kept… going.
Fuck. He wouldn't stop, slamming the corner, the corner of his whiteboard into the orderly’s skull. The sharp splint of plastic made a surprisingly good blade. I was already being dragged, but I couldn't stop staring. The orderly wasn't moving anymore, and what was left of his head was splattered all over the floor.
It reminded me of a coconut that had been cracked open. When Nicholas raised the whiteboard again, his expression completely blank, I could still see where he'd drawn a sad face in response to the question, How are you guys feeling today?
Nicholas had been feeling “:(“ for a while, despite showing little to no emotion. I think his mental state is keeping all of us here. And while I despise him for prolonging our seemingly endless stay here… that doesn't stop our nightly chats. I won't fully go into why I have to talk to him, and if I don't, I will fall apart.
I will get into that.
It's like being bound to someone, something poisonous, but I can't get him out of my head. I wouldn't say we talk, exactly. Lights out, I climb into bed and knock three times on my wall. We have our own code. Technically, none of us are allowed to talk directly to each other outside of therapy. Dr. Chase said communication could be detrimental to our healing.
Like I said, though, it's impossible not to talk to them. So, we talk in our own way. Harvey and I talk through whiteboards, and Addie actually speaks.
Rarely, because when she does start talking, Addie can't stop, her words tangling, turning into gibberish. Her eyes roll back, and she starts trembling, blood seeping from her nose. Dr. Chase explained it's a reaction to what they can't get out of her. He describes them as splinters too small to retrieve.
When Addie does speak, she talks about the world we’re told to forget. She talks about a life that wasn't real. Addie’s had four different surgeries, and they still can't get them out. They are the resin behind her slurring words and noticeable twitch, a sudden jerk of her head. Urgh.
The idea of tiny pieces of something just stuck in the meat of my brain makes me shudder.
Nicholas and I? Unlike Addie and Harvey, we use the good old fashioned way.
One knock on my wall is, “I can't talk tonight.”
Two, is “Do you want to talk?”
And three, my most commonly used: You're a fucking idiot.
He doesn't reply anymore. Instead, he just screams. Nicholas used to reply. Before the tests began and the world slowly started to feel real again, we talked endlessly all night through knocks with our own patterns, and I was so in love. The type of love that felt endless.
How can I describe love I can't even remember? How can I describe feelings that were implanted and not organic?
It didn't come like a soft wave, like a first love. This was forceful, a parasite leaching into my skull, words that weren't mine twisting on my lips.
I remember being apart from him, from them felt like a physical chain wrapped around me, a suffocating wave dragging me into the dark. Now it is different, however. With the medication and the tests, and then being forcefully isolated from each other, I am Astrid and Nicholas is a stranger. I am Astrid, and Nicholas is the psycho in Room T101.
I miss the earlier days.
Neither of us were on earth at that point, and the world was like one big carousel ride I couldn't get of off. He was always by my side, escaping his own room and slamming his hands into my door, screaming at the guards dragging me away. It was fun. Like we were on an adventure, and the only bad people were the figures in white pricking our necks with sedatives and trying to pull us apart. We’ve already escaped once. All of us.
Back when I called him by a different name.
Back when that name was reality, and everything else was a dream. Dr. Chase told me sternly that wasn't Nicholas.
And he was trying to make the real Nicholas better.
I should probably tell you why I'm writing this.
What got me shoved in here in the first place.
I knew Craigslist didn't have a great track record, but I was taking a chance on a room. I don't remember much about my living situation, but I know I wanted out. So, I was taking risks. It was a fairly innocent ad that caught my eye when I was browsing through the homepage.
A modern college house in the middle of the city. Free Internet and a single roommate who worked nights. The room itself was kinda mediocre. Yellow wallpaper, cream carpet, and some creepy paintings stuck on the wall. But there was a great view of the college town, and I had enough space to make it my own.
It was perfect. I applied while on the bus to class, adding that I was an independent person and wouldn't get in the way. Dr Chase wants me to describe my memories as detailed as I can. I remember the fall leaves dancing across the window and glued to my shoes. There was a dusting of frost on the sidewalk outside, and the air smelled of rain. Class went by in a blur. The girl sitting next to me smelled like pumpkin spiced lattes, so I went to get my own.
I got a reply when the frazzled looking barista handed me my drink.
hey, thx for inquiring abt the room! Do you want to come check it out? :)
The owner sent me the address, and I ended up standing in front of a large, red door. But I wasn't alone. I noticed I was being followed, halfway down the block.
I crossed the road, and then so did the figure. When I twisted around, a college guy around my age was staring down at the leaves he was kicking through, nodding his head to music corked in his ears. It was the trench coat that threw me off guard. I couldn't see a face, only a shock of reddish curls catching the late afternoon sunlight.
When it became clear we were heading in the same direction, he lifted his head, eyes narrowing like this was some kind of game, and I was in the lead. Then he was quickening his steps. I started power walking, both to get away from him, a stray thought pushing its way into my mind. I needed to get there first.
Clearly, he was also thinking it, his expression hardening with concentration. When he was at my side, and the two of us were shooting panicked glances at each other, I walked faster. He followed. And by the time we were shoving past each other through the gate, trampling in a growing pile of leaves and practically sprinting to the door, I realized I was unknowingly fighting for the room.
The guy, whose face was now visible, narrow features and wide, brown eyes, finally turned to me, slightly out of breath. The guy was cute, a mop of reddish curls and freckles. His clothes screamed English major. It wasn't my type of cute. I preferred the manly types, and this guy was kinda scrawny. Nerd cute, is what I would have called him.
He had slammed his hand on the door first, so I guess he'd won. Still though, I was standing like an idiot half-hoping he'd offer rock, paper, scissors. There was a prick of an awkward silence before he slowly lowered his hand from the door, and then knocked. He seemed nervous, suddenly, his hands delving into his pockets, and then picking at his shirt.
“You're here for the room.” He said it more like a statement, avoiding eye contact and bouncing up and down on his heels. This guy smelled like old books, sandalwood and freshly brewed coffee. The embodiment of Fall itself.
“I am.” I said, and when his lip curled in distaste, I remembered we were rivals.
“I'm Astrid.” I said.
He nodded slowly, withholding his own. “Cool.”
I tried to smile, though my patience was running thin. “Do you want me to go, or…?”
He was supposed to say no, no, we can figure this out. like a normal human. But this guy just shrugged. “If you want,” he side eyed me. “The room is mine, because, y’know, I got here first.”
I didn't realize how much I wanted the room until he was trying to take it from me. “When I applied for it, I didn't see any views,” I found myself saying through gritted teeth. “So, technically, I saw it first. If we’re using your logic.”
He didn't look at me. “Congratulations.”
I nodded. “Exactly. So, it's as much my room as yours.”
The guy's head jerked like I had personally insulted him. “I inquired this morning,” he said, his smile too wide. Too many teeth. “I scan the app every day. This is the best room I've seen by far, and It's overlooking the town.”
“Well, so do I.” I snapped back. “I read through it on my phone.
“Good for you.” He rolled his eyes, corking his earphones back in. “Feel free to hang around,” the boy deadpanned. “But I wouldn't recommend it.”
I felt it, then, a sudden, irresistible urge to get the last word.
“Fine.” I said, my cheeks burning.
He knocked again, folding his arms. “Cool.”
“Cool!” I said, my voice going higher in pitch.
His lip curled into a smirk. “I didn't realize I had a parrot on my shoulder.”
Another painful silence with me trying to think of a comeback which wasn't childish, catching his glances, the curve of his lips forming a smirk.
He knew I was struggling.
Before either of us could surrender, the door flew open, a bright eyed girl poking her head through the gap. She looked younger than the two of us, maybe her first or second year of college. She was a blur of blonde curls and wide smiles, a feverish energy almost knocking me off my feet. The warm, golden light swimming around her was homely. The guy must have thought the same, his eyes momentarily entranced by the light.
I saw his shoulders relax slightly, his expression loosening.
But he still made a point of keeping his distance from me. Like he was already a housemate, and I was a stray cat.
“Hi!” the girl's gaze snapped to each of us, her smile growing wider. She reached out to shake my hand. Her fingers were so cold. “You're Astrid, right? The girl who wants the room!”
I nodded, feeling smug, before she reached out to shake the guy’s hand, though he high fived her instead. “Harvey! You're here for the room too!”
For a moment, her eyes seemed to light up. “Oh!” The girl laughed. She spoke straight expletives. Her energy was cute but it was too in my face. “Wait, are you guys, like, uhh, inquiring together?” she steepled her fingers together like she was implying something else, and we shared a mutual look of what the fuck, before he laughed.
Not just laugh. I'm talking spluttering, almost keeling over.
“No.” I snapped, at the same time as the guy deadpanned, “You're fucking kidding, right? No, dude. I have standards.”
Ouch.
That one was going to sting.
The owner laughed, like he was a comedic fucking genius. “Well, it's nice to meet you guys! Why don't you two come on in? I'm just making iced tea!”
She ushered us in. Harvey stepped forward first, kicking off his shoes, and I followed hesitantly. The house was exactly what I wanted. I walked straight into rustic paintwork and a ratty welcome mat with the “H” missing from home sweet home. Cute and endearing.
Further down the hall, the place oozed warmth. The lounge was small but homely, beanbags in the place of a couch. The owner danced into the kitchen, and Harvey followed. I noticed he was drinking everything, and I mean everything in. He picked up a ceramic pig from a small table, frowning at it. Then a wooden horse. Clearly, he was yet to learn basic human decency at the grand age of twenty-something.
“We’re in the kitchen!” the owner trilled, when I found myself intrigued by Harvey full body scanning everything in his vicinity.
The guy almost dropped the pig, his eyes widening. Harvey met my gaze.
We? He mouthed.
I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe there was something in the air. But the second Harvey straightened up, I was already power-walking toward the kitchen. He was right behind me, his socks sliding on the marble flooring in a rush to reach the room before me.
I won this time. Just.
With Harvey breathing down my neck, trying to shove his way through.
He had the energy of an older brother.
Once I was on the threshold, however, my momentary glee at winning this silent battle with a stranger dissipated. There were two others sitting around a table, cocked heads and polite smiles that were definitely not expecting us.
A ponytailed brunette caught my eye, her lip curled. She was pretty. The kind of pretty I wasn't used to. The pretty that caught my breath and made my chest ache. This girl was glowing, dressed in the designer Fall fashion, a striped scarf wrapped around her neck. Sitting across from her was a mop of blonde curls peering at the two of us like we were aliens stepping from a mothership. Previously, it looked like he'd been falling asleep, fist resting on his chin.
Still though, he raised his hand in a shy wave, a small crease of a smile on his lips.
Ponytail wasn't as welcoming. Her cat-like eyes raked me up and down, head to toe. “Another one?”
Clearly, neither of us knew we were there for the same room.
The owner, who was clattering around making drinks, gestured us to sit down. I did, sliding into a seat. I had no idea why I was still there. There was one room and four of us, and I wasn't planning on losing my dignity for a cheap room in the city. I made my decision to announce I was leaving, but before I could, a glass was set in front of me. Iced tea. It looked homemade, condensation fogging up the glass.
Slowly lowering myself back into my chair, I took an experimental sip.
Lemons, with a tinge of ginger, maybe some vodka.
It tasted good, a refreshing flush down my throat.
“I'm Tella, by the way!” the owner leaned against the counter comfortably, her hands cursing her own drink. She nodded to the other two. “Addie and Zach were just telling me their majors.”
Harvey made a point of reluctantly dropping into his chair. He downed his drink in one gulp. “English Language Arts,” he announced, hiding a burp behind his hand. “Not to be that guy, but who's getting this room?” he nodded at Tella, who turned and grabbed cookies from a cupboard. “There are four of us and one room,” he said. “Which, by the way, is the cheapest I've ever seen. So.” Harvey leaned forward. “Why invite all of us?”
He was right, but he didn't have to be a dick about it.
Tella didn't speak for a moment, flashing us a grin.
“Do you guys like… sitcoms?”
The question took me off guard. I thought she said, Do you guys like CD roms? but then Ponytail, or Addie, was nodding, delicately sipping from her glass. “Yeah, they're all right, I guess. I’ve seen all of the classics. They're good.”
“They're not funny.” I noticed Harvey's grip slip around the rim of his glass, before he tightened his hold. “The jokes are painful, and the humor tries way too–”
I jumped when a shattering sound hit my ears, drowning out the rest of Harvey's rant. Tella had dropped her glass. But she didn't move, her hand still in mid air, fingers cinched, like she was still holding it. “How much?” she spoke softly, her lips curving into a small smile. I noticed she was barefoot, and the crunch of her stepping into shards of glass, swaying back and forth.
“How much what…?” The blonde, Zach, finally spoke up. His accent was definitely from New York, a thick Long Island drawl in his tone. He too looked like he was ready to leave. Zach tipped sideways in his chair, before I realized he was just reaching for his backpack.
Tella didn't look at us. Her feet were bleeding, but her smile was stretching wide across her lips. There was something in her eyes I couldn't understand. She couldn't feel the pain of glass slicing into her flesh. Ice tea crept back up my throat in a sour paste.
“How much… “ she spaced out her words, “Do you… guys… like sitcoms?” Her emphasis on the word was like an explosion, mania and excitement collapsing into one, and my body began to catch up with my brain.
I think that was the moment the four of of us collectively realized through panicked looks that Tella was that type of person.
I was the first to remember how to move. “I've changed my mind,” I said in a breath, which tangled on my tongue.
What came out instead, was ivechangmijnd. I jumped up and reached the door, but my head swam, the world jolting. It looked what electroshocks feel like, the kitchen tiles and ceiling bleeding into one. I blinked rapidly. No. No, I was still sitting down. I hadn't moved an inch from the chair.
I don't know how to describe this experience. Dr. Chase had to sedate me the first time I recalled it, because apparently, I'd tried to hurt myself. He told me it was my brain's response to recalling a bad memory. When I try to say it out loud, I get jittery, and I start jamming my teeth into my tongue.
With the meds, all of my fear is stripped away. I can dig into the recesses of my own trauma and see it as something brighter. Cognitive behavioural therapy, or at least that's what Dr. Chase likened it to, has helped me turn what used to be a memory that put me in the quiet room for weeks, trying and failing to crack my own skull open, into a movie in my head. We were just getting high, Dr. Chase and the other doctors told me, sitting me down on crinkly paper on a bed, and peering into my eyes with weird glasses. They told me to close my eyes and go over the memory again, and this time I had to replace Zach's screaming with laughing.
Tella didn't spike our drinks with mind rotting hallucinogens and sedatives. She just gave us weed.
“Fuck.” Harvey's voice sounded like he was in a tunnel, a tangled moan rolling off his tongue. I was half aware of Zach on his hands and knees… laughing.
“What did you put in those…. drinks?”
“Yeah. What did you puhrrt in thissssss?” Harvey dragged out the S until something hit the table with a thunk. His glass, followed by his head. I remember trying to ask if he was okay, before my lips were numb, my vision blurring into one singular pinprick, light slowly bleeding away. There wasn't enough time for darkness. Thunk went my head, dropping onto the table.
Another thunk, and a crash.
Addie.
I heard her head slam into the kitchen tiles.
Her body.
Fuck.
I can't write this.
Her body landed in shattered glass that I could hear Tella crunching through.
So dark. I was nothing for a while, and there was nothing. Not like dreaming or sleeping, or just being knocked out. It was deeper. More permanent. It felt like a choking, suffocating oblivion swallowing me up– before choking me back out. When I cracked one eye open, it was light. Too bright. I was standing, my body more of a puppet on strings.
My clothes felt itchy and wrong, and old. Like I had been wearing them for weeks. Months. There was something in my head, writhing in my ears.
Laughter.
I couldn't move my body, my expression, my lips or eyes. I was paralyzed, the world going on around me. Initially, it looked like I'd woken up in a cosy lounge. There was a couch behind me, a colourful rug, and warm, rustic wallpaper. But then I was looking past all of that, at scary silver walls of metal that went on for seemingly forever.
I wasn't inside an apartment.
I was on a stage.
Disoriented, it took me a moment to register a figure standing in front of me. I noticed dishevelled clothes first, crumpled jeans and a shirt glued to a skeletal figure. I didn't know his face.
He was younger. Maybe by a year or two. Whoever he was, this guy had been here longer. He was the shell of a human being, pathetic remains of what had been someone– something. Brown hair fell in wide eyes glued to me, lips parted like he was talking. I waited for him to scream, to cry out for help. His eyes told me one thing. Play along.
Part of me wanted to refuse.
But then something wet and fleshy hit the ground in front of us, the world jolting once more. My vision started to clear, and something slammed into me, a wave of ice water stealing my breath.
There wasn't paint on the walls. It was too bright, too new and then old, scarlet streaks blurring together. The carpet under my bare feet was suddenly slimy and wet, pooling red seeping through my toes. Through tunnel vision, a man had been standing in front of me.
With a clearer head, however, I was seeing flaws my mind had skimmed past; dark shadows under his eyes, yellowing bruises blossoming across his cheeks, a split lip, a thin trail of dried scarlet pooling down his temple. I think my brain was trying to shield what was in the corners of the room. Bodies piled on top of each other, some of them old, piles of bones, and some of them fresh.
Still warm.
The couch behind the guy was filled with three figures. I recognised them. Zach, Addie, and Harvey. Neither of them moved, their heads bowed. I jumped, or at least I internally jumped, when the man standing in front of me took my hands.
Wet.
His fingers were slick red, and I tried to pull away.
But I couldn't.
He opened his mouth, squeezing onto my fingers.
“I didn't think there was a relationship to fuck up!” His voice was surprisingly calm, his expression twisting. It hit me that we were in the middle of an argument. In the middle of an argument that I didn't remember, but my tongue was already entangled. I backed away from him, as if my strings were being tugged, my lips curling into a scowl. “I thought we were broken up!”
“We were ON a break!” I spat.
Laughter followed again, a sharp thunderclap in my skull, pain I had never felt before, that was fucking raw and accute, struck the end of my head.
I couldn't move my hands to signal that I needed help.
My brain felt like it was igniting. Burning.
He was like me. He couldn't move, and yet somehow he was squeezing my fingers hard enough to send a message.
Play along.
And I did, my lips moving without me, words that weren't mine.
An expression that wasn't mine.
I was the backseat passenger inside my own body.
“We said we weren't going to see other people!”*.
Immediately, he was following along, a natural. Somehow. “Well, how was I supposed to know? I'm not a psychic! If I was, I'd be like, ten billion dollars richer!” he paused. More laughter.
“I mean… we would be, uh, ten million dollars richer.”
The words were pushing through my mouth, forceful. “Don't think you can sweet-talk me with ten million dollars!”
“Billion.” He corrected, his lips curling into a smirk.
“What? I can't help being smart!”
I hit him with the newspaper suddenly in my hand. “YOU? Smart?”
A snort from the couch.
Harvey.
“Just please,” he paused. “Be kind to the furniture when you're fighting.” His voice choked up, laughter following.
“It's innocent, I tell you. Innocent!”
The laughing didn't stop. Louder. Rooted inside my skull.
My words tasted like blood. I could feel it seeping down my nose and chin.
There were bugs crawling in my head. I could feel them, sense them sinking their tiny claws into the meat of my brain, pouring from my ears and sticking to my neck. Their chitter both inside my head, and in the room, writhing on the walls, feasting on fleshy remains. They sunk into my thoughts, once again turning them into cotton candy, plunging me into uncertain oblivion. I spat blood through words that suddenly didn't make sense.
My legs buckled.
The conversation went on, while I was being violently pulled back inside my mind.
Rachel.
The electric pinpricks in my head played with my thoughts.
No.
I fought back.
Astrid.
Consciousness came in waves. Sometimes I was standing with the nameless man, and others, I was with Zach, or Harvey, and Addie. After a while of suffocating on nothing, I used these momentary bursts of clarity to be thankful for those around me. My hair grew long, almost to my knees, until Tella cut it all off, scrubbing the blood off of my face and making me all better.
I can't remember when we lost Zach.
One minute, the two of us were talking, and the next, I could see them, tiny, skittering bugs pouring from his mouth and eyes, his body coming apart in front of me. I didn't react when a chunk of him hit me in the cheek. I couldn't react. I hadn't spoken my own words in months. And when I tried to, my tongue was seized from me. When Tella cleaned away Zach and spread the rest of him over the walls for the feast, I started calling myself a different name.
I was…Rachel.
The bugs eating me from the inside told me I was called Rachel.
If I fought back, they made me wish I was dead. They made me slam my head into the ground, trying to cave my own skull in. I remember there was a moment of coherency after we lost Zach, and before we gave in to our new lives. It was rare for all of us to be awake at the same time. Sometimes the bugs inside our brains went to sleep, leaving us conscious and aware for hours at a time, and keeping the facade became progressively harder Addie found the exit door by accident. She said we were in a bunker locked with a biometric scanner.
Harvey found a weapon, a lead pipe. We timed it perfectly. Tella went to get food for exactly 45 minutes every single day.
So, Harvey planned to bash her fucking brains in.
He hypothesised that she was controlling the bugs somehow. And without Tella, there would be no bugs.
I wish he was right.
Because then, we would have only spent a year in captivity.
What Harvey wasn't planning on, was these things having sentience. They wanted the act to continue, and even with Tella gone for a moment, they wanted to be entertained. So, they entertained themselves. That was the day we lost Harvey too. He didn't splatter in my face like Zach–a warm, wet streak on my cheeks. Instead of attacking Tella, he slammed the pipe into his own head, again and again until he was dropping to his knees, blood pouring from his nose, begging for mercy.
Tella did give us mercy.
She stopped us from thinking for a while.
And slowly, my name started to fade away.
Rachel.
I snapped awake halfway through a conversation. Zach's body had toppled onto its side, still leaning against the wall, a casual viewer. Harvey had facial hair, his hair grown out. There was a smile stretched across his lips. Harvey called me Rachel. So, I called him the name skittering in my mind, trying to break from my lips. Danny. I refused to surrender until that moment.
Because calling him it felt natural, and I knew all of him. After all, he was my friend.
More darkness, and I stopped thinking again.
All I could sense was the sharp chitter in my skull.
Light.
Addie and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. She had a bowl of popcorn. I could see Zach's in the corner of vision. Maggots had gotten into his eyes.
Addie’s gaze was on the TV screen that wasn't on. Her name was Elody. She handed me a chip, her words light and whimsical. Almost like we were dreaming.
“Chip?” she offered me another, raucous laughter rattling my head. I got a boyfriend soon after. The man who I was always talking to, sleeping with, my arms wrapped around him. Even as a backseat passenger, I still felt like my heart was fluttering, my chest aching. He felt natural next to me, and over the years of blinking back awake, the two of us stopped fighting it.
His eyes had almost become animated over the years.
He was always smiling.
Laughing.
Blood spilling from his lips, that became normal.
I had friends, and a boyfriend, living in a huge apartment, a group of twenty somethings living together as a group.
As friends.
What more could I ask for?
Days passed after that.
Weeks.
Months.
Years.
Light flooded inside the bunker, when we were playing charades. Light felt more suffocating than the dark. It pierced my eyes, sending me to my knees, cutting our game short. I was sitting with arms wrapped around my boyfriend, when sudden thundering voices sounded, and the laughter inside my head started to falter. “They're in here!” Before I knew what was happening, our tiny piece of heaven was being destroyed.
Figures appeared with heavy weapons, pale light flashing in our eyes. In the startling allure, my body became free for a moment. I caught Addie blinking rapidly, Harvey frowning down at his red slicked hands.
The walls around us were painted, stained, in human remains.
And so were we.
A woman came over to me. Her eyes were wide. Scared. Zach wasn't there anymore, a pile of bones on the floor.
“Astrid?” she spoke calmly, calling for medics.
All around me, my friends were being checked over. Harvey stumbled away from the figures, his eyes wide in the bright allure. “No,” he choked out in a laugh. “No, we’re fine! Can you please get out of our house?” he gestured to the door that had been blown through.
“Now THAT is going to be our day-job tomorrow.”
Laughter sounded in my head, so I ignored the woman throwing a blanket over me, the words spewing from my lips before I could stop them. “You mean it's going to be YOUR day job.”
“Astrid!” The woman slapped me, and some lost color bled back to reality.
“Astrid, can you hear me? I am so sorry, sweetie, but you're in shock, okay? I'm going to help you. I promise–”
Her words collapsed into white noise when Addie started screaming, and Harvey was dragged away from her. I reached out for my boyfriend's hand, but he was kneeling on the floor. A man was shining a light in his flickering eyes. “Nicholas?” he spoke softly, and my boyfriend only cocked his head, frowning. “Nick, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up, please?”
His gaze found mine.
“It's okay,” I told him, panic twisting my gut. “It's okay, baby. Tell them, and… and maybe they'll go away.”
He did, through a spluttered laugh.
“Five. Now, can you go away now please? Jeez, it's a Friday night, man!”
The man checking him over let out a hiss, before lifting his head.
“Get away from them,” he snapped, and the other figures backed away slowly.
He looked scared. Shaken. “Can we get someone else in here?” he started picking dead bugs off of my boyfriend's neck with tweezers. “We, uh, I don't think we’re qualified to deal with this.”
That was when my world started to come apart.
My boyfriend was dragged away, and a hysterical Harvey attacked the woman trying to help him. I heard her scream, but before I could see what was happening, a cruel, cold prick slid into the back of my neck. I didn't realize I was screaming too, until I was being gently brought to my knees, trembling, sobbing into the ground. I was sinking into the abyss when footsteps sounded.
A figure was looming over me, and my lips were numb.
Help.
I needed help.
I needed my friends.
“What have we got?” a male voice crept into my mind when I was falling.
“Six kidnapped students that went missing in 2020,” a female voice said. “Four are heavily inebriated. One turned herself in, and Zach Cartwright is confirmed deceased. No traces of drugs or alcohol. There's nothing but.. bugs. I've never seen anything like it. These things are part organic, but—”
“Astrid?”
I didn't respond, my eyes flickering. I felt my body swaying back and forth.
“Rachel.”
I jerked my head in time to the voice, reality bleeding back into fruition. Time had skipped forward. I was sitting in a white room, my legs swinging off of a bed. My hair was gone. A smiling woman was in front of me. She detailed the basics. I was quarantined inside a facility for victims of brainwashing.
When I jumped off of the bed and tried to get out, the nurse calmly led me back onto the bed. When she was less gentle, strapping me down, the nurse told me I was going to be in a lot of pain, but it was for the best. She said there was pain, but I don't remember it. Even if my body does. I still have scorch marks in the backs of my eyes.
I was weak, my body limp, barf dripping down my chin, when the nurse gently took my hands. “Astrid,” she ignored my correction. “Would you like to see what has influenced this type of behavior?” the nurse cleared her throat. “We don't exactly know what it is. What we do know is that it attached itself to your spinal cord, feeding you information.” her lips formed a frown.
“Which has influenced you into thinking... certain things. Your name, for example.” she held out a small silver instrument, and attached to it was a writhing thing struggling to keep hold. “Astrid, you were a prisoner for three years, and this is the result of your current mental state. We are going to help you, but you have to let us.”
Her gaze dropped to the ground. “Which would require a certain… surgery to remove this… infestation.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to see my friends.”
“Astrid, that won't be possible right now.”
Instead of speaking, I clawed at her face and screamed, demanded, to be reunited with my friends. It hurt being away from them. When I tried to explain it, I received sympathetic smiles. But then I had the surgery, and the invisible ribbon binding us together, was cruelly severed. I started therapy on my own, and then with them. The others didn't talk. When Addie spoke, she suffered seizures. Harvey preferred using a whiteboard, and Nicholas didn't even acknowledge us, until he grew violent.
Dr. Chase thinks the things have laid eggs inside his mind, and are still in control. Three nights ago, I awoke inside the bunker that had held me captive. With me were Harvey, Addie, and Nicholas. Zach was there too.
In front of us was a picnic blanket filled with food and drink, and we laughed and talked like we were still inside our little heaven. Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, and I nestled my head in his lap. He was smiling again.
The walls around us were chittering, moving.
Calling.
They want the show to continue.
I thought it was a dream, but my feet were caked in dirt from walking around barefoot. At breakfast the morning after, Harvey grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom. He scribbled something on his whiteboard.
DID YOU??? LAST NIGHT??? WHAT WAS THAT???*
I could only nod, breathless.
He wrote another message, this time in bubble letters.
“LIGHTS OUT. WE GO LOOKING FOR THAT BITCH.” he'd drawn an angry face next to it, and I smiled.
I hadn't smiled in a while.
Tella, our kidnapper, is inside the facility with us. She too is receiving a different kind of treatment.
So, per what Harvey said, we planned to meet after lights out.
But he never showed up.
This morning, a nurse informed me there was an incident during his surgery and I won't be able to see him anymore.
Dr. Chase said Harvey is in a ‘very bad state”
Nicholas and Addie are deteriorating.
But. I can still see them.
When I go to sleep, I awaken inside our apartment, and the laughter is back.
The chittering in my skull grows louder.
Our little piece of heaven.
But then I wake up, and he's not at breakfast. Addie is missing too, and the screams inside Nicholas’s room terrify me.
Please, can someone get us out of here?
I just want to see my friends.
19 hours.
34 minutes.
308 seconds.

Hey does anyone know anything about this scanner. I found one on craigslist for 500. Are they any good? or am I being screwd on the price?

I have a local retail liquidation business that receives store returns and other liquidation items by pallet and truckload, mostly larger items relating to home and garden. We sell primarily through a retail store in a small town in the Midwest. Last year we sold over US$100,000, and expect to sell $250-500,000 this year.
I'm struggling with receiving, pricing/labelling, and tracking inventory and connecting it directly to a Point of Sale system.
What is different about our business is that we mostly don't use original product UPC codes or regular suppliers. We also don't just "reorder stock" as each liquidation order is unique and different and we often don't really know what we are getting until we actually go through the shipment.
Also we want to be able to track every item sold back to the shipment it came in on to track COGS so we can tell our profitability on a shipment by shipment basis. Also we tend to not get repeat items although we can sometimes get multiples of the same item on a shipment.
So we would get in a pallet of mixed home goods with say 12 different items. Two are broken, there may or may not be a manifest, but it is highly unlikely to be 100% accurate. A couple items are defective needing repairs or to go into salvage, and the remaining 8 are highly saleable with perhaps some cosmetic defects or missing packaging.
So then we manually assign a COGS individually to these items and determine a retail price based on COGS, salability, and any original retail price information we have.
We enter the items individually in inventory relating them to the shipment, take pictures of items to be listed on our website, FB Marketplace/Craigslist/Offerup or ecommerce channels, and add the photos to the inventory system and then print a price label for each item with a barcode, price and original retail price and brief description.
At checkout, I would like to be able to scan the items with a phone or barcode scanner, make and invoice/receipt and take payment in cash, check, or credit card.
So in several ways our needs are actually simpler than many retail stores, and yet our workflow is different in significant ways that seem to be underserved by the mainstream systems.
I've tried ZOHO and thought it would work. Honestly it still seems to be the closest except they don't yet integrate a POS although it is being done with custom solutions. I'm starting to use their accounting software and it seems to be working ok for us.
I've tried Square POS/inventory and they have a lot of features we don't need, are awkward with some things we do need although there are workarounds for some things, but they fall apart at the label printing part, and that is really important to us as we need to be able to assign our own SKU to each item and label it. A single truckload could easily have hundreds of individual SKUs, even thousands.
I'm fairly technical, but not a coder, but I do want something that is simple and lends itself to a fast data entry process when we process items as that is already a chokepoint for us.
Also it is pretty important that it be server based.
I've though about rolling my own relational database/spreadsheet system.
Thoughts, suggestions? It seems like my requirements are modest, but they are out of the mainstream just enough I'm really struggling here.
TL/DR: We have a small retail liquidation store and need inventory tracking, barcode printing with price and item information, checkout system, and payment processing.

Quelqu'un a-t-il acheté un Epson ou un autre scanner d'occasion sur eBay, Craigslist ou FB Marketplace et a pu installer et utiliser Silverfast?
Puis-je simplement utiliser le numéro de série pour installer, ou dois-je coordonner en quelque sorte avec le vendeur ou contacter Lasersoft?
Traduit et reposté à partir de la publication ivbnhy de la communauté analogcommunity. Pour retrouver la publication originale, insérez l'id de la publication après "reddit.com/"

Can anybody help? I’m a dumpster Diver in my spare time and I recently came upon a business that must of went out of business and threw literally everything away. Well anyways I walked away with a pretty expensive but still odd for the normal person to have. A 3d body scanner with the portable carrying cases anll the chords everything I usually sell on craigslist, or through people I meet here and there but this I needed a little bit bigger reach I’ve never used eBay before but have had friends do quite well doing the same things I do so I figured I’d try my luck. The whole get up brand new was 6500 I had it listed for 1200 and got a sale fairly quickly I had some other things posted on there as well but didn’t get many hits so anyways I get it sent out in the mail and the money says it’s coming then all of a Sudden I get this email. From eBay stating that I need proof of ownership well if I found it ion the dumpster I can’t come up with a receipt. What am I supposed to do. I’ve lost my item, on top of like 200$ of my own money for shipping and eBay is holding onto my other money… any help would be greatly appreciated

Last week, I was Rachel.
Yesterday, I was Rachel.
But today, I'm Astrid.
I'm 24 years old, and I’m a victim of brainwashing.
It's weird. With the cocktail of medication I take every day, I feel numb. But then I stare down at my wrists and see where I've carved into my own flesh with my nails and smashed my mirror. I've clawed at my door, and there are marks on the wall where I've smashed my head into the tiles. I don't feel it or remember it. But I do see the clumsy stitches across my temple and blackened eyes, split lips and band aids when I’m cleaning my teeth.
According to Dr. Chase, I'm one of the worst cases inside this facility. I didn't know until yesterday that this place had WiFi. Harvey leaned over in his chair during Quiet Time and scribbled it on his whiteboard. He's the only one allowed a whiteboard. Unlike me, who chooses not to speak, he physically can't. If he does, bad things happen.
Harvey's been using the internet to play League of Legends. He's tried to describe the lore through scribbles and bad drawings, but I still don't understand it.
I have my own personal laptop to write down my thoughts, though I thought the Internet was blocked. There's an outdated Web browser, but it works. Harvey playing games is surprising, but it's healthier than what he's usually doing.
I've been encouraged to tell my experience on paper because I refuse to talk. Between you and me, though, it's not that I'm mute like the barrage of doctor’s here have concluded. I just don't want to talk. I don't even know what to say. How do I talk to these professionals pretending to care? They’re not subtle about being more interested in the brainwashing itself, than my mental state.
They prod and poke me with cocked heads and wide, fascinated eyes like I'm a newly discovered pathogen.
I'm surprised they haven't dissected me. Now, Astrid, we just want to help you! they croon, prickly fingers lingering a little too long on the back of my head. They want to shave my head again for more tests, but I’ve almost grown it to my shoulders. I'm not staying long enough here for them to shave my head again. I won't let them.
We just want to take samples, they say, which is a huge contradiction of their own words. Last week, we were told we could go home. But, like I said, that's not looking likely. I blame it on the boy's, who can't get a fucking hold of themselves. They use whiteboards for weapons and markers as makeshift knives. I admit our collective mental state isn't… great. But I feel well in myself. I can't remember a lot about myself. I had to be told my name, and I don't know if I have family out there.
There are splinters. Like, jigsaw pieces coming together. I have a sister, though I can't remember her face. I can finally think straight, and I've stopped trying to poke my eyes out. Nights are a lot better these days when I'm taking my medication. Days have colour, and I'm getting better with being separated from the others. It's still hard, being away from them. But I just count the days, minutes, hours and seconds.
22 hours.
4 minutes.
53 seconds.
Every minute, the clock ticks down in my head, counting down to when I can see my friends.
Dr. Chase told us in group therapy that we’re ‘a unique set of patients’. I don't think he knows what to call us. Officially, this facility is supposed to heal neurological trauma and brainwashing.
But according to several private conversations I've overheard, the four of us are the first actual victims of brainwashing. I'm not talking drug induced hypnosis or mental torture. (or in some way, I am) we’re the real deal.
Which means, I guess we’re valuable.
What scares me is these people whose lives are revolved around this specific technology, have no idea what it is or where it came from.
“We care about you, Astrid,” they tell me with soothing, patient tones that should calm me down. Bullshit. They want what was inside of me. Dr. Chase doesn't just want to cure me. He comes into my room in the night hours and just stands in the doorway scratching his head. Then he brings in others, dark silhouettes looming over me when they think I'm sleeping.
They all dress the same, dishevelled looking and kind of gorky. They all say the same thing: I've never seen anything like this before. Which is concerning. They have theories of course, but I don't think they even believe their own hypothesis. During lunch time, I see them slip into Nicholas’s room. He's considered a band red so I’m not surprised he's the mind they fawn over.
Fuck Nicholas. I wish the asshole would come back to earth.
I thought he was okay, and then in the middle of group therapy, the idiot attacks a nurse. I was dragged away before I could really see anything, but all I had to see was the glistening red puddle on the floor, the sharp scarlet smears staining the cuffs of his clinical white pants for me to know he in fact was not okay. He just kept… going.
Fuck. He wouldn't stop, slamming the corner, the corner of his whiteboard into the orderly’s skull. The sharp splint of plastic made a surprisingly good blade. I was already being dragged, but I couldn't stop staring. The orderly wasn't moving anymore, and what was left of his head was splattered all over the floor.
It reminded me of a coconut that had been cracked open. When Nicholas raised the whiteboard again, his expression completely blank, I could still see where he'd drawn a sad face in response to the question, How are you guys feeling today?
Nicholas had been feeling “:(“ for a while, despite showing little to no emotion. I think his mental state is keeping all of us here. And while I despise him for prolonging our seemingly endless stay here… that doesn't stop our nightly chats. I won't fully go into why I have to talk to him, and if I don't, I will fall apart.
I will get into that.
It's like being bound to someone, something poisonous, but I can't get him out of my head. I wouldn't say we talk, exactly. Lights out, I climb into bed and knock three times on my wall. We have our own code. Technically, none of us are allowed to talk directly to each other outside of therapy. Dr. Chase said communication could be detrimental to our healing.
Like I said, though, it's impossible not to talk to them. So, we talk in our own way. Harvey and I talk through whiteboards, and Addie actually speaks.
Rarely, because when she does start talking, Addie can't stop, her words tangling, turning into gibberish. Her eyes roll back, and she starts trembling, blood seeping from her nose. Dr. Chase explained it's a reaction to what they can't get out of her. He describes them as splinters too small to retrieve.
When Addie does speak, she talks about the world we’re told to forget. She talks about a life that wasn't real. Addie’s had four different surgeries, and they still can't get them out. They are the resin behind her slurring words and noticeable twitch, a sudden jerk of her head. Urgh.
The idea of tiny pieces of something just stuck in the meat of my brain makes me shudder.
Nicholas and I? Unlike Addie and Harvey, we use the good old fashioned way.
One knock on my wall is, “I can't talk tonight.”
Two, is “Do you want to talk?”
And three, my most commonly used: You're a fucking idiot.
He doesn't reply anymore. Instead, he just screams. Nicholas used to reply. Before the tests began and the world slowly started to feel real again, we talked endlessly all night through knocks with our own patterns, and I was so in love. The type of love that felt endless.
How can I describe love I can't even remember? How can I describe feelings that were implanted and not organic?
It didn't come like a soft wave, like a first love. This was forceful, a parasite leaching into my skull, words that weren't mine twisting on my lips.
I remember being apart from him, from them felt like a physical chain wrapped around me, a suffocating wave dragging me into the dark. Now it is different, however. With the medication and the tests, and then being forcefully isolated from each other, I am Astrid and Nicholas is a stranger. I am Astrid, and Nicholas is the psycho in Room T101.
I miss the earlier days.
Neither of us were on earth at that point, and the world was like one big carousel ride I couldn't get of off. He was always by my side, escaping his own room and slamming his hands into my door, screaming at the guards dragging me away. It was fun. Like we were on an adventure, and the only bad people were the figures in white pricking our necks with sedatives and trying to pull us apart. We’ve already escaped once. All of us.
Back when I called him by a different name.
Back when that name was reality, and everything else was a dream. Dr. Chase told me sternly that wasn't Nicholas.
And he was trying to make the real Nicholas better.
I should probably tell you why I'm writing this.
What got me shoved in here in the first place.
I knew Craigslist didn't have a great track record, but I was taking a chance on a room. I don't remember much about my living situation, but I know I wanted out. So, I was taking risks. It was a fairly innocent ad that caught my eye when I was browsing through the homepage.
A modern college house in the middle of the city. Free Internet and a single roommate who worked nights. The room itself was kinda mediocre. Yellow wallpaper, cream carpet, and some creepy paintings stuck on the wall. But there was a great view of the college town, and I had enough space to make it my own.
It was perfect. I applied while on the bus to class, adding that I was an independent person and wouldn't get in the way. Dr Chase wants me to describe my memories as detailed as I can. I remember the fall leaves dancing across the window and glued to my shoes. There was a dusting of frost on the sidewalk outside, and the air smelled of rain. Class went by in a blur. The girl sitting next to me smelled like pumpkin spiced lattes, so I went to get my own.
I got a reply when the frazzled looking barista handed me my drink.
hey, thx for inquiring abt the room! Do you want to come check it out? :)
The owner sent me the address, and I ended up standing in front of a large, red door. But I wasn't alone. I noticed I was being followed, halfway down the block.
I crossed the road, and then so did the figure. When I twisted around, a college guy around my age was staring down at the leaves he was kicking through, nodding his head to music corked in his ears. It was the trench coat that threw me off guard. I couldn't see a face, only a shock of reddish curls catching the late afternoon sunlight.
When it became clear we were heading in the same direction, he lifted his head, eyes narrowing like this was some kind of game, and I was in the lead. Then he was quickening his steps. I started power walking, both to get away from him, a stray thought pushing its way into my mind. I needed to get there first.
Clearly, he was also thinking it, his expression hardening with concentration. When he was at my side, and the two of us were shooting panicked glances at each other, I walked faster. He followed. And by the time we were shoving past each other through the gate, trampling in a growing pile of leaves and practically sprinting to the door, I realized I was unknowingly fighting for the room.
The guy, whose face was now visible, narrow features and wide, brown eyes, finally turned to me, slightly out of breath. The guy was cute, a mop of reddish curls and freckles. His clothes screamed English major. It wasn't my type of cute. I preferred the manly types, and this guy was kinda scrawny. Nerd cute, is what I would have called him.
He had slammed his hand on the door first, so I guess he'd won. Still though, I was standing like an idiot half-hoping he'd offer rock, paper, scissors. There was a prick of an awkward silence before he slowly lowered his hand from the door, and then knocked. He seemed nervous, suddenly, his hands delving into his pockets, and then picking at his shirt.
“You're here for the room.” He said it more like a statement, avoiding eye contact and bouncing up and down on his heels. This guy smelled like old books, sandalwood and freshly brewed coffee. The embodiment of Fall itself.
“I am.” I said, and when his lip curled in distaste, I remembered we were rivals.
“I'm Astrid.” I said.
He nodded slowly, withholding his own. “Cool.”
I tried to smile, though my patience was running thin. “Do you want me to go, or…?”
He was supposed to say no, no, we can figure this out. like a normal human. But this guy just shrugged. “If you want,” he side eyed me. “The room is mine, because, y’know, I got here first.”
I didn't realize how much I wanted the room until he was trying to take it from me. “When I applied for it, I didn't see any views,” I found myself saying through gritted teeth. “So, technically, I saw it first. If we’re using your logic.”
He didn't look at me. “Congratulations.”
I nodded. “Exactly. So, it's as much my room as yours.”
The guy's head jerked like I had personally insulted him. “I inquired this morning,” he said, his smile too wide. Too many teeth. “I scan the app every day. This is the best room I've seen by far, and It's overlooking the town.”
“Well, so do I.” I snapped back. “I read through it on my phone.
“Good for you.” He rolled his eyes, corking his earphones back in. “Feel free to hang around,” the boy deadpanned. “But I wouldn't recommend it.”
I felt it, then, a sudden, irresistible urge to get the last word.
“Fine.” I said, my cheeks burning.
He knocked again, folding his arms. “Cool.”
“Cool!” I said, my voice going higher in pitch.
His lip curled into a smirk. “I didn't realize I had a parrot on my shoulder.”
Another painful silence with me trying to think of a comeback which wasn't childish, catching his glances, the curve of his lips forming a smirk.
He knew I was struggling.
Before either of us could surrender, the door flew open, a bright eyed girl poking her head through the gap. She looked younger than the two of us, maybe her first or second year of college. She was a blur of blonde curls and wide smiles, a feverish energy almost knocking me off my feet. The warm, golden light swimming around her was homely. The guy must have thought the same, his eyes momentarily entranced by the light.
I saw his shoulders relax slightly, his expression loosening.
But he still made a point of keeping his distance from me. Like he was already a housemate, and I was a stray cat.
“Hi!” the girl's gaze snapped to each of us, her smile growing wider. She reached out to shake my hand. Her fingers were so cold. “You're Astrid, right? The girl who wants the room!”
I nodded, feeling smug, before she reached out to shake the guy’s hand, though he high fived her instead. “Harvey! You're here for the room too!”
For a moment, her eyes seemed to light up. “Oh!” The girl laughed. She spoke straight expletives. Her energy was cute but it was too in my face. “Wait, are you guys, like, uhh, inquiring together?” she steepled her fingers together like she was implying something else, and we shared a mutual look of what the fuck, before he laughed.
Not just laugh. I'm talking spluttering, almost keeling over.
“No.” I snapped, at the same time as the guy deadpanned, “You're fucking kidding, right? No, dude. I have standards.”
Ouch.
That one was going to sting.
The owner laughed, like he was a comedic fucking genius. “Well, it's nice to meet you guys! Why don't you two come on in? I'm just making iced tea!”
She ushered us in. Harvey stepped forward first, kicking off his shoes, and I followed hesitantly. The house was exactly what I wanted. I walked straight into rustic paintwork and a ratty welcome mat with the “H” missing from home sweet home. Cute and endearing.
Further down the hall, the place oozed warmth. The lounge was small but homely, beanbags in the place of a couch. The owner danced into the kitchen, and Harvey followed. I noticed he was drinking everything, and I mean everything in. He picked up a ceramic pig from a small table, frowning at it. Then a wooden horse. Clearly, he was yet to learn basic human decency at the grand age of twenty-something.
“We’re in the kitchen!” the owner trilled, when I found myself intrigued by Harvey full body scanning everything in his vicinity.
The guy almost dropped the pig, his eyes widening. Harvey met my gaze.
We? He mouthed.
I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe there was something in the air. But the second Harvey straightened up, I was already power-walking toward the kitchen. He was right behind me, his socks sliding on the marble flooring in a rush to reach the room before me.
I won this time. Just.
With Harvey breathing down my neck, trying to shove his way through.
He had the energy of an older brother.
Once I was on the threshold, however, my momentary glee at winning this silent battle with a stranger dissipated. There were two others sitting around a table, cocked heads and polite smiles that were definitely not expecting us.
A ponytailed brunette caught my eye, her lip curled. She was pretty. The kind of pretty I wasn't used to. The pretty that caught my breath and made my chest ache. This girl was glowing, dressed in the designer Fall fashion, a striped scarf wrapped around her neck. Sitting across from her was a mop of blonde curls peering at the two of us like we were aliens stepping from a mothership. Previously, it looked like he'd been falling asleep, fist resting on his chin.
Still though, he raised his hand in a shy wave, a small crease of a smile on his lips.
Ponytail wasn't as welcoming. Her cat-like eyes raked me up and down, head to toe. “Another one?”
Clearly, neither of us knew we were there for the same room.
The owner, who was clattering around making drinks, gestured us to sit down. I did, sliding into a seat. I had no idea why I was still there. There was one room and four of us, and I wasn't planning on losing my dignity for a cheap room in the city. I made my decision to announce I was leaving, but before I could, a glass was set in front of me. Iced tea. It looked homemade, condensation fogging up the glass.
Slowly lowering myself back into my chair, I took an experimental sip.
Lemons, with a tinge of ginger, maybe some vodka.
It tasted good, a refreshing flush down my throat.
“I'm Tella, by the way!” the owner leaned against the counter comfortably, her hands cursing her own drink. She nodded to the other two. “Addie and Zach were just telling me their majors.”
Harvey made a point of reluctantly dropping into his chair. He downed his drink in one gulp. “English Language Arts,” he announced, hiding a burp behind his hand. “Not to be that guy, but who's getting this room?” he nodded at Tella, who turned and grabbed cookies from a cupboard. “There are four of us and one room,” he said. “Which, by the way, is the cheapest I've ever seen. So.” Harvey leaned forward. “Why invite all of us?”
He was right, but he didn't have to be a dick about it.
Tella didn't speak for a moment, flashing us a grin.
“Do you guys like… sitcoms?”
The question took me off guard. I thought she said, Do you guys like CD roms? but then Ponytail, or Addie, was nodding, delicately sipping from her glass. “Yeah, they're all right, I guess. I’ve seen all of the classics. They're good.”
“They're not funny.” I noticed Harvey's grip slip around the rim of his glass, before he tightened his hold. “The jokes are painful, and the humor tries way too–”
I jumped when a shattering sound hit my ears, drowning out the rest of Harvey's rant. Tella had dropped her glass. But she didn't move, her hand still in mid air, fingers cinched, like she was still holding it. “How much?” she spoke softly, her lips curving into a small smile. I noticed she was barefoot, and the crunch of her stepping into shards of glass, swaying back and forth.
“How much what…?” The blonde, Zach, finally spoke up. His accent was definitely from New York, a thick Long Island drawl in his tone. He too looked like he was ready to leave. Zach tipped sideways in his chair, before I realized he was just reaching for his backpack.
Tella didn't look at us. Her feet were bleeding, but her smile was stretching wide across her lips. There was something in her eyes I couldn't understand. She couldn't feel the pain of glass slicing into her flesh. Ice tea crept back up my throat in a sour paste.
“How much… “ she spaced out her words, “Do you… guys… like sitcoms?” Her emphasis on the word was like an explosion, mania and excitement collapsing into one, and my body began to catch up with my brain.
I think that was the moment the four of of us collectively realized through panicked looks that Tella was that type of person.
I was the first to remember how to move. “I've changed my mind,” I said in a breath, which tangled on my tongue.
What came out instead, was ivechangmijnd. I jumped up and reached the door, but my head swam, the world jolting. It looked what electroshocks feel like, the kitchen tiles and ceiling bleeding into one. I blinked rapidly. No. No, I was still sitting down. I hadn't moved an inch from the chair.
I don't know how to describe this experience. Dr. Chase had to sedate me the first time I recalled it, because apparently, I'd tried to hurt myself. He told me it was my brain's response to recalling a bad memory. When I try to say it out loud, I get jittery, and I start jamming my teeth into my tongue.
With the meds, all of my fear is stripped away. I can dig into the recesses of my own trauma and see it as something brighter. Cognitive behavioural therapy, or at least that's what Dr. Chase likened it to, has helped me turn what used to be a memory that put me in the quiet room for weeks, trying and failing to crack my own skull open, into a movie in my head. We were just getting high, Dr. Chase and the other doctors told me, sitting me down on crinkly paper on a bed, and peering into my eyes with weird glasses. They told me to close my eyes and go over the memory again, and this time I had to replace Zach's screaming with laughing.
Tella didn't spike our drinks with mind rotting hallucinogens and sedatives. She just gave us weed.
“Fuck.” Harvey's voice sounded like he was in a tunnel, a tangled moan rolling off his tongue. I was half aware of Zach on his hands and knees… laughing.
“What did you put in those…. drinks?”
“Yeah. What did you puhrrt in thissssss?” Harvey dragged out the S until something hit the table with a thunk. His glass, followed by his head. I remember trying to ask if he was okay, before my lips were numb, my vision blurring into one singular pinprick, light slowly bleeding away. There wasn't enough time for darkness. Thunk went my head, dropping onto the table.
Another thunk, and a crash.
Addie.
I heard her head slam into the kitchen tiles.
Her body.
Fuck.
I can't write this.
Her body landed in shattered glass that I could hear Tella crunching through.
So dark. I was nothing for a while, and there was nothing. Not like dreaming or sleeping, or just being knocked out. It was deeper. More permanent. It felt like a choking, suffocating oblivion swallowing me up– before choking me back out. When I cracked one eye open, it was light. Too bright. I was standing, my body more of a puppet on strings.
My clothes felt itchy and wrong, and old. Like I had been wearing them for weeks. Months. There was something in my head, writhing in my ears.
Laughter.
I couldn't move my body, my expression, my lips or eyes. I was paralyzed, the world going on around me. Initially, it looked like I'd woken up in a cosy lounge. There was a couch behind me, a colourful rug, and warm, rustic wallpaper. But then I was looking past all of that, at scary silver walls of metal that went on for seemingly forever.
I wasn't inside an apartment.
I was on a stage.
Disoriented, it took me a moment to register a figure standing in front of me. I noticed dishevelled clothes first, crumpled jeans and a shirt glued to a skeletal figure. I didn't know his face.
He was younger. Maybe by a year or two. Whoever he was, this guy had been here longer. He was the shell of a human being, pathetic remains of what had been someone– something. Brown hair fell in wide eyes glued to me, lips parted like he was talking. I waited for him to scream, to cry out for help. His eyes told me one thing. Play along.
Part of me wanted to refuse.
But then something wet and fleshy hit the ground in front of us, the world jolting once more. My vision started to clear, and something slammed into me, a wave of ice water stealing my breath.
There wasn't paint on the walls. It was too bright, too new and then old, scarlet streaks blurring together. The carpet under my bare feet was suddenly slimy and wet, pooling red seeping through my toes. Through tunnel vision, a man had been standing in front of me.
With a clearer head, however, I was seeing flaws my mind had skimmed past; dark shadows under his eyes, yellowing bruises blossoming across his cheeks, a split lip, a thin trail of dried scarlet pooling down his temple. I think my brain was trying to shield what was in the corners of the room. Bodies piled on top of each other, some of them old, piles of bones, and some of them fresh.
Still warm.
The couch behind the guy was filled with three figures. I recognised them. Zach, Addie, and Harvey. Neither of them moved, their heads bowed. I jumped, or at least I internally jumped, when the man standing in front of me took my hands.
Wet.
His fingers were slick red, and I tried to pull away.
But I couldn't.
He opened his mouth, squeezing onto my fingers.
“I didn't think there was a relationship to fuck up!” His voice was surprisingly calm, his expression twisting. It hit me that we were in the middle of an argument. In the middle of an argument that I didn't remember, but my tongue was already entangled. I backed away from him, as if my strings were being tugged, my lips curling into a scowl. “I thought we were broken up!”
Laughter followed again, a sharp thunderclap in my skull, pain I had never felt before, that was fucking raw and accute, struck the end of my head.
I couldn't move my hands to signal that I needed help.
My brain felt like it was igniting. Burning.
He was like me. He couldn't move, and yet somehow he was squeezing my fingers hard enough to send a message.
Play along.
And I did, my lips moving without me, words that weren't mine.
An expression that wasn't mine.
I was the backseat passenger inside my own body.
“We said we weren't going to see other people!”*.
Immediately, he was following along, a natural. Somehow. “Well, how was I supposed to know? I'm not a psychic! If I was, I'd be like, ten billion dollars richer!” he paused. More laughter.
“I mean… we would be, uh, ten million dollars richer.”
The words were pushing through my mouth, forceful. “Don't think you can sweet-talk me with ten million dollars!”
“Billion.” He corrected, his lips curling into a smirk.
“What? I can't help being smart!”
I hit him with the newspaper suddenly in my hand. “YOU? Smart?”
A snort from the couch.
Harvey.
“Just please,” he paused. “Be kind to the furniture when you're fighting.” His voice choked up, laughter following.
“It's innocent, I tell you. Innocent!”
The laughing didn't stop. Louder. Rooted inside my skull.
My words tasted like blood. I could feel it seeping down my nose and chin.
There were bugs crawling in my head. I could feel them, sense them sinking their tiny claws into the meat of my brain, pouring from my ears and sticking to my neck. Their chitter both inside my head, and in the room, writhing on the walls, feasting on fleshy remains. They sunk into my thoughts, once again turning them into cotton candy, plunging me into uncertain oblivion. I spat blood through words that suddenly didn't make sense.
My legs buckled.
The conversation went on, while I was being violently pulled back inside my mind.
Rachel.
The electric pinpricks in my head played with my thoughts.
No.
I fought back.
Astrid.
Consciousness came in waves. Sometimes I was standing with the nameless man, and others, I was with Zach, or Harvey, and Addie. After a while of suffocating on nothing, I used these momentary bursts of clarity to be thankful for those around me. My hair grew long, almost to my knees, until Tella cut it all off, scrubbing the blood off of my face and making me all better.
I can't remember when we lost Zach.
One minute, the two of us were talking, and the next, I could see them, tiny, skittering bugs pouring from his mouth and eyes, his body coming apart in front of me. I didn't react when a chunk of him hit me in the cheek. I couldn't react. I hadn't spoken my own words in months. And when I tried to, my tongue was seized from me. When Tella cleaned away Zach and spread the rest of him over the walls for the feast, I started calling myself a different name.
I was…Rachel.
The bugs eating me from the inside told me I was called Rachel.
If I fought back, they made me wish I was dead. They made me slam my head into the ground, trying to cave my own skull in. I remember there was a moment of coherency after we lost Zach, and before we gave in to our new lives. It was rare for all of us to be awake at the same time. Sometimes the bugs inside our brains went to sleep, leaving us conscious and aware for hours at a time, and keeping the facade became progressively harder Addie found the exit door by accident. She said we were in a bunker locked with a biometric scanner.
Harvey found a weapon, a lead pipe. We timed it perfectly. Tella went to get food for exactly 45 minutes every single day.
So, Harvey planned to bash her fucking brains in.
He hypothesised that she was controlling the bugs somehow. And without Tella, there would be no bugs.
I wish he was right.
Because then, we would have only spent a year in captivity.
What Harvey wasn't planning on, was these things having sentience. They wanted the act to continue, and even with Tella gone for a moment, they wanted to be entertained. So, they entertained themselves. That was the day we lost Harvey too. He didn't splatter in my face like Zach–a warm, wet streak on my cheeks. Instead of attacking Tella, he slammed the pipe into his own head, again and again until he was dropping to his knees, blood pouring from his nose, begging for mercy.
Tella did give us mercy.
She stopped us from thinking for a while.
And slowly, my name started to fade away.
Rachel.
I snapped awake halfway through a conversation. Zach's body had toppled onto its side, still leaning against the wall, a casual viewer. Harvey had facial hair, his hair grown out. There was a smile stretched across his lips. Harvey called me Rachel. So, I called him the name skittering in my mind, trying to break from my lips. Danny. I refused to surrender until that moment.
Because calling him it felt natural, and I knew all of him. After all, he was my friend.
More darkness, and I stopped thinking again.
All I could sense was the sharp chitter in my skull.
Light.
Addie and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. She had a bowl of popcorn. I could see Zach's in the corner of vision. Maggots had gotten into his eyes.
Addie’s gaze was on the TV screen that wasn't on. Her name was Elody. She handed me a chip, her words light and whimsical. Almost like we were dreaming.
“Chip?” she offered me another, raucous laughter rattling my head. I got a boyfriend soon after. The man who I was always talking to, sleeping with, my arms wrapped around him. Even as a backseat passenger, I still felt like my heart was fluttering, my chest aching. He felt natural next to me, and over the years of blinking back awake, the two of us stopped fighting it.
His eyes had almost become animated over the years.
He was always smiling.
Laughing.
Blood spilling from his lips, that became normal.
I had friends, and a boyfriend, living in a huge apartment, a group of twenty somethings living together as a group.
As friends.
What more could I ask for?
Days passed after that.
Weeks.
Months.
Years.
Light flooded inside the bunker, when we were playing charades. Light felt more suffocating than the dark. It pierced my eyes, sending me to my knees, cutting our game short. I was sitting with arms wrapped around my boyfriend, when sudden thundering voices sounded, and the laughter inside my head started to falter. “They're in here!” Before I knew what was happening, our tiny piece of heaven was being destroyed.
Figures appeared with heavy weapons, pale light flashing in our eyes. In the startling allure, my body became free for a moment. I caught Addie blinking rapidly, Harvey frowning down at his red slicked hands.
The walls around us were painted, stained, in human remains.
And so were we.
A woman came over to me. Her eyes were wide. Scared. Zach wasn't there anymore, a pile of bones on the floor.
“Astrid?” she spoke calmly, calling for medics.
All around me, my friends were being checked over. Harvey stumbled away from the figures, his eyes wide in the bright allure. “No,” he choked out in a laugh. “No, we’re fine! Can you please get out of our house?” he gestured to the door that had been blown through.
“Now THAT is going to be our day-job tomorrow.”
Laughter sounded in my head, so I ignored the woman throwing a blanket over me, the words spewing from my lips before I could stop them. “You mean it's going to be YOUR day job.”
“Astrid!” The woman slapped me, and some lost color bled back to reality.
“Astrid, can you hear me? I am so sorry, sweetie, but you're in shock, okay? I'm going to help you. I promise–”
Her words collapsed into white noise when Addie started screaming, and Harvey was dragged away from her. I reached out for my boyfriend's hand, but he was kneeling on the floor. A man was shining a light in his flickering eyes. “Nicholas?” he spoke softly, and my boyfriend only cocked his head, frowning. “Nick, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up, please?”
His gaze found mine.
“It's okay,” I told him, panic twisting my gut. “It's okay, baby. Tell them, and… and maybe they'll go away.”
He did, through a spluttered laugh.
“Five. Now, can you go away now please? Jeez, it's a Friday night, man!”
The man checking him over let out a hiss, before lifting his head.
“Get away from them,” he snapped, and the other figures backed away slowly.
He looked scared. Shaken. “Can we get someone else in here?” he started picking dead bugs off of my boyfriend's neck with tweezers. “We, uh, I don't think we’re qualified to deal with this.”
That was when my world started to come apart.
My boyfriend was dragged away, and a hysterical Harvey attacked the woman trying to help him. I heard her scream, but before I could see what was happening, a cruel, cold prick slid into the back of my neck. I didn't realize I was screaming too, until I was being gently brought to my knees, trembling, sobbing into the ground. I was sinking into the abyss when footsteps sounded.
A figure was looming over me, and my lips were numb.
Help.
I needed help.
I needed my friends.
“What have we got?” a male voice crept into my mind when I was falling.
“Six kidnapped students that went missing in 2020,” a female voice said. “Four are heavily inebriated. One turned herself in, and Zach Cartwright is confirmed deceased. No traces of drugs or alcohol. There's nothing but.. bugs. I've never seen anything like it. These things are part organic, but—”
“Astrid?”
I didn't respond, my eyes flickering. I felt my body swaying back and forth.
“Rachel.”
I jerked my head in time to the voice, reality bleeding back into fruition. Time had skipped forward. I was sitting in a white room, my legs swinging off of a bed. My hair was gone. A smiling woman was in front of me. She detailed the basics. I was quarantined inside a facility for victims of brainwashing.
When I jumped off of the bed and tried to get out, the nurse calmly led me back onto the bed. When she was less gentle, strapping me down, the nurse told me I was going to be in a lot of pain, but it was for the best. She said there was pain, but I don't remember it. Even if my body does. I still have scorch marks in the backs of my eyes.
I was weak, my body limp, barf dripping down my chin, when the nurse gently took my hands. “Astrid,” she ignored my correction. “Would you like to see what has influenced this type of behavior?” the nurse cleared her throat. “We don't exactly know what it is. What we do know is that it attached itself to your spinal cord, feeding you information.” her lips formed a frown.
“Which has influenced you into thinking... certain things. Your name, for example.” she held out a small silver instrument, and attached to it was a writhing thing struggling to keep hold. “Astrid, you were a prisoner for three years, and this is the result of your current mental state. We are going to help you, but you have to let us.”
Her gaze dropped to the ground. “Which would require a certain… surgery to remove this… infestation.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to see my friends.”
“Astrid, that won't be possible right now.”
Instead of speaking, I clawed at her face and screamed, demanded, to be reunited with my friends. It hurt being away from them. When I tried to explain it, I received sympathetic smiles. But then I had the surgery, and the invisible ribbon binding us together, was cruelly severed. I started therapy on my own, and then with them. The others didn't talk. When Addie spoke, she suffered seizures. Harvey preferred using a whiteboard, and Nicholas didn't even acknowledge us, until he grew violent.
Dr. Chase thinks the things have laid eggs inside his mind, and are still in control. Three nights ago, I awoke inside the bunker that had held me captive. With me were Harvey, Addie, and Nicholas. Zach was there too.
In front of us was a picnic blanket filled with food and drink, and we laughed and talked like we were still inside our little heaven. Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, and I nestled my head in his lap. He was smiling again.
The walls around us were chittering, moving.
Calling.
They want the show to continue.
I thought it was a dream, but my feet were caked in dirt from walking around barefoot. At breakfast the morning after, Harvey grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom. He scribbled something on his whiteboard.
DID YOU??? LAST NIGHT??? WHAT WAS THAT???*
I could only nod, breathless.
He wrote another message, this time in bubble letters.
“LIGHTS OUT. WE GO LOOKING FOR THAT BITCH.” he'd drawn an angry face next to it, and I smiled.
I hadn't smiled in a while.
Tella, our kidnapper, is inside the facility with us. She too is receiving a different kind of treatment.
So, per what Harvey said, we planned to meet after lights out.
But he never showed up.
This morning, a nurse informed me there was an incident during his surgery and I won't be able to see him anymore.
Dr. Chase said Harvey is in a ‘very bad state”
Nicholas and Addie are deteriorating.
But. I can still see them.
When I go to sleep, I awaken inside our apartment, and the laughter is back.
The chittering in my skull grows louder.
Our little piece of heaven.
But then I wake up, and he's not at breakfast. Addie is missing too, and the screams inside Nicholas’s room terrify me.
Please, can someone get us out of here?
I just want to see my friends.
19 hours.
34 minutes.
308 seconds.

Hey there I’ve tried so many styles of scanning. Like using a macro lens and a dslr and flat beds.
I’ve had the privilege of trying a imacon at my old school (so expensive but amazing) And have used a Fuji sp scanner at a film lab I worked at.
But has anyone had any luck pulling out the dynamic range etc with any scanner like sub 2000$?
I’m out of touch with latest info. Would love a film scanner recommendation.

Hi,
I bought the Zenfone 10 3 months ago at the end of july, and today I sold it because I couldn't stand it anymore.
Don't get me wrong, it's a great phone, but definitely not worth 800€.
It's got great battery life, great performances, great fingerprint scanner...
BUT, it always acts up in my pocket. I've made a post here about it.
Almost every day it did something, but this week it tried to buy a 5000€ car on the french version of craigslist, I had to contact the support of the website to cancel my transaction. For those who speak french : https://imgur.com/a/vCu4mot
And it kept calling people, sending text messages... It even made me speak again to an old friend I had no news from since years, so it was kind of ankward but interesting...
Anyway, never happened with any other phone than this one, and it's a big issue.
Other than that, the camera is terrible, colors are completely inaccurate and a green halo appears sometimes : https://imgur.com/a/BeWXhhX I tried some gcams but it didn't fix it, and the camera was barely any better.
Also it has some trouble with google auto sync and sometimes it disables itself which makes Gmail worthless.
I would tolerate those issues if I paid 400€ for this phone. But I can't stand paying 800 and having those problems.
So if you buy it and face those problems, don't be like me and think "it's just a few small things it doesn't really matter", return it because it's more annoying than you think.
Honestly I'm disappointed because it could be the perfect phone without those issues and a few more years of updates support.

Hello friends,
I'm going to look at 2010 forester tomorrow. It is listed on Craigslist for fairly inexpensive. Has 117k, and has had the timing belt replaced within the last two years. It has a misfire at idle, but not under load.
I am a competent backyard mechanic(I don't have a garage). I will be hooking up the obd2 scanner before test driving. I will check the coolant and oil for cross contamination. Performing the old "smell test" on the exhaust. What else should I be looking for? I am a pretty good mechanic, but not necessarily a subaru guy. Any help would be appreciated!

Hello friends,
Found a 2010 forester on Craigslist for pretty inexpensive. 117k, had the timing belt replaced in the last 2 years. Im going to go look at it tomorrow. Ad says its got a misfire at idle, but not under power. I have a good obd2 scanner and will be hooking it up, for sure, before test driving.
I will obviously be checking the oil and coolant for cross contamination. Performing the old exhaust "smell test". I'll check the air filter too. I am a competent backyard(I don't have a garage)mechanic, but not necessarily a subaru guy. What other things should I be looking for?

Below is my rant about Regus. The text was written by ChatGPT to make it more coherent based on my list of bullet points. I ended up paying the fees mentioned below, but there's still this lingering feeling of not being able to do anything and the staff just saying "it is what it is". Please let me know where I screwed up and if I'm reaching here and these are all normal business practices. --- Renter - beware! I'm providing a critique of my personal experiences with Regus. The aesthetics of the office space are quite appealing, although some issues like thin walls and challenging parking conditions exist. However, from my point of view, certain aspects of their business operations could potentially be seen as being aggressive and not fully transparent. It's not a bad idea to do some online research and make your own judgment about their reputation. A simple "Regus reddit" search might be a good starting point.
Here are a few specific situations I've faced:

1. I noticed a considerable increase in the office price within a year, from approximately $800/mo to around $1200/mo, seemingly at odds with the broader market trend, especially as companies started moving out of the Bay Area leading to a general decline in office prices.
2. My security deposit was initially set at $1800 with a verbal understanding of a ~$200 restoration fee upon moving out that would come out of the security deposit. However, I was billed a separate $380 restoration fee two weeks prior to the end of the lease, with no clear contractual reference provided by the staff that justified the amount or timing of this fee, which was completely different from my initial understanding.
3. According to my interpretation of the contract, it appears that any disputes can't be taken to a small claims court but must go through arbitration, which comes with a minimum fee of ~$800. When I questioned these conditions, the staff seemed to be aware but provided no specific contractual references and I was presented with a rather stark choice: either pay all the fees or risk having my account sent to collections. The conversation ended there, leaving me with limited options despite leaving the office "in perfect condition" as confirmed by a staff member.
4. Communication regarding the payment of the restoration fee was slow, taking almost three weeks for a response. Despite inquiring about the payment instructions several days before the arbitrary deadline and making the payment on the day I received instructions, I was still charged a late fee. So far, further inquiries were met with silence.
5. At the end of my lease, I was informed in writing that a lost key would incur a $350 re-keying fee, while my initial agreement mentioned a fee of $150.
6. While 24-hour access to the office was available, the lack of air conditioning outside regular business hours made it less conducive for work, in my experience.
7. The use of many facilities, such as the scanner (25c per page), came with a separate fee, which was a new experience for me.
8. The contract, as I understood it, required an early cčncellation notice of several months to prevent automatic renewal a few months before the end of the lease.
9. It was my responsibility to request the return of the security deposit online, which took 31 days. It seems like you won't get the deposit without explicitly requesting it.
10. Access to airport lounges was promised, but I personally struggled to find one that had a Regus lounge.
11. During one of my interactions, a staff member acknowledged my concerns and admitted that I was not the first person to express these issues. She voiced a desire for the company to conduct its operations differently. These sorts of experiences led me to question whether the practices I encountered were systematic. It's worth bearing these experiences in mind and making an informed decision when considering your interactions with this company.

In conclusion, based on my personal experiences and perceptions, there are aspects of this company's operations that raised some concerns for me. I'd recommend individuals thoroughly consider these aspects when deciding whether to engage with this company, either as a customer or an employee. It's always good to think about the kind of businesses we want to support and the world we're shaping for our future generations.
I'd also recommend using Craigslist and Facebook Marketplace to find other office options - Regus wasn't the cheapest one by any measure.

Vagabond compendium of Advice, Resources, Books, Tutorials, Documentaries and Atlas

📷 MUST READ
TL;DR: IF YOU WANT TO HOP A TRAIN, GO START HITCHHIKING AND FIND A MENTOR TO SHOW YOU THE ROPES.
Frequently Asked Questions
”What do I bring?”
Short Answer: Less. Prioritize water over everything else, then good footwear, then sleeping gear, then a good backpack. If you have those four things, the rest will come.

• What To Bring - Trainhopping 101: Gear for Trainhopping - It's Not The Size Of The Pack That Counts...

"Where will I sleep?"
Short Answer: Where nobody can see you. You can actually "squat" in unoccupied houses and buildings. If traveling and sleeping outside, a good sleeping bag and a tarp/bivy are usually enough. Tents are not recommended for trainhoppers.

• Where To Sleep - Nine Months - A Squatter's Story - Tarp good, tent bad - 7 Survival Shelter Designs - Cold Weather Camping

."What if I want to keep/sleep in my vehicle?"
Short Answer: We call this "rubbertramping". Many vagabonds live in cars, trucks, vans, busses, etc. Rubbertrampers are welcome on this sub, and much of this info applies to them, but the "vandweller" subreddit is specifically dedicated to that life. They feature tons of good info, and while their demographic is generally more well-off financially than us, there are definitely some very chill folks over there who will answer your questions.

• FreeCampsites.net

"What will I eat?"
Short Answer: Water comes first. There is food all around you, in the trash or in the wild.

• Food - The Art & Science of Dumpster Diving - Hobo Fishing! - Edible Plants of the World - Edible Wild Plants (North America) - POISONOUS PLANTS - Homemade Traps and Snares - Guide To Freshwater Fish - Alternate Cooking Methods - Food Not Bombs

"How will I make money?"
Short answer (Eurozone nationals) : Pretend you are trying to work but so far failed to achieve any results. Cash in, lazily panhandle, enjoy the outdoors.
Short answer (USA) : Work, yo. Traveling and working odd jobs, seasonal gigs, farm labor, or hustling for yourself is one of the oldest lifestyles in the history of the species, and tons of people still have comfortable nomadic traveling lives today.

• Making Money Without A Job (Busking) - Summer Jobs for Vagabonds: Alaskan Canneries - So You Want To Be a Trimmigrant? - AlaskaFishingJobs.com - CoolWorks.com - Workaway - WWOOF (Farmwork with room and board included) - HelpX (Also farmwork with room and board )

"Can I have a pet?"
Short Answer: Yeah for sure, tons of travelers have dogs, cats, reptiles, rodents, goats, fish... They all have advantages on the road, and they all require care and training.

• Why Would A Vagabond Have A Dog? - How To Train Your Watchdog

"Should I bring my gun?"
Short answer (Europe) : What in the actual fuck?? HELL NO!
Short answer (USA) : [none]

• Long answer

"What if I'm a woman?"
Short Answer: traveling is more dangerous for women, yes. But you can absolutely influence how safe you are by your own choices and actions. Trust your instincts, ask locals (especially homeless people) about dangerous individuals and areas. Use NeighborhoodScout to check online for reported crime in a given area.

• Realities of a Woman's Life on the Road - A Nuanced Discussion of the Dangers of The Road

"Can I still use the internet when I'm homeless?"
Short Answer: Yes. For about a year Reddit almost exclusively on free computers at public libraries across the US. I wrote some of the longest posts on this sub on an oldschool flip phone, using T9. If you don't know what that means, don't worry about it. You can survive without the internet. It's actually really freaking good for you.
That being said, it's not a good idea to flaunt electronic devices when you're homeless. Some people will assume you stole them. Some people will rudely ask how you were able to afford that laptop. Some people will recognize that you are particularly vulnerable, and try to steal your shit. Look out.

• Free Wi-Fi Hotspots

"What if I want to stop traveling and go back to normal life?"
Short Answer: If you're able to do this, you probably enjoy an incredible amount of privilege in your life. Acknowledge that now, do your best to pay it forward and work to use your sheer dumb luck to support marginalized people who you encounter. Be humble, be frugal, get organized, work hard, take the help you need, and pay it forward whenever you can.

• A Guide for Keeping Track of Money and Food - Not Having a Job is Hard Work

"How do I Hitchhike?"
Short Answer: Stand or walk next to the road and stick your thumb out. It's WAY safer during the day, with friends, and with a dog. If someone seems sketchy, don't get in the car with them. One of our

• The Zen of Hitchhiking - You CAN Hitchhike Safely in the US - The "Stranded Car" Trick - How To Use Craigslist Rideshare - Hitchwiki.org - Squat the Planet - North American Road Atlass - European Road Map

"How do I hop freight trains?"
Short Answer: Don't.
Jobs/Housing/Food for Vagabonds

• Summer Jobs: Alaskan Canneries (Jobs/Housing/Food)
• Summer Jobs: Alaskan Fishing Boats (Jobs/Housing/Food)
• Coolworks (Jobs)
• Work-Away (Jobs/Food/Housing)
• WWOOF (Jobs/Food/Housing)
• HelpX (Jobs/Food/Housing)
• Food Not Bombs (Food/Vegetarian)
• Couchsurfing (Housing)
• Craigslist (Jobs)
• Conservation Corps (Jobs)

Maps for Vagabonds

• North American Road/Highway Atlas
• European Road/Highway Atlas
• Professional Railroad Atlas of North America
• Ladd's U.S. Railroad Tonnage Atlas
• Amtrak & Greyhound USA Terminal Map

Digital Resources for Vagabonds

• Hitchwiki
• Free Wifi Hotspots
• Dumpster Diving Locations
• SquatThePlanet
• Railroad Scanner Frequencies

Books for Vagabonds

• Bushcraft Wilderness Survival Guide
• Survive Any Situation! Survival Guide
• Urban Survival Guide
• Underworld Survival Guide
• Shadow-Living: Urban & Wildnerness Survival
• The Art and Science of Dumpster Diving
• The Outdoorsman Handbook
• Worst Case Scenario Handbook
• Survival Guide for Cold-Weather Camping
• Desert Survival Guide
• First Aid Survival Guide
• Where There is No Doctor
• Where There is No Dentist
• Survival Medicine Handbook
• International Guide to Edible Plants
• North American Guide to Edible Plants
• Military Guide to Poisonous Plants
• North American Field Guide to Fish Identification
• Emergency Shelter Designs
• Survival Traps and Snares
• Survival Cooking Methods
• Bushcraft
• Urban Survival
• STEAL THIS BOOK
• ShadowLiving

Emergency Advice

• First Aid, Survival, and CPR
• Where There Is No Doctor
• Where Women have no Doctor
• Where There Is No Dentist -
• Where there is no Veterinarian
• The Survival Medicine Handbook

Trainhopping Tutorials

• Trainhopping: Why to NOT Choose Trainhopping
• Trainhopping: Why Choose Trainhopping
• Trainhopping: The Risks of Trainhopping
• Trainhopping: Finding Your Train
• Trainhopping: Types of Train Cars to Hop
• Trainhopping: Gear For Trainhopping
• Trainhopping: Using Handheld Digital Scanners
• Trainhopping: Myth vs Reality
• Trainhopping: Hobo Lingo
• Trainhopping: Don't Be An Oogle

Fishing Tutorials

• Hobo Fishing: Portable Rods and Reels
• Hobo Fishing: Fishing Line/String/Cord
• Hobo Fishing: Baits and Lures
• Hobo Fishing: Casting Out/Reeling In
• Hobo Fishing: Using Nets
• Hobo Fishing: Trot Lines

Vagabonding, Back in the Day

• When I was a boy (1960/post-Vietnam era)
• The day I met an AWOL Iraqi Veteran in Cheyenne Wyoming (pre-COVID)

Documentaries for Vagabonds

• In Travel, We Trust (Hitchhiking)
• The Greater Good (Hitchhiking)
• Paris 888 (Hitchhiking)
• Catching Out (Trainhopping)
• Without Bound: Perspective on Mobile Living (Rubber-Tramping)
• Hold Fast (Boat-Tramping)

Related Subreddits

• Adventures on the road - travelpartners - homeless - hitchhiking - DumpsterDiving - CampingandHiking - vandwellers - digitalnomad - urbancarliving - skoolies - homelessandalone - survivalgrid - almosthomeless - buskersandsignflyers - vagabondeurope - HostileArchitecture
• Animal companion - TruckerCats - RandomActsOfPetFood
• Subbreddits near you - Africa - Asia - Europe - Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean - North America - Oceania South America

I’m in Santa Monica and I have three colored Printers. (I just love Siri dictation. It writes poetry for me)
When is the PIXMA but I don’t have a power cable. Or maybe I do when is an HP and one is a canon
Canon K 1024GPIXMA
XPIXMA with scanner
HP photo smart 0110 with scanner
And I have six things of Epsom ink number 69 one full set and two extras I think yellow and blue. I won’t swear to it
If it’s too much trouble I’ll give away all three. Of course I’m not allergic to money I’m such a nice guy
Or gal. If it matters.
I just put about 6000 Craigslist for non-computer things.
I also have 2 JCL VHS players/recorders and I’m not sure how to work them to get them to play the tape. I’ve also got a Sony is it it’s the tape which means I need to clean the capstone and I’m not sure how to get to it.
If anybody has knowledge about these legacy devices, I’d love it if you hit me up.
My tower of electronics needs to have more space
I’d like a Bluetooth speaker - BT4 - for my old Samsung tablets it’s stuck on android 7.0. (yes I’ve checked and nobody has got an upgrade for that exact version of that model.)
Thanks for thinking of me and have a nice evening.