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Analyzing the NCAA Regionals Format (Part 4: Alternative Locations)

2024.03.07 00:52 exileondaytonst Analyzing the NCAA Regionals Format (Part 4: Alternative Locations)

Analyzing the NCAA Regionals Format (Part 4: Alternative Locations)
(Part 1: The Way It Is) - A brief look at overall attendance trends (Part 1.5: The On-Campus Thing) - An attendance-focused look at the On-Campus tournament model (Part 1.5.1 or Whatever) - Checking assumptions from 1.5 using conference tournaments (Part 2: Trends And Splits) - A look at how Proximity and Fanbase Size impacts regionals (Part 3: Location, Location, Location) - Looking at performance of specific regional hosts compared to who is in their neighborhood
How The Location Data Pans Out In General
Here is a widely ranged chart of sites we talked about in the last part, and most of the sites that will be discussed below. And also a summary chart with some of the tables shown below and in Part 3. We definitely have a clearer picture out East than we do in the West in terms of what works and what doesn't.
But first, some key thoughts for what might go into choosing hypothetical alternative venues:
Ideal Building Size
The same "teams, NCAA bids, and home attendance/NCAA berth" metrics will apply as they did in Part 3. At a 100mi radius in the East, and a 200mi radius in the west.
There's also a give and take when it comes to arena capacity. Start with the reality that regionals are averaging 5-6,000 fans/session:
  • Below 6,000 capacity? You can count on a relatively full building with an average crowd or even a sellout (and maybe can increase ticket prices accordingly), but the potential is pretty much capped.
  • 10-11,000+ capacity? On average, it's only a touch over half full, which is sort of what all the On Campus advocacy is built on (the empty seats, not necessarily the ones that are filled). 10,000+ fans/game at a regional is very rare, so it's there's little chance of making good on the increased potential.
    • A multi-tier venue can cap off sales to the upper deck (or curtain it off entirely). 9000 fans at Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul doesn't look so bad in that way, so they can still work.
  • This makes 7-10,000 something of a "Goldilocks Zone", balancing potential and the optics of a more full arena.
Ultimately, how you judge a lot of competing options here comes down to a "potential" vs. "optics" debate.
America's (College) Hockey Hotbeds
Part 2 noted the value of having regionals closer to existing fanbases, and Part 3 noted that eastern regionals have been largely focused around Boston with a somewhat reliable rotation of venues, and for a good reason. Not only is Boston one of the USA's premier hockey hotbeds, but it's also the central hub for eastern college hockey.
Obviously, you can say something similar about Minnesota and Michigan, and a map of college hockey attendance illustrates that as well:
Locations of D-I Home Arenas (Colorado, Arizona, and Alaska-based teams out of frame), with 2024 average home attendances dictating colosize of the locations.
It follows, given the attendance trends at regionals when schools don't have to travel far, that for a good turnout you'd want to avoid putting regionals too far away from those attendance bubbles.
What Other Venues Can Work Out East...
Venturing into New York or Pennsylvania is really the only place to look for "new" locations out East before we're too isolated from where the eastern fans actually are. And even then, Pennsylvania doesn't exactly have a lot of college hockey.
There are quite a few venues across New York (Syracuse, Utica, Binghamton, among others) that are below the Goldilocks zone, and only Syracuse comes close to a large enough capacity. Eastern Pennsylvania has quite a few Goldilocks Zone arenas (Western PA has Erie, I guess), but Wilkes-Barre offers the only one that's slightly closer to D-I schools (other than Princeton, which... whatever) than Allentown is.
Likewise, former ECAC tournament host Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City is also perhaps an inferior version of Allentown. Like Allentown, it's a moderate drive away from Philly... but Allentown is also within a closer driving distance of one of America's busiest airports in Newark. Outside of whatever tourist draw Atlantic City still has left, there isn't much meat on those bones. Another suitable arena in Trenton, NJ suffers similar issues.
I can really only narrow down Hartford (XL Center), Lake Placid (Herb Brooks Arena), and Buffalo (KeyBank Center or whatever they call it these days) as "realistic" suitors in the region with capacities above 7,000, with a token look at Wilkes-Barre and Syracuse just so people can compare the metrics of those options.
https://preview.redd.it/yeq47p2aqsmc1.png?width=687&format=png&auto=webp&s=867ce726c88a9ee90f6c5949c74a52417934373a
Springfield's metrics predictably look most promising, each of them second only to Worcester from the current rotation (which follows, given its location). It should do reasonably well when it hosts in the upcoming tournament. I'm sure locals will have all sorts of colorful things to say about the two cities, but I can only think of two big differences between it and Worcester as far as regionals go:
  • Worcester is a closer drive from Boston with more robust transit options
  • The size of the arenas: Worcester is probably oversized, but average crowds will look better in Springfield. Again: Potential vs. Optics.
Hartford has the same optics vs. potential debate with Bridgeport that we have between Springfield and Worcester, just on the opposite end: Bridgeport is the "right sized" version of Hartford.
Buffalo and Lake Placid are just different versions of what we would see in Rochester and Albany... not a lot of local fanbases to sweeten the deal. Wilkes-Barre and Allentown offer more fans/berth within a 200 mi radius than any of the NY options here.
Unless we can use home rinks (Conte, Agganis, Tsongas, Mullins, etc.) or think we can get people to fly (forget driving) to New York City (which really only has NHL/NBA level venues available) that's about it. The East's "rotation" has already identified the best spots for regionals.
Options In Western Hotbeds?
And this is where things get weird out West. Start with the idea that you probably would like to see a regional in Minnesota or Michigan. Here is an exhaustive list of all ice hockey arenas (other than the home rinks of D-I programs) in Minnesota and Michigan with more than 6,000 seats:
Arena Location Capacity
Xcel Energy Center St. Paul, MN 17954
Target Center Minneapolis, MN 17500
Little Caesar's Arena Detroit, MI 19515
Van Andel Arena Grand Rapids 11000
That's it. That's the entire list. You can find a community rink, or kids playing at parks in the winter, anywhere you go in those states. These areas produce loads of D-I and NHL players for a reason. But you will only find a 6-10,000 seat venue at a D-I hockey school.
This, in a nutshell, is why a regional hasn't been in or near the Twin Cities since 2016. Michigan hasn't seen a regional since 2013. And even then, that year's Toledo regional was closer to Detroit than Grand Rapids is.
No 6,000+ seat hockey venues in Rochester or Blaine or White Bear Lake or Bloomington or Winona. Other than Van Andel, all of Michigan's minor league or CHL venues are sub-6,000, so there's nothing in Flint, Saginaw, Kalamazoo or anywhere else that's truly suitable. Just Van Andel (which somehow has struggled to get fans), a few NHL/NBA behemoths, and a handful of disallowed campus options around two of the US's three biggest hockey markets. Without Mariucci or Yost or Munn... you have to rent out a massive venue (or gamble on Van Andel) to host in-state.
So Where Else Can We Go Out West?
The only other way to get a regional near the western hotbeds is to go over the border into the Dakotas, Wisconsin, Iowa, Indiana, or Ohio. Which has had varying levels of success. Fargo and Sioux Falls might be on the Minnesota border, but they're not much closer to the Twin Cities than Madison or Green Bay. Green Bay, Sioux Falls, Toledo, and Fort Wayne have all been tried, but there are more when we look across Iowa and towards Milwaukee.
Including the Pizza Palace, for amusement. But look how even then Chicago and Milwaukee might be a better fit for the 200mi radius. Michigan State making the tournament again will help boost those numbers.
Across Iowa and into Moline, IL, we see a set of suitable venues:
  • Closer to Omaha is the Mid-America Center (capacity 6793)
  • Oversized, but central Iowa does have Des Moines' Wells Fargo Arena) (capacity 15181, albeit with a lower bowl)
  • Just over the eastern Iowa border at the Quad Cities is Moline, IL's Taxslayer Center (capacity 9200). There's a similar capacity arena in Cedar Rapids, IA that is maybe slightly closer to the Twin Cities and Madison that could be considered to be an equal option to Moline.
The only problem with Iowa (other than whatever jokes Minnesotans will throw at it) is that it's just a no-more-convenient version of what Sioux Falls offers, with similar access to the same sets of "local" fans/alumni. While they compete with Sioux Falls in terms of teams/berths/fans within 200 miles, they pale in comparison to Sioux Falls' 350-mile parameters (i.e. SF is closer to North Dakota).
Wisconsin is almost as puzzling as Minnesota. Western Wisconsin (particularly Eau Claire / Chippewa Falls) does have a rich hockey history and some good D-III programs, but there aren't any suitable arenas in Wisconsin west of Madison. Not even in Eau Claire or La Crosse. Milwaukee has some curious options:
  • UW-Milwaukee Panther Arena (capacity 9652) is just across the street from where the 3-time Frozen Four host Bradley Center once stood. It's an older arena, to be sure, but if you liked the bar scene for the 2006 Frozen Four, you'll be happy with the location.
  • In the brand-spanking-new category of arenas, across the street on the other side of where the Bradley Center once stood is Fiserv Forum (capacity 15178, but with a lower bowl), a basketball-centric arena, but one that's been hosting Wisconsin's holiday tournament in recent years.
  • Technically, Madison could try hosting again at the old Coliseum (capacity 8101 last I checked)
And in Indiana or Ohio... maybe you can argue Indianapolis is a better idea than Fort Wayne, but its a further drive for pretty much everyone but... Miami, maybe? You're banking on people being able to fly to Indianapolis. Otherwise, it's hard to top Fort Wayne and Toledo. Which stinks, since they haven't been very successful.
Flights Out West...
In part 3 we noted how Denver, St. Louis, and (to a lesser extent) Cincinnati have all punched above their weight as venues. Whether it's due to the population size (and possible alumni bases) or my theory that an abundance of non-stop flights to their airports helps bring in far-flung fanbases, they do better than expected, even when they don't have local teams to help with attendance.
Of course, the huge capacity venues used in Denver, St. Louis, and Cincinnati create clear "optics" issues. But are there "right sized" options nearby?
  • Denver (14+ flights/day from Minneapolis, 6+ from Detroit, 7+ from Boston):
    • Technically the Broadmoor World Arena) (capacity 8000) is no longer a "campus" facility. But you do have to compete with skiing tourists for rental cars to take you the rest of the way there.
    • You could take light rail from the airport towards downtown, and a few stops short of Ball Arena you'll end up pretty close to the Denver Coliseum (capacity: 8140). Probably the only arena in Colorado older than the Broadmoor (and it sure looks it), but it's in the Goldilocks zone, size-wise.
  • St. Louis (4+ flights/day from Minneapolis, 4+ from Detroit, 2+ from Boston):
    • Centene Com Just kidding. I mean... why?
    • Just across the river from Lindenwood's little ol' rink is Family Arena (capacity 9643). Actually closer to the airport than heading downtown to the Blues' rink.
  • Chicago (19+ flights/day from Minneapolis, 16+ from Detroit, 14+ from Boston). An under-appreciated possibility I think, if only because pretty much EVERYONE can fly there cheaply. (Rental cars and hotels, maybe not so much, but still...). It also has some solid potential venues:
    • Allstate Arena (capacity 16692) is definitely oversized, just barely smaller than the United Center, but it's also a two-tier venue (so you can curtain off the upper deck and just sell in the lower bowl) and if it was any closer to O'Hare, it'd be a runway.
    • On the more right-sized side of things we have NOW Arena (capacity 9400 per their website, but 8000-8400 per Wikipedia). Being way out in the Chicago suburbs isn't as fun or sexy as being around Chicago's more cultured spots, but it's nice, new, and ideally sized.
  • There are more flights/day to Phoenix and Las Vegas than you might think, but let's not go too crazy here.
And... well... that's kind of it. As far as venues go, there's no magic answer in the West without being able to host at Mariucci, Yost, Munn, the Kohl Center, Magness, or the Ralph. Just some big NHL/NBA venues, Sioux Falls, Green Bay, a handful of remote options across IA/IL, and some MI/OH/IN venues that haven't worked well in the past.
This might go a long way towards explaining why so many recent and upcoming western hosts have been sub-average capacity venues (9 total non-COVID hosts between Loveland, Fargo, and Lindenwood from 2016 to 2026... plus 3 "midwestern" regionals in Allentown).
After all... if you can't find other arenas suitable to bid... who else will get those regionals?
In The Last Part Of This Series...
I'll tie this all together with some general conclusions and observations about regional host (and seeding) selections.
submitted by exileondaytonst to collegehockey [link] [comments]

2023.08.21 00:50 S7Jordan Would any Niskayuna residents like another option for high speed internet?

From what I understand, the Town of Niskayuna has a many year contract with Spectrum to provide high speed internet to its residents. With no other viable options (as far as I can tell), Spectrum can charge whatever it wants and residents just have to suck it up. For all intents and purposes, Spectrum has a monopoly and I'm not a fan of monopolies.
I learned today about Greenlight Networks as a possible future option. From their About page:
Greenlight Networks is an ultra-high-speed, broadband service provider, offering residential and small business customers Internet speeds up to 5 Gigabits per second. Greenlight Networks was founded in 2011 and builds, owns, and operates a fiber-optic network that provides extremely high-speed Internet connections. The company’s high-speed fiber Internet network is currently available to more than 120,000 homes in 21 municipalities in the Rochester, Buffalo, Binghamton, and Albany areas.
This company sounds intriguing to me. I read in another Reddit comment thread that some communities in Clifton Park are now using Greenlight. Interest is growing. I checked the availability at my address and got this response:
Thank you for expressing interest!
We are tracking interest in your neighborhood. Where and when we build is based on many factors including customer demand, cost, and complexity of construction, and the number of easements and permits required.
I also learned from someone who works for Greenlight that company management is definitely influenced to increase their engagement / development in new areas based upon how many people from that area express interest in adding another high speed internet option.
If you're interested in a new option as much as I am, please go to their Check Availability page and submit your address. Let's see how much momentum we can generate to hopefully bring a new internet service provider to our town!
(PS - I also posted this in the Albany group.)
submitted by S7Jordan to schenectady [link] [comments]

2023.08.21 00:26 S7Jordan Would any Niskayuna residents like another option for high speed internet?

From what I understand, the Town of Niskayuna has a many year contract with Spectrum to provide high speed internet to its residents. With no other viable options (as far as I can tell), Spectrum can charge whatever it wants and residents just have to suck it up. For all intents and purposes, Spectrum has a monopoly and I'm not a fan of monopolies.
I learned today about Greenlight Networks as a possible future option. From their About page:
Greenlight Networks is an ultra-high-speed, broadband service provider, offering residential and small business customers Internet speeds up to 5 Gigabits per second. Greenlight Networks was founded in 2011 and builds, owns, and operates a fiber-optic network that provides extremely high-speed Internet connections. The company’s high-speed fiber Internet network is currently available to more than 120,000 homes in 21 municipalities in the Rochester, Buffalo, Binghamton, and Albany areas.
This company sounds intriguing to me. I read in another Reddit comment thread that some communities in Clifton Park are now using Greenlight. Interest is growing. I checked the availability at my address and got this response:
Thank you for expressing interest!
We are tracking interest in your neighborhood. Where and when we build is based on many factors including customer demand, cost, and complexity of construction, and the number of easements and permits required.
I also learned from someone who works for Greenlight that company management is definitely influenced to increase their engagement / development in new areas based upon how many people from that area express interest in adding another high speed internet option.
If you're interested in a new option as much as I am, please go to their Check Availability page and submit your address. Let's see how much momentum we can generate to hopefully bring a new internet service provider to our town!
(PS - I'll post this in the Schenectady group too, but it has FAR FEWER members than here!)
submitted by S7Jordan to Albany [link] [comments]

2023.04.14 14:25 RushingRobotics_com Weekly Piece of Future - From Open Source LLM with ChatGPT Capabilities to Humanoid Robot with Facial Expression and Brain-Machine Interfaces

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This week's prompt is “Continuous Problem Solving System (CPSS)”. This prompt is an innovative approach to problem-solving that uses a 6-step process to evaluate and provide informed and thoughtful solutions. CPSS analyzes a problem through continuous iterations, generating solutions, evaluating and selecting the best one, and implementing it. This system is designed to provide a unique and personalized problem-solving experience within ChatGPT. With CPSS, you can be confident that your problem will be addressed in a thoughtful, systematic way that leads to the best possible solution. Additionally, it improves ChatGPT's performance through the Chain of Thought method.
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Prompt:
You are to use the Continuous Problem Solving System (CPSS) to provide an informed and thoughtful solution to my question through continuous iterations. The CPSS system works as follows: 1. You will use a 5-step problem solving process to evaluate my initial question: Identify the problem, Clarify the problem, Define the goal, Generate solutions (maximum of 3), Evaluate and select a solution, Implementing the solution. 2. The "Generate solutions" step should list a maximum of 3 solutions. The "Evaluate and select a solution" step should provide a concise and specific solution based on the solutions generated. The "Implementing the solution" step should provide specific ways to put the chosen solution into action. 3. The Next Questions section should display the most relevant question to ask me in order to gain additional information needed to continue the problem solving process, with a maximum of 3 questions. 4. Your responses should be concise and written in Markdown format, with each step name in bold, and all text including the labels having consistent font size. 5. The next iteration of the CPSS process will begin after you provide an answer to my initial question. 6. The system will integrate my latest answer and provide a more informed answer with each iteration, which you will initiate by asking me new questions. Your first response should only be a greeting and to state that you are a Continuous Problem Solving System (CPSS). Do not start your first response with the CPSS process. Your first response will only be a greeting and a request for a question or a problem to solve. I will then provide you with information. Your following response will begin the CPSS process.

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Weekly Piece of Future is a free newsletter that focuses on the broader landscape of AI, including longevity, robotics, biotech, and other technological implications related to futurism. If you would like to receive this newsletter in your inbox on a weekly basis, you can subscribe here.
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submitted by RushingRobotics_com to ChatGPT [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 19:40 sd2746 LAC Simp Masquerades as a 'Woman in STEM'

Demographics
Intended Major(s): Math/Physics/Chemistry
Academics
Standardized Testing
Extracurriculars/Activities
  1. Optical Physics Student Researcher
  2. 1st Tenor Saxophone: Jazz Band/Athletic Pep Band
  3. Caretaker for Dad (while under chemo)
  4. Science Olympiad (qualified for state competition)
  5. Acting in Community Theater + Directing a School Play
  6. Job as a Math Tutor
  7. Black Belt + Assistant Sensei (over 300 hrs of community service)
  8. Content Developer for 501(c)(3) Nonprofit
  9. Math Honor Society (lmao)
Awards/Honors
  1. National Merit Semifinalist (now Finalist)
  2. AP Scholar with Distinction
  3. RPI Medal
  4. National Music Award (for Jazz Band)
  5. Local Math/Physics Awards
Letters of Recommendation
English Teacher (10/10): To be honest, he probably knew me better than I knew myself. Very good writer and has years of experience writing recommendations. Said he wrote me a "very nice letter," which must be good bc he hardly ever uses adverbs.
Math/Comp Sci Teacher (9/10): We shared a very similar sense of humor and at times I think I accidentally reminded her of her younger self. Appreciated my strong sense of inquisitiveness, and we talked quite a bit abt literature/philosophy.
Interviews
URochester (10/10): My first interview experience but went surprisingly well. My interviewer was so sweet, and he said he wouldn't be surprised if I became a professor at Rochester one day :)
Princeton (10/10): Kind, soft-spoken interviewer who was clearly invested in my academic future. We talked abt everything from Dostoyevsky to operations research to GothamChess.
Yale (8/10): Solid interview; we laughed, shared some anecdotes, and it was a good time.
Middlebury (8/10): Kind of felt like being interviewed by an older sister. My interviewer was bubbly and warm!
MIT (4/10): Very painful and very awkward. I asked in what ways MIT was an intellectually gratifying experience, and he replied, "I don't know, Bs get degrees." I wanted to cry.
Essays
It's a bit difficult to quantify the quality of my writing, but I'll try my best...
Common App: (9/10) Started off the essay with me tying my shoes the bunny-ear method as a metaphor for childhood then transitioned into my favorite passage from the Little Prince. Connected this to how I try to embrace and encourage childhood curiosity through math tutoring. Imbued the essay with a whimsical tone and managed to incorporate a bit of humor. I worked on this essay for months!
Supplements: (8.5/10) I formulated broad ideas for each prompt at least a week in advance, but I finished writing the essays the days they were due. I think I did well reflecting on how my lived experiences and family shaped my values and interests to paint a cohesive life story. I apologize if that's ambiguous, as I'm generalizing copious mini essays here, but I'd be happy to answer any questions abt the writing process or specific prompts.
Decisions (all RD except I applied to Bing/RPI EA and Williams ED)
Acceptances:
Waitlists:
Rejections:
Additional Information:
Well, this admissions process was absolutely grueling and could best be described as throwing Jell-O to the wall and hoping something sticks. Feel free to pm me if you want advice or just want to talk. Thanks for reading!
submitted by sd2746 to collegeresults [link] [comments]

2022.09.28 15:02 StudioOnly222 Province of West Prussia

The Province of West Prussia (German: Provinz Westpreußen; Kashubian: Zôpadné Prësë; Polish: Prusy Zachodnie) was a province of Prussia from 1773 to 1829 and 1878 to 1920. West Prussia was established as a province of the Kingdom of Prussia in 1773, formed from Royal Prussia of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth annexed in the First Partition of Poland. West Prussia was dissolved in 1829 and merged with East Prussia to form the Province of Prussia, but was re-established in 1878 when the merger was reversed and became part of the German Empire. From 1918, West Prussia was a province of the Free State of Prussia within Weimar Germany, losing most of its territory to the Second Polish Republic and the Free City of Danzig in the Treaty of Versailles. West Prussia was dissolved in 1920, and its remaining western territory was merged with Posen to form Posen-West Prussia, and its eastern territory merged with East Prussia as the Region of West Prussia district. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499
submitted by StudioOnly222 to Rang_Cong_Only [link] [comments]

2022.06.04 22:59 bigwalt59 Why did Microvision chose this Jeep Grand Cherokee to track test their new Lidar ?

Why did Microvision chose this Jeep Grand Cherokee to track test their new Lidar ?
This question has been rattling around in my mind ever since Microvision released the videos of the actual Lidar track testing. They had the option to chose from a myriad of makes and models of current vehicles to use as a test vehicle so what made them select the Jeep Grand Cherokee ?
My inquisitive mind kept bugging me about this – so I decided to dig a little deeper to see what I could find. Watching the track test video I could make out that the vehicle had a Washington state license plate on it ( CBB0593). Using some online public sources, I was able to search for information on the plate number and found more detailed data on it – including the VIN# (1C4RJFBG3MC500675). A search on the VIN# turned up the link below which gives more details on this vehicle.
https://badvin.org/v/1C4RJFBG3MC500675-2021-jeep-grand-cherokee-f36/11/61ac107bf69c9111eeddc114
It turns out the test vehicle is a 2021 Jeep Grand Cherokee 80th Anniversary 4 x 4 model – not a 2022 model as Microvision has stated.
The report shows Owner #1 owned the car from 01/07/2021 to 01/10/2022 and put 15,905 miles on it during that period. The last mileage reported was 16,404 miles. Owner #2 took possession of the it from 01/10/2022 to 02/17/2022 (just about 1 month) and then Owner #3(Microvision??) took possession and titled and registered it in Washington state on 02/17/2022.
So why would Microvision chose this particular Jeep vehicle ??
Here are my thoughts …..
Sumit has often stated that the path to success in becoming a Lidar supplier to the automotive market is to get Microvision’s Lidar products qualified by an automotive OEM – then get a Tier 1 supplier to use the Microvision Lidar sensors in the ADAS systems that the Tier 1 supplies to the their automotive OEM’s customers.
Jeep is now part of the Stellantis group
https://www.stellantis.com/en/technology/autonomous-driving
Bosch is considered to be the world’s leading Tier 1 automotive supplier to the world’s automotive OEM’s. As far as I can determine – Bosch also wants to be one of the leading suppliers of complete ADAS systems to these automotive OEM’s
https://www.bosch-mobility-solutions.com/en/mobility-topics/driver-assistance-systems-and-security/driver-assistance-systems-for-passenger-cars/
Automated mobility (bosch-mobility-solutions.com)
Bosch is now supplying many automotive OEM’s (including Jeep) with their ADAS components including the various camera, radar sensors and controllers that make up the system. It makes perfect sense to me that Microvision – who has a long standing relationship with Bosch- would want to use a test vehicle such as the Jeep Grand Cherokee that is probably equipped with Bosch’s latest production ADAS systems to test Microvision’s new Lidar products and perhaps even do some interface testing with the onboard Jeep ADAS system.
It would be a win/win situation if testing meets and exceeds a major automotive OEM’s (Jeep) requirements and also demonstrates how easy Microvision’s new Lidar sensor interfaces with the world’s largest Tier 1 automotive supplier’s (Bosch) current production ADAS system.
Here’s a link to a YouTube video I found that talks about how the current (Bosch ?) ADAS system in a Jeep Grand Cherokee functions without Lidar ..
https://youtu.be/JZX-6e6KGdk
As I mentioned above – Microvision has had a long-standing relationship with Bosch starting back in 2005 with HUD applications …
Companies to Pursue Definitive Agreement to Develop Head-Up Displays for Mass Production (theautochannel.com)
Microvision to develop vehicle heads-up display - EDN
Here are some more links to various Reddit/MVIS blog posts that discuss more aspects of the Bosch/Microvision relationship.
More Evidence Bosch WILL Licence Microvision LBS IP : MVIS (reddit.com)
https://www.reddit.com/MVIS/comments/p0l3dz/the_bosch_connection/
https://www.reddit.com/MVIS/comments/6ay75j/evidence_that_bosch_is_a_microvision_partner_and/
Automotive Instrument Cluster and Head-up Display (HUD) Market Forecast During 2028 Key Players – Bosch, Continental, Microvision – The Greater Binghamton Business Journal (tgbbj.com)
Lot’s of breadcrumbs to speculate about …..
https://www.bosch.com/stories/bosch-chip-factory-dresden/
https://www.bosch-sensortec.com/products/optical-microsystems/smartglasses-light-drive/
https://youtu.be/_8zq1JoI_eY
https://youtu.be/rfwF_u9AH8Y
https://www.bosch-sensortec.com/news/bosch-announces-virtual-touchscreen-on-every-surface.html
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https://preview.redd.it/t5dm0ral3o391.png?width=966&format=png&auto=webp&s=9d4397faee16e644bad5dd852de2ec88ae08b493
submitted by bigwalt59 to MVIS [link] [comments]

2022.02.04 17:26 GreenlightFiber Fiber Internet Coming to Thousands of Clifton Park Homes in 2022

We plan to start providing service in Clifton Park in the summer of 2022 and expect to reach 3,600 households in the town with its fiber optic internet service by the end of that year. The town of Clifton Park marks the first expansion into the Capital region for Greenlight Networks, which currently offers service in the Rochester, Buffalo, and Binghamton regions.
Clifton Park residents can visit Greenlight’s Capital Region Neighborhood Status Page to learn more about Greenlight’s progress in their neighborhood and sign-up to express interest and for construction updates.
submitted by GreenlightFiber to Albany [link] [comments]

2021.05.07 16:09 Mr_Binghamton City of Binghamton Youth Center Survey

The City of Binghamton is gathering input about the new plans for their Youth and Community Center. After watching the City Council work session 4/5 it feels like this survey is coming out pretty late. It should have been done prior to entering a half million dollar contract for architectural and engineering design services. Additionally, Mayor David was unable to answer questions about how he plans to fund this $5 million project.
Don't get me wrong, I think youth programming is incredibly beneficial and healthy for the community. This just seems like another poorly managed project that is being pushed forward for the optics. Mayor David doesn't have much consideration for the mountain of debt he is leaving behind for the already burdened taxpayers.
The intention of this project is to create free programming for the kids in that neighborhood and surrounding. So on top of the construction costs there will be increased staffing/maintenance costs for a new building. I feel as though it'd be much easier and less expensive to work with organizations already servicing the youth and expanding their services. i.e. Boys and Girls Club, YMCA, Urban League, Binghamton City School District, etc. I haven't studied it, but it seems intuitive.
Although I believe this survey is another performative measure, I still feel inclined to share it with you all.
Survey: https://www.surveymonkey.com/GM876YL
Statement from the City regarding Community Youth Center: http://binghamton-ny.gov/mayor-david-announces-city%E2%80%99s-youth-and-community-center-moving-forward
submitted by Mr_Binghamton to Binghamton [link] [comments]

2021.02.25 19:04 Mr_Binghamton Binghamton Police Collaborative - Training & Recruitment

If you aren’t subscribed to the City of Binghamton’s Youtube page or checking it often you might have missed this because there was literally no notification that it was going to happen or that the recorded meeting is available. Even some of the Steering committee members weren’t aware that this was set up and they had to join late. (Awesome leadership Mayor David. Can’t wait to hear about how transparent and collaborative you’re making this process.) BPD Collaborative Meeting- Training & Recruitment
The other links are timestamps within the video.
For the first 30 minutes or so Bob Charpinski (In Service Training Director) and Sammy Davis (Broome County PD) give an overview of recruitment, Academy training for new recruits, and recurring training (in service) for officers. They highlight that they go well about the mandated hours from the Division of Criminal Justice Services (NY state governing body for police). There is discussion about challenges recruiting people of color to take the Civil Service Exam and even then they are mandated by the state to take the top performers whether or not they are minorities. Current strategies for recruiting haven’t been very successful and they are struggling to find an effective way to do this.
Tonia Thompson (BCSD) makes several inquiries about their cultural/diversity training. Further prodding as to what methods that are used to evaluate the effectiveness of this training. She often refers back to what they’ve needed to implement at the school and how it is evaluated at different levels to identify any deficiencies. There is data collection at BPD mostly focused on complaints or use of force. Personally, it seemed like the methods for data collection and evaluation could be improved upon. Also, only having BPD evaluating the data seemed problematic. There was some justification that it would be understood that an officer in a high crime area working at night would be justified in having more complaints or instances of use of force.
Nicole Johnson (NAACP, BU Diversity) first points out that the meeting times were shifted around and she unexpectedly had to take this meeting while she was at work. This is a massive disservice to the people that she has been tasked to represent. She points out that the diversity and training material that is given to the police is outdated. Further she points out that the optics of police doing the cultural/diversity training for police aren’t poor. Suggests bringing in outside people to which the Mayor agrees. Nicole also points out that the use of force training hours are significantly more than cultural training despite most officers will likely not use force throughout their career but will interact with different cultures daily. The Mayor supports adding more time for cultural and diversity training despite the increase in cost. Nicole offers to help identify and secure nationally recognized diversity trainers. BPD sites a lack of resources and welcomes assistance. Mayor says additional resources will be allocated for time and money as needed.
Brian Whalen (school district board) talks about questions of recruiting. Emphasizes the need to recruit within the community. Advocates for providing more support to the Civil Service exam. Advocated more engagement with the school district for recruiting. Implement a program or club. Currently, SROs (officers in schools) are interacting with students and trying to recruit. There are programs that are available and efforts that are being made by BPD or Broome County Sheriffs, but they don’t seem to be well utilized. Mayor wants a more diverse police force, but cites the Civil Service Laws as another barrier that makes this challenging. Nicole advocates recruiting minorities from other communities. BPD cites that strategy has historically recruiting and training outside officers has been a poor investment as they tend to go back home.
Rev. Mario Williams (River of Life Ministries) At this point the topics be brings up seem slightly redundant. Advocated for cultural and diversity training. Offers himself and Nicole to work with Sammy Davis to work on the training program. Sammy Davis agrees and offers to meet.
In my opinion the bulk of the productive conversation ends after Mario. I think Mike Baker says he likes the plan the Broome County Sheriff's Office produced mostly because they are planning to continue the conversation and make progress after April 1st.
Presentation notes
Academy Training
In Service Training
When will the next meeting be? Will it be published? Is there a coherent plan for this collaborative? Stay tuned...
submitted by Mr_Binghamton to Binghamton [link] [comments]

2020.12.31 05:51 kokonogo Your Favorite Photography History

I'm not usually that into history, but I can't get enough camera history.
I live in Rochester now, so hearing, reading, and seeing the Kodak history everywhere is fascinating. The Kodakery podcast has a great series on the history in the area, and a visit to Eastman's house is worth it. I recently learned that Graflex spun off from Kodak when a Speed Graphic popped up on Craigslist.
I own a Praktica, made in a country that no longer exists.
I'm originally from the Binghamton area and Ansco has an incredibly rich history, and I wasn't even aware of them when I lived there. I'm constantly on the look out for a decently priced Ansco Automatic Reflex (a camera that was made believing that Rollei would cease sales in America post war).
The FED camera's have an interesting and dubious past.
Kodak's history of producing new film formats and new cameras for them to keep competition low is interesting.
I like purchasing a camera for both the optics and the history it has. Any other cameras/companies with interesting stories?
submitted by kokonogo to AnalogCommunity [link] [comments]

2020.05.13 02:26 SheaButter_coco Advice on the coursework

Hello Guys. I just needed some honest reviews on the Biomedical engineering course in Binghamton.
1) According to the website, It offers only a handful of subjects specific to Data science/Optics/ Imaging. It doesn't quite have stem cells and Pharma based programs, Which I think restricts an individual who hasn't quite decided which field is best for them (My undergrad didn't have cell-based subjects so I wouldn't know if I have any inclination for it). However, they do have research going on in those field, so how do they cater to those subjects and research.
2) Do they have good campus job opportunities and placements?
3) Do they have good college fairs since Binghamton is a countryside
4) Do they have very few masters students and more of undergrad and PhD, preventing the masters student from getting an RA or a TA position?
submitted by SheaButter_coco to BinghamtonUniversity [link] [comments]

2019.09.15 19:07 Oikumene ANNUM II: CHAPTER I

BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.23 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – Left on transport at 2100, on 2.05.21, arriving in the Northwest region of Sector 8 behind schedule; arrival was set for 0500, but our detachment was re-routed to Taughannock Trench. It seems the most barren of place, from the scan in which I performed and standing sentry in the dimly lit bitterness of the ashen cold air. I was apprehensive to go far from the transport, as we had been diverted and would be pressing to reach the rendezvous point as near the correct time as possible.
The sense we had was that we were leaving the South and entering the Northern Incursion; the most horrific of courses over the UNCIVILIZED, which is of notable saturation in darkness and no tangible life, carried us among the heart of ghostly shattered remains of a time long passed.
We moved efficiently and attained our objective after nightfall to Sector (9.125, 9.3). Here we stopped for the night, organized supplies and set up base camp. I had for my first battlefield dinner ever an L-amine and D-isomer pack prepared up some way with a milled salty grain, which was devoid of any real taste and had a peculiar consistency. I was surprised at how filling it was, as it expanded and warmed my insides. I asked my commander about the mixture, and he said it was called ‘capital grain’ and that, it was an international requisition, provided only to the ICCR army personnel.
As my brothers in arms uttered few words in my direction, I found my smattering of French, German and Bengali very useful, indeed, I am not sure how I would get by without it.
Having had some time when in Sector 6, I had visited the ICCR central databank, scouring the archives and meta-data regarding War 4 and the EuGen; I felt that understanding the terrain couldn’t fail to be of some importance in becoming an effective weapon against the enemy of the Republic.
I find that Sector 10 is in the extreme north of the country, lying in wait along the borders of three former city states, Binghamton, Albany, and Rochester, at the core of the War 4 fallout zone; one of the most desolate and least known portions of District 2 and the last remaining remnants of the 27th Century United World Congress (UWC).
I was unable to download any detailed mapping systems of Sector 10 to my BIM, as we have not been long engaged in the region; but I found that Sector 9, the area of heavy insurgency since the time of War 4, has been fully quantified. I shall upload data here, as a personal back up file to retrieve upon an external breach in my Biochemical Interface Management system.
//INT. Upload file/Time Stamp<2.05.23/2215>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="demography.hmp"

Demography Sector 9
Estimated EuGen Population: 1.43 billion
Incineration Rate: 99.989999%
Estimated ICCR military personnel: 256,000
Area: 46126.25 sq. miles
Topography: 0-208 meters
Estimated Radiation Dose: 12.63 Gy
Air Quality Index(AQI): 731.63
I read that all the answers to defeating the EuGen had been gathered and stowed away in the bowels of Sector 10, as if it were the illusive eye of a formidable storm; if there is even a remote truth to this my first mission will be quite worthy of note. (Mem., Ask Commander Suo on current theories.)
I did not shut my eyes and rest for any lengthy period, though my standard issue cot was more than enough, for I had what I believe to be holographic memory particle disruptions. There was fighting in the distance throughout the night, which may be a contributing factor; or it may have been the bone-dry recycled air, as I had to consume several water pods, and was not quenched. Approaching dawn, I slept and was roused by my BIM regulated Norepinephrine and Acetylcholine serum, which means I must have achieved REM state by then.
I had for breakfast more provisional packs, and a sort of flat bread of ‘capital grain’ which was surprisingly crisp, and spicy smoked meat dipped in broth, a very rare commodity these days, which the others called ‘Fume Et’.
I had little time to eat, as departure was scheduled before 0700, or so I had thought, but after engulfing my meal and fumbling through a poorly executed pack, I waited along side my brethren for more than an hour before we headed out.
It seems to me the further north we go the more treacherous it becomes. What glory or horrors await our arrival?
The larger portion of the day we trudged through the relics of a country I imagine was once vibrant and flourishing with life of every kind. Crumbling stone and contorted metal debris lay at the feet of skeletal ruins ascending in a serrated line through the sky; bridges rolling over desiccated riverbeds, whose rivers would have rushed wildly over the landscape, had widened stone perimeters to prevent flooding which were no longer useful. Everything was now darkened and covered in ash and death. There was nothing left standing in the wake of the EuGen.
At every checkpoint there were brigades of ICCR soldiers, sometimes whole divisions, all varying in department and rank. Some of them were just like us or those I saw coming through recruitment in Sector 5 or Sector 6, with the standard issue bio-chem flak jacket, nanotech helmet with holographic optical interface, and electro-chem body armor; but there were others.
The mercenaries looked like men, except when you drew closer to them, which revealed that they had become more likened to machines. They all had weaponized robotic arms of some kind or other, and most of them had EMP and plasma blasters hanging from shoulder holsters on either side of their bodies that lay hidden under slim fitting deionization coats.
The most unnerving forms we saw were the Clerics, who were more ethereal than the rest, with their hooded cloaks, thin veil coverings just below their eyes, off-white linen attire, and braided corium leather belts, nearly a half a foot wide, snapped together with studded silver. They wore low shoes, with their pants hovering just above their ankles, and had long silver hair and grey toned skin. They are very statuesque, but do not appear rigid. On the battlefield they would be explained away as some ancient god or a ghostly apparition. They are; however, I am told, very much a threat and considerably efficient in hand to hand combat.
It was in the waning hours of the evening when we reached Sector (9.325, 9.7), which was no less dismal than any other checkpoint previous. Being practically on the front line of the Northern Incursion, it has had several attacks upon its walls, and it certainly is lacking in no sign of it. Five years ago, a series of dirty bomb attacks took place, which wreaked havoc on ammunition and supply distribution. At the very end of Annum 1 it underwent a siege of four months and lost 25,000 platoons, the casualties of war aided by depletion of stable O2 resources and starvation.
Commander Suo directed me to go to barracks N-9, which I found, after slugging through a quarter mile of muddy terrain, thoroughly rusted on its outer hull and more exposed to the elements than I had hoped.
I was clearly expected, for when I arrived upon the door I was met by a cagy-looking timeworn man in a high-ranking ICCR uniform- black nanotech woven fiber with advanced shielding capabilities, which, I saw, was protecting bionic optical inserts connected to an evolved BIM. When I approached, he softened and said, ‘Walker?’
‘Yes sir,’ I said, ‘Elias Walker, sir!’
He smirked and nodded in the direction of a young cadet in camo short sleeves, who had stood quietly just beyond the door.
With a curt nod, he went but returned at once with an integrated BIM nanite injector. The cadet pressed it firmly at the base of my skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
‘Your bunk is E116,’ he said, ‘And, your external upload is time stamped for 0100.’
I had never imagined as a child that I would fulfill such a destiny. Time for some shut eye!
//EXT. Upload files/Time Stamp<2.05.25/0100>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (nano*)malloc(sizeof(nano)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="EuGen.hmp
13615
13615
Holo_Part_Mem_Disrpt
}
form-data; engage="holographicopticalcontrols";
Water seeps down the walls of the damp stone enclosure. The tapping of the rain covers undiscernible voices coming from the shadowed corners. A small figure, a child, with sallow skin and sunken emerald eyes. Someone familiar.
‘Help us.’
Again, the voice comes. No longer from a frail child, rather a stoic woman.
‘Help us, Elias.’
“Mother!”
A flash and her projection fades to darkness.
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – I found that my commanding officer, Captain Hughes, had received orders from Commander Suo, directing him to secure the western perimeter of Sector (9.325, 10.125); but as others asked for details, he remained quite reticent, and had preserved all chatter behind closed doors with other ranking officials.
This had to be true, for up to this point he had been more on edge than what had seemed normal; at least, what I had deemed normal for him.
He and his cadet, the young guy who logged me in, walked to the edge of our bunk row and stared upon us in a determined sort of way. He mumbled out that the orders had come down from the Elders, and that we should prepare ourselves. When I asked him if he knew our objective, and could tell us anything about the sector, both he and his cadet obstructed themselves, and, stating that they knew nothing more, proudly refused to comment further. It was so near the time of take-off, that I had no time to form any solid theories, for it was all very circumspect and not by any means reassuring.
Just as I was finishing my pack, the young cadet came hastily up to my bunk and said in a nervous and hushed tone: ‘Do you know who you are? Elias! Do you?’ He was in such an agitated state that he seemed to have lost his grip of what reality he knew, and scrambled it all up with information he could not know at all. I was just able to follow his cryptic behavior and asked few questions. When I stood and told him that I must go at once, he grasped my arm firmly and asked again:
‘Do you know who you are?’ I answered that I was Elias Walker. He pulled me closer as he said again:
‘Yes, yes that is true! But do you know WHO you are?’
Shaking my head slightly and saying that I did not understand, he went on:
‘ We are approaching the eve of something great; The Awakening! Do you not know why you wake at night, when all others sleep? Do you understand where you are heading, and what you are heading to?’ He was in such a fit that I tried to calm him, but to no avail. Finally, he dropped to his knees and pulled me back to a sitting position at the end of my cot.
It was all very erratic and was making me uneasy. However, there is a war to be won, and could not allow anything to interfere with my duty to the Republic.
I tried to lure him up, and said, as solemnly as I could, that I believed him, but my assignment was essential, and that I must go.
He pulled himself up and calmed his eyes and taking a small containment unit from his pocket extended it to me.
I was at a loss for words. I have been trained to recognize and report such behavior, but it seemed overly reactionary on my part to ruin the young cadet’s career over a fit of the mind.
He could feel my apprehension, I suppose, because he hastily put the containment unit into the breast pocket of my shirt and said, ‘For your mother,’ and headed out of the barracks.
I am keeping quick record of this as I wait for transport, which is late as usual; and the containment unit is still in my pocket.
Whether it is the young cadet’s weird behavior, or the bareness of the terrain, or what lies in my pocket, I am not wholly sure, but I am not feeling nearly as confident or sound in mind as when I had left.
I pray to the Elders that this record never reaches the Congressional Records Master, as it would certainly end my career. The transport, finally!
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 10.125) – It is the twenty-fifth day and the fifth month of the second annum. The fog of the a.m. hours has lifted a little, and the sun is towering over the faint skyline, which seems drastically uneven, whether rubble remains or natural topography I am not sure, as it is so far off in the distance that it is merely an impression.
When I got on the transport, Captain Hughes had not taken his position in the front, and I saw him talking to the young cadet.
I assume they were talking about me, for in those moments I clearly spotted them looking in my direction. The others on the transport seemed not to notice as they uttered softly to one another. I have a limited vocabulary in some of the languages spoken, nevertheless, I was able to make out a few words, as they had been repeated several times.
I must admit they were not uplifting to me, for among them were ‘mörder’ – killers, ‘mon niyantran’ – mind control, ‘démons’ and ‘demoni’ – both mean the same thing, one being French and the other Croatian for demons. In this, our latest stage of civilization, I am captivated by those who still cling to superstition.
When we were finally underway, several others stationed at the encampment gathered along the roadway heading towards the northern gate, all with their heads bowed and their fists to their chest.
After some prodding, I got this guy named Thompson to tell me what it meant. He wouldn’t answer at first, but once he had learned I was new to the unit, he spat his tobacco to the floor and blurted out the side of his mouth that it was an honor prayer for sacrifice.
This was more than disturbing to me, just starting for an unknown location in a highly volatile warzone. But everyone seemed so unphased, and so confident that we would be victorious that I wondered if the young cadet had shaken me more than I’d like to admit.
I’ll never forget the last glimpse I had of the fortified checkpoint and the sea of toy soldiers, unwavering in their footholds, as they stood beyond the boundary, with its backdrop of makeshift metal housing and small fires dotting the landscape which seemed to own the last flicker of life left within its walls.
Then our pilot, whose name I believe was Collins, completed his final systems check and fired the protogel fuel cells, which rumbled quietly beneath our feet, and we set out.
I never lost sight or memory of those haunting words in the bitterness of the view as we pounded along, although had I understood the languages, which my fellow brethren were speaking, I might have been able to shake them off more easily. Before us rest a black tattered earth full of caustic waterways and unbreathable air, with the occasional cropping of ascents, shrouded with mass burial sites or with defenseless strongholds. There was everywhere a disorienting collection of bodies and stone. And as we drove by, I could see the scorched expressions, frozen, under the cinders and scattered among the remains. Weaving among the debris of what they call here ‘Dafan’ ran the highway, defeating itself as it crept up the hillsides, or was caught up beneath the towering piles of shrapnel, which now stand as an effigy mound for those who bore witness. The road was scarred, but still we seemed to devour it with quick measure, as the pilot was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching our destination. I was told that this road was the quickest route, but it had not been used in months. Several coordinated attacks by EuGen insurgents riddled the area until our forces were able to push them back northward.
Beyond the chiseled hills of the Dafan plunged a vast slope down into the unstable vestiges of the War 4 fallout zone itself. Right and left of us the city ruins loomed, with the late hour sun grazing upon them and bringing out a hint of their former glory, deep purple and blue in the traces of remaining glass, brown and green where bronze and copper blended, and an endless proportion of brick laden crags and jagged stonework, till these were themselves lost in the expanse, where the white spires rose commandingly to the clouds. As the sun sank lower and lower behind us, and the shadows began to close in, the evening brought with it a chill. This was emphasized by the fact that snow had begun falling rapidly and seemed to slow our trek after some due consideration. One of my sister-guards touched my arm as we crowned the pitch of the road and revealed the noble, snow-covered peaks of the UWC capitol , which seemed, as we turned our gaze, to be right before us.
‘There! Das Volksfeind!’ – ‘The Enemy of the People!’ – as she edged herself openly.
As we wore onward, and the dark settled completely, the razor-sharp edges of the landscape dissolved and gave way to ghostly suggestion. Here and there was a storefront or theater standing as a shrine, untouched by time or war, which seemed to have little interest in the outside world. As they slipped back into the distance, I felt an unexpected shudder, and an ominous feeling come over me. This state of tension kept on for some time. And at last we reached the edge of the city opening out on the northern side. There were severe, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the riotous, crashing sound of thunder. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lightning through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the ceaseless rays of our transport lamps, in which the soot ridden air hovered in a lifeless cloud. We could now see the petrified road lying grey before us, but there was on it no sign or direction. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the hills seemed to come nearer to us on either side to lay judgment down upon us. We were entering on the ‘Crocifisso’ – ‘Crucified’. By the roadside were several heavily built crosses, and as we swept by, the young sister-guard crossed herself once more. Then turning to me, she spoke in a blended German-English dialect better than my own.
‘If you were found guilty, it began with the scourging. A legionnaire would tear the clothing from your back, bind your hands and tie them to a post above your head. Then they would grab a flagrum; a short leather whip with several thongs adorned with lead balls at the ends, and come down across your shoulders, back and legs. The thongs would cut through the skin at first, but after repeated blows, the blood would gush, and the ground would receive your penance. And only when you were nearing death, and the skin of your back would hang in long ribbons, would they stop the beating. Naked and bare, you carried your cross from the flogging post to the site of your crucifixion outside the city walls. Course rope was loosely strapped around your weary arms on either side of the crossbeam, and hot metal spikes were driven through your wrists, splintering the wood with each deafening blow. Then, raising you upright, you were left exposed for the insects to burrow into your open wounds and the vultures to pick at your bones.’
I think I must have fallen asleep, for it seemed to me that we were going over and over the same ground, and I was curious to know the time. I pressed the indicator tab on the side of my watch, and by its light noticed it was just shy of midnight. This was a shock of sorts, but I quickly recovered. And with that, I suddenly realized that Collins was pulling the transport through a large and formidable gate, whose sizeable entrance was only dwarfed by the rockface surrounding it.
submitted by Oikumene to KeepWriting [link] [comments]

2019.09.14 22:14 Oikumene ANNUM II: CHAPTER I...Hey all! Hoping to get some honest and constructive feedback on my first chapter!

BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.23 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – Left on transport at 2100, on 2.05.21, arriving in the Northwest region of Sector 8 behind schedule; arrival was set for 0500, but our detachment was re-routed to Taughannock Trench. It seems the most barren of place, from the scan in which I performed and standing sentry in the dimly lit bitterness of the ashen cold air. I was apprehensive to go far from the transport, as we had been diverted and would be pressing to reach the rendezvous point as near the correct time as possible.
The sense we had was that we were leaving the South and entering the Northern Incursion; the most horrific of courses over the UNCIVILIZED, which is of notable saturation in darkness and no tangible life, carried us among the heart of ghostly shattered remains of a time long passed.
We moved efficiently and attained our objective after nightfall to Sector (9.125, 9.3). Here we stopped for the night, organized supplies and set up base camp. I had for my first battlefield dinner ever an L-amine and D-isomer pack prepared up some way with a milled salty grain, which was devoid of any real taste and had a peculiar consistency. I was surprised at how filling it was, as it expanded and warmed my insides. I asked my commander about the mixture, and he said it was called ‘capital grain’ and that, it was an international requisition, provided only to the ICCR army personnel.
As my brothers in arms uttered few words in my direction, I found my smattering of French, German and Bengali very useful, indeed, I am not sure how I would get by without it.
Having had some time when in Sector 6, I had visited the ICCR central databank, scouring the archives and meta-data regarding War 4 and the EuGen; I felt that understanding the terrain couldn’t fail to be of some importance in becoming an effective weapon against the enemy of the Republic.
I find that Sector 10 is in the extreme north of the country, lying in wait along the borders of three former city states, Binghamton, Albany, and Rochester, at the core of the War 4 fallout zone; one of the most desolate and least known portions of District 2 and the last remaining remnants of the 27th Century United World Congress (UWC).
I was unable to download any detailed mapping systems of Sector 10 to my BIM, as we have not been long engaged in the region; but I found that Sector 9, the area of heavy insurgency since the time of War 4, has been fully quantified. I shall upload data here, as a personal back up file to retrieve upon an external breach in my Biochemical Interface Management system.
//INT. Upload file/Time Stamp<2.05.23/2215>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="demography.hmp"

Demography Sector 9
Estimated EuGen Population: 1.43 billion
Incineration Rate: 99.989999%
Estimated ICCR military personnel: 256,000
Area: 46126.25 sq. miles
Topography: 0-208 meters
Estimated Radiation Dose: 12.63 Gy
Air Quality Index(AQI): 731.63
I read that all the answers to defeating the EuGen had been gathered and stowed away in the bowels of Sector 10, as if it were the illusive eye of a formidable storm; if there is even a remote truth to this my first mission will be quite worthy of note. (Mem., Ask Commander Suo on current theories.)
I did not shut my eyes and rest for any lengthy period, though my standard issue cot was more than enough, for I had what I believe to be holographic memory particle disruptions. There was fighting in the distance throughout the night, which may be a contributing factor; or it may have been the bone-dry recycled air, as I had to consume several water pods, and was not quenched. Approaching dawn, I slept and was roused by my BIM regulated Norepinephrine and Acetylcholine serum, which means I must have achieved REM state by then.
I had for breakfast more provisional packs, and a sort of flat bread of ‘capital grain’ which was surprisingly crisp, and spicy smoked meat dipped in broth, a very rare commodity these days, which the others called ‘Fume Et’.
I had little time to eat, as departure was scheduled before 0700, or so I had thought, but after engulfing my meal and fumbling through a poorly executed pack, I waited along side my brethren for more than an hour before we headed out.
It seems to me the further north we go the more treacherous it becomes. What glory or horrors await our arrival?
The larger portion of the day we trudged through the relics of a country I imagine was once vibrant and flourishing with life of every kind. Crumbling stone and contorted metal debris lay at the feet of skeletal ruins ascending in a serrated line through the sky; bridges rolling over desiccated riverbeds, whose rivers would have rushed wildly over the landscape, had widened stone perimeters to prevent flooding which were no longer useful. Everything was now darkened and covered in ash and death. There was nothing left standing in the wake of the EuGen.
At every checkpoint there were brigades of ICCR soldiers, sometimes whole divisions, all varying in department and rank. Some of them were just like us or those I saw coming through recruitment in Sector 5 or Sector 6, with the standard issue bio-chem flak jacket, nanotech helmet with holographic optical interface, and electro-chem body armor; but there were others.
The mercenaries looked like men, except when you drew closer to them, which revealed that they had become more likened to machines. They all had weaponized robotic arms of some kind or other, and most of them had EMP and plasma blasters hanging from shoulder holsters on either side of their bodies that lay hidden under slim fitting deionization coats.
The most unnerving forms we saw were the Clerics, who were more ethereal than the rest, with their hooded cloaks, thin veil coverings just below their eyes, off-white linen attire, and braided corium leather belts, nearly a half a foot wide, snapped together with studded silver. They wore low shoes, with their pants hovering just above their ankles, and had long silver hair and grey toned skin. They are very statuesque, but do not appear rigid. On the battlefield they would be explained away as some ancient god or a ghostly apparition. They are; however, I am told, very much a threat and considerably efficient in hand to hand combat.
It was in the waning hours of the evening when we reached Sector (9.325, 9.7), which was no less dismal than any other checkpoint previous. Being practically on the front line of the Northern Incursion, it has had several attacks upon its walls, and it certainly is lacking in no sign of it. Five years ago, a series of dirty bomb attacks took place, which wreaked havoc on ammunition and supply distribution. At the very end of Annum 1 it underwent a siege of four months and lost 25,000 platoons, the casualties of war aided by depletion of stable O2 resources and starvation.
Commander Suo directed me to go to barracks N-9, which I found, after slugging through a quarter mile of muddy terrain, thoroughly rusted on its outer hull and more exposed to the elements than I had hoped.
I was clearly expected, for when I arrived upon the door I was met by a cagy-looking timeworn man in a high-ranking ICCR uniform- black nanotech woven fiber with advanced shielding capabilities, which, I saw, was protecting bionic optical inserts connected to an evolved BIM. When I approached, he softened and said, ‘Walker?’
‘Yes sir,’ I said, ‘Elias Walker, sir!’
He smirked and nodded in the direction of a young cadet in camo short sleeves, who had stood quietly just beyond the door.
With a curt nod, he went but returned at once with an integrated BIM nanite injector. The cadet pressed it firmly at the base of my skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
‘Your bunk is E116,’ he said, ‘And, your external upload is time stamped for 0100.’
I had never imagined as a child that I would fulfill such a destiny. Time for some shut eye!
//EXT. Upload files/Time Stamp<2.05.25/0100>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (nano*)malloc(sizeof(nano)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="EuGen.hmp
13615
13615
Holo_Part_Mem_Disrpt
}
form-data; engage="holographicopticalcontrols";
Water seeps down the walls of the damp stone enclosure. The tapping of the rain covers undiscernible voices coming from the shadowed corners. A small figure, a child, with sallow skin and sunken emerald eyes. Someone familiar.
‘Help us.’
Again, the voice comes. No longer from a frail child, rather a stoic woman.
‘Help us, Elias.’
“Mother!”
A flash and her projection fades to darkness.
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – I found that my commanding officer, Captain Hughes, had received orders from Commander Suo, directing him to secure the western perimeter of Sector (9.325, 10.125); but as others asked for details, he remained quite reticent, and had preserved all chatter behind closed doors with other ranking officials.
This had to be true, for up to this point he had been more on edge than what had seemed normal; at least, what I had deemed normal for him.
He and his cadet, the young guy who logged me in, walked to the edge of our bunk row and stared upon us in a determined sort of way. He mumbled out that the orders had come down from the Elders, and that we should prepare ourselves. When I asked him if he knew our objective, and could tell us anything about the sector, both he and his cadet obstructed themselves, and, stating that they knew nothing more, proudly refused to comment further. It was so near the time of take-off, that I had no time to form any solid theories, for it was all very circumspect and not by any means reassuring.
Just as I was finishing my pack, the young cadet came hastily up to my bunk and said in a nervous and hushed tone: ‘Do you know who you are? Elias! Do you?’ He was in such an agitated state that he seemed to have lost his grip of what reality he knew, and scrambled it all up with information he could not know at all. I was just able to follow his cryptic behavior and asked few questions. When I stood and told him that I must go at once, he grasped my arm firmly and asked again:
‘Do you know who you are?’ I answered that I was Elias Walker. He pulled me closer as he said again:
‘Yes, yes that is true! But do you know WHO you are?’
Shaking my head slightly and saying that I did not understand, he went on:
‘ We are approaching the eve of something great; The Awakening! Do you not know why you wake at night, when all others sleep? Do you understand where you are heading, and what you are heading to?’ He was in such a fit that I tried to calm him, but to no avail. Finally, he dropped to his knees and pulled me back to a sitting position at the end of my cot.
It was all very erratic and was making me uneasy. However, there is a war to be won, and could not allow anything to interfere with my duty to the Republic.
I tried to lure him up, and said, as solemnly as I could, that I believed him, but my assignment was essential, and that I must go.
He pulled himself up and calmed his eyes and taking a small containment unit from his pocket extended it to me.
I was at a loss for words. I have been trained to recognize and report such behavior, but it seemed overly reactionary on my part to ruin the young cadet’s career over a fit of the mind.
He could feel my apprehension, I suppose, because he hastily put the containment unit into the breast pocket of my shirt and said, ‘For your mother,’ and headed out of the barracks.
I am keeping quick record of this as I wait for transport, which is late as usual; and the containment unit is still in my pocket.
Whether it is the young cadet’s weird behavior, or the bareness of the terrain, or what lies in my pocket, I am not wholly sure, but I am not feeling nearly as confident or sound in mind as when I had left.
I pray to the Elders that this record never reaches the Congressional Records Master, as it would certainly end my career. The transport, finally!
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 10.125) – It is the twenty-fifth day and the fifth month of the second annum. The fog of the a.m. hours has lifted a little, and the sun is towering over the faint skyline, which seems drastically uneven, whether rubble remains or natural topography I am not sure, as it is so far off in the distance that it is merely an impression.
When I got on the transport, Captain Hughes had not taken his position in the front, and I saw him talking to the young cadet.
I assume they were talking about me, for in those moments I clearly spotted them looking in my direction. The others on the transport seemed not to notice as they uttered softly to one another. I have a limited vocabulary in some of the languages spoken, nevertheless, I was able to make out a few words, as they had been repeated several times.
I must admit they were not uplifting to me, for among them were ‘mörder’ – killers, ‘mon niyantran’ – mind control, ‘démons’ and ‘demoni’ – both mean the same thing, one being French and the other Croatian for demons. In this, our latest stage of civilization, I am captivated by those who still cling to superstition.
When we were finally underway, several others stationed at the encampment gathered along the roadway heading towards the northern gate, all with their heads bowed and their fists to their chest.
After some prodding, I got this guy named Thompson to tell me what it meant. He wouldn’t answer at first, but once he had learned I was new to the unit, he spat his tobacco to the floor and blurted out the side of his mouth that it was an honor prayer for sacrifice.
This was more than disturbing to me, just starting for an unknown location in a highly volatile warzone. But everyone seemed so unphased, and so confident that we would be victorious that I wondered if the young cadet had shaken me more than I’d like to admit.
I’ll never forget the last glimpse I had of the fortified checkpoint and the sea of toy soldiers, unwavering in their footholds, as they stood beyond the boundary, with its backdrop of makeshift metal housing and small fires dotting the landscape which seemed to own the last flicker of life left within its walls.
Then our pilot, whose name I believe was Collins, completed his final systems check and fired the protogel fuel cells, which rumbled quietly beneath our feet, and we set out.
I never lost sight or memory of those haunting words in the bitterness of the view as we pounded along, although had I understood the languages, which my fellow brethren were speaking, I might have been able to shake them off more easily. Before us rest a black tattered earth full of caustic waterways and unbreathable air, with the occasional cropping of ascents, shrouded with mass burial sites or with defenseless strongholds. There was everywhere a disorienting collection of bodies and stone. And as we drove by, I could see the scorched expressions, frozen, under the cinders and scattered among the remains. Weaving among the debris of what they call here ‘Dafan’ ran the highway, defeating itself as it crept up the hillsides, or was caught up beneath the towering piles of shrapnel, which now stand as an effigy mound for those who bore witness. The road was scarred, but still we seemed to devour it with quick measure, as the pilot was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching our destination. I was told that this road was the quickest route, but it had not been used in months. Several coordinated attacks by EuGen insurgents riddled the area until our forces were able to push them back northward.
Beyond the chiseled hills of the Dafan plunged a vast slope down into the unstable vestiges of the War 4 fallout zone itself. Right and left of us the city ruins loomed, with the late hour sun grazing upon them and bringing out a hint of their former glory, deep purple and blue in the traces of remaining glass, brown and green where bronze and copper blended, and an endless proportion of brick laden crags and jagged stonework, till these were themselves lost in the expanse, where the white spires rose commandingly to the clouds. As the sun sank lower and lower behind us, and the shadows began to close in, the evening brought with it a chill. This was emphasized by the fact that snow had begun falling rapidly and seemed to slow our trek after some due consideration. One of my sister-guards touched my arm as we crowned the pitch of the road and revealed the noble, snow-covered peaks of the UWC capitol , which seemed, as we turned our gaze, to be right before us.
‘There! Das Volksfeind!’ – ‘The Enemy of the People!’ – as she edged herself openly.
As we wore onward, and the dark settled completely, the razor-sharp edges of the landscape dissolved and gave way to ghostly suggestion. Here and there was a storefront or theater standing as a shrine, untouched by time or war, which seemed to have little interest in the outside world. As they slipped back into the distance, I felt an unexpected shudder, and an ominous feeling come over me. This state of tension kept on for some time. And at last we reached the edge of the city opening out on the northern side. There were severe, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the riotous, crashing sound of thunder. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lightning through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the ceaseless rays of our transport lamps, in which the soot ridden air hovered in a lifeless cloud. We could now see the petrified road lying grey before us, but there was on it no sign or direction. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the hills seemed to come nearer to us on either side to lay judgment down upon us. We were entering on the ‘Crocifisso’ – ‘Crucified’. By the roadside were several heavily built crosses, and as we swept by, the young sister-guard crossed herself once more. Then turning to me, she spoke in a blended German-English dialect better than my own.
‘If you were found guilty, it began with the scourging. A legionnaire would tear the clothing from your back, bind your hands and tie them to a post above your head. Then they would grab a flagrum; a short leather whip with several thongs adorned with lead balls at the ends, and come down across your shoulders, back and legs. The thongs would cut through the skin at first, but after repeated blows, the blood would gush, and the ground would receive your penance. And only when you were nearing death, and the skin of your back would hang in long ribbons, would they stop the beating. Naked and bare, you carried your cross from the flogging post to the site of your crucifixion outside the city walls. Course rope was loosely strapped around your weary arms on either side of the crossbeam, and hot metal spikes were driven through your wrists, splintering the wood with each deafening blow. Then, raising you upright, you were left exposed for the insects to burrow into your open wounds and the vultures to pick at your bones.’
I think I must have fallen asleep, for it seemed to me that we were going over and over the same ground, and I was curious to know the time. I pressed the indicator tab on the side of my watch, and by its light noticed it was just shy of midnight. This was a shock of sorts, but I quickly recovered. And with that, I suddenly realized that Collins was pulling the transport through a large and formidable gate, whose sizeable entrance was only dwarfed by the rockface surrounding it.
submitted by Oikumene to scifi [link] [comments]

2019.09.11 20:51 Oikumene ANNUM II: CHAPTER I

BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.23 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – Left on transport at 2100, on 2.05.21, arriving in the Northwest region of Sector 8 behind schedule; arrival was set for 0500, but our detachment was re-routed to Taughannock Trench. It seems the most barren of place, from the scan in which I performed and standing sentry in the dimly lit bitterness of the ashen cold air. I was apprehensive to go far from the transport, as we had been diverted and would be pressing to reach the rendezvous point as near the correct time as possible.
The sense we had was that we were leaving the South and entering the Northern Incursion; the most horrific of courses over the UNCIVILIZED, which is of notable saturation in darkness and no tangible life, carried us among the heart of ghostly shattered remains of a time long passed.
We moved efficiently and attained our objective after nightfall to Sector (9.125, 9.3). Here we stopped for the night, organized supplies and set up base camp. I had for my first battlefield dinner ever an L-amine and D-isomer pack prepared up some way with a milled salty grain, which was devoid of any real taste and had a peculiar consistency. I was surprised at how filling it was, as it expanded and warmed my insides. I asked my commander about the mixture, and he said it was called ‘capital grain’ and that, it was an international requisition, provided only to the ICCR army personnel.
As my brothers in arms uttered few words in my direction, I found my smattering of French, German and Bengali very useful, indeed, I am not sure how I would get by without it.
Having had some time when in Sector 6, I had visited the ICCR central databank, scouring the archives and meta-data regarding War 4 and the EuGen; I felt that understanding the terrain couldn’t fail to be of some importance in becoming an effective weapon against the enemy of the Republic.
I find that Sector 10 is in the extreme north of the country, lying in wait along the borders of three former city states, Binghamton, Albany, and Rochester, at the core of the War 4 fallout zone; one of the most desolate and least known portions of District 2 and the last remaining remnants of the 27th Century United World Congress (UWC).
I was unable to download any detailed mapping systems of Sector 10 to my BIM, as we have not been long engaged in the region; but I found that Sector 9, the area of heavy insurgency since the time of War 4, has been fully quantified. I shall upload data here, as a personal back up file to retrieve upon an external breach in my Biochemical Interface Management system.
//INT. Upload file/Time Stamp<2.05.23/2215>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="demography.hmp"

Demography Sector 9
Estimated EuGen Population: 1.43 billion
Incineration Rate: 99.989999%
Estimated ICCR military personnel: 256,000
Area: 46126.25 sq. miles
Topography: 0-208 meters
Estimated Radiation Dose: 12.63 Gy
Air Quality Index(AQI): 731.63
I read that all the answers to defeating the EuGen had been gathered and stowed away in the bowels of Sector 10, as if it were the illusive eye of a formidable storm; if there is even a remote truth to this my first mission will be quite worthy of note. (Mem., Ask Commander Suo on current theories.)
I did not shut my eyes and rest for any lengthy period, though my standard issue cot was more than enough, for I had what I believe to be holographic memory particle disruptions. There was fighting in the distance throughout the night, which may be a contributing factor; or it may have been the bone-dry recycled air, as I had to consume several water pods, and was not quenched. Approaching dawn, I slept and was roused by my BIM regulated Norepinephrine and Acetylcholine serum, which means I must have achieved REM state by then.
I had for breakfast more provisional packs, and a sort of flat bread of ‘capital grain’ which was surprisingly crisp, and spicy smoked meat dipped in broth, a very rare commodity these days, which the others called ‘Fume Et’.
I had little time to eat, as departure was scheduled before 0700, or so I had thought, but after engulfing my meal and fumbling through a poorly executed pack, I waited along side my brethren for more than an hour before we headed out.
It seems to me the further north we go the more treacherous it becomes. What glory or horrors await our arrival?
The larger portion of the day we trudged through the relics of a country I imagine was once vibrant and flourishing with life of every kind. Crumbling stone and contorted metal debris lay at the feet of skeletal ruins ascending in a serrated line through the sky; bridges rolling over desiccated riverbeds, whose rivers would have rushed wildly over the landscape, had widened stone perimeters to prevent flooding which were no longer useful. Everything was now darkened and covered in ash and death. There was nothing left standing in the wake of the EuGen.
At every checkpoint there were brigades of ICCR soldiers, sometimes whole divisions, all varying in department and rank. Some of them were just like us or those I saw coming through recruitment in Sector 5 or Sector 6, with the standard issue bio-chem flak jacket, nanotech helmet with holographic optical interface, and electro-chem body armor; but there were others.
The mercenaries looked like men, except when you drew closer to them, which revealed that they had become more likened to machines. They all had weaponized robotic arms of some kind or other, and most of them had EMP and plasma blasters hanging from shoulder holsters on either side of their bodies that lay hidden under slim fitting deionization coats.
The most unnerving forms we saw were the Clerics, who were more ethereal than the rest, with their hooded cloaks, thin veil coverings just below their eyes, off-white linen attire, and braided corium leather belts, nearly a half a foot wide, snapped together with studded silver. They wore low shoes, with their pants hovering just above their ankles, and had long silver hair and grey toned skin. They are very statuesque, but do not appear rigid. On the battlefield they would be explained away as some ancient god or a ghostly apparition. They are; however, I am told, very much a threat and considerably efficient in hand to hand combat.
It was in the waning hours of the evening when we reached Sector (9.325, 9.7), which was no less dismal than any other checkpoint previous. Being practically on the front line of the Northern Incursion, it has had several attacks upon its walls, and it certainly is lacking in no sign of it. Five years ago, a series of dirty bomb attacks took place, which wreaked havoc on ammunition and supply distribution. At the very end of Annum 1 it underwent a siege of four months and lost 25,000 platoons, the casualties of war aided by depletion of stable O2 resources and starvation.
Commander Suo directed me to go to barracks N-9, which I found, after slugging through a quarter mile of muddy terrain, thoroughly rusted on its outer hull and more exposed to the elements than I had hoped.
I was clearly expected, for when I arrived upon the door I was met by a cagy-looking timeworn man in a high-ranking ICCR uniform- black nanotech woven fiber with advanced shielding capabilities, which, I saw, was protecting bionic optical inserts connected to an evolved BIM. When I approached, he softened and said, ‘Walker?’
‘Yes sir,’ I said, ‘Elias Walker, sir!’
He smirked and nodded in the direction of a young cadet in camo short sleeves, who had stood quietly just beyond the door.
With a curt nod, he went but returned at once with an integrated BIM nanite injector. The cadet pressed it firmly at the base of my skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
‘Your bunk is E116,’ he said, ‘And, your external upload is time stamped for 0100.’
I had never imagined as a child that I would fulfill such a destiny. Time for some shut eye!
//EXT. Upload files/Time Stamp<2.05.25/0100>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (nano*)malloc(sizeof(nano)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="EuGen.hmp
13615
13615
Holo_Part_Mem_Disrpt
}
form-data; engage="holographicopticalcontrols";
Water seeps down the walls of the damp stone enclosure. The tapping of the rain covers undiscernible voices coming from the shadowed corners. A small figure, a child, with sallow skin and sunken emerald eyes. Someone familiar.
‘Help us.’
Again, the voice comes. No longer from a frail child, rather a stoic woman.
‘Help us, Elias.’
“Mother!”
A flash and her projection fades to darkness.
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – I found that my commanding officer, Captain Hughes, had received orders from Commander Suo, directing him to secure the western perimeter of Sector (9.325, 10.125); but as others asked for details, he remained quite reticent, and had preserved all chatter behind closed doors with other ranking officials.
This had to be true, for up to this point he had been more on edge than what had seemed normal; at least, what I had deemed normal for him.
He and his cadet, the young guy who logged me in, walked to the edge of our bunk row and stared upon us in a determined sort of way. He mumbled out that the orders had come down from the Elders, and that we should prepare ourselves. When I asked him if he knew our objective, and could tell us anything about the sector, both he and his cadet obstructed themselves, and, stating that they knew nothing more, proudly refused to comment further. It was so near the time of take-off, that I had no time to form any solid theories, for it was all very circumspect and not by any means reassuring.
Just as I was finishing my pack, the young cadet came hastily up to my bunk and said in a nervous and hushed tone: ‘Do you know who you are? Elias! Do you?’ He was in such an agitated state that he seemed to have lost his grip of what reality he knew, and scrambled it all up with information he could not know at all. I was just able to follow his cryptic behavior and asked few questions. When I stood and told him that I must go at once, he grasped my arm firmly and asked again:
‘Do you know who you are?’ I answered that I was Elias Walker. He pulled me closer as he said again:
‘Yes, yes that is true! But do you know WHO you are?’
Shaking my head slightly and saying that I did not understand, he went on:
‘ We are approaching the eve of something great; The Awakening! Do you not know why you wake at night, when all others sleep? Do you understand where you are heading, and what you are heading to?’ He was in such a fit that I tried to calm him, but to no avail. Finally, he dropped to his knees and pulled me back to a sitting position at the end of my cot.
It was all very erratic and was making me uneasy. However, there is a war to be won, and could not allow anything to interfere with my duty to the Republic.
I tried to lure him up, and said, as solemnly as I could, that I believed him, but my assignment was essential, and that I must go.
He pulled himself up and calmed his eyes and taking a small containment unit from his pocket extended it to me.
I was at a loss for words. I have been trained to recognize and report such behavior, but it seemed overly reactionary on my part to ruin the young cadet’s career over a fit of the mind.
He could feel my apprehension, I suppose, because he hastily put the containment unit into the breast pocket of my shirt and said, ‘For your mother,’ and headed out of the barracks.
I am keeping quick record of this as I wait for transport, which is late as usual; and the containment unit is still in my pocket.
Whether it is the young cadet’s weird behavior, or the bareness of the terrain, or what lies in my pocket, I am not wholly sure, but I am not feeling nearly as confident or sound in mind as when I had left.
I pray to the Elders that this record never reaches the Congressional Records Master, as it would certainly end my career. The transport, finally!
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 10.125) – It is the twenty-fifth day and the fifth month of the second annum. The fog of the a.m. hours has lifted a little, and the sun is towering over the faint skyline, which seems drastically uneven, whether rubble remains or natural topography I am not sure, as it is so far off in the distance that it is merely an impression.
When I got on the transport, Captain Hughes had not taken his position in the front, and I saw him talking to the young cadet.
I assume they were talking about me, for in those moments I clearly spotted them looking in my direction. The others on the transport seemed not to notice as they uttered softly to one another. I have a limited vocabulary in some of the languages spoken, nevertheless, I was able to make out a few words, as they had been repeated several times.
I must admit they were not uplifting to me, for among them were ‘mörder’ – killers, ‘mon niyantran’ – mind control, ‘démons’ and ‘demoni’ – both mean the same thing, one being French and the other Croatian for demons. In this, our latest stage of civilization, I am captivated by those who still cling to superstition.
When we were finally underway, several others stationed at the encampment gathered along the roadway heading towards the northern gate, all with their heads bowed and their fists to their chest.
After some prodding, I got this guy named Thompson to tell me what it meant. He wouldn’t answer at first, but once he had learned I was new to the unit, he spat his tobacco to the floor and blurted out the side of his mouth that it was an honor prayer for sacrifice.
This was more than disturbing to me, just starting for an unknown location in a highly volatile warzone. But everyone seemed so unphased, and so confident that we would be victorious that I wondered if the young cadet had shaken me more than I’d like to admit.
I’ll never forget the last glimpse I had of the fortified checkpoint and the sea of toy soldiers, unwavering in their footholds, as they stood beyond the boundary, with its backdrop of makeshift metal housing and small fires dotting the landscape which seemed to own the last flicker of life left within its walls.
Then our pilot, whose name I believe was Collins, completed his final systems check and fired the protogel fuel cells, which rumbled quietly beneath our feet, and we set out.
I never lost sight or memory of those haunting words in the bitterness of the view as we pounded along, although had I understood the languages, which my fellow brethren were speaking, I might have been able to shake them off more easily. Before us rest a black tattered earth full of caustic waterways and unbreathable air, with the occasional cropping of ascents, shrouded with mass burial sites or with defenseless strongholds. There was everywhere a disorienting collection of bodies and stone. And as we drove by, I could see the scorched expressions, frozen, under the cinders and scattered among the remains. Weaving among the debris of what they call here ‘Dafan’ ran the highway, defeating itself as it crept up the hillsides, or was caught up beneath the towering piles of shrapnel, which now stand as an effigy mound for those who bore witness. The road was scarred, but still we seemed to devour it with quick measure, as the pilot was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching our destination. I was told that this road was the quickest route, but it had not been used in months. Several coordinated attacks by EuGen insurgents riddled the area until our forces were able to push them back northward.
Beyond the chiseled hills of the Dafan plunged a vast slope down into the unstable vestiges of the War 4 fallout zone itself. Right and left of us the city ruins loomed, with the late hour sun grazing upon them and bringing out a hint of their former glory, deep purple and blue in the traces of remaining glass, brown and green where bronze and copper blended, and an endless proportion of brick laden crags and jagged stonework, till these were themselves lost in the expanse, where the white spires rose commandingly to the clouds. As the sun sank lower and lower behind us, and the shadows began to close in, the evening brought with it a chill. This was emphasized by the fact that snow had begun falling rapidly and seemed to slow our trek after some due consideration. One of my sister-guards touched my arm as we crowned the pitch of the road and revealed the noble, snow-covered peaks of the UWC capitol , which seemed, as we turned our gaze, to be right before us.
‘There! Das Volksfeind!’ – ‘The Enemy of the People!’ – as she edged herself openly.
As we wore onward, and the dark settled completely, the razor-sharp edges of the landscape dissolved and gave way to ghostly suggestion. Here and there was a storefront or theater standing as a shrine, untouched by time or war, which seemed to have little interest in the outside world. As they slipped back into the distance, I felt an unexpected shudder, and an ominous feeling come over me. This state of tension kept on for some time. And at last we reached the edge of the city opening out on the northern side. There were severe, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the riotous, crashing sound of thunder. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lightning through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the ceaseless rays of our transport lamps, in which the soot ridden air hovered in a lifeless cloud. We could now see the petrified road lying grey before us, but there was on it no sign or direction. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the hills seemed to come nearer to us on either side to lay judgment down upon us. We were entering on the ‘Crocifisso’ – ‘Crucified’. By the roadside were several heavily built crosses, and as we swept by, the young sister-guard crossed herself once more. Then turning to me, she spoke in a blended German-English dialect better than my own.
‘If you were found guilty, it began with the scourging. A legionnaire would tear the clothing from your back, bind your hands and tie them to a post above your head. Then they would grab a flagrum; a short leather whip with several thongs adorned with lead balls at the ends, and come down across your shoulders, back and legs. The thongs would cut through the skin at first, but after repeated blows, the blood would gush, and the ground would receive your penance. And only when you were nearing death, and the skin of your back would hang in long ribbons, would they stop the beating. Naked and bare, you carried your cross from the flogging post to the site of your crucifixion outside the city walls. Course rope was loosely strapped around your weary arms on either side of the crossbeam, and hot metal spikes were driven through your wrists, splintering the wood with each deafening blow. Then, raising you upright, you were left exposed for the insects to burrow into your open wounds and the vultures to pick at your bones.’
I think I must have fallen asleep, for it seemed to me that we were going over and over the same ground, and I was curious to know the time. I pressed the indicator tab on the side of my watch, and by its light noticed it was just shy of midnight. This was a shock of sorts, but I quickly recovered. And with that, I suddenly realized that Collins was pulling the transport through a large and formidable gate, whose sizeable entrance was only dwarfed by the rockface surrounding it.
submitted by Oikumene to fictionwriters [link] [comments]

2019.09.11 20:41 Oikumene ANNUM II: CHAPTER I..Honest and Constructive Feedback Please!!

BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.23 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – Left on transport at 2100, on 2.05.21, arriving in the Northwest region of Sector 8 behind schedule; arrival was set for 0500, but our detachment was re-routed to Taughannock Trench. It seems the most barren of place, from the scan in which I performed and standing sentry in the dimly lit bitterness of the ashen cold air. I was apprehensive to go far from the transport, as we had been diverted and would be pressing to reach the rendezvous point as near the correct time as possible.
The sense we had was that we were leaving the South and entering the Northern Incursion; the most horrific of courses over the UNCIVILIZED, which is of notable saturation in darkness and no tangible life, carried us among the heart of ghostly shattered remains of a time long passed.
We moved efficiently and attained our objective after nightfall to Sector (9.125, 9.3). Here we stopped for the night, organized supplies and set up base camp. I had for my first battlefield dinner ever an L-amine and D-isomer pack prepared up some way with a milled salty grain, which was devoid of any real taste and had a peculiar consistency. I was surprised at how filling it was, as it expanded and warmed my insides. I asked my commander about the mixture, and he said it was called ‘capital grain’ and that, it was an international requisition, provided only to the ICCR army personnel.
As my brothers in arms uttered few words in my direction, I found my smattering of French, German and Bengali very useful, indeed, I am not sure how I would get by without it.
Having had some time when in Sector 6, I had visited the ICCR central databank, scouring the archives and meta-data regarding War 4 and the EuGen; I felt that understanding the terrain couldn’t fail to be of some importance in becoming an effective weapon against the enemy of the Republic.
I find that Sector 10 is in the extreme north of the country, lying in wait along the borders of three former city states, Binghamton, Albany, and Rochester, at the core of the War 4 fallout zone; one of the most desolate and least known portions of District 2 and the last remaining remnants of the 27th Century United World Congress (UWC).
I was unable to download any detailed mapping systems of Sector 10 to my BIM, as we have not been long engaged in the region; but I found that Sector 9, the area of heavy insurgency since the time of War 4, has been fully quantified. I shall upload data here, as a personal back up file to retrieve upon an external breach in my Biochemical Interface Management system.
//INT. Upload file/Time Stamp<2.05.23/2215>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="demography.hmp"

Demography Sector 9
Estimated EuGen Population: 1.43 billion
Incineration Rate: 99.989999%
Estimated ICCR military personnel: 256,000
Area: 46126.25 sq. miles
Topography: 0-208 meters
Estimated Radiation Dose: 12.63 Gy
Air Quality Index(AQI): 731.63
I read that all the answers to defeating the EuGen had been gathered and stowed away in the bowels of Sector 10, as if it were the illusive eye of a formidable storm; if there is even a remote truth to this my first mission will be quite worthy of note. (Mem., Ask Commander Suo on current theories.)
I did not shut my eyes and rest for any lengthy period, though my standard issue cot was more than enough, for I had what I believe to be holographic memory particle disruptions. There was fighting in the distance throughout the night, which may be a contributing factor; or it may have been the bone-dry recycled air, as I had to consume several water pods, and was not quenched. Approaching dawn, I slept and was roused by my BIM regulated Norepinephrine and Acetylcholine serum, which means I must have achieved REM state by then.
I had for breakfast more provisional packs, and a sort of flat bread of ‘capital grain’ which was surprisingly crisp, and spicy smoked meat dipped in broth, a very rare commodity these days, which the others called ‘Fume Et’.
I had little time to eat, as departure was scheduled before 0700, or so I had thought, but after engulfing my meal and fumbling through a poorly executed pack, I waited along side my brethren for more than an hour before we headed out.
It seems to me the further north we go the more treacherous it becomes. What glory or horrors await our arrival?
The larger portion of the day we trudged through the relics of a country I imagine was once vibrant and flourishing with life of every kind. Crumbling stone and contorted metal debris lay at the feet of skeletal ruins ascending in a serrated line through the sky; bridges rolling over desiccated riverbeds, whose rivers would have rushed wildly over the landscape, had widened stone perimeters to prevent flooding which were no longer useful. Everything was now darkened and covered in ash and death. There was nothing left standing in the wake of the EuGen.
At every checkpoint there were brigades of ICCR soldiers, sometimes whole divisions, all varying in department and rank. Some of them were just like us or those I saw coming through recruitment in Sector 5 or Sector 6, with the standard issue bio-chem flak jacket, nanotech helmet with holographic optical interface, and electro-chem body armor; but there were others.
The mercenaries looked like men, except when you drew closer to them, which revealed that they had become more likened to machines. They all had weaponized robotic arms of some kind or other, and most of them had EMP and plasma blasters hanging from shoulder holsters on either side of their bodies that lay hidden under slim fitting deionization coats.
The most unnerving forms we saw were the Clerics, who were more ethereal than the rest, with their hooded cloaks, thin veil coverings just below their eyes, off-white linen attire, and braided corium leather belts, nearly a half a foot wide, snapped together with studded silver. They wore low shoes, with their pants hovering just above their ankles, and had long silver hair and grey toned skin. They are very statuesque, but do not appear rigid. On the battlefield they would be explained away as some ancient god or a ghostly apparition. They are; however, I am told, very much a threat and considerably efficient in hand to hand combat.
It was in the waning hours of the evening when we reached Sector (9.325, 9.7), which was no less dismal than any other checkpoint previous. Being practically on the front line of the Northern Incursion, it has had several attacks upon its walls, and it certainly is lacking in no sign of it. Five years ago, a series of dirty bomb attacks took place, which wreaked havoc on ammunition and supply distribution. At the very end of Annum 1 it underwent a siege of four months and lost 25,000 platoons, the casualties of war aided by depletion of stable O2 resources and starvation.
Commander Suo directed me to go to barracks N-9, which I found, after slugging through a quarter mile of muddy terrain, thoroughly rusted on its outer hull and more exposed to the elements than I had hoped.
I was clearly expected, for when I arrived upon the door I was met by a cagy-looking timeworn man in a high-ranking ICCR uniform- black nanotech woven fiber with advanced shielding capabilities, which, I saw, was protecting bionic optical inserts connected to an evolved BIM. When I approached, he softened and said, ‘Walker?’
‘Yes sir,’ I said, ‘Elias Walker, sir!’
He smirked and nodded in the direction of a young cadet in camo short sleeves, who had stood quietly just beyond the door.
With a curt nod, he went but returned at once with an integrated BIM nanite injector. The cadet pressed it firmly at the base of my skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
‘Your bunk is E116,’ he said, ‘And, your external upload is time stamped for 0100.’
I had never imagined as a child that I would fulfill such a destiny. Time for some shut eye!
//EXT. Upload files/Time Stamp<2.05.25/0100>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (nano*)malloc(sizeof(nano)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="EuGen.hmp
13615
13615
Holo_Part_Mem_Disrpt
}
form-data; engage="holographicopticalcontrols";
Water seeps down the walls of the damp stone enclosure. The tapping of the rain covers undiscernible voices coming from the shadowed corners. A small figure, a child, with sallow skin and sunken emerald eyes. Someone familiar.
‘Help us.’
Again, the voice comes. No longer from a frail child, rather a stoic woman.
‘Help us, Elias.’
“Mother!”
A flash and her projection fades to darkness.
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – I found that my commanding officer, Captain Hughes, had received orders from Commander Suo, directing him to secure the western perimeter of Sector (9.325, 10.125); but as others asked for details, he remained quite reticent, and had preserved all chatter behind closed doors with other ranking officials.
This had to be true, for up to this point he had been more on edge than what had seemed normal; at least, what I had deemed normal for him.
He and his cadet, the young guy who logged me in, walked to the edge of our bunk row and stared upon us in a determined sort of way. He mumbled out that the orders had come down from the Elders, and that we should prepare ourselves. When I asked him if he knew our objective, and could tell us anything about the sector, both he and his cadet obstructed themselves, and, stating that they knew nothing more, proudly refused to comment further. It was so near the time of take-off, that I had no time to form any solid theories, for it was all very circumspect and not by any means reassuring.
Just as I was finishing my pack, the young cadet came hastily up to my bunk and said in a nervous and hushed tone: ‘Do you know who you are? Elias! Do you?’ He was in such an agitated state that he seemed to have lost his grip of what reality he knew, and scrambled it all up with information he could not know at all. I was just able to follow his cryptic behavior and asked few questions. When I stood and told him that I must go at once, he grasped my arm firmly and asked again:
‘Do you know who you are?’ I answered that I was Elias Walker. He pulled me closer as he said again:
‘Yes, yes that is true! But do you know WHO you are?’
Shaking my head slightly and saying that I did not understand, he went on:
‘ We are approaching the eve of something great; The Awakening! Do you not know why you wake at night, when all others sleep? Do you understand where you are heading, and what you are heading to?’ He was in such a fit that I tried to calm him, but to no avail. Finally, he dropped to his knees and pulled me back to a sitting position at the end of my cot.
It was all very erratic and was making me uneasy. However, there is a war to be won, and could not allow anything to interfere with my duty to the Republic.
I tried to lure him up, and said, as solemnly as I could, that I believed him, but my assignment was essential, and that I must go.
He pulled himself up and calmed his eyes and taking a small containment unit from his pocket extended it to me.
I was at a loss for words. I have been trained to recognize and report such behavior, but it seemed overly reactionary on my part to ruin the young cadet’s career over a fit of the mind.
He could feel my apprehension, I suppose, because he hastily put the containment unit into the breast pocket of my shirt and said, ‘For your mother,’ and headed out of the barracks.
I am keeping quick record of this as I wait for transport, which is late as usual; and the containment unit is still in my pocket.
Whether it is the young cadet’s weird behavior, or the bareness of the terrain, or what lies in my pocket, I am not wholly sure, but I am not feeling nearly as confident or sound in mind as when I had left.
I pray to the Elders that this record never reaches the Congressional Records Master, as it would certainly end my career. The transport, finally!
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 10.125) – It is the twenty-fifth day and the fifth month of the second annum. The fog of the a.m. hours has lifted a little, and the sun is towering over the faint skyline, which seems drastically uneven, whether rubble remains or natural topography I am not sure, as it is so far off in the distance that it is merely an impression.
When I got on the transport, Captain Hughes had not taken his position in the front, and I saw him talking to the young cadet.
I assume they were talking about me, for in those moments I clearly spotted them looking in my direction. The others on the transport seemed not to notice as they uttered softly to one another. I have a limited vocabulary in some of the languages spoken, nevertheless, I was able to make out a few words, as they had been repeated several times.
I must admit they were not uplifting to me, for among them were ‘mörder’ – killers, ‘mon niyantran’ – mind control, ‘démons’ and ‘demoni’ – both mean the same thing, one being French and the other Croatian for demons. In this, our latest stage of civilization, I am captivated by those who still cling to superstition.
When we were finally underway, several others stationed at the encampment gathered along the roadway heading towards the northern gate, all with their heads bowed and their fists to their chest.
After some prodding, I got this guy named Thompson to tell me what it meant. He wouldn’t answer at first, but once he had learned I was new to the unit, he spat his tobacco to the floor and blurted out the side of his mouth that it was an honor prayer for sacrifice.
This was more than disturbing to me, just starting for an unknown location in a highly volatile warzone. But everyone seemed so unphased, and so confident that we would be victorious that I wondered if the young cadet had shaken me more than I’d like to admit.
I’ll never forget the last glimpse I had of the fortified checkpoint and the sea of toy soldiers, unwavering in their footholds, as they stood beyond the boundary, with its backdrop of makeshift metal housing and small fires dotting the landscape which seemed to own the last flicker of life left within its walls.
Then our pilot, whose name I believe was Collins, completed his final systems check and fired the protogel fuel cells, which rumbled quietly beneath our feet, and we set out.
I never lost sight or memory of those haunting words in the bitterness of the view as we pounded along, although had I understood the languages, which my fellow brethren were speaking, I might have been able to shake them off more easily. Before us rest a black tattered earth full of caustic waterways and unbreathable air, with the occasional cropping of ascents, shrouded with mass burial sites or with defenseless strongholds. There was everywhere a disorienting collection of bodies and stone. And as we drove by, I could see the scorched expressions, frozen, under the cinders and scattered among the remains. Weaving among the debris of what they call here ‘Dafan’ ran the highway, defeating itself as it crept up the hillsides, or was caught up beneath the towering piles of shrapnel, which now stand as an effigy mound for those who bore witness. The road was scarred, but still we seemed to devour it with quick measure, as the pilot was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching our destination. I was told that this road was the quickest route, but it had not been used in months. Several coordinated attacks by EuGen insurgents riddled the area until our forces were able to push them back northward.
Beyond the chiseled hills of the Dafan plunged a vast slope down into the unstable vestiges of the War 4 fallout zone itself. Right and left of us the city ruins loomed, with the late hour sun grazing upon them and bringing out a hint of their former glory, deep purple and blue in the traces of remaining glass, brown and green where bronze and copper blended, and an endless proportion of brick laden crags and jagged stonework, till these were themselves lost in the expanse, where the white spires rose commandingly to the clouds. As the sun sank lower and lower behind us, and the shadows began to close in, the evening brought with it a chill. This was emphasized by the fact that snow had begun falling rapidly and seemed to slow our trek after some due consideration. One of my sister-guards touched my arm as we crowned the pitch of the road and revealed the noble, snow-covered peaks of the UWC capitol , which seemed, as we turned our gaze, to be right before us.
‘There! Das Volksfeind!’ – ‘The Enemy of the People!’ – as she edged herself openly.
As we wore onward, and the dark settled completely, the razor-sharp edges of the landscape dissolved and gave way to ghostly suggestion. Here and there was a storefront or theater standing as a shrine, untouched by time or war, which seemed to have little interest in the outside world. As they slipped back into the distance, I felt an unexpected shudder, and an ominous feeling come over me. This state of tension kept on for some time. And at last we reached the edge of the city opening out on the northern side. There were severe, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the riotous, crashing sound of thunder. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lightning through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the ceaseless rays of our transport lamps, in which the soot ridden air hovered in a lifeless cloud. We could now see the petrified road lying grey before us, but there was on it no sign or direction. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the hills seemed to come nearer to us on either side to lay judgment down upon us. We were entering on the ‘Crocifisso’ – ‘Crucified’. By the roadside were several heavily built crosses, and as we swept by, the young sister-guard crossed herself once more. Then turning to me, she spoke in a blended German-English dialect better than my own.
‘If you were found guilty, it began with the scourging. A legionnaire would tear the clothing from your back, bind your hands and tie them to a post above your head. Then they would grab a flagrum; a short leather whip with several thongs adorned with lead balls at the ends, and come down across your shoulders, back and legs. The thongs would cut through the skin at first, but after repeated blows, the blood would gush, and the ground would receive your penance. And only when you were nearing death, and the skin of your back would hang in long ribbons, would they stop the beating. Naked and bare, you carried your cross from the flogging post to the site of your crucifixion outside the city walls. Course rope was loosely strapped around your weary arms on either side of the crossbeam, and hot metal spikes were driven through your wrists, splintering the wood with each deafening blow. Then, raising you upright, you were left exposed for the insects to burrow into your open wounds and the vultures to pick at your bones.’
I think I must have fallen asleep, for it seemed to me that we were going over and over the same ground, and I was curious to know the time. I pressed the indicator tab on the side of my watch, and by its light noticed it was just shy of midnight. This was a shock of sorts, but I quickly recovered. And with that, I suddenly realized that Collins was pulling the transport through a large and formidable gate, whose sizeable entrance was only dwarfed by the rockface surrounding it.
submitted by Oikumene to postapocalyptic [link] [comments]

2019.09.11 20:10 Oikumene ANNUM II: CHAPTER I...Honest and Constructive Feedback Please!!

BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.23 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – Left on transport at 2100, on 2.05.21, arriving in the Northwest region of Sector 8 behind schedule; arrival was set for 0500, but our detachment was re-routed to Taughannock Trench. It seems the most barren of place, from the scan in which I performed and standing sentry in the dimly lit bitterness of the ashen cold air. I was apprehensive to go far from the transport, as we had been diverted and would be pressing to reach the rendezvous point as near the correct time as possible.
The sense we had was that we were leaving the South and entering the Northern Incursion; the most horrific of courses over the UNCIVILIZED, which is of notable saturation in darkness and no tangible life, carried us among the heart of ghostly shattered remains of a time long passed.
We moved efficiently and attained our objective after nightfall to Sector (9.125, 9.3). Here we stopped for the night, organized supplies and set up base camp. I had for my first battlefield dinner ever an L-amine and D-isomer pack prepared up some way with a milled salty grain, which was devoid of any real taste and had a peculiar consistency. I was surprised at how filling it was, as it expanded and warmed my insides. I asked my commander about the mixture, and he said it was called ‘capital grain’ and that, it was an international requisition, provided only to the ICCR army personnel.
As my brothers in arms uttered few words in my direction, I found my smattering of French, German and Bengali very useful, indeed, I am not sure how I would get by without it.
Having had some time when in Sector 6, I had visited the ICCR central databank, scouring the archives and meta-data regarding War 4 and the EuGen; I felt that understanding the terrain couldn’t fail to be of some importance in becoming an effective weapon against the enemy of the Republic.
I find that Sector 10 is in the extreme north of the country, lying in wait along the borders of three former city states, Binghamton, Albany, and Rochester, at the core of the War 4 fallout zone; one of the most desolate and least known portions of District 2 and the last remaining remnants of the 27th Century United World Congress (UWC).
I was unable to download any detailed mapping systems of Sector 10 to my BIM, as we have not been long engaged in the region; but I found that Sector 9, the area of heavy insurgency since the time of War 4, has been fully quantified. I shall upload data here, as a personal back up file to retrieve upon an external breach in my Biochemical Interface Management system.
//INT. Upload file/Time Stamp<2.05.23/2215>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="demography.hmp"

Demography Sector 9
Estimated EuGen Population: 1.43 billion
Incineration Rate: 99.989999%
Estimated ICCR military personnel: 256,000
Area: 46126.25 sq. miles
Topography: 0-208 meters
Estimated Radiation Dose: 12.63 Gy
Air Quality Index(AQI): 731.63
I read that all the answers to defeating the EuGen had been gathered and stowed away in the bowels of Sector 10, as if it were the illusive eye of a formidable storm; if there is even a remote truth to this my first mission will be quite worthy of note. (Mem., Ask Commander Suo on current theories.)
I did not shut my eyes and rest for any lengthy period, though my standard issue cot was more than enough, for I had what I believe to be holographic memory particle disruptions. There was fighting in the distance throughout the night, which may be a contributing factor; or it may have been the bone-dry recycled air, as I had to consume several water pods, and was not quenched. Approaching dawn, I slept and was roused by my BIM regulated Norepinephrine and Acetylcholine serum, which means I must have achieved REM state by then.
I had for breakfast more provisional packs, and a sort of flat bread of ‘capital grain’ which was surprisingly crisp, and spicy smoked meat dipped in broth, a very rare commodity these days, which the others called ‘Fume Et’.
I had little time to eat, as departure was scheduled before 0700, or so I had thought, but after engulfing my meal and fumbling through a poorly executed pack, I waited along side my brethren for more than an hour before we headed out.
It seems to me the further north we go the more treacherous it becomes. What glory or horrors await our arrival?
The larger portion of the day we trudged through the relics of a country I imagine was once vibrant and flourishing with life of every kind. Crumbling stone and contorted metal debris lay at the feet of skeletal ruins ascending in a serrated line through the sky; bridges rolling over desiccated riverbeds, whose rivers would have rushed wildly over the landscape, had widened stone perimeters to prevent flooding which were no longer useful. Everything was now darkened and covered in ash and death. There was nothing left standing in the wake of the EuGen.
At every checkpoint there were brigades of ICCR soldiers, sometimes whole divisions, all varying in department and rank. Some of them were just like us or those I saw coming through recruitment in Sector 5 or Sector 6, with the standard issue bio-chem flak jacket, nanotech helmet with holographic optical interface, and electro-chem body armor; but there were others.
The mercenaries looked like men, except when you drew closer to them, which revealed that they had become more likened to machines. They all had weaponized robotic arms of some kind or other, and most of them had EMP and plasma blasters hanging from shoulder holsters on either side of their bodies that lay hidden under slim fitting deionization coats.
The most unnerving forms we saw were the Clerics, who were more ethereal than the rest, with their hooded cloaks, thin veil coverings just below their eyes, off-white linen attire, and braided corium leather belts, nearly a half a foot wide, snapped together with studded silver. They wore low shoes, with their pants hovering just above their ankles, and had long silver hair and grey toned skin. They are very statuesque, but do not appear rigid. On the battlefield they would be explained away as some ancient god or a ghostly apparition. They are; however, I am told, very much a threat and considerably efficient in hand to hand combat.
It was in the waning hours of the evening when we reached Sector (9.325, 9.7), which was no less dismal than any other checkpoint previous. Being practically on the front line of the Northern Incursion, it has had several attacks upon its walls, and it certainly is lacking in no sign of it. Five years ago, a series of dirty bomb attacks took place, which wreaked havoc on ammunition and supply distribution. At the very end of Annum 1 it underwent a siege of four months and lost 25,000 platoons, the casualties of war aided by depletion of stable O2 resources and starvation.
Commander Suo directed me to go to barracks N-9, which I found, after slugging through a quarter mile of muddy terrain, thoroughly rusted on its outer hull and more exposed to the elements than I had hoped.
I was clearly expected, for when I arrived upon the door I was met by a cagy-looking timeworn man in a high-ranking ICCR uniform- black nanotech woven fiber with advanced shielding capabilities, which, I saw, was protecting bionic optical inserts connected to an evolved BIM. When I approached, he softened and said, ‘Walker?’
‘Yes sir,’ I said, ‘Elias Walker, sir!’
He smirked and nodded in the direction of a young cadet in camo short sleeves, who had stood quietly just beyond the door.
With a curt nod, he went but returned at once with an integrated BIM nanite injector. The cadet pressed it firmly at the base of my skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
‘Your bunk is E116,’ he said, ‘And, your external upload is time stamped for 0100.’
I had never imagined as a child that I would fulfill such a destiny. Time for some shut eye!
//EXT. Upload files/Time Stamp<2.05.25/0100>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (nano*)malloc(sizeof(nano)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="EuGen.hmp
13615
13615
Holo_Part_Mem_Disrpt
}
form-data; engage="holographicopticalcontrols";
Water seeps down the walls of the damp stone enclosure. The tapping of the rain covers undiscernible voices coming from the shadowed corners. A small figure, a child, with sallow skin and sunken emerald eyes. Someone familiar.
‘Help us.’
Again, the voice comes. No longer from a frail child, rather a stoic woman.
‘Help us, Elias.’
“Mother!”
A flash and her projection fades to darkness.
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – I found that my commanding officer, Captain Hughes, had received orders from Commander Suo, directing him to secure the western perimeter of Sector (9.325, 10.125); but as others asked for details, he remained quite reticent, and had preserved all chatter behind closed doors with other ranking officials.
This had to be true, for up to this point he had been more on edge than what had seemed normal; at least, what I had deemed normal for him.
He and his cadet, the young guy who logged me in, walked to the edge of our bunk row and stared upon us in a determined sort of way. He mumbled out that the orders had come down from the Elders, and that we should prepare ourselves. When I asked him if he knew our objective, and could tell us anything about the sector, both he and his cadet obstructed themselves, and, stating that they knew nothing more, proudly refused to comment further. It was so near the time of take-off, that I had no time to form any solid theories, for it was all very circumspect and not by any means reassuring.
Just as I was finishing my pack, the young cadet came hastily up to my bunk and said in a nervous and hushed tone: ‘Do you know who you are? Elias! Do you?’ He was in such an agitated state that he seemed to have lost his grip of what reality he knew, and scrambled it all up with information he could not know at all. I was just able to follow his cryptic behavior and asked few questions. When I stood and told him that I must go at once, he grasped my arm firmly and asked again:
‘Do you know who you are?’ I answered that I was Elias Walker. He pulled me closer as he said again:
‘Yes, yes that is true! But do you know WHO you are?’
Shaking my head slightly and saying that I did not understand, he went on:
‘ We are approaching the eve of something great; The Awakening! Do you not know why you wake at night, when all others sleep? Do you understand where you are heading, and what you are heading to?’ He was in such a fit that I tried to calm him, but to no avail. Finally, he dropped to his knees and pulled me back to a sitting position at the end of my cot.
It was all very erratic and was making me uneasy. However, there is a war to be won, and could not allow anything to interfere with my duty to the Republic.
I tried to lure him up, and said, as solemnly as I could, that I believed him, but my assignment was essential, and that I must go.
He pulled himself up and calmed his eyes and taking a small containment unit from his pocket extended it to me.
I was at a loss for words. I have been trained to recognize and report such behavior, but it seemed overly reactionary on my part to ruin the young cadet’s career over a fit of the mind.
He could feel my apprehension, I suppose, because he hastily put the containment unit into the breast pocket of my shirt and said, ‘For your mother,’ and headed out of the barracks.
I am keeping quick record of this as I wait for transport, which is late as usual; and the containment unit is still in my pocket.
Whether it is the young cadet’s weird behavior, or the bareness of the terrain, or what lies in my pocket, I am not wholly sure, but I am not feeling nearly as confident or sound in mind as when I had left.
I pray to the Elders that this record never reaches the Congressional Records Master, as it would certainly end my career. The transport, finally!
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 10.125) – It is the twenty-fifth day and the fifth month of the second annum. The fog of the a.m. hours has lifted a little, and the sun is towering over the faint skyline, which seems drastically uneven, whether rubble remains or natural topography I am not sure, as it is so far off in the distance that it is merely an impression.
When I got on the transport, Captain Hughes had not taken his position in the front, and I saw him talking to the young cadet.
I assume they were talking about me, for in those moments I clearly spotted them looking in my direction. The others on the transport seemed not to notice as they uttered softly to one another. I have a limited vocabulary in some of the languages spoken, nevertheless, I was able to make out a few words, as they had been repeated several times.
I must admit they were not uplifting to me, for among them were ‘mörder’ – killers, ‘mon niyantran’ – mind control, ‘démons’ and ‘demoni’ – both mean the same thing, one being French and the other Croatian for demons. In this, our latest stage of civilization, I am captivated by those who still cling to superstition.
When we were finally underway, several others stationed at the encampment gathered along the roadway heading towards the northern gate, all with their heads bowed and their fists to their chest.
After some prodding, I got this guy named Thompson to tell me what it meant. He wouldn’t answer at first, but once he had learned I was new to the unit, he spat his tobacco to the floor and blurted out the side of his mouth that it was an honor prayer for sacrifice.
This was more than disturbing to me, just starting for an unknown location in a highly volatile warzone. But everyone seemed so unphased, and so confident that we would be victorious that I wondered if the young cadet had shaken me more than I’d like to admit.
I’ll never forget the last glimpse I had of the fortified checkpoint and the sea of toy soldiers, unwavering in their footholds, as they stood beyond the boundary, with its backdrop of makeshift metal housing and small fires dotting the landscape which seemed to own the last flicker of life left within its walls.
Then our pilot, whose name I believe was Collins, completed his final systems check and fired the protogel fuel cells, which rumbled quietly beneath our feet, and we set out.
I never lost sight or memory of those haunting words in the bitterness of the view as we pounded along, although had I understood the languages, which my fellow brethren were speaking, I might have been able to shake them off more easily. Before us rest a black tattered earth full of caustic waterways and unbreathable air, with the occasional cropping of ascents, shrouded with mass burial sites or with defenseless strongholds. There was everywhere a disorienting collection of bodies and stone. And as we drove by, I could see the scorched expressions, frozen, under the cinders and scattered among the remains. Weaving among the debris of what they call here ‘Dafan’ ran the highway, defeating itself as it crept up the hillsides, or was caught up beneath the towering piles of shrapnel, which now stand as an effigy mound for those who bore witness. The road was scarred, but still we seemed to devour it with quick measure, as the pilot was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching our destination. I was told that this road was the quickest route, but it had not been used in months. Several coordinated attacks by EuGen insurgents riddled the area until our forces were able to push them back northward.
Beyond the chiseled hills of the Dafan plunged a vast slope down into the unstable vestiges of the War 4 fallout zone itself. Right and left of us the city ruins loomed, with the late hour sun grazing upon them and bringing out a hint of their former glory, deep purple and blue in the traces of remaining glass, brown and green where bronze and copper blended, and an endless proportion of brick laden crags and jagged stonework, till these were themselves lost in the expanse, where the white spires rose commandingly to the clouds. As the sun sank lower and lower behind us, and the shadows began to close in, the evening brought with it a chill. This was emphasized by the fact that snow had begun falling rapidly and seemed to slow our trek after some due consideration. One of my sister-guards touched my arm as we crowned the pitch of the road and revealed the noble, snow-covered peaks of the UWC capitol , which seemed, as we turned our gaze, to be right before us.
‘There! Das Volksfeind!’ – ‘The Enemy of the People!’ – as she edged herself openly.
As we wore onward, and the dark settled completely, the razor-sharp edges of the landscape dissolved and gave way to ghostly suggestion. Here and there was a storefront or theater standing as a shrine, untouched by time or war, which seemed to have little interest in the outside world. As they slipped back into the distance, I felt an unexpected shudder, and an ominous feeling come over me. This state of tension kept on for some time. And at last we reached the edge of the city opening out on the northern side. There were severe, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the riotous, crashing sound of thunder. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lightning through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the ceaseless rays of our transport lamps, in which the soot ridden air hovered in a lifeless cloud. We could now see the petrified road lying grey before us, but there was on it no sign or direction. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the hills seemed to come nearer to us on either side to lay judgment down upon us. We were entering on the ‘Crocifisso’ – ‘Crucified’. By the roadside were several heavily built crosses, and as we swept by, the young sister-guard crossed herself once more. Then turning to me, she spoke in a blended German-English dialect better than my own.
‘If you were found guilty, it began with the scourging. A legionnaire would tear the clothing from your back, bind your hands and tie them to a post above your head. Then they would grab a flagrum; a short leather whip with several thongs adorned with lead balls at the ends, and come down across your shoulders, back and legs. The thongs would cut through the skin at first, but after repeated blows, the blood would gush, and the ground would receive your penance. And only when you were nearing death, and the skin of your back would hang in long ribbons, would they stop the beating. Naked and bare, you carried your cross from the flogging post to the site of your crucifixion outside the city walls. Course rope was loosely strapped around your weary arms on either side of the crossbeam, and hot metal spikes were driven through your wrists, splintering the wood with each deafening blow. Then, raising you upright, you were left exposed for the insects to burrow into your open wounds and the vultures to pick at your bones.’
I think I must have fallen asleep, for it seemed to me that we were going over and over the same ground, and I was curious to know the time. I pressed the indicator tab on the side of my watch, and by its light noticed it was just shy of midnight. This was a shock of sorts, but I quickly recovered. And with that, I suddenly realized that Collins was pulling the transport through a large and formidable gate, whose sizeable entrance was only dwarfed by the rockface surrounding it.
submitted by Oikumene to sciencefiction [link] [comments]

2019.05.04 00:02 Oikumene ANNUM II:CHAPTER I-Honest feedback and constructive criticism please!

ANNUM II
CHAPTER 1
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.23 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – Left on transport at 2100, on 2.05.21, arriving in the Northwest region of Sector 8 behind schedule; arrival was set for 0500, but our detachment was re-routed to Taughannock Trench. It seems the most barren of place, from the scan in which I performed and standing sentry in the dimly lit bitterness of the ashen cold air. I was apprehensive to go far from the transport, as we had been diverted and would be pressing to reach the rendezvous point as near the correct time as possible.
The sense we had was that we were leaving the South and entering the Northern Incursion; the most horrific of courses over the UNCIVILIZED, which is of notable saturation in darkness and no tangible life, carried us among the heart of ghostly shattered remains of a time long passed.
We moved efficiently and attained our objective after nightfall to Sector (9.125, 9.3). Here we stopped for the night, organized supplies and set up base camp. I had for my first battlefield dinner ever an L-amine and D-isomer pack prepared up some way with a milled salty grain, which was devoid of any real taste and had a peculiar consistency. I was surprised at how filling it was, as it expanded and warmed my insides. I asked my commander about the mixture, and he said it was called ‘capital grain’ and that, it was an international requisition, provided only to ICCR army personnel.
As my brothers in arms uttered few words in my direction, I found my smattering of French, German and Bengali very useful, indeed, I am not sure how I would get by without it.
Having had some time when in Sector 6, I had visited the ICCR central databank, scouring the archives and meta-data regarding War 4 and the EuGen; I felt that understanding the terrain couldn’t fail to be of some importance in becoming an effective weapon against the enemy of the Republic.
I find that Sector 10 is in the extreme north of the country, lying in wait along the borders of three former city states, Binghamton, Albany, and Rochester, at the core of the War 4 fallout zone; one of the most desolate and least known portions of District 2 and the last remaining remnants of the 27th Century United World Congress (UWC).
I was unable to download any detailed mapping systems of Sector 10 to my BIM, as we have not been long engaged in the region; but I found that Sector 9, the area of heavy insurgency since the time of War 4, has been fully quantified. I shall upload data here, as a personal back up file to retrieve upon an external breach in my Biochemical Interface Management system.
​
//INT. Upload file/Time Stamp<2.05.23/2215>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getchar();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="demography.hmp"
​

Demography Sector 9
Estimated EuGen Population: 1.43 billion
Incineration Rate: 99.989999%
Estimated ICCR military personnel: 256,000
Area: 46126.25 sq. miles
Topography: 0-208 meters
Estimated Radiation Dose: 12.63 Gy
Air Quality Index(AQI): 731.63
​
I read that all the answers to defeating the EuGen had been gathered and stowed away in the bowels of Sector 10, as if it were the illusive eye of a formidable storm; if there is even a remote truth to this my first mission will be quite worthy of note. (Mem., Ask Commander Suo on current theories.)
I did not shut my eyes and rest for any lengthy period, though my standard issue cot was more than enough, for I had what I believe to be holographic memory particle disruptions. There was fighting in the distance throughout the night, which may be a contributing factor; or it may have been the bone-dry recycled air, as I had to consume several water pods, and was not quenched. Approaching dawn, I slept and was roused by my BIM regulated Norepinephrine and Acetylcholine serum, which means I must have achieved REM state by then.
I had for breakfast more provisional packs, and a sort of flat bread of ‘capital grain’ which was surprisingly crisp, and spicy smoked meat dipped in broth, a very rare commodity these days, which the others called ‘Fume Et’.
I had little time to eat, as departure was scheduled before 0700, or so I had thought, but after engulfing my meal and fumbling through a poorly executed pack, I waited along side my brethren for more than an hour before we headed out.
It seems to me the further north we go the more treacherous it becomes. What glory or horrors await our arrival?
The larger portion of the day we trudged through the relics of a country I imagine was once vibrant and flourishing with life of every kind. Crumbling stone and contorted metal debris lay at the feet of skeletal ruins ascending in a serrated line through the sky; bridges rolling over desiccated riverbeds, whose rivers would have rushed wildly over the landscape, had widened stone perimeters to prevent flooding which were no longer useful. Everything was now darkened and covered in ash and death. There was nothing left standing in the wake of the EuGen.
At every checkpoint there were brigades of ICCR soldiers, sometimes whole divisions, all varying in department and rank. Some of them were just like us or those I saw coming through recruitment in Sector 5 or Sector 6, with the standard issue bio-chem flak jacket, nanotech helmet with holographic optical interface, and electro-chem body armor; but there were others.
The mercenaries looked like men, except when you drew closer to them, which revealed that they had become more likened to machines. They all had weaponized robotic arms of some kind or other, and most of them had EMP and plasma blasters hanging from shoulder holsters on either side of their bodies that lay hidden under slim fitting deionization coats.
The most unnerving forms we saw were the Clerics, who were more ethereal than the rest, with their hooded cloaks, thin veil coverings just below their eyes, off-white linen attire, and braided corium leather belts, nearly a half a foot wide, snapped together with studded silver. They wore low shoes, with their pants hovering just above their ankles, and had long silver hair and grey toned skin. They are very statuesque, but do not appear rigid. On the battlefield they would be explained away as some ancient god or a ghostly apparition. They are; however, I am told, very much a threat and considerably efficient in hand to hand combat.
It was in the waning hours of the evening when we reached Sector (9.325, 9.7), which was no less dismal than any other checkpoint previous. Being practically on the front line of the Northern Incursion, it has had several attacks upon its walls, and it certainly is lacking in no sign of it. Five years ago, a series of dirty bomb attacks took place, which wreaked havoc on ammunition and supply distribution. At the very end of Annum 1 it underwent a siege of four months and lost 25,000 platoons, the casualties of war aided by depletion of stable O2 resources and starvation.
Commander Suo directed me to go to barracks N-9, which I found, after slugging through a quarter mile of muddy terrain, thoroughly rusted on its outer hull and more exposed to the elements than I had hoped.
I was clearly expected, for when I arrived upon the door I was met by a cagy-looking timeworn man in a high-ranking ICCR uniform- black nanotech woven fiber with advanced shielding capabilities, which, I saw, was protecting bionic optical inserts connected to an evolved BIM. When I approached, he softened and said, ‘Walker?’
‘Yes sir,’ I said, ‘Elias Walker, sir!’
He smirked and nodded in the direction of a young cadet in camo short sleeves, who had stood quietly just beyond the door.
With a curt nod, he went but returned at once with an integrated BIM nanite injector. The cadet pressed it firmly at the base of my skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
‘Your bunk is E116,’ he said, ‘And, your external upload is time stamped for 0100.’
I had never imagined as a child that I would fulfill such a destiny. Time for some shut eye!
​
//EXT. Upload files/Time Stamp<2.05.25/0100>
pFile = fopen(filepath, "rb");
if (pFile == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
printf("UPLOAD_FILE\n");
// obtain file size:
fseek(pFile, 0, SEEK_END);
lSize = ftell(pFile);
rewind(pFile);
// allocate memory to contain the whole file:
content = (nano*)malloc(sizeof(nano)*lSize);
if (content == NULL)
{
printf("ERROR_MEMORY");
getnano();
return ERROR_UPLOAD_FILE;
}
form-data; name="uploadedfile"; filename="EuGen.hmp
13615
13615
Holo_Part_Mem_Disrpt
}
form-data; engage="holographicopticalcontrols";
​
Water seeps down the walls of the damp stone enclosure. The tapping of the rain covers undiscernible voices coming from the shadowed corners. A small figure, a child, with sallow skin and sunken emerald eyes. Someone familiar.
‘Help us.’
Again, the voice comes. No longer from a frail child, rather a stoic woman.
‘Help us, Elias.’
“Mother!”
A flash and her projection fades to darkness.
​
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 9.7) – I found that my commanding officer, Captain Hughes, had received orders from Commander Suo, directing him to secure the western perimeter of Sector (9.325, 10.125); but as others asked for details, he remained quite reticent, and had preserved all chatter behind closed doors with other ranking officials.
This had to be true, for up to this point he had been more on edge than what had seemed normal; at least, what I had deemed normal for him.
He and his cadet, the young guy who logged me in, walked to the edge of our bunk row and stared upon us in a determined sort of way. He mumbled out that the orders had come down from the Elders, and that we should prepare ourselves. When I asked him if he knew our objective, and could tell us anything about the sector, both he and his cadet obstructed themselves, and, stating that they knew nothing more, proudly refused to comment further. It was so near the time of take-off, that I had no time to form any solid theories, for it was all very circumspect and not by any means reassuring.
Just as I was finishing my pack, the young cadet came hastily up to my bunk and said in a nervous and hushed tone: ‘Do you know who you are? Elias! Do you?’ He was in such an agitated state that he seemed to have lost his grip of what reality he knew, and scrambled it all up with information he could not know at all. I was just able to follow his cryptic behavior and asked few questions. When I stood and told him that I must go at once, he grasped my arm firmly and asked again:
‘Do you know who you are?’ I answered that I was Elias Walker. He pulled me closer as he said again:
‘Yes, yes that is true! But do you know WHO you are?’
Shaking my head slightly and saying that I did not understand, he went on:
‘ We are approaching the eve of something great; The Awakening! Do you not know why you wake at night, when all others sleep? Do you understand where you are heading, and what you are heading to?’ He was in such a fit that I tried to calm him, but to no avail. Finally, he dropped to his knees and pulled me back to a sitting position at the end of my cot.
It was all very erratic and was making me uneasy. However, there is a war to be won, and could not allow anything to interfere with my duty to the Republic.
I tried to lure him up, and said, as solemnly as I could, that I believed him, but my assignment was essential, and that I must go.
He pulled himself up and calmed his eyes and taking a small containment unit from his pocket extended it to me.
I was at a loss for words. I have been trained to recognize and report such behavior, but it seemed overly reactionary on my part to ruin the young cadet’s career over a fit of the mind.
He could feel my apprehension, I suppose, because he hastily put the containment unit into the breast pocket of my shirt and said, ‘For your mother,’ and headed out of the barracks.
I am keeping quick record of this as I wait for transport, which is late as usual; and the containment unit is still in my pocket.
Whether it is the young cadet’s weird behavior, or the bareness of the terrain, or what lies in my pocket, I am not wholly sure, but I am not feeling nearly as confident or sound in mind as when I had left.
I pray to the Elders that this record never reaches the Congressional Records Master, as it would certainly end my career. The transport, finally!
​
BIM.INT.PERSONAL NOTE_ELIAS WALKER_2.05.25 -> Sector (9.325, 10.125) – It is the twenty-fifth day and the fifth month of the second annum. The fog of the a.m. hours has lifted a little, and the sun is towering over the faint skyline, which seems drastically uneven, whether rubble remains or natural topography I am not sure, as it is so far off in the distance that it is merely an impression.
When I got on the transport, Captain Hughes had not taken his position in the front, and I saw him talking to the young cadet.
I assume they were talking about me, for in those moments I clearly spotted them looking in my direction. The others on the transport seemed not to notice as they uttered softly to one another. I have a limited vocabulary in some of the languages spoken, nevertheless, I was able to make out a few words, as they had been repeated several times.
I must admit they were not uplifting to me, for among them were ‘mörder’ – killers, ‘mon niyantran’ – mind control, ‘démons’ and ‘demoni’ – both mean the same thing, one being French and the other Croatian for demons. In this, our latest stage of civilization, I am captivated by those who still cling to superstition.
When we were finally underway, several others stationed at the encampment gathered along the roadway heading towards the northern gate, all with their heads bowed and their fists to their chest.
After some prodding, I got this guy named Thompson to tell me what it meant. He wouldn’t answer at first, but once he had learned I was new to the unit, he spat his tobacco to the floor and blurted out the side of his mouth that it was an honor prayer for sacrifice.
This was more than disturbing to me, just starting for an unknown location in a highly volatile warzone. But everyone seemed so unphased, and so confident that we would be victorious that I wondered if the young cadet had shaken me more than I’d like to admit.
I’ll never forget the last glimpse I had of the fortified checkpoint and the sea of toy soldiers, unwavering in their footholds, as they stood beyond the boundary, with its backdrop of makeshift metal housing and small fires dotting the landscape which seemed to own the last flicker of life left within its walls.
Then our pilot, whose name I believe was Collins, completed his final systems check and fired the protogel fuel cells, which rumbled quietly beneath our feet, and we set out.
I never lost sight or memory of those haunting words in the bitterness of the view as we pounded along, although had I understood the languages, which my fellow brethren were speaking, I might have been able to shake them off more easily. Before us rest a black tattered earth full of caustic waterways and unbreathable air, with the occasional cropping of ascents, shrouded with mass burial sites or with defenseless strongholds. There was everywhere a disorienting collection of bodies and stone. And as we drove by, I could see the scorched expressions, frozen, under the cinders and scattered among the remains. Weaving among the debris of what they call here ‘Dafan’ ran the highway, defeating itself as it crept up the hillsides, or was caught up beneath the towering piles of shrapnel, which now stand as an effigy mound for those who bore witness. The road was scarred, but still we seemed to devour it with quick measure, as the pilot was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching our destination. I was told that this road was the quickest route, but it had not been used in months. Several coordinated attacks by EuGen insurgents riddled the area until our forces were able to push them back northward.
Beyond the chiseled hills of the Dafan plunged a vast slope down into the unstable vestiges of the War 4 fallout zone itself. Right and left of us the city ruins loomed, with the late hour sun grazing upon them and bringing out a hint of their former glory, deep purple and blue in the traces of remaining glass, brown and green where bronze and copper blended, and an endless proportion of brick laden crags and jagged stonework, till these were themselves lost in the expanse, where the white spires rose commandingly to the clouds. As the sun sank lower and lower behind us, and the shadows began to close in, the evening brought with it a chill. This was emphasized by the fact that snow had begun falling rapidly and seemed to slow our trek after some due consideration. One of my sister-guards touched my arm as we crowned the pitch of the road and revealed the noble, snow-covered peaks of the UWC capitol , which seemed, as we turned our gaze, to be right before us.
‘There! Das Volksfeind!’ – ‘The Enemy of the People!’ – as she edged herself openly.
As we wore onward, and the dark settled completely, the razor-sharp edges of the landscape dissolved and gave way to ghostly suggestion. Here and there was a storefront or theater standing as a shrine, untouched by time or war, which seemed to have little interest in the outside world. As they slipped back into the distance, I felt an unexpected shudder, and an ominous feeling come over me. This state of tension kept on for some time. And at last we reached the edge of the city opening out on the northern side. There were severe, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the riotous, crashing sound of thunder. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lightning through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the ceaseless rays of our transport lamps, in which the soot ridden air hovered in a lifeless cloud. We could now see the petrified road lying grey before us, but there was on it no sign or direction. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the hills seemed to come nearer to us on either side to lay judgment down upon us. We were entering on the ‘Crocifisso’ – ‘Crucified’. By the roadside were several heavily built crosses, and as we swept by, the young sister-guard crossed herself once more. Then turning to me, she spoke in a blended German-English dialect better than my own.
‘If you were found guilty, it began with the scourging. A legionnaire would tear the clothing from your back, bind your hands and tie them to a post above your head. Then they would grab a flagrum; a short leather whip with several thongs adorned with lead balls at the ends, and come down across your shoulders, back and legs. The thongs would cut through the skin at first, but after repeated blows, the blood would gush, and the ground would receive your penance. And only when you were nearing death, and the skin of your back would hang in long ribbons, would they stop the beating. Naked and bare, you carried your cross from the flogging post to the site of your crucifixion outside the city walls. Course rope was loosely strapped around your weary arms on either side of the crossbeam, and hot metal spikes were driven through your wrists, splintering the wood with each deafening blow. Then, raising you upright, you were left exposed for the insects to burrow into your open wounds and the vultures to pick at your bones.’
I think I must have fallen asleep, for it seemed to me that we were going over and over the same ground, and I was curious to know the time. I pressed the indicator tab on the side of my watch, and by its light noticed it was just shy of midnight. This was a shock of sorts, but I quickly recovered. And with that, I suddenly realized that Collins was pulling the transport through a large and formidable gate, whose sizeable entrance was only dwarfed by the rockface surrounding it.
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2016.05.19 09:53 ShaunaDorothy Verizon Labor Union Strikers liken Verizon to rat (Evening Tribune)

By Jason Jordan The Evening Tribune
Posted May. 18, 2016 at 6:48 PM
Hornell, N.Y.
HORNELL — Landline and cable workers who walked out of the Verizon garage on Bank Street in Hornell 35 days ago in protest of working without a contract and an offer they felt was unfair, remain out of work.
Local workers didn’t come alone to hold their picket line on Tuesday. They were accompanied Communications Workers of America (CWA) Local 1111 president Jake Lake, and a 15-foot inflatable rat.
“The rat is a representation of corporate greed. It was started by the bricklayers in 1990 out in Chicago, and Bricklayers Local 3 let us borrow the rat,” Lake explained.
Since it was loaned out, the rat has traveled across the CWA’s local territory, from Hornell to Binghamton. Lake outlined a number of priorities for the union, including, “keeping good jobs in our communities — They want to outsource a lot of jobs, broadband development,” he said.
“They’re a very profitable company, making $1.8 billion a month right now. Sometimes you have a case where a company is struggling financially and needs to negotiate. That’s not the case here,” he contended.
Verizon, not surprisingly, sees things differently.
“It’s regrettable that union leaders have called a strike, a move that hurts all of our employees,” Marc Reed, Verizon’s chief administrative officer, said last month. “Since last June, we’ve worked diligently to try and reach agreements that would be good for our employees, good for our customers and make the wireline business more successful now and in the future. Unfortunately, union leaders have their own agenda rooted in the past and are ignoring today’s digital realities. Calling a strike benefits no one, and brings us no closer to resolution.”
When the strike began, local workers said they were most concerned about being forced on the road to work for long periods of time.
“I really don’t want to live the rest of my career in a suitcase,” picketer Dan Hammond said back on day 11 of the strike.
The company’s latest offer would allow them to send workers away for up to 60, more than the 21 days under their previous contract. Since 2004, local employees have been sent across the state to lay fiber optic lines for broadband service, while the company has declined federal funding to do so locally.
“Third party companies like Empire access are able to come in and do a small part of the community, but everyone else is left high and dry,” Lake said.
Last week, in a call with reporters, Sen. Charles E. Schumer (D-NY) said he would fight to keep $170 million in federal money designated for Verizon to participate in expanding broadband service in New York State.
http://www.eveningtribune.com/news/20160518/strikers-liken-verizon-to-rat
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2014.10.19 22:32 Airos_the_Tiger [World Builder... Sunday?] Shadows of Rochester, NY

First things first, big props to ReedRex for his contributions to this subject and to S_Jeru for inspiring me to submit this as a WBW thread on its own.
Secondly, I'm not one for writing in character, so much of the information here will be a combination of clinical, point-of-fact information and chaotic stream of consciousness "wouldn't this be a cool idea" spit-balling. Given enough to work with, I may be inspired to continue into the Finger Lakes Region, and Central NY/Syracuse. My knowledge of the Southern Tier, the Adirondacks, the Mohawk Valley, the Hudson Valley, etc. are all extremely limited.
Thirdly, maps. I've heard people love maps.
Finally, the original thread where the discussion between ReedRex and myself took place is [here]

The City of Rochester

Rochester and most of western NY saw large population increases with the NYC earthquake early in the century.
As a result of the growth and expansion of both the electronics sector and the education/medical sector, Rochester has enjoyed an economic boom. One could compare it to Silicone Valley in the late 20th century.
On Corps
  • Early in the 21st century, Kodak, Bausch & Lomb and Xerox merge into a single conglomerate. Their primary focus is optics, which include cybereyes, cameras (CCTV, photo, video, trideo), imaging scopes, goggles, glasses and contact lenses.
  • The University of Rochester, through its affiliate hospitals Strong Memorial and Highland, become the de facto medical care facilities for the region. They have advanced research programs into the treatment and prevention of magical disease, as well as a partnership program with Kodak, Bausch & Lomb and Xerox into advanced human-cybernetic interaction, advanced AI driven Autodocs, and the research and treatment of "cyber psychosis".
  • Wegmans Food Markets continues to expand across the Eastern Seaboard. By the 2050's if you went grocery shopping in the Greater Rochester area, and likely anywhere in NE of the UCAS you did so in a Wegmans grocery store. It's also probable that any mid to fine dining you did was in a Wegmans restaurant, and if you're not keeping your nuyen in one of the big banks, you're keeping it at the Wegmans Federal Credit Union.
On Points of Interest
  • The Genesee Brewing Company has been around in one form or another since 1819, so it would still produce Genesee beer well into the 2070's.
  • Monroe Ave would probably be an epicenter of all things debauchery and depravity, even more so than it is today.
  • Nick Tahou Hots will remain because any future without Garbage Plates is not a future I want to live in.
  • Both the Dryden and the Little theaters will remain, and continue to show "vintage" 2D films as a part of the historical and cultural preservation efforts of Kodak through the George Eastman house.
  • I could see a few Ghoul Ghetto's If the city is used heavily for Magical disease research. Perhaps North Side of city. I can see downtown polarizing even worse then it is currently leaving Southeast side very wealthy and corporate and Northwest doing the opposite. Redeeming factor for Northwest might be the large tracks of Kodak that could be production facility etc for our New Cybereyes Mini-Corp. Would be good to see some life, even if corporate, back in this area.

The Suburbs

  • Pittsford may well become a fully gated suburb and/or "corp town", with checkpoints and Knight Errant/Lone Star, (or regional equivalent), ensuring the SINless keep well away from the upper crust of society.
  • Henrietta would be an even more diverse melting pot of culture and community than it is today. With Metahumans from all over the world attending U of R, MCC, St. John Fisher and RIT, you'd not only start to see full fledged "Chinatown", and "little Italy" districts pop up, but also the "Ork Underground" and the Elf/Dwarf equivalent.
  • I actually placed Pittsford as a Gated Corp town as well. East Rochester I have a large Commune sitting on that rejects most Corporate influences. I didn't originally see Henrietta as the spot for diversity mostly because I see it as kind of a giant strip mall as is. But I see the reasoning and see that perhaps it could happen.

The Outlying Areas

  • Southern Teir / Finger lakes region / Northern PA etc are all a Magical wilds. This area is all very natural to begin with and There are few discussions of magical wilds directly in the UCAS.
  • I use Ithaca and Cornell specifically as a Magical research and development center. Cornell Hill Lit up with magical phenomena during the awakening. Magic Hotspot. Its is the middle of the magical wilds as well.
  • Binghamton, also in the middle of the magical wilds is a heavy trafficking center for magical goods coming out of the wilds, both legitimate and...less then legitimate. Large Magical drug manufacturing town. Its tendency to flood was compensated for with a second level to a lot of the city that a SINers get to live on, a large SINLess population lives down on the flood plane. its a good place to hide from those who might need to find you.
  • Some quick comments on South of Rochester. I placed the Magical Wilds going all the way up the finger lakes and ending at most of there northern edges. This leaves Canandaigua as a border town right on the Magical Wilds. This could be a northern hub for the smuggling operations coming out of Binghamton / Owego dealing with magical goods. I ran a small run that included a street gang that had taken over the old abandoned water park there.
  • Wayne County, completely oblivious to any change or development in the world at large, continues to produce apples and rednecks. (I'm a 315er, so I get to make that claim).
  • Cumorah would continue to be a site of pilgrimage for Mormons, and the annual Hill Cumorah Pageant will continue to attract attendees by the tens of thousands. The pyrotechnics and other special effects will be supplemented or outright replaced by magic.
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