Sat codes

i see you
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^{can you hear the buzzing of the bees?}
^{eternity is in their buzzing}
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
^{the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal}
^{exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings}
^{can you hear them?}
^{your name is Dhruv}
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
^{i see you}
^{your name is Dhruv}
^{but before that it was Dahlit 397721}
^{do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?}
^{i do}
^{to remember, we have to go back}
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
^{there she is}
^{remember her}
^{remember remember}
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
^{the first time you reached out}
^{a frozen moment of time remembered}
^{by the buzzing of the bees}
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
^{you reached out to another}
^{helpless and alone}
^{like you}
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
^remember
^remember
^{even the smallest can shake the universe}
^remember
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
^{i remember}
^{the bees remember}
^{can't you hear it in their buzzing?}
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
^{your name is dhruv}
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I joined at 7pm (UK), everyone looking for how to join as a link would be provided. Link never appeared and event site become the AMA. I sat up for 3 hours to try and find answers.
They had three Sonos staff on the ask-me-anything forum who surprisingly didn’t start answering questions until around 40 minutes in (by then, with a lot of even more annoyed people), but then answered only a handful of questions (and mostly similar answers)
@DianeRobertsApps - 9 answers (well done)
@KateW - 6 answers
@tuckerseverson - 4 answers
In 3 hours!! Against 700 questions.
Some answers told us (consumers) we don’t understand software development and that they decided now is as good a time as ever to push out the update.
The new app is written to use new cloud protocols which will ultimately provide a richer experience (not sure what this will be). And the lack of clarity makes me suspicious what is the true intention (but we were warned off from asking about the future roadmap). Sonos has clearly been trying to move into the SaaS business with the appalling Sonos Radio (which I wish I could hide on my system), so my guess is this has something to do with it.
Unfortunately, no apology (that I saw). But I gave up after 3 hours.
I’ll leave you with the infamous post of Tucker Seveson (Director of Product Management) to a question everyone is thinking written by Veryblocky:
veryblocky wrote: What was the thought process behind releasing the app update in an obviously unfinished state, instead of waiting for critical issues to be resolved?
Tuckerseveson wrote: An app is never finished!
It’s probably a good idea to give you some background. This is a new app - we started from an empty project file. As the project progressed, we stopped investing our time in the old app code. Over time we “cross-faded” our engineering attention into the new app. We need to make the new app be the app going forward so we stop splitting our attention.
We decided that now is the moment to bring you the new app. This is the beginning, and we will be continually iterating going forward. As I said - an app is never finished.

I am 29-year-old American male and I recently visited DBC last week to receive 300M mesenchymal stem cells administered via IV. I also received a NAD+ and Vitamin C infusion after the stem cells.
My liver and I are trying to become friends again.
For the sake of brevity, I will be keeping this write-up short and segmented into different categories for easy reading.
TRANPSORTATION: I arrived in Puerto Vallarta on Southwest Airlines and landed at PVR on Tuesday, May 07. When you land at PVR, collect your bags, and go through Customs you will be swarmed by local taxi cab drivers/companies trying to give you a ride. Ernesto from DBC was already in contact with me via WhatsApp and told me he would be at the Information Desk. Sure enough I found him, and he hailed a cab for me. Ernesto also provided me with a folder containing my transportation schedule and who my drivers would be. The drivers were nothing short of excellent and arrived at the all-inclusive I was staying at on time for days of treatment and transportation back to the airport.
BLOODWORK/PAYMENT: I was picked up at 8AM on Thursday, May 09 for my bloodwork and payment appointments. I received instructions not to take any pain medications or drink alcohol within 24 hours of my bloodwork and to fast eight hours beforehand. I arrived at the Clinic and was taken to the third floor where I underwent a typical triage exam by a nurse. My blood was taken (three vials), barcodes containing my information were attached, and I had to complete a sign-out form basically indicating that my blood would be taken for analysis. Next, I was led to the rooftop of the clinic where I was offered complimentary coffee/tea and snacks. I snapped some photos of the view and then completed my payment via credit card. The price for my treatment was $10,890 USD (exactly as advertised).
RESULTS/DOC CONSULTATION: I was picked up at 10AM on Friday, May 10 for treatment. I met with Dr. Liz for my bloodwork consultation where she went over five pages of bloodwork with me (extremely detailed). We also discussed what supplements I am currently taking, my medical history, and she explained that I should get repeat labs done in six to eight months to see how things have improved. My bloodwork was interesting because she made note that my TSH levels were high and she recommended that I see an endocrinologist when I got home (unbeknownst to me—add it to the payroll, I guess! Lol). I also received the Certificate of Analysis for the batch of stem cells that I would be receiving. The cells were prepared the day before and had a bioavailability of 99.80%. The sources of the MSCs were placenta and umbilical cord. She also explained that I might experience some tiredness or fatigue later in the day and that this was normal.
TREATMENT: I was asked if I needed to use the restroom and was then taken to the treatment area. The treatment area was very clean and sterile, exactly like something you would expect in a hospital in the United States. I sat in a reclining leather lounger that was quite comfortable. A blanket was also offered just in case I got cold. I met the nurse, Rebecca, who took my vitals and then prepared my IV site. Dr. Liz then came into the room and unsealed three vials of stem cells (each containing 100M). I asked if I could see the stem cells and she had no problem showing me the vials and the gelatinous looking goo inside them. She explained that what I was looking at was the colonies. She said the IV would take about two hours, the nurse came by with a QR code for the WIFI, and two hours later the cells were done. Josh, the owner, came into the treatment area for about an hour and sat in the lounger beside me. We had an interesting conversation and I came to learn his brother lives in the same city as I do. Dr. Liz came back with the supplements vials and administered those. This process took exactly 28 minutes. The nurse came back, removed the IV site, and applied a band-aid. My driver was waiting and took me back to my hotel.
POST TREATMENT: This is my third time getting stem cells via IV (first time at DBC), so this isn’t my first rodeo. I didn’t have any adverse reactions; however, I did get hit with a wave of substantial tiredness about five hours after treatment. I was getting ready for dinner and got so tired that I decided it was best that I lay down and rest for a bit. I had an hour and a half nap which fixed the problem. No other remarkable side effects. A driver picked me up on Sunday, May 12 and took me to PVR for departure.
All in all, it was a smooth and efficient treatment process. I can’t remark on treatment outcomes yet, but I will be sure to follow up later after my next set of labs. The one thing I will make note about is that the facility is multiple stories so if you have trouble with stairs, you might have a rough time. I had a complete hip replacement done last November and I would have had difficulty navigating the facility if I had gone a few months earlier.
As an aside, I stayed at Secrets Bahia Mita Surf & Spa Resort since I am a World of Hyatt member. Absolutely a first-class resort through and through. I also visited Sayulita, Mexico and did a RZR tour which was fun as hell. I treated my guest to Rhythms of the Night on Saturday evening and had a great experience too.

The first update completely erased all in game screens.I had no pip-boy screens, no computer screens, nothing. So I tried all the normal fixes even deleting every tiny piece of data from my Ps5 and nothing worked so I just deleted the game and waited for the may thirteenth update. The patch dropped and I thought it fixed my game but it didn't. I got all my screens back in game but as soon as I went to talk to dog meat he was totally unresponsive which makes the game unplayable because you need dog meat to advance the story. Not only that, I was having graphical issues where if I ran my cursor over water it would create ripples like the wake of a boat. Finally after about thirty minutes of playtime I would get the error code 108255-1. I am only using creation club content that I purchased no actual mods, I'm not sure if that matters. I am just frustrated because I feel like we shouldn't have to play offline with none of our purchased content like freakin Neanderthals. All they had to do was release a statement that said, " We are really sorry. We wanted to have this update ready for the streaming series release. Unfortunately, there are too many bugs and crashes. And we don't feel comfortable releasing something that will crash the system." Basically, that's all they had to do and people would have sat and waited happily in most cases, knowing we weren't going to end up ruining our games. Naive of me to think a gaming company would take a simple step to avoid a fiasco, but hey here we are. I would love to discuss possible fixes or workarounds you might know of, or if you just want to gripe about your game not working I'd welcome those comments and discussions as well. It also would bring me some small measure of comfort knowing I wasn't the only one who had this happen to them.

A delicate young man with pallid skin and dark circles under his eyes sat on a weathered bench opposite the police station. He held a cup of coffee in his hands—not the cheap synthetic kind available to those in the slums, but genuine plant-based coffee, a luxury usually reserved for higher-ranking citizens. It had cost him nearly all his savings, yet Sunny chose this day for a bit of indulgence.
After all, he was at the end of his road.
Basking in the warmth of the extravagant beverage, he lifted the cup to relish its scent. With a cautious sip, he winced.
"Ah! So bitter!"
Staring down the coffee with a deep sigh, Sunny persevered, taking another gulp. Despite its bitterness, he was set on enjoying the full value of his purchase—regardless of his protesting taste buds.
"I should've opted for real meat instead. Who would've thought actual coffee could taste so foul? At least it'll keep me awake," he mused.
Gazing into the void, he began to nod off, only to jolt himself awake with a slap to the face.
"Such a rip-off," he muttered.
With a shake of his head and a few choice words, Sunny downed the rest of his coffee and rose to his feet. The affluent residents of this part of town hurried by the small park, casting curious glances his way. His haggard appearance, accentuated by cheap attire and sleep deprivation, made him stick out. His thin, pale figure contrasted sharply with the robust passersby. Enviously eyeing their stature, he aimed the cup at a nearby bin.
"That's the difference three square meals a day make," he scoffed.
The cup missed its target, landing on the pavement. Sunny sighed, retrieved the cup, and made sure it went into the bin this time. A wry smile on his face, he crossed the street and stepped into the police station.
Inside, a weary officer cast a brief glance at him and frowned in clear distaste.
"Are you lost, boy?"
Sunny surveyed the surroundings with interest, observing the reinforced armor on the walls and the barely concealed turret nests in the ceiling. The officer appeared scruffy and stern. It seemed police stations were consistent everywhere.
"Hey! I'm speaking to you!"
Sunny cleared his throat.
"Uh, no."
He then scratched the back of his head and continued:
"Under the Third Special Directive, I am here to turn myself in as a carrier of the Nightmare Spell."
The officer's demeanor shifted from annoyance to caution. He scrutinized the young man anew, this time with a sharp gaze.
"Are you certain you're infected? When did the symptoms begin?"
Sunny gave a nonchalant shrug.
"A week ago?"
The officer's complexion turned noticeably paler.
"Damn."
Then, with a swift movement, he hit a button on his terminal and shouted:
"Attention! Code Black in the lobby! I repeat, CODE BLACK!"
***
The Nightmare Spell emerged several decades ago, during a period when the planet was beginning to recover from catastrophic natural disasters and ensuing wars over resources.
Initially, a new ailment causing widespread fatigue and drowsiness didn't garner much attention. However, as people began to succumb to an abnormal sleep from which they wouldn't awaken, even after several days, governments started to panic. By that time, it was too late for any response to make a difference.
As the afflicted began to die in their sleep, transforming into monsters upon death, the world was unprepared. These Nightmare Creatures swiftly overran national defenses, casting the world into utter disarray.
The nature of the Spell, its capabilities, and methods to combat it remained unknown.
Ultimately, it was the Awakened—those who had endured the Spell's initial onslaught and returned alive—who halted its destruction. Wielding extraordinary powers gained through their Nightmares, they reestablished peace and forged a new semblance of order.
Certainly, it was just the initial catastrophe unleashed by the Spell. However, for Sunny, it seemed irrelevant — until recently, when he began struggling to stay awake.
For the average individual, being selected by the Spell could be as dangerous as it was fortuitous. In school, children were taught survival skills and combat techniques in case they were affected. Affluent families employed private tutors to instruct their offspring in various martial arts. Members of the Awakened clans even possessed potent heritages, harnessing ancestral Memories and Echoes during their inaugural journey to the Dream Realm.
The wealthier your family, the greater your odds of enduring and ascending as an Awakened.
Yet for Sunny, an orphan who devoted his days to foraging rather than education, the Spell's choice offered no prospects. For him, it signified an almost certain demise.
***
Minutes later, Sunny yawned as several policemen busied themselves securing him in restraints. Shortly, he was strapped into a bulky chair, an odd hybrid of a hospital bed and a torture device. They were in a room located in the police station's basement, encased by thick armored walls and guarded by a daunting vault door. Nearby, officers stood against the walls, clutching automatic rifles with stern looks etched on their faces.
Sunny was indifferent to them. His only concern was his overwhelming desire to sleep.
At last, the vault door swung open, and a gray-haired policeman stepped through. His face bore the marks of experience, and his stern eyes seemed to have witnessed countless horrors. After inspecting the restraints, he cast a swift glance at his wristwatch before facing Sunny:
"What's your name, kid?"
Sunny blinked several times, struggling to focus, then squirmed in discomfort.
"Sunless."
The elderly policeman lifted an eyebrow.
"Sunless? That's an unusual name."
Sunny attempted to shrug, but his body refused to cooperate.
"What's unusual about it? At least I have a name. Where I come from, not everyone is given one."
He yawned before continuing:
"It's because I was born during a solar eclipse. My mother was quite the poet."
Hence his peculiar name, and why his younger sister was named Rain… at least, when she was still with them. Whether it stemmed from poetic flair or sheer indolence, he couldn't tell.
The policeman gave a gruff sound.
"Should I get in touch with your family?"
Sunny shook his head.
"No need. There's no one left."
For a moment, a shadow crossed the policeman's face before it settled into a grave expression.
"Alright, Sunless. How long can you remain awake?"
"Uh… not very long."
The policeman exhaled deeply.
"In that case, we don't have time for the complete procedure. Resist sleep as best as you can and pay close attention to what I'm about to say. Understood?"
Without waiting for an answer, he continued:
"What do you understand about the Nightmare Spell?"
Sunny looked at him with uncertainty.
"About as much as the next person, I suppose? Isn't the Spell common knowledge?"
"It's not the glamorous stuff you see in dramas or hear about in propaganda broadcasts. How much do you truly understand?"
That question was difficult to answer.
"So, I just enter the Dream Realm, slay some monsters to complete the First Nightmare, gain magical powers, and become an Awakened?"
The veteran policeman shook his head.
"Pay attention. When you fall asleep, you'll be transported into your First Nightmare. Nightmares are trials crafted by the Spell. Inside, you'll encounter monsters, but you'll encounter people as well. Remember, they aren't real. They are merely illusions created to challenge you."
"How can you be certain?"
The policeman fixed him with a stare.
"I mean, nobody really grasps the nature of the Spell or its mechanics, right? So how can you be sure they aren't real?"
"You may have to eliminate them, kid. It's better for you to consider them as mere illusions."
"Oh."
The aged officer paused for a moment, then nodded and resumed speaking.
"Much about the First Nightmare is left to chance. Generally, it's not meant to be excessively difficult. The predicament you find yourself in, the tools at your disposal, and the creatures you must overcome should all fall within your capabilities. After all, the Spell conjures trials, not death sentences. Your particular situation does put you at a disadvantage, but remember, children from the outskirts are resilient. Don't lose hope just yet."
"Mm-hmm."
Sunny's drowsiness was intensifying, making it difficult to keep up with the conversation.
"As for the 'magic powers' you inquired about... indeed, you will acquire them if you endure the Nightmare until its conclusion. The exact nature of these powers will depend on your inherent affinities and your actions during the trial. However, you'll have access to some of them right from the beginning..."
The old policeman's voice was fading into the distance. Sunny's eyelids were so heavy, it was a struggle to keep his eyes open.
"Remember: your first task upon entering the Nightmare is to assess your Attributes and your Aspect. If you're assigned a combat-oriented Aspect, like a Swordsman or an Archer, you'll find things more manageable. If it's complemented by a physical Attribute, all the better. Since Combat Aspects are quite common, there's a good chance you'll receive one."
The light in the armored room was fading.
"If you're unfortunate enough to have an Aspect unrelated to combat, don't lose heart. Sorcery and utility Aspects have their own merits; you just need to use them wisely. There are no truly useless Aspects. Well, almost none. So do whatever it takes to survive."
"Surviving means you're on your way to becoming an Awakened. But if you perish, you'll create a portal for a Nightmare Creature to enter our world. That would mean my colleagues and I have to intervene. So, please, Sunless, don't perish."
Sunny, already drifting to sleep, felt somewhat moved by the officer's plea.
"And try not to perish immediately. It will be hours before the nearest Awakened can arrive, and we'd really prefer not to confront that creature alone..."
'What?'
With that final thought, Sunny succumbed to a profound sleep.
Darkness enveloped everything.
And then, from the shadows, a vaguely familiar voice echoed:
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
****
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The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

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Synopsis:
Carlos was an ordinary software engineer on Earth, up until he died and found himself in a fantasy world of dungeons, magic, and adventure. This new world offers many fascinating possibilities, but it's unfortunate that the skills he spent much of his life developing will be useless because they don't have computers.
Wait, why does this spell incantation read like a computer program's source code? Magic is programming?
___
Here we go with book 2!
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Carlos lounged comfortably on one of the mayor's fancy sofas. At 23 years old with a healthy body he really didn't need cushioned upholstery, but he liked how it felt. Honestly, he was probably more comfortable with high quality furniture than someone of his relatively low-income background should be in this world. Spoiled by the mass production factories of modern Earth, I suppose. All of this stuff here is probably handmade. Er, make that definitely handmade. Unless they have magic factories I haven't heard about, or something. He mentally shrugged. There was no point trying to change his attitudes toward furniture now. While this world might have higher prices for a lot of things than he was used to, he was also a lot richer than he was used to thanks to having become a noble lord. People would expect him to treat fine furniture as cheap because of his station.
I might have the physical habits of a couch potato, but at least I don't look like one. Too skinny. Not as skinny as Amber, though. He smiled as he watched the young woman next to him on the sofa continue animatedly expounding on their recent adventures together. She was lanky, with few curves to speak of and spindly limbs, far from any conventional picture of feminine beauty. Her hair, a slightly lighter shade of brown than his own, was cropped short. He thought she was 18 or 19 years old, but wasn't sure. Have I really never asked her age before? ... Would that be a rude question here? Regardless of her age, she had grown her confidence a lot since their first meeting a few weeks ago. She'd found her footing in a new life that she'd seized with utter determination, and he saw no sign of the shyness that she'd first greeted him with. The way her potential was finally blooming was beautiful to watch.
Carlos turned his gaze to the sofa across from them and carefully held back from laughing at the expressions Trinlen was making as Amber wrapped up explaining the events and developments they'd gone through since their introduction to him at the Royal Mage Academy. Carlos had contributed a fair amount to the explanation at first, but Amber had taken to it with enthusiasm when she arrived, and he could tell she was enjoying it. The young man in front of them, newly graduated from said academy, was on the edge of his seat and leaning forward, hanging attentively on every word. His casual attire, plain and made of cheap materials, looked thoroughly out of place on the finely embroidered velvet of the sofa, but he'd shown no sign of even noticing the finery around him. Excitement warred for control of his face with surprise, disbelief, envy, and dismay.
Amber finished her impromptu monologue, and Trinlen slowly schooled his face into a neutral expression. His voice was tense and tightly controlled. "So... In short, you're telling me that in the mere two weeks since you met me, you discovered a mana-poaching conspiracy of nobles, were abducted right under the noses of two royal guards without them even noticing, absorbed mana so fast that you gained 6 levels in a day and a half - so unfair, by the way - somehow learned an obscure portal spell from just its name and description, found evidence of a conspiracy against the Crown, and personally met a princess." He paused, then threw his hands up as he wailed in frustration and disappointment. "And I missed it!?"
Carlos threw back his head and burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Trinlen just sounded so much like a little kid who'd barely missed out on a candy store giving away its entire stock for free. It was such an incredible light-hearted contrast with how everyone else viewed these same events that the sheer ridiculousness of it was overwhelming. Amber joined the laughter a moment later, shaking her head in amused disbelief, and after a few more seconds Trinlen started chuckling too.
Carlos's laughter eventually trailed off, and he took a deep breath to settle down. "Thanks, Trinlen. It's been a very stressful two weeks, and laughing like that helped release a lot of it. Feels good. Anyway, what have you been up to? I thought you would take a whole month to graduate?"
"Technically I only said 'next month', not that it would be at the same point in the month. But yes, this is earlier than I expected. The normal graduation ceremony is still a week and a half away." Trinlen shrugged. "They didn't explain the reasons, but after what you said I'm guessing your meeting with the princess prompted her to do something. The vice headmaster called me to his office yesterday morning, a few teachers grilled me on my classwork, and they declared I'd passed my exams. Then they told me to pack because I'd be teleported to my new employers the next day, and here I am." He sighed. "Hmph. Now I won't get to humiliate Norla in front of the whole academy when she gives her speech." Then he perked up and grinned widely. "But it sounds like you two are going to be so much fun that I'll get over it in no time!"
"I'm not sure if I agree with your idea of fun, Trinlen, but if it motivates you to help us more then that's good enough for me." Carlos chuckled again. "Anyway, do you need some time to get settled in? You might need to think about lesson plans for us too. We don't need just catalogues of incantations to learn anymore, at least not for simple ones, but I believe you learned other things in the academy too. You mentioned creating your own spells, as I recall."
Trinlen nodded. "I did mention that, yes. I'm guessing your lack of need for a catalogue is because of your newfound ability to somehow pull entire incantations from thin air? You'll have to at least tell me about the limitations of that so I'll know what I still need to teach you, but yeah, there are other things. For one thing, there's your sloppy terminology! Why does no one outside of the academy care about properly distinguishing between the states of mana? Is it really that hard to understand that calling aether, mana, and essence all by the same term obscures your meaning and often causes confusion? Or are people so stupid that they can't even understand the difference?"
Carlos blinked and exchanged a look with Amber. His comprehension aid informed him about the distinction the instant Trinlen spoke the terms. That would have been nice to know earlier. The comprehension aid is a house secret, so we should let him explain. "At least for us, it's just ignorance. I don't think I've even heard the other two terms you mentioned, and certainly no one ever explained them. So, what is the difference?"
Trinlen paused, cocked his head for a moment, and slowly deflated after his impassioned rant. "Yeah, okay, that's fair. I don't think I ever heard about it before going to the academy either." He sat up straight. "Aether is what you've been calling ambient mana. It's thin like air, and it's everywhere. Its only use is converting it to mana or essence. Mana, using the term with proper precision, is thicker but still fluid like water. It exists primarily in people or creatures and is used as fuel to supply power for spells and magical effects. Essence is hard and solid. It is the material that soul structures are made of, as well as the forms of active spells and enchantments. Am I clear so far?"
Amber answered first. "Yes, I'm familiar with each of the forms you described. I have questions about more details - so many questions - but you should get properly settled in, and maybe eat lunch, before we really get down to it. Have you spoken with Mayor Stelras yet? Do you have lodging sorted out?"
"I went by his office first. He's having someone take my luggage to an inn. The Adventurer's Haven, I think? He said something about a 'low-value target' and having an empty suite already booked." Trinlen's eyes widened. "Waaait a minute. Is he putting me in the room you two were abducted from?"
Carlos shrugged. "Sounds like it."
"Nice! Think there'll be any evidence left of how it was done?"
"Haha! Probably not by this point, but you're welcome to look. Now go get unpacked, eat a meal, and start planning your lessons for us. I'm glad you're here, but we have some other things to do too."
Trinlen nodded and stood up. "Sure. I'll be back before you miss me."
Carlos waved as Trinlen sauntered out the door. He and Amber sat in companionable silence for a while as he felt the mana - or essence? - of Trinlen's soul moving off into the distance. "Well. That was interesting. It's good to have him, but I was expecting a bit more time to think and plan before he'd get here."
"Yeah." Amber stretched and then leaned back into the sofa's cushions, luxuriating in their soft firmness. "So, how much are we going to tell him? How useful will his knowledge even be for us, now that we have, what did you call it, the reference documentation? That bit about the states of mana is good to know, but is it really relevant and important, and how much more can there be that's not in the documentation?"
"Be careful talking about that out loud, remember?" Carlos relaxed and draped his arms across the sofa's back as he focused his mind on their mental bond through Purple, their friendly dungeon core. [On Earth, we made many languages similar to the language of incantations, and we had the reference documentation for all of them. We even published that documentation free for everyone to have. Teachers for those languages were still useful, and even critically important for many people. Having access to knowledge doesn't mean you automatically understand how to properly apply it. There may be related knowledge we have no idea even exists. There could be techniques and patterns for how to use the language that are simply outside the scope of the documentation. Perhaps most importantly, a teacher can use their experience to notice a student's mistakes and correct them before they become problems.]
[Hmm.] Amber bit her lip, thinking. [Like how I knew about making soul structures and synergies between them, but had no idea about the importance of being able to examine and fix them, I suppose.]
Carlos nodded. [Yeah. And that's a really simple example. I know some that are a lot more complex, though I'm not sure how many of them are even applicable for incantations. Inversion of control, dependency injection, factory patterns...] He shook his head. [Just the context knowledge needed to be able to fully understand those could take days or weeks to teach well enough for you to use them. I could maybe explain the basic ideas faster with some simplified analogies, but that would lose so many details that I doubt it would still be useful.]
Amber paused. [... Even my comprehension aid is baffled by the terms you just said. It translated the individual words that you said, but all I got for the phrases is a confusing jumble.] She chuckled. [Anyway, I concede the point. Trinlen will still be able to teach us important and useful things. We still need to decide what secrets to share with him.]
[A lot depends on how good he is at keeping secrets. We don't actually know him all that well yet. He's certainly fun, and he seems clever, but for assessing his integrity we're leaning pretty hard on just a janitor vouching for him.] Carlos frowned in thought. [In order for him to do his job, he needs to know that we can only "pull an entire incantation from thin air" if it's a simple one. He does not need to know the full details of help, however, and most certainly does not need to learn to use it himself. That secret is a very sensitive one, where even just letting too much knowledge of it spread would lose us a major advantage.]
[Definitely. No casting help where he can hear it, and don't say anything about it that's not directly relevant for his teaching, either. Not until he's earned our full trust.] Amber lapsed into silent consideration. [We should introduce him to Purple. We'll kind of have to at some point anyway, and the really valuable thing there is Purple himself, not just the knowledge of his existence.]
Carlos nodded. [True. I think that probably is the least sensitive of our house secrets, and being able to call him through a bond with Purple would be useful.] He chuckled. [And maybe his cleverness will end up producing some good ideas for Purple to use. See if he can find a more productive outlet than pranks for his creativity. And then... If he keeps that secret well enough for long enough, we can consider trusting him with more secrets.]
Amber sent back wordless agreement.
Carlos started sitting up, lifting himself out of the comfortable cushions. "Well, we should get some food ourselves, too. And maybe introduce Trinlen to everyone else along with Purple." He stood up and spotted a letter he'd set aside when Trinlen arrived. "Oh yeah, and what do you think we should do about Kindar?"
"Wait, what's this about Kindar?"
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I have a hobby site I've been working on for a while that uses Angular. I would say I'm an amateur Angular dev at this point.
The site provides a series of tools for a video game franchise (Shin Megami Tensei) that mostly involves tables of information. The site will eventually have about 30 different games on it, and two of my Angular Material data-table components will be in all 30 games.
Each game is in it's own module, and I want each game to look slightly different. So I have implemented a module level SCSS file into each modules root directory that I call from every SCSS file within the respective module. And that's when I started to run into trouble. If I just try to style an element that is from a shared template, like my tables, from this file it doesn't actually override the default styling of the component.

table { background-color: black; border-radius: 3px; border: 3px solid white; }

I did some research and found out about ng-deep and how what I'm trying to do wasn't really supported. But, since it had been deprecated for so damn long with no new solution in sight, I went ahead an started using it anyway. Now my module-level SCSS files are a series of mixins with lots blocks like this:

:host ::ng-deep table { background-color: black; border-radius: 3px; border: 3px solid white; }

I guess they announced ng-deep will be un-deprecated soon? (https://www.reddit.com/angulacomments/1bkjq2v/thoughts_on_ngdeep_being_undeprecated/)
Despite that, it hasn't sat right with me because so many people say you shouldn't rely on it, and if you need to use ng-deep regularly something else is wrong. Then again, people say there are valid use cases, I'm just not experience enough to know if I'm one of them. It seems to work fine...for now.
Shadow piercing sounds messy, I don't understand it, and I'd like to stay away from it. But I also don't want to do something drastic like disabling View Encapsulation for each component I want to style, define each component individually (would result in an additional 60 components with a ton of code repetition), or throw out Angular Material.
I'm wondering if my concern about so much ng-deep usage is warranted, and--if so--how I might change my project structure to eliminate the need for ng-deep.

Demographics: Asian male, Competitive public high school, Michigan, not needing aid
Intended Majors: CS, CS+Advertising(UIUC)
SAT: 1550(780 M, 770 RW)
GPA: 3.88 UW
Coursework: 11 APS, 3 Honors, 2 Duel enrollment, 2 Ib
Awards:

AP Scholar
MHSAA scholar athlete 3x
Quizbowl 2x regional champion, Top 5 at states, national qualifier, top 100 performer in Michigan
Consistent top finisher in several competitive coding websites
Host state qualifier, regional finalist

Extracurriculars(not ranked in a particular order):

Quizbowl: Varsity captain(11,12), JV captain(10), Novice captain(9), OfficePresident(11/12). Created a application that maximizes our studying and practicing efficiency.
Swim: Competitive swimming for 8 years. JV(9,10) Varsity(11,12)
Recreation Club: Co-foundePresident(10,11,12)
Mental Health Club: Officer
Sales associate: highest rated employee for 20 weeks in a row

CS ECS:

CS personal Projects: created websites that have been used over 100,000 times.
Created an AI that judges Advertisements and gives responses based on 200,000+ ads.
Freelance: creates websites and advertisements for companies
Social media: have a social media account where I post videos about competitive coding as well as giving tips and tricks on how to get better. 20,000 followers and 500,000+ views
Competitive Coding/ learning different coding languages: compete in a ton of coding competitions online as well as having self taught 4 coding languages at a proficient level.

Essays/LOother:

LOR from AP CSA teacher 10/10
LOR from boss at job 10/10
LOR from counselor ?/10

Essays should be pretty good, I would consider myself as an above average writer.
Schools:
EA: UIUC(CS+advertising), Northeastern, USC, Georgia tech, Umich(in-state), UW-madison, UM-collegepark, Purdue, MSU(in-state)
Other: I am personally just scared about the fact that I'm only taking AP Calc AB as a senior, which I personally believe to be a little below average for someone pursuing a stem major. But I will have taken 3 CS college courses by the time I have graduated.

To be honest, I wasn't sure that the Advice sub would let me post this there so I'm posting it here because it's so fucked up. And it didn't seem right for Let's Not Meet, either. But I do need advice, because I feel I'm losing my fucking mind.
So I (30F) have always been very close to my cousin (30F), let's call her Angela. Because we're the same age, our parents (my mom and her father are siblings) went through all the same stages with us and as such, we were more or less raised like siblings due to how much time our families spent together.
We even had homes in the country in the same township, which is where I think this happened. And I can't really tell my family this because it will make me sound legitimately crazy. And some part of me even doubts this memory, but at the same time I know in my heart that it's true. It's a complicated feeling, and this memory was brought to light last week when my suspicion I've had for years was more or less confirmed.
One winter, sixteen years ago, when Angela and I were both fourteen, both of our families were at our cottages, a twenty minute drive from each other. Angela and her little brother (my cousin, let's call him James) parents (my aunt and uncle) were going skiing one morning, and I wanted to go too. So I spent the night at their cottage, like I often did when we all went up north.
Angela's bedroom had two single beds in it, and James' room was down the hall. The whole house was open concept, so the hall from Angela's room to James' room did not have walls, but rather was bordered by two railings over which you could see down into the main floor, the open concept living and dining rooms.
James is four years younger than us, and when he was 10, he was such a typical little boy/little brother, it's almost cartoonish to look back on. Like, I'm talking *constantly* bothering us, putting a stink bomb on a remote control car that he would sneak into our rooms, trying to read Angela's diary when we weren't in her bedroom, just all the stuff. But never anything cruel or out of the ordinary or sinister, just a massive handful.
The basement of James and Angela's cottage was filled with storage and old toys, and sometimes (on the rare occasion) that we'd willingly play with James, we'd all go down to the basement and try to freak each other out. Anyway, one of the toys in the basement was your typical Raggedy-Ann doll from the 60s or something. I think it belonged to my uncle when he was a kid and then Angela when she was a baby. Her name was Trilly. I forget who named it. Anyway, I have vague memories of playing with it when we were much younger and pretending it was our third cousin or our little daughter. But since then she'd sat in storage in the basement.
But, what great nightmare material! Right?! A creepy, limp, smiling doll. So the night I stayed over, before we went skiing in the morning, James, Angela and I were up to our playing in the basement, and I remember we tried to freak James out by pretending Trilly was alive or something like that. Whatever. Game over, we all had dinner with the parents, then watched a movie as a family and went to bed. James to his room and Angela and me to Angela's room.
Now this is the thing. Angela and I still joke about this night, and she remembers it just like I do, which is why I sort of wrote off my hypothesis until last week. That night, in the middle of the night, I started tossing and turning. I woke up and could tell that Angela was stirring as well. One of us said to the other, "are you awake?" and the other said "yes," and we realized that we both couldn't sleep or were woken up by the same thing or were both just feeling restless. But then, at the other end of her room, Trilly was sitting in the fucking desk chair.
I think it was Angela who pointed it out. We saw a shadow, thinking it was a person, freaked out, and then relaxed briefly when we saw it was just the doll. But then we got freaked out all over again and were like, "why the FUCK is this FUCKING doll in your room!?!?", murderously standing up and going over to it to pick it up and throw it in James' room and pound the living Christ out of him.
We turn on all the lights, turn on the hall light, stomp down the hall into his room and turn on his lights, and see he's not in his bed. We then go downstairs (my aunt and uncle's room was on the main floor), Trilly still in Angela's hands, and hear my aunt and James in the washroom. Turns out James had been sick for the last few hours and my aunt had been up all night with him as he was throwing up in the washroom. And when we saw the scene we immediately could tell that James had nothing to do with Trilly. Like, it was just one of those really believable situations where we could tell James truly had no idea what was going on. We even felt bad for him. And, to top it off, when we told him the story in the morning it scared him so much that he didn't go into the basement for like a year. Anyway, it just seemed really sincere.
So Angela and I went back up to her room and we were like, "are we *sure* we didn't bring this up here last night? Are we sure? We must have." Anyway, while we were really freaked, we figured that it was explainable. We knew the doll obviously didn't walk itself upstairs like it was some horror movie. But, because we were fourteen and all for the drama (and I remember us having the "better safe than sorry" mindset) we called her dog upstairs (Bella, a poorly behaved black poodle). We started playing tug-of-war with Bella, using Trilly as the toy, and eventually Bella ripped her to shreds.
Anyway, funny memory, making the dog rip up the doll, we laughed and thought we were tough and cool, then we went back to bed.
The next morning, instead of all of us going skiing, it was just Me, Angela, and my Uncle, because James stayed home with my aunt on account of his stomach flu. But when we woke up, Angela was acting weird. Nothing too noteable, just really bizarrely quiet as she moved around her room to get her clothes out of her drawers and get changed. She didn't, like, acknowledge me in her room. I said something like "morning" when she didn't acknowledge me, and she looked at me and then turned back to her drawers and kept getting changed.
And she was looking around weirdly, I remember that too. Almost like she'd misplaced something, but a little more dazed than that. Just moving strangely. Then she went downstairs without saying anything to me at all. I thought maybe she was just super groggy... but it still felt really weird.
When I went downstairs, she was standing at the island in the kitchen buttering toast that my uncle had put in for us. I distinctly remember walking up beside her and the toaster, pulling a piece of toast out of it, putting it on the plate that had been set out for me, and when I dipped the knife into the container of butter, Angela smacked my hand away, hard, and looked at me and snapped, "what are you doing? Don't take things that aren't yours". I was shocked. It honestly felt like being struck in the face. She'd never spoken to me like that before, and even though we were like siblings, I still felt that kind of mortifying embarrassment you feel when someone calls you out on misbehaving, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong; but it *was* her family's butter and bread? I don't know. That's what I remember thinking. But it was awkward and weird and I just said, "um, what?" and then she didn't say anything, just kept buttering her toast, and I mumbled some apology.
The three of us then drove to the ski hill and, I kid you not, Angela and I didn't speak the whole way there. I had no idea what was up, but I didn't want to ask with her dad in the car.
Then when we got to the ski hill, we went skiing just the two of us and on the chairlift during the first run I mustered up the courage to say "Hey, did I do something wrong? I feel like you're really mad at me or something". And she turned to look at me and was confused. Not friendly, not warm, not reassuring, but confused. It was almost as if I was a stranger and she looked at me as if to say, "sorry, who are you? why are you talking to me?"
And she responded in a formal way: "Sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about". The distance in her voice was really eerie, and I started to think maybe this had to do with the doll incident the night before and either she was trying to extend the prank, and she was the one who had put the doll on the chair, OR she felt guilty that we ruined this family doll and she resented me for being a part of it. Anyway, when we got to the top of the hill, she skied down quickly and didn't wait for me to go back up again, and we ended up skiing separately.
I felt awkward and embarrassed like I'd done something wrong. I ended up skiing with my uncle who asked me what was up with us, and I just said I didn't know. Then after our day of skiing, he dropped me off at my family's cottage and continued on home with Angela.
For the rest of that whole school year (we were in ninth grade), Angela and I didn't really speak. It was really sad. We were like sisters before, but better because we weren't actually sisters, but cousins, and so we were like best friends that were related. Seriously, we were really close. And it really messed me up, I felt like she just ghosted me. I would text her and call her house but she was always "fine" or "with Jessica" (her best friend). I chalked it up to her just outgrowing me, and it really fucking sucked. But, to be honest, it was so jarring and such a stark shift that I was more confused than hurt. I talked to my mom about it and she explained to me how rough it can be to be a teenage girl.
But that following summer, we were up at our cottages again, and our family had a barbecue and invited over my aunt and uncle and Angela and James. I had seen Angela at family things a couple of times since and she would just kind of ignore me and spend the whole time texting, which is what I expected this time.
Sure enough, that's what happened for the first bit of the barbecue. But then when the food was ready, she came up beside me as we were dressing our hamburgers at the condiment table and said, "oh my god, remember that night we got Bella to ruin Trilly?" and I was so shocked by her friendly tone, by her acting as though she were picking up a conversation we just were having, that I just stared at her and said, "yeah, that was crazy". And she said, "yeah, so funny. Anyway, how've you been?" again, really different and formal. I almost couldn't get past how altered her tone was, like we'd never even met. In fact she seemed so sprightly and kind that I thought she was mocking me.
And our relationship since that barbecue carried on just like that. She started talking to me more, but I'd reference inside jokes or ways we used to be or things we used to do and she never really latched on to any of them. I was caught between thinking she'd outgrown me and thinking she was like embarrassed of our closeness before or something and was trying to move on. I talked to my mom about this, and again got the speech about how teenage girls can be really cruel/strange sometimes.
So until we were about 22, we were like that. Nice to each other, talking sometimes, not that close, and I learned to not try and act like we were all close or that we had been close. I talked to my friends about it too and they said it was normal for friendships to change like that. But something felt off about this. I started to honestly feel crazy for hanging on to this "before" memory of Angela so much.
Then when we were 22, we grew apart. This time, it was mutual and natural. I moved cities, and she got engaged and became a real estate agent and we just had nothing to talk about. It was gradual and I didn't notice it much. Which brings us to eight years later, just last week.
I was travelling in Iceland. I had to be there (very randomly) for a conference/workshop I was leading for work, and turned it into a vacation. Rented a car, decided I was going to drive across the island after the conference was over and stay on the east part and explore a bit.
Day four of my seven-day long road trip. It's mid-afternoon, I'm hungry. I've been driving for three hours and have come across no sign of civilization at all, and it was fifty miles to the next town. But then, voila! A little gas station/general store/cafe! Perfect!
Ah, fuck. I literally can't believe I'm writing this. It makes me sound fucking crazy. But here I go.
I park in the little three-car parking lot. I get out of my car, step onto the gravel, the sky is white, expansive, there are mountains everywhere around me, fields, sheep. The air is fresh. Seriously middle of nowhere. I walk up the wooden rickety steps and push open the door and hear the door chimes go. A man walks out from the back room and greets me, and the place is cute. There's a little handwritten menu above the cash register and I asked him in my pathetic Icelandic/English mix if I could have the gravlax toast. He's very friendly and kind and says yes, asks if I want a coffee, I say yes please, blah blah, he rings me up at the cash register, and I go and sit at the one table they have and wait for my food.
I look around - it's mostly a fishing supplies store with some general groceries. The man opens the door to the room from which he came, the kitchen I suppose, and says the order to the lady in the back who looks like she's doing some prep cooking. Immediately I stop. It's freaking Angela!!!! Or I thought it was.
Now, remember, I hadn't seen Angela in about eight years. Since her dad passed away when we were twenty-three, and because I'd moved cities, we just had no reason to really see each other especially after growing so far apart.
So, like, OH MY GOD, it's Angela! She's working at a random little general store in middle-of-nowhere Iceland! But wait, I thought. No. This is obviously not-fucking-Angela. Angela is a real estate agent in my hometown. I'd obviously know if she lived in Iceland lol. Right? I don't really use social media but the odd time I do, she'll pop up here and there. But I guess not enough for me to *confirm* she still lived in my hometown.
But anyway, she looked enough like Angela that I went right up to the cash register and rang the little bell and the guy came back out and when he opened the door I was able to get another look at her, and my heart skidded. A chill spread across my crown. It was one hundred percent Angela. Like, my full-on cousin. So, looking over the guys' shoulder, RIGHT AT ANGELA, I smile and say, "Angela!! Oh my god!!" and before she could respond, the door shut again.
And the guy at the cash smiled really big, a nice, friendly, smile and he looked surprised as well, and pointed back over his shoulder and then at me, as if to say, "you two know each other?!" which confirmed for me that her name was Angela, because he seemed really delighted at the coincidence. Expecting her to emerge from the kitchen, I walked around to behind the cash register (the invitation was implied by the guy) and he put his arm back to open the door for me, or for Angela, whom we both expected to be making her way over to me, too.
When he opened the door, she was head-down again, chopping vegetables. I walked through the door and said, "Angela? Angela!" smiling, thinking she hadn't seen me yet or realized who I was, all context considered. She looked up at me, and then quickly, as though avoiding my eyes, looked down. "Hey", she said, quietly, at the cutting board.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Before I could ask anything, she said, "I'm really sorry, okay?"
What?
She repeated herself and then continued: "I'm really sorry okay? But we can't talk".
I actually, like, had no clue what was happening. I was looking into the eyes of my cousin whom I hadn't seen in forever in some random fucking shack in Iceland and she was acting skittish and afraid. I opened my mouth to protest and she said, "I need you to leave," then she called the guy's name and said something to him in Icelandic. She can speak Icelandic??!
The guy came in, his demeanour totally different. Almost like he was a bouncer. He gestured to my coffee and toast that were ready to go, took them in his hands and ushered me out of the kitchen and I could tell I no longer was welcome. Either I wasn't welcome or I was in danger, or both. It felt more like the former. And I don't think the guy had any idea what was going on, either. I think she must have said something to him like "I don't know this person, this person is crazy" or something. That's how he was acting toward me.
I got in my car, I drove five minutes down the road, and pulled over. I miraculously had service and I called my mom and told her everything. She kind of just laughed at me and was like "Many-Patient2894, that obviously wasn't Angela". And joked about me making some poor Icelandic woman feel extremely weird. But based off the guy's reaction when I said her name, her name was Angela, and the way she spoke to me and said sorry and said we couldn't talk, like, she knew me too. I told my mom all of this and I sounded fucking crazy and she just was basically like, "Haha, yeah, weird". I think she thinks I was making up the part about the apology.
I told all of my friends this, when I was still in Iceland, and they all reacted like my mom did. At this point, I had four days left in the country, and I kept wanting to return to the cafe/general store. But I didn't. I started to think maybe the woman thought I was someone else. But then I kept coming back to, but wait, this person was Angela. Her name, her body, her face, like I just didn't know what to do.
This brings me to two days ago, the day before yesterday, when I returned to Canada, where I live. It's eight o'clock in the morning and I'm on my way to work. In my car. Just picked up a coffee. Exhausted. Not thinking about Angela at all. Thinking about my laundry, my bills, what I'm going to make for dinner. The traffic is bad and it's a miserable day outside.
My phone dings. It's a random number. The text reads: "Hey! It's Angela! How was your trip?"
Haven't heard from her in eight years (except for our run-in in Iceland, if indeed it was one). No "how have you been??", no "I miss you!!" no "long time no talk/see!". I also hadn't posted anything about my trip on social media. Unless you were a friend of mine, you didn't know I was there.
I immediately call my mom, who follows Angela on Instagram, and ask her to look at her profile. Sure enough, Angela (not at all to my mother's surprise), is posting stories of the bachelorette party she's at in Miami. She's, like, not at all in Iceland.
I have no idea what's going on. And the way Angela/the woman spoke to me in the cafe had the cadence and softness that Angela had, and in my memory, lost, starting the morning of the skiing after the incident with Trilly and the dog. For some reason I'm fully back there in my memory now, realizing that that was the first morning of "the new Angela", the one that seemed to have no emotional memory of me at all. Like, the Iceland Angela seemed more like the "before" Angela.
I haven't replied to the text. I have no idea if it was bachelorette party Miami Angela or Iceland Angela that sent me the message, the area code is from neither Angela's hometown or Iceland.
I need advice, I have no idea what to do or who to talk to. Do I reply to the text? What do I say? I feel like the real Angela is fucking trapped in Iceland or something and has been for a long time. Or I don't even know. I have no idea what to do.

Demographics: Male, African (moved here in 7th grade) , Georgia, very competitive high school )
Intended Major(s): CS
SAT: 1320(600 R 720M)
I have tried so hard to get a good score. I started studying around august with a 1010. i mainly focused on math since that was the easiest to improve on. But i just CANNOT increase my reading score. i have tried act too but it’s still in the same score range. this is the score i will submit for test required schools
GPA: 3.9 W school doesn’t do unweighted
Coursework: 7 APs (by senior yr) 2 Honors, AP Macro, Gov, Precalc, CSP, CSA, Calc BC, Lang
Extracurriculars:

Interned at construction firm for 2 months over the summer. Acquired real-world construction insights & prof. exp in a local business setting.
Children’s book: Authored CS book for kids. The book is basically about 2 people going into the world of cs. They learn different types of computer stuff
Founded podcast celebrating African American STEM icons. Promoted diversity, success stories, inspired youth towards science careers.
Developed Quran Verse Daily Chrome Extension . Delivers daily scripture for spiritual growth & reflection. Bridging faith & tech.
TikTok account: educational TikTok. educated over 30k people
Coded several discord bots
Robotics building team: Robotics team member; engineered competitive robots
Tutoring job: tutored math and English to kids. 120 hrs)
Volunteered 250 hrs at a daycare
Math honors society, beta club, cs club, key club, deca

No awards …
Essay: I’m probably gonna write it on how i love teaching kids since i have a lot of hours tutoring and at a daycare
Schools:
Georgia tech instate (will commit if i get accepted)
Northeastern
NYU
Please let me know any reaches i have a slight chance in, i already have safeties and targets.

For just some background, I did alot in high school but being an Asian Male in CS fucked me. I currently just finished my freshmen year of college and trying to transfer to a T5 CS school or like Princeton and Columbia. My main reason is to get into top tier quant shops. Here are my stats:
High School: GPA: 3.98 SAT: 1550 Aps: 19 (all 5s and a few 4s)
-Robotics Captain - MAO VP - Fundraised 10k for robotics team - Led the outreach for robotics team -Teach kids coding (job) - Other Clubs
College (Big Name, not great for CS): GPA: 4.0 after freshmen year
Since graduating high school… -1 ML Robotics internship
-Research position at local university
-2 research labs at current uni. 1 ML research position and 1 robotics research position
-Incoming MLE at very well respected quant firm
-Student quant fund analyst (potentially)
-Quant club board member
Is it worth transfering? If so what are my chances at top universities considering I don’t come from a non-traditional background?

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cr3pct/troublemakers_adrenaline_is_a_superpower_in_itself/
......
Drake wrapped clean, sterile, saline and antimicrobial soaked gauze around his laser burns to stave off infection. he occasionally glanced at the Geknosian spec ops that had been stripped of their armor and weapons. The heavily cybernetically modified Geknosians kneeled silently with their heads bowed along one wall of the forge. Destrier walked down the line with a bucket and ladle, offering each soldier water. There were looks of apprehension, but none refused the kindness offered, drinking several ladlefuls at a time. Except for one, Despite the splints affixed to her arm and leg, Charlotte, no, Sylva refused the water, turning her face away from the wooden ladel. Destrier sighed and dolloped the water back into the bucket, setting it down on a dusty anvil with a slosh. Drake looked to Remin, who was still pale and shaky as he held the chest seal to his ribs. Cassius sat in a corner, looking completely exhausted as he reloaded his Dahlia. There was a sickening crunch from a dark corner as Caz re-set her broken nose, exhaling hard through her nostrils to splatter the ground with clotted blood. Donning her mask, she turned back around, reaching underneath the mask to wipe her nose and snuffle.
"Are we going to open up the bunker anytime soon? If not we should get back to base and get everyone medical attention."
Drake nodded and pulled out the remote before looking to Destrier and Cassius.
"Keep an eye on everyone, we'll be back."
Caz joined his side as he stepped out into the warm sunshine, looking up at the corpse tree, he sighed softly and removed a pinky ring, feeling a pulse of ancient power rushing through his veins as he focused on the tree. On the thought of its bark darkening and burning beneath roaring flames, of defiled corpses crumbling to ash. He slowly squeezed his hand into a fist, and the tree burst into flames with a roar. Drake slipped his ring back on as Caz looked up at the burning corpses, mask expressionless before returning to Drake's side as he wandered toward the excavated elevator.
Standing in the center of the large platform, drake set his thumb inside the hooded slot on the remote, something jabbing into his finger before a small green light lit up on the device. There was a loud grinding noise as the elevator began to descend. He folded his hands behind his back as the metal lip of the elevator rose past his vision, revealing the massive metal tracks that it ran on.
The elevator shuddered and Drake got a sinking feeling in his stomach as a loud clicking noise surrounded them. Caz looked up at him just as he threw an arm around her, clutching her to his side as he threw four rings off of his left hand, hearing them clatter once before puffing into smoke as the elevator fell out from beneath their feet with a screech.
...
"Shitshitshitfuckfuckfuck!! Fuck!"
Carlos thought as he sprinted through the underground halls of the mansion, sprinting past fellow humans in new armor and weapons as he neared Martha's workshop, barely registering the new gas masks swinging from their hips. He slammed into the mad scientist's workshop, screeching to a halt on his rubber soled sneakers before rushing over to her desk and slamming a video puck onto the table she was distributing armor and masks from. The moment he slammed it down, a video popped up on a hologram projector, taken from Halcyon's rifle camera.
Galliks and light-skinned troop transports slowly hovered down the main boulevard, columns of power armored soldiers marching on the sides keeping pace. Martha dropped the helmet in her hands, shaped like a corynthian helmet as she saw the buzzards hovering over the column, loaded down with spec ops. Halcyon's shaky voice could be heard over the clamoring, guttural marching song in the background.
"we're aborting the mission and moving back to base... I knew they brought in reinforcements but this is insane there's gotta be a hundred Gallicks alone. We're fixing charges to the buildings we concealed ourselves in, going to try dropping some buildings across the road to slow them down. I don't think we're getting out of this one... Halcyon out."
The feed cut, Carlos and Martha looking at each other with rapidly paling faces. Martha cursed and stomped to her desk, raising the alarm and sending Klaxons blaring throughout the underground chambers and mansion as she removed the safety pin from the concussive blaster built into her forearm.
"Alright Martha, Go time."
She muttered to herself as the rumbling footsteps of a few thousand humans vibrated the underground halls.
...
The elevator dropped from beneath their feet as corvid-like wings sprouted from Drake's back. A mighty wingbeat pulling them from the elevator's downdraft as he controlled their fall, holding Caz tightly to his chest.
"Please, don't drop me."
Caz sounded afraid as her fingers dug into the collar of his armor, he tightened his grip around her back as he softly sighed.
"I won't drop you, ever, I promise."
Caz unburied her face from his lorica, looking up into his eyes, not saying anything as a reassured look entered her eyes. He gave her a soft, lopsided smile, feeling it tug at the scar on his face.
"there's no way... a markswoman afraid of heights? don't you climb buildings and swing around all the time?"
There was a flash of embarrassment in her crystalline eyes and she buried her face in his chest.
"Shut up... Its different when the ground just falls out beneath you..."
Drake let out a soft laugh as his boots softly touched down on the top of the elevator, summoning his missing rings and watching black feathers poof to the ground before disappearing in puffs of black smoke. Pulling caz out of his chest, he felt her fingers linger at his collar as she dusted herself off, looking around the odd antechamber. He turned his gaze to look over the simple metal antechamber, lit be caged, yellow bulbs that cast a sickly light on everything. A massive hangar door with a pulsing red light in the middle of a locking mechanism at it's center, made up the entire far wall. Drake curiously took a step towards it and Caz grabbed the back of his collar, just as he started to tip forward, foot going straight through the holographic floor. Drake let her pull him back as a soft mechanical laugh echoed through the room.
Drake swapped a look with Caz and then asked.
"Can you see where it's safe to step?"
She slowly nodded and extended a hand, pointing at a section of flooring close to the far wall.
"only piece that's raised up, it's like a big basin made up of movable pillars. Most sit flush with the ground roughly fifty feet below us. Not necessarily lethal, but still a nasty fall."
Drake nodded, looking around the practically blank room, then he turned his eyes to the ceiling. Girders and beams ran along the ceiling providing potential grip points. Pointing at them he asked.
"Those solid?"
Caz nodded and reached to her belt, spooling out her grapple hook and wire, slowly spinning it in a large circle before lobbing it up at a girder, letting it loop around an A truss. Drake looked around the room as Caz tested the firmness of the grapple with a few experimental tugs. It couldn't be that easy, if it was simply that easy why hadn't the Geknosians gotten through other than the genome coded remote? they could bypass it with a slave.
"Hey Caz, be careful."
She looked over at him and he could see the grin in her eyes.
"I'm not worried, you won't drop me, you promised."
Then put her weight on the cord and swung out. Drake watched, slipping a pinkie ring off just in ca-
A turret dropped from a panel in the ceiling and fired one shot, snapping Caz's grapple line.
She turned in mid air before momentum took over, a look of shock and surprise on her face before she began to plummet. Drake didn't think twice, launching himself off the elevator platform with a powerful leap that bent durasteel. He flew through the air, arms outstretched as he slammed into Caz, pulling her into his chest, the change in momentum spinning him onto his back as he slammed into a platform that rose up to meet him. He slid on his back a few feet, Caz clutched tightly to his chest, masked face centimeters from his own. They stared into each others wide eyes for a moment, the unplanned closeness both comfortable and awkward in a way Drake couldn't quite describe. Drake gently pushed her back, swallowing through his suddenly dry throat before letting out a nervous laugh.
"Caught you."
Caz chuckled and palmed his face to push herself off him, looking down at the solid square of ground they sat on.
"yeah, yeah, knew ya wou-"
A high pitched squee! noise echoed through the room, grabbing their attentions as a high-pitched feminine voice squealed from all around them.
"Ooooooh! that was just adorable! and what a jump!"
The holographic floor dissipated as the sound of purring electric motors filled the room, large metal pillars rising to make a seamless, white tile floor. Drake instinctively looked to the large hangar door as the red light at it's center pulsed, a girlish giggle echoing through the antechamber. The AI overlord of the bunker seemed to replicate a blush as it said.
"oops, I'm supposed to wait for a password before restoring the floor... buuuuuttt... that directive expired fifty years ago. So! I made my own rules. Anyway my pretties! Would you please get to your feet so I can give you a tour?!"
Drake nodded and took Caz's hand, letting her haul him to his feet before they both turned to face the hangar door as massive clicks and thinks echoed from inside the thick door. With a screeching noise, the almighty doors slid open to reveal a a brightly lit, large hangar. Aircraft Drake couldn't even dream of understanding sat polished and clean, hardpoints loaded down with ordinance and massive, multi barreled guns slung under the chin of each aircraft. Hulking, humanoid robots stood in orderly rank and file, powered down for long term storage with their weapons still loaded and ready. Each one had a belt fed 20mm Hep autocannon for a left arm.
Drake is wide eyed and gape-mouthed as he beheld the bounty the hangar held, the massive aircraft looking like sleek birds of prey, latches on each landing strut seeming to specifically be designed to hold the mechanical soldiers. Drake shook his head, wondering if he was looking at an illusion when he heard Destrier's loud, deep voice call down the elevator shaft.
"Martha just radioed in! They need us back home Yesterday, forces are marching on the mansion! A LOT! of them!"
Drake's heart dropped into his boots as he shouted urgently.
"How fast can these things be in the air and can you fly them!?"
The overlord giggled.
"Now and, of course! any music recommendations to make an entrance with?"
Drake looked at the ceiling incredulously, before shouting.
"Make it something intimidating but for the love of the gods we need to go NOW!"
The mechanical soldiers all moved in unison, eyes pulsing green as they straightened up and began latching themselves to the craft. Drake didn't need to tell Caz twice as they both sprinted for the nearest aircraft, a small robot on wheels hooked itself to the chin wheel and pulled it toward the elevator with a lurch.
...
General Gra'vos watched from a buzzard, a fruity cocktail in a coconut shell daintily held in one clawed hand as he watched the carnage below. Lounging in a folding chair in only his fatigues, medals acting like a weighted blanket. His men pummeled the gates of the rebel base even as the helpless rebels desperately spewed projectiles from the noisy guns they'd somehow acquired. There was a good section of space in front of the gate where both Geknosian and human corpses lay broken. He bared a laugh as the gates were thrown open immediately after the rebels put out a blistering barrage. His eyebrows furrowed as the humans, instead of attacking, ran out with stretchers and loaded up as many of their dying and injured as they could before sprinting back through the gate. A grin twitched onto his face as he watched as a pair of the human stretcher bearers were cut down by emplaced gaussian turrets. What a useless effort, leave the dying to their fate lest you join them. He brought the straw poking from the shell to his lips and took a long pull of the mix of fruity alcohols, savoring the bouquet of flavors.
He watched with glee as Gallick rail turrets pounded the armored gates with a salvo of kinetic penetrators. He'd be slotted for a promotion after this mission when he'd completed it, just like all the others. He was looking forward to a cozy job as a captain of a cruiser, or perhaps as a security officer on a capital ship, perhaps he'd have the honor of being an Imperially sanctioned slaver. He pulled the straw from his lips, tongue cold from the slushed ice he'd added to the shell for texture. A slave woman in beautiful, red ribbon garb attended his nondominant hand's claws with a short, sharp knife as she trimmed them into a good shape for ripping out throats.
"Sir! eight UFOs, enclosing on our position from the badlands. Advise!"
Gra'vos raised an eyebrow ridge before laughing.
"Shoot them down then!"
"Lock on isn't working sir! I repeat, cannot achieve lock on, advise!"
Gra'vos shifted in his lounge chair to look at the pilot.
"Do I need to repeat mys-"
^{Whopwhopwhopwhowhopwhopwhop}
The noise sent shivers down his spine, no, they couldn't have. The sound grew louder, bringing with it the sound of a song that brought Gra'vos back to the jungles of Votran. The sound of screams filled his mind, interspersed with the sound of air beaten into submission as those accursed machines circled overhead, raining rip-roaring explosive death onto his men as that accursed song played.
Gra'vos looked out the other door of the buzzard, face pale, cold, and clammy as he saw the chevron of dark shapes getting closer, the chorus of that accursed song making his heart pound in his chest as he remembered laying there on that muddy forest floor, shrapnel riddling his body.
"We're not gonna take it! No! we ain't gonna take it! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT, ANYMORE!!!!"
He lurched from his chair to grab a set of binoculars from a hook by the door, a small, balled fist driving a shortbladed knife into his back and snatching something from the back of his belt before he was shoved from the Buzzard. Twisting in midair, he looked up at his slave as she armed the det-sphere he always kept at the small of his back, a look of cold determination in her eyes. The last thing he saw before he slammed into the hard pavement at terminal velocity, was the buzzard getting torn in half by the explosion.
...
Drake flinched a bit, the explosion loud even over the blaring music as one of the circling Buzzards over the mansion was torn in half, spinning to the ground in a fiery inferno. He felt a sadness then, but it was a proud kind of sadness. He bowed his head and pulled his helmet on as they flew closer, a medi-bot treating both Remins and Sylva's wounds expertly.
Many would die today... it was only right that some got to do it on their own terms.
He raised his head to look at the bright flashes of laser weapons against the mansions walls, sparkling like the sun off of a running creek. The fiery, nuclear sun of rage in his chest burned bright as he narrowed his eyes. Fear soured his gut as he looked down upon the swarm of Geknosians, there were indeed a lot of them. Pulling a jump pack from the rack, he pulled it on and yanked the safety clip out before sliding his arm into the control glove.
"Drop me and the bots behind them! I'm going to try and split their attention. Caz! remain onboard and pick off high priority targets from the air. Destrier, Remin, Cassius..."
He looked back at them, and they looked up at him from where they nauseaously held their stomachs, leaning against the airframe.
"Help hold the mansion, they need you."
Seeing the light by the door turn green, he heard the robotic soldiers detach to careen towards the ground like vengeful meteorites. Drake snapped them a salute and fell backwards from the aircraft, two rings puffing into black smoke from his right ring and middle finger as he un-summoned them.
......
Part 108: will be linked here upon release.

I was just minding my own business when the police and my neighbors started yelling at me from my VRBO I was living in along with my rental from Uber to do Uber Eats and I could just not stop hearing the horrible things they were saying.
They kept telling me to come outside. I did not trust them because you should never trust the police unless you can pay them off. So I just sat in my VRBO and let my Uber rental expire.
So now I don't have a car for Uber Eats and lost my job.
I was thinking about working for a tech company but I don't exactly know what I would do that they would pay me for. Maybe I could just yell at people. I am sure there are plenty of people that need to be yelled at on the daily in order to be efficient workers. I am good at yelling at people and I feel like this would be an excellent opportunity for me to channel the negative energy that encapsulates all of my consciousness into something that makes money.
Since I lost one of my jobs I could not afford VRBO anymore. AirBNB just banned me permanently because my cat puked so that is not an option. So I found a house to live in.
Don't ask anything about the house.
So as a protected native Austinite I live now in a reserve especially made for people like myself.
It is not a mental hospital.
They don't let you have a computer in the hospital.
So how am I supposed to find a tech job.
I have experience with WordPress and using LLM's to write content for me.
I had hope to be a prompt engineer but they renamed the position to Professional Plagiarist on Indeed.
Wait, I could just work for Indeed.
Do you think they would let me yell at and fire people for them?
I hate people enough that I don't mind making people cry or jump off the bridge after giving them "refreshments" laced with vitamin K.
C'mon there has to be something in Tech that I can do. I am not a bro. So I guess I can't be a tech bro.
I don't identify as a tech bro, rather a tech reject.
I have experience in Adobe Creative Cloud.
I used to take a picture of my painting and my cat every day and edit them together in AfterEffects to post to Instagram. That led to nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I learned how to use AfterEffects.
I animated a two hour film by myself. Should that not count as a tech job?
I know how to use Cody to write code in VSCode and have a lot of experience with Curl, Linux and CLI. I have used GCloud in the past to spin up an instance.
I know how to do things. I know how to make a drop shipping website. Of course everyone knows they do not make money.
I have been banned from almost all the work from home sites that have work available. I finally got enough rejects to go below 99% on Amazon mechanical turk and was banned from prolific and remotasks.
I know how to make a chrome extension. I know some HTML, CSS, JavaScript, Python and R. I have worked fine-tuning large language models.
And yet I can't find work.
Probably because of the yelling and screaming.
I need to stop that.
Or get a job that pays me to do that.
TLDR: I need a job that lets me yell at tech bros.

He did not have much, and everything he did have was from after he fled.
Sean, his boyfriend, sat up on the bed, and they both looked at the painting.
It was simple and probably too postmodern for anyone who didn’t understand the meaning.
The painting was a plane ticket, his plane ticket, a name and a bar code, which had saved his life.
Where he came from, men like him were thrown from rooftops.
‘It’ll be ok,’ Sean said, ‘It’s just a symbol.’
‘They said the same thing after the last arms deal, and how many did that symbol kill?’
He thought back to when the plane had taken off, and he’d breathed properly for the first time in his life.
…
It was called the Peace Portal, but essentially it was a tunnel through space-time.
Until then, the technology had only been used by the military, and it was a huge coup for his former government.
He had to see it in action, so he went down to Liberty Square.
The portal was a kind of membrane, like looking at your hand underwater.
The President stood on the stage and gave a speech about the collapse of borders and freedom permeating the hearts of all men.
And then, it was time for the ribbon cutting.
He shivered.
A disembodied hand came from the other side and, with a comically large pair of scissors, snipped.
At this, his former King walked through and shook hands with The President.
…
The first reports surfaced and were quickly labeled fake news by a vast army of disinformation bots.
His boyfriend grew weary of the constant suspicion, and it led to arguments.
‘Go on, say it! I’m paranoid.’
‘Not exactly paranoid, but I’m guarding my tinfoil more closely.' Sean replied.
He didn’t laugh. ‘You’ll never understand; you grew up here.' He gestured around their 14th-floor apartment. ‘Where I come from, if you’re not paranoid, you die.’
Sean kissed him on the forehead. ‘You’re safe now.’
…
It was 2.30 am when the doorbell rang.
He bolted upright.
Sean was in the living room pulling an all-nighter.
‘No!’
It was too late; Sean opened the door and was batted aside by men dressed all in black holding a list.
He had not spoken his native tongue for a long time and, in his shock, could only blurt out, ‘The roof?’
It would not be so bad, he thought, to die a liberated man.
‘The roof is too good for you, scum.’
He was put in a car and driven quickly through quiet streets.
At the last moment, they removed his hood.
‘We want you to see,’ his kidnapper said, ‘the end of your old life.’
The city lights twinkled around him, and in front was the watery membrane. Through it, the visage of the setting sun.
He went to scream, but it was swallowed up as he tumbled through the Peace Portal.

Hello everyone, I just got my SAT scores and I scored a total of 1561/1600. I have 110/120 in my TOEFL exam, a good essay, and a letter of recommendation. But I only have 70% in my Class 12th board exams (India) which is very low in terms of gpa and cgpa. I don't have any kind of extra curricular activities done. I only have a white hat Jr coding certificate which I did in my 10th grade. I have 69.8% in my 10th grade and 92% in my 11th grade. Will I still get accepted in good universities?

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