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This is your sign to not break NC especially if you were dumped and have low self esteem. Sit with your feelings if you can. I feel like such a loser because the way they responded was so far from my delusions and what I had in mind. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to see if there was a chance. I think I lost my power again. They clearly stated that things ended because they didn’t think we were compatible and they were so sure. While I am happy in a way that they have boundaries why in the world did I think differently? I was dumped btw and feel like a creep. Then they unfollowed me a day later. I feel like a crazy person I never wanted to be this way and really need to work on my self esteem. I used to be normal. It’s frustrating that I cannot be mature and just accept the fact that it’s over. I think I do now. I blocked them everywhere even phone number for peace no looking back now.

I have a 5 1/2 month old toy poodle. I posted here when I first got him, because I had this huge wave of regret. Now, here we are, and I'm posting again because I don't know if I have the mental fortitude to keep doing this. I've had my baby since he was 9 weeks, and I love him so much. He's so smart, and he has the sweetest, silliest little look on his face like Foo-Foo, the muppet dog. I love him so much, which is what makes this so hard. I severely underestimated how hard raising a puppy would be. I knew it would be a lot of work, but my puppy has not been even an average level of hard. For 3 months I was raising him in an apartment with my partner, and that was hell. I had college classes and had to work a night shift twice a week. I thought it would be okay because my partner agreed to help with him, and we both agreed to share the responsibilities of raising him, but I've had to deal with him most of the time. My partner has been very hands off with him, and my mother and I are usually the ones paying for his supplies and taking care of him. Not that my partner hasn't helped, but this is just how things have worked out and I'm really not okay with it. I feel like a single mom to him. We had a conversation about it, but I know that going forward that he's probably going to mainly be my responsibility. He's extremely attached to me, and pretty much instantly bonded to me. That's why the thought of rehoming him breaks my heart. But he has horrible separation anxiety, and it makes everything so difficult. I'm not equipped to properly handle this. I know he's still really young, but I'm so afraid of damaging him by not accommodating his fears in the right ways. He's so reactive, though some days are better than others. He barks quite a lot, and he's very loud, which is going to make living in a rental with him very difficult. He will scream for sometimes up to 30 minutes when we leave, even with a Kong or some other long-lasting distraction. Regardless of if he's in the crate or left in a puppy-proofed room, he will pace, pant, howl, bark, and yell for so long. He's clearly so stressed when left alone. But he has to be alone. I have to work. Everyone in my life has to work. I would ask my mom to take him, but she's gone for basically 12 hours a day at work. I know he wouldn't get the attention he deserves, even if I continued to take care of him until he's at the age where he can be alone for 8 hours at a time. I just don't know what to do. The thought of rehoming him kills me, and I would have never adopted him if I knew things would be like this for him. I want to enroll him in puppy training, but that's expensive. Everything is so expensive, and he's so stubborn that I know it would take even more work with him. He knows what the words mean, but he doesn't listen. He knows how to drop it, but his resource guarding issues are so bad that he'll "talk back" by barking, rip what he's holding, swallow something before we get the chance to take it, or even worse, bite, when things need to be taken immediately in an emergency. It's an impulse for him, and he doesn't really mean it. He always licks us as an apology after, but it doesn't change the fact that he demonstrates aggressive behavior. I didn't expect any of this when I got him, and his issues will require even more training and time that I don't have. I feel like I don't have any time for myself, and I feel so selfish when I do take time for myself. He's not housebroken yet because he's been used to puppy pads (previous caretakers trained him with those). The resource-guarding issues are really what scare me though, because it means there are some deeper issues that, again, as a first time puppy-owner on top of everything else, I don't know how to handle. I just miss life when it was simpler. When it was just me and my cat, and I could actually play with him and spend time with him and not have to hide all of his toys because the puppy will eat them. All my puppy does now is terrorize him. My puppy chases my cat and my mom's cat, and he'll corner my poor other baby and paw at him. He just wants to play, but my cat wants nothing to do with him. All of this is just so hard. I wanted a dog because I wanted to go on peaceful walks and have another furry companion that I could take on car rides and all kinds of places. But this poor puppy hates the car and hates being alone, along with his crate. He loves destroying his toys, escaping his confinement, and me. And that's what hurts the most. I love him so much and he loves me so much. But I feel like I can't give him the life he deserves anymore.

"Get your arses clean, lads" our beloved sergeant wakes us, his uniform already neat, with an azure rifle already humming "our Benefactors from Above grants us respite"
We all stand, rifle at our left, as we watch him climb from his trench quarter and pass down the hall. And when he did pass, we have to restrain old Johan there from gathering a mud to "generously" gift it to him
"How many lies?" he mutters, before walking to his part of the trench
The time was exactly 0700, or at least that was the hour before a shipment of supplies came, saying a different hour, days, and months written on it. Sarge said that the war would end exactly at 0900 today, whether it was our time or from this "Benefactor from above"'s time.
"Musa, get your pointing at the ready, if what sergeant said is true, I doubt those on the other side would wait hours before this war would really end" a senior of mine, climb to the steep stair enough to let her rifle peek through the sandbags above the wall. And I follow suit, standing beside her and aiming to the other side.
The trenches was fully alive at 0400, where men and women would done their necessity be it for the good of their body or the good of their spirits. Rations would be cooked and eaten, guns would be meticulously cleanse and rearmed, and by the 0600, we could take a brief rest before the other side would engage. That is, if we didn't get the order to engage first.
Guns lining up between the ashen and muddied bags, like a snake hidden carefully in the earth. Every captain of the company, surrounded by their companion, grip their whistle tightly, waiting and watching for any sign of metal helm peeking out of their trench for their valiant last charge before the war ended.
Their anxiousness spread to everyone, fingers at the trigger yet disciplined enough not to pull it. As do I, as my left palm sweat and grip the wood of my rifle as if they were star-crossed lover.
Minutes stretches by, and they turned into hour. By 0821, hails of tiresome scoffs were audible across the trench.
"If these karkers wouldn't charge, what's the point of this?" she spoke once again
"patient Maria, maybe they are looking for their white flag" I quietly smirk at her antics, she stole my heart and it seems as if fate was generous enough. So far, at least
As when clouds ran faster than they should, bright orange bullets rain upon the other side. Their caliber, even as seen so far away, was clearer that our lead bullets was dwarfed greatly. Trenches belonging to the other side, once the bane of our daily lives, converted into craters no different than the swathes of No Man's Land standing between us, as if it naturally engulfs them, embracing the man-made structures with mud, water and ash. As if God was indeed real and amongst us, and it is a foolish endeavor to earn their ire.
When vapors and smoke finally settles, the land beyond our trench was bereft of life. And what supposed to be our jubilee, we can only stare in fear and obedience, the structure that was slowly reaching on us these past years, reduced to mounds and craters of mud.
Another bullet drops, this time so close to our trenches, big enough to be a piece of artillery.
"At ease you sod, the war is over, look at your watch" the squeaking of sergeant grows quieter by the second. All of us too stunned at the metal pods hitting just few meters from ours, and if it weren't for the whistle blaring on our ears, we would've taken action, done something.
And the pods burst, one being cladded in armor too intricate to be designed by hands emerge from every pod. Their stature impossibly tall, matching that of buildings back home, and their guns was equally baroque, they're gripping them lightly.
One being relaxed their gun-hand at the sight of carnage before them, before spinning their heels to us. Maria, in a panic shot at the bulge of the armor, and we were too late to stop her. The being was covered by their head armor too, but we can see it glance down on us as the bullet ricochet from her, returning back between Maria's cranium. Fate was no longer generous.
The being pulls their piece of armor on their head, bright and sublime pale hair flow gracefully out of her, with sharp eyes scanning across the trench.
"So it seems, a friendly fire was it not?" she turns to the other of her being, on which they nod. She turns back to us, looking for our sergeant it seems "To whom you answer your command to?"
"Gov'ness, we have been expecting of you" he shoves some people, climbing up the trench intending to make friendly gesture to her "my name is Casimir, dearest Gov'ness, and these are the proud men and women of Narodow, express our grandest gratitude to you"
"Amusing, you still clung to your planetary identity, and a primitive one at that" sergeant was taken aback, and it earned him some grin with occasional scoffs "no longer are you child of your nation, nor are you of Moravia, you now pledge your allegiance to great unifier of man, to the Grandest Imperium and to His Majesty, the Emperor" her words travel across the trench, demanding every drop of our obedience lest we face the same way Maria did.
It didn't take long for us to disband the trench, we were eager albeit skeptical of the end of war, yet when it did happened, all hands came to pick up leftover ammunition, supplies, food and barbed wires. None was seen slowing down, as they pack it on top of horses.
But I did slow down, it took great measure before the dam in my eye could flooded, ruining my soot-stained face. I kneel before Maria, gathering her hands and her rifle, placing on top of her cold body, before closing her eyes. It took even greater measure not to crumble at this.
"Casimir told me" a familiar and regal voice came up to me "for what's its worth, you have my most sincere apology" her gigantic palm came to envelop my back, a thing that I'd hope to be a friendly pat in the back
"You need not to apologize, Gov'ness, it is entirely within her fault to anger you so" I'd hope she would drop the matter and be the enticing conqueror, too foreign and alien to even care
"She didn't, nor hadn't, and yet it cannot be changed" I can almost hear her pitying tone "what is your name again?"
"Private Musa, dear Gov'ness" I sat upright, now remembering the hierarchy if even the sergeant pays her respect
"And you need not to be so respectful, Musa, her death is within my hands" she stands up, easily towering against me "and I dearly long to see you again, Musa" and something changed between her smile, her tone follows too "My name is Fulgrim, Matriarch of the Phoenix"

Hello, Need some help with this PC issue because I've been troubleshooting it for days and it's driving me insane.

PC Specs

Intel i7 13700KF PNY 4070 ti KLEVV 6200mhz 16gb x2 MSI Tomahawk z790 Max Corsair rm1000e

The Issues

I bought the PC second hand but it's been nothing but problems.
Every single game I play crashes within 30 minutes, usually within 5. Doesn't matter if I'm playing Oldschool Runescape or The Witcher 3, it happens without fail. Read below for my troubleshooting nightmare.
Half the time, dump files fail to get created. Previously, the Event Viewer showed nvlddmkm.sys errors, but haven't for the last ~10 crashes or so. Now it just shows a generic 41 error.
I can't provide dump files right now because I'm running another memtest, but will later on if needed. Though, for some reason, dump files being created now are giving me an error and saying I don't have permission to use them in Windgb, even though I can load older dump files.

What I've Tried So Far

1) Reseating the GPU 2) Reseating the RAM 3) Checking all power cables/mobo cables 4) Re-installing drivers 5) Using DDU then re-installing drivers 6) Clean Windows install (several times) 7) Turning off XMP 8) Putting GPU into max performance mode 9) Giving permissions to nvlddmkm.sys (Seen in a Reddit thread) 10) Buying a cheap $30 GPU and trying it. This also caused crashes. 11) Replacing the motherboard. AsRock z790 Pro RS -> MSI Z790 Tomahawk max. 12) Monitoring temperatures (No issues) 13) Memtest (No issues) 14) Testing RAM sticks one by one 15) I did update the BIOS on my old motherboard, but have not tried it on the new one yet. 16) Underclocking my GPU

Weird Observations

The reason this is making me tear my hair out is that I just can't pin down the issue.

• I thought it was just the GPU dying or something. But I could run all sorts of GPU stress tests with no issues at all, but then the PC would crash within a minute of playing Oldschool Runescape.
• I suspected the PCIe slot got damaged in shipping, so I bought a cheap $30 GPU and tested it in the top PCIe slot and that also crashed. Testing that GPU in the bottom slot seemed to work, but I couldn't test the 4070 ti there as it wouldn't fit. Was able to play OSRS for 2+ hours.
• Bought a vertical GPU mounting bracket in order to connect the GPU to the bottom slot via a riser cable. Worked for a bit and was able to play Guild Wars 2 for about an hour before more issues started popping up.
• Later, USB ports started randomly restarting or even just getting disabled altogether. This made me believe that it was just the motherboard dying, so I bought a brand new one. No more USB ports shutting off, but I am now crashing in games again within 5-15 minutes.
• I decided to test the RAM sticks one by one to see if one was faulty. I tested one and crashed ~10 seconds after playing Guild Wars 2. I thought that was a good sign that it's just the RAM, but then while testing the second stick, the PC crashed in 2.5 minutes. There were no errors in the memtest I did earlier, but I'm doing another one just in case.

Likely Issue?

At this point, I'm thinking either: A) CPU failing. From what I understand, the top PCIe slot is directly connected to the CPU, so I'm thinking that the CPU is causing problems to anything in the top slot. Though I did get crashes when the 4070 ti was connected to the bottom slot via a riser cable. CPU issues are much rarer though, and I feel like there would be other system issues if this was the case. All PC operation works fine outside of trying to play games.
B) GPU dying. I thought this was the likeliest issue, but then it could run all the benchmarks and stress tests no problem. The cheap $30 card I bought also had the exact same crashing issues. I'm not ruling it out, it's just been so hard to pinpoint. 3) PSU This could be the issue, but I feel like a Corsair 1000w would be fine as it's a high quality PSU and has plenty of power. Could just have a faulty unit, I guess.
I did think that it must be the PSU, because after majorly underclocking my GPU, I was able to play games for ~30 minutes instead of 5. But then a couple of hours later, I was back to 5 minute crashes
I'm probably just going to take it to a repair shop tomorrow because I'm at my wits end, but I thought I'd post here just in-case someone could give me some other ideas because short of replacing the CPU/GPU/PSU, I'm out of ideas.

Amongst the many uprising that's taken hold this spring there begins to emerge like a pheonix from the ashes the rallying cry of an age you've may have forgot....
Gen X
I created this SubReddit as a way to blog in my free time and document some of the political stuff that's been happening and I am the only Mod on here currently. Although I have mainly been inactive here I would like to hand over this space for the time as a place to communicate and discuss ideas for what this Gen X's movement might be.
I am a Tech guy and could work out something better in the future if the space grows and we decide to move forward from there, but for now lets start here to brain storm and maybe run a few poles on what our next steps should be. There is also GenX Bonfire on X (formally known as Twitter) but on here we can take to the time to think about, read ideas, and put our thoughts together open for others to read and contemplate as well as discuss.
If you are coming here from Nobody_From_Ohio's Tiktok post;
Welcome
* Introduce yourself (we don't need to know your real name) unless you want to share it.
* Tell us your ideas
I'm from Indiana and a Ham Radio enthusiast as well as a Technology nerd.
If you are reading this, you are the resistance.
For the fight for a better tomorrow
0ryX .... Signing off

Think it’d be a lot of fun to watch the crew play poker. With the different camera shots to show each player’s hand the way they do in professional poker. More than anything just want to see if Ethan can put on a master class lol. Then maybe person with most chips can like trade places with Ethan for an ep or something. Idk haha peace and love

I apologize if I offend people for saying this but I think I can speak for myself, and a few other fans, when I say that I found Violet and Gilbert's relationship upgrade from platonic to romantic to be gross, and that's putting it mildly. I mean I know things like this were the norm, (and in some parts of the world it still is), back in the day but this is too much. That said do you think Violet is better off being with someone else, or should she just remain single? If you think its the former, which relationship do you think would be healthier for her: Isabella/Amy or Leon?
Here are a list of pros and cons for each option:
Leon
Pros: She seems to a genuinely nice guy who care about Violet. And in the light novel Violet seems to reciprocate those feelings.
Cons: The only problem is that he wants to be a wandering explorer. So if Violet does enter into a relationship with that would mean she would also spend a lot of time away from her circle of friends/support group in Leiden. I guess one could argue that it moving on from Leiden is a good sign of her moving on from her trauma, but what would she do with herself as Leon's wife? As far as I can tell while she is proficient at writing and etiquette she doesn't seem to have much academic experience. Likewise I don't see Leon being able to settle down in Leiden with her since he is now more of a restless spirit since their last encounter.
Isabella/Amy
Pros: Overall, I think it's fair to say that Amy Bartlett is a good person who cares about her sister and Violet. And honestly, even if they don't get into a relationship, she deserves better than being trapped in an unhappy marriage and living the rest of her life in a gilded cage.
Cons: Other than the fact that her feelings for Violet in the light novel version are one-sided. some have argued that their relationship is unhealthy because Violet is still traumatized and trying to make sense of what love and romance is and Amy is taking advantage of that.
Note: For those of you who are about to reject the relationship on the grounds that such a thing would be impossible in an early 20th century world, there is evidence that in the late 19th century women engaged in Bostonian Marriages. Now I'm not saying that life will be easy for them, but I like to think that they could make it work.
Single
Pros: She already has a strong support group of friends to rely on. And one could argue that that not everybody needs romance to be happy.
Cons: On the other hand there is also a good chance that her friends might drift apart living her alone again. It's sad to think about but it has been known to happen in real life.
View Poll

Shortly before a final paper with pre-assigned topics was due for one of my last courses at Columbia University, our professor sent us an email telling us to forego the previous parameters of the essay, and to instead write about the events that had occurred not even forty-eight hours earlier, as well as our reflections on them, to be done in any manner we chose. Here is a very lightly revised version of what I submitted: read it, ignore it, upvote it, downvote it, hate it, love it.
I am prefacing this essay by stating that it is the culmination of several intense emotions that I have been dealing with over the last few weeks, more specifically, the last several days. It is a free-form expression of the many things occupying my mind, and, as such, it may seem overwhelming or disjointed. Nevertheless, I will do my best to convey my feelings into something representative of my beliefs, and my time at this institution.
My time at Columbia University has been bookended in an almost comically bad way; it started with Zoom classes during the COVID-19 pandemic, and now it ends with Zoom final exams due to the lockdown of Columbia’s campus after protests regarding the Israel – Palestine conflict reached a fever pitch not just within Morningside Campus, but the international stage. My classmates and I missed in-person orientation, and now, given recent developments, we will not have a University Commencement, a fact I found out not from Columbia, but a New York Times alert, somehow lowering my opinion of this administration’s handling of recent events even more. While the circumstances around my time at Columbia have now both begun and finished in the same manner, I am proud to say that I have not. I do not mean that Columbia has simply made me a better writer, a more critical thinker, or more well read, although it certainly has done those things, sometimes forcing me to when I was not particularly in the mood to do so, but those improvements pale in comparison to the maturity and empathy my time at this university has given me.
When the decision to transition to remote learning during the Spring 2020 semester was made, occurring only a short time after I had received my acceptance letter (email), my first thought was how the pandemic would affect my transfer from community college to Columbia in September. Admittedly, this was a selfish perspective, considering the tremendous challenges that many would endure during the ensuing lockdowns and other upheavals of life. My concerns were solely focused on myself because I was on a simple track to graduate, place my degree on my resumé, and continue my trajectory of military service to college to employment, leaving little else to consideration, to include other people who were not in my immediate circle. Sitting here now, two weeks from graduation, with a job at a Fortune 500 company lined up, I should be happy, with the plans I had made years ago coming to fruition. Yet I cannot help feeling a sense of sadness and concern for the school I have spent years of my life at, and for the world as a whole.
James Hatch, a former member of the United States’s elite Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, for short, more commonly known by its nickname, Seal Team Six, famous for its involvement in the killing of Osama Bin Laden and the rescue of the Maersk Alabama Captain Richard Phillips from pirates, amongst other things, spent over twenty years in the military. After being wounded on a mission to rescue American serviceman sergeant Bowe Bergdahl from enemy forces, he was medically discharged, and would eventually attend Yale University. While there, he wrote a piece titled My Semester with the Snowflakes (please give this a read, it will help people who have never been in the military understand its culture, along with some of the challenges veterans face when transitioning to college), where he details his initial discomfort with being in a vastly different environment than the military, surrounded by individuals who possessed opinions and beliefs contrary to the ones he was accustomed to. He recalls witnessing a student protest the country he spent over two decades serving by coating her hand in red paint, and leaving a palm print on an American flag, and details his shock when a classmate of his explained to him what a “safe space” was, as well as his pride when he began to understand the nuances of life both inside and outside of the nation he dedicated twenty-six years to.
I can relate to Mr. Hatch, (despite my service paling in comparison to his, as well as the fact that Columbia is far superior to Yale), because, like his friends who make fun of him for attending college with a bunch of “snowflakes,” mine do the same. More significantly, however, his personal growth during his time at school is something that I have experienced myself. When I started at Columbia, I did not even know which major I would choose, and was largely lost in a world very different than the one I had come from. Despite this, I made the decision to avoid communities such as MilVets and the students who made it very clear that they came from a military background, with their style of dress and demeanor, not because those organizations and individuals are a detriment; I know for a fact that MilVets has helped countless students succeed at Columbia and beyond, and the veterans that I have relationships with are all phenomenal people, but because I wanted to pressure myself into being exposed to something different. I was uncomfortable at first, but this turned out to be the right decision. I learned as much from simply talking to people whom I would normally never converse with about topics and ideas that I had never encountered as I did during classes about great works of art, polar and Cartesian coordinates, literature, astronomy, the list goes on.
If the protests about the Israel – Palestine conflict had occurred when I first started at Columbia, I would have been frustrated by the students taking up space, forcing us to be funneled on to campus by restricted access points and identification checks. Likely irritated by the disturbance of the quiet during finals season, I would have agreed with the people who called for students to simply focus on their assignments and stop inconveniencing others by shouting about something occurring on the other side of the world. Instead, I decided to learn about the conflict, educating myself about both sides of a war that has roots extending back millennia. While Columbia University did not agree to the demands of the protestors, they achieved something else they surely desired, reaching a goal they did not state to President Shafik and her advisors: they brought attention to their cause by educating at least one additional person about it.
After reading, talking to people, listening to input from students within various classes, and understanding that things such as the intertwined nature of financial workings, as well as conflicts not just in the Middle East, but all over the world, are a level of complexity that baffles some of the most brilliant minds of ours and previous generations, I will leave my thoughts about Israel and Palestine separate from this paper. I recognize that it is important to choose a side, as remaining impartial helps no one. However, when every news agency, group and individual makes their voice heard, satirical sources such as The Onion make these kind of posts, or Adult Swim’s Rick, the nihilistic, narcissistic, psychopathic, misanthropic lead character from the series Rick and Morty, addresses the conflict in this manner, I feel that it is better to relegate myself to a much smaller part of this debate, namely the occurrences on Columbia University’s Morningside Campus.
During basic training for the United States Army, a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie is hammered into recruits’ identities. When you graduate and are assigned to a unit, one where you could be thousands of miles from home on the opposite side of the country, or even in a completely different country, serving on one of the international bases, approaching someone who you have never met before is easy. Talking to them about shared experiences and stories you have in common, and the bonding that occurs, is the product of an indoctrination process and lifestyle that has existed longer than any of us have been alive, and is proof of its effectiveness. This sense of familiarity tends to continue even when one leaves the military. The Veterans of Foreign Wars community is a place for prior servicemembers of all conflicts to share a drink, a laugh, and sometimes a tear. When I go to the Veterans Administration Hospital for periodic check-ups or the occasional injury, men and woman wearing hats commemorating their service during Vietnam waiting for their appointments greet me with a smile and a handshake, as if we have known each other for years. While working at a golf club’s greens department before I transferred to Columbia from community college, a coworker of mine who had served in the Gulf War had heard from our supervisor that I had been in the Army, and he introduced himself to me on my first day, before anyone else, telling me that if I needed anything, I only had to ask. This camaraderie has expanded to encompass not just veterans, but first responders such as firemen, EMT’s, and the police as well.
Underneath the picture on my driver’s license, the word “veteran” is emblazoned next to a star, written in bright red text and all capital letters. I know for a fact that this one-and-a-half-inch indicator has helped me during interactions with law enforcement on multiple occasions. Only earlier this semester, during Presidents’ Day weekend, I went upstate to spend time with my family. While driving back, in an effort to make the seven-hour trip at a reasonable time, I was stopped for going twenty miles-per-hour over the speed limit. The officer who pulled me over, initially reserved, became noticeably more friendly when I handed him my license and registration. Ultimately, he gave me what amounted to a parking ticket for my actions, rather than the point-incurring, heavily fined moving violation he could have charged me with.
The ‘Thin Blue Line,’ as it is known, is a reference to the idea that the police are the barrier between law abiding citizens and criminals, order and chaos. The most common representation of this concept is a black-and-white American flag, with a single blue line in the place where a red or white stripe would normally be. This style has been expanded to include numerous other colors representing other first-responders: green for the military, red and white no longer to be interpreted as the traditional stripes of the American flag, but instead meant to represent the fire department and paramedics, and even grey for corrections officers. Seeing the appropriation of one of the most iconic symbols in the world, one that flies above the White House, schools, homes, national and international events, and even the Moon, I can say, as someone who has been unwillingly entangled within that appropriation, is nothing short of terrifying.
The fact that these entities and their supporters have literally sewn themselves into the fabric of the symbol of our nation makes one think that there is little room for the countless other occupations, aspects and people that make up this country. The idea of the police being the sole protectors of our society is patently absurd, and all one must do is point out the many instances of police brutality occurring over the years to refute it. I find myself thinking of how much power the officer who stopped me just three months ago had over me. Initially, I was happy that I had received a slap on the wrist, but recently I have found myself wondering what if my license did not state that I was a veteran, would he have charged me with a ticket that would have had much more serious implications? What if he was simply having a bad day, and he decided he did not like the look of me, or the color of my car, and I was the one who he ultimately decided to vent his frustrations on? This traffic infraction, an incredibly small incident compared to all the turmoil in the world, one that involves two strangers, supposedly bonded by our professions, on the side of a quiet, New York highway, serves as a metaphor to me, reminding me of the power structures at play on a much larger scale.
On April 22^nd, 2024, I received this email, one of the many Clery Crime Alerts that students are automatically sent. An affiliate of Columbia University had their car stolen at gunpoint by two masked men on Claremont Avenue, not even a five-minute walk from campus. I skimmed the report, and almost immediately forgot about it, recognizing that crime is an inevitability in major cities, and that I needed to start my commute to school. Days later, on the night of April 30^th, 2024, I received another email from Columbia, containing one of the most ominous messages I had ever seen, one that put the kind of fear in my heart that not even the alert of an armed carjacking could. Columbia’s Emergency Management Operations Team, offering no explanations, specifications, or even a greeting or sign-off, wrote in bold letters these three sentences: “Shelter in place for your safety due to heightened activity on the Morningside campus. Non-compliance may result in disciplinary action. Avoid the area until further notice.” Due to the protests on campus during recent weeks, President Shafik testifying before Congress, Columbia’s role as one of the main catalysts for student protests around the country, and the occupation of Hamilton Hall occurring in the earlier hours of that day, it was not hard to figure out what the email was referencing. Over the next several hours, I followed news agencies, remained glued to the Columbia subreddit, and listened to WKCR, in awe of these eighteen- to twenty-two-year-old students putting themselves at risk to deliver on the ground, accurate, unbiased coverage of one of the most significant events in the school’s history.
While tracking the events from multiple perspectives, to include the social media accounts of those near and on campus live streaming them, I held out hope that the university would make good on their promise from several days earlier to not invite the NYPD back, but a frightening picture began to unfold, one that I was intimately familiar with. One WKCR reporter stated that 114^th street had so many officers on it that he could not see the asphalt of the road beneath them, and I knew that the staging area the NYPD had chosen was one of the best routes for moving towards what the military, and presumably law enforcement, would call an ‘objective.’ The officers cleared the smaller ‘objective,’ the largely unoccupied tents in front of Butler, and then moved towards Hamilton Hall, ordering even those not associated with its occupation to disperse, raising my stress levels and likely those of others, as it is rarely a good sign when police do not want their actions recorded and archived. After the initial entry to campus and clearing of areas and people in the immediate vicinity of Hamilton Hall, came the Long-Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD, a device that makes a megaphone sound like a whisper, and one known for its crowd-control potential, capable of producing sounds loud enough to cause damage to ear-drums, nausea, and headaches, ordering individuals to clear away. The NYPD began its execution of tactics in a way that my fellow soldiers and I used to rehearse, tactics I never dreamed that I would witness outside of the military, and certainly not by police officers who vastly outnumbered unarmed students on their own campus. The NYPD created a perimeter, or a ‘second layer of security’ to both provide reinforcements for the officers entering the building, and to prevent the fleeing of what are called ‘squirters,’ or individuals who attempt to escape the building after the raid begins. While the ‘breach’ team moved towards the front doors, using tools from a ‘hooligan kit,’ such as bolt cutters, hand-held battering rams and crowbars, a siege machine was brought in to allow access from a window; when taking over a building, the idea is to overwhelm it from as many different directions as possible to better disorient and overwhelm its occupants. Flash-bang grenades, described as non-lethal, but known to have harmful effects, were thrown inside, presumably before entering any room, hallway, or otherwise enclosed area to minimize the resistance of anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of what can only be described as an assault on the visual and auditory senses. According to the Manhattan District Attorney, one of the officers inside Hamilton Hall had what is called in the military a “negligent discharge,” meaning his firearm went off unintentionally. While no one was hurt, the question remains why at least one, and more likely, numerous other officers were carrying guns loaded with live ammunition in the first place, when they so drastically outmatched the protestors in numbers and equipment. Additionally, a negligent discharge is an act of incompetence that would result in an active-duty soldier facing serious consequences, and derision from his peers. So far, the officer remains defended by his coworkers, and unpunished by his superiors.
As all this unfolded, I communicated with my friends from the past and present. My friends from the military checked on me to ensure that I was okay, as did my friends from school. The difference in how they viewed these events highlights what I believe is the change in myself that I stated I am most proud of at the beginning of this paper. My friends from the military were commenting that the assertion of order and control by way of militarized tactics was necessary, not concerning themselves with the human toll and destruction of trust that came along with it. Conversely, my schoolmates lamented the brutality and overstepping of boundaries that the NYPD and Columbia’s administration committed, one that turned a place meant to be a beacon of free speech, expression, and ideas, into what is now a police-state with strict control over who enters it.
My education inside and outside the classroom at this institution has challenged, thrilled, and changed me. Sitting here now, at the end of this paper, the end of the semester, and the end of my time at Columbia University, I am left feeling confused and sad regarding recent events, but also hopeful for the future. I know from experience that the students, teachers, and culture of this school have the power to encourage critical thinking and initiate personal growth. If it did those things for me, surely it can do the same for others

I am not a doctor. I'm am a patient. New studies are emerging about the brain. Take from this what you will. Talk to your doctor.
Did you know that after a TBI, your body goes through an electrolyte imbalance. There's currently studies measuring how we process sodium, potassium, calcium, and magnesium after a TBI. https://www.journalofsurgicalresearch.com/article/S0022-4804(23)00130-0/abstract
Hypernatremia (TOO MUCH SALT) (most common of electrolyte abnormality) The main symptom of hypernatremia is excessive thirst. Other symptoms are lethargy, which is extreme fatigue and lack of energy, and possibly confusion.
Advanced cases may also cause muscle twitching or spasms. That’s because sodium is important for how muscles and nerves work. With severe elevations of sodium, seizures and coma may occur
It is a predictor of poor neurologic outcome.
https://www.healthline.com/health/hypernatremia
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28899834/
Hypokalemia ( LOW POTASSIUM) potassium deficiency leads to Weakness and fatigue, Muscle weakness and cramps, Digestive problems, Abnormal heart beat, Breathing difficulties, Tingling and numbness, Polyuria (frequent urination), High blood pressure. https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/potassium-deficiency-symptoms
hypocalcemia (LOW CALCIUM) Severe symptoms of hypocalcemia include: confusion or memory loss, muscle spasms, numbness and tingling in the hands, feet, and face, depression, hallucinations, muscle cramps, weak and brittle nails, easy fracturing of the bones. https://www.healthline.com/health/calcium-deficiency-disease#symptoms
Hyponatremia (LOW SALT) Common symptoms of hyponatremia include: weakness, fatigue or low energy, headache, nausea, vomiting, muscle cramps or spasms, confusion, irritability.
Severe symptoms of hyponatremia Losing sodium quickly is a medical emergency. It can cause: overactive reflexes, loss of consciousness, seizures, coma, and in the most severe cases, death. https://www.healthline.com/health/hyponatremia#symptoms
Hypomagnesemia (LOW MAGNESIUM) Early signs of low magnesium include: nausea, vomiting, weakness, decreased appetite,
As magnesium deficiency worsens, symptoms may include: numbness, tingling, muscle cramps, seizures, muscle spasticity, personality changes, abnormal heart rhythms. https://www.healthline.com/health/hypomagnesemia#symptoms

The altar also was rent, and the ashes poured out from the altar, according to the sign which the man of God had given by the word of the LORD.And the king answered and said unto the man of God, Intreat now the face of the LORD thy God, and pray for me, that my hand may be restored me again. And the man of God besought the LORD, and the king's hand was restored him again, and became as it was before

Im 19F and I work in a warehouse. Im going to try to explain this as best as I can, because i know warehouse roles can be complicated.
I work in repack, which is upstairs on the third floor. I have an older coworker, who im gonna call Lisa, who has to use equipment (i think its called a reach truck) to bring/take bins or pallets from the top floor.
We put packages that goes in polybags instead of boxes in a bigger bag. Lisa says she needs everyone to bring their bags to the bin by 6:45 pm. She often comes upstairs and gets them herself, but has been trying to get the packers to do it themselves
She has had issues with two women specifically. She told me yesterday, One of them had told her to get the bag herself after Lisa asked her to bring it to the bin. Today, she found out those two just flat out refused to change their bag out (their bag was completely full and almost overflowing) in protest. She was very upset and says shes just doing what shes told to do. She says shes going to report it to the supervisor at the end of the shift.
To try to keep the peace, I bring my bag to the bin at 6:45. I take my coworker’s (John) bag, and ask him that im going to bring it to the bin if thats okay with him. I figured most people werent bringjng it to the bin because they lost track of time like i often had - or because they were just lazy. I thought there should be no problem if i did it myself, like Lisa did.
Except John snatches the bag out of my hand, asks me what im going to do with it. I tell him i was going to put it in the bin. He goes towards the bin, angrily points and says “it goes right there”, and throws it next to the garbage cans instead. He asks me if thats where i was going it bring it. I told him i was going to bring it to the bin, but at this point its already too late, as Lisa had already used her machine to start moving it. He says “well get it then” and walks off
I asked him if we dont put it there at 6:45. I was genuinely confused as to why he got THAT upset. He ignores me, and half yells to the Italian coworker beside me how Lisa would be alright and how the 6:45 thing was bullshit. Hes throwing and pushing boxes as hes packing them very violently as he does so. My italian coworker tries to calm him down. Italian coworker explains to me that thats why he only gets us three’s bags and not “them”
Im very upset at this point. I say, I didnt think it was that serious. But I learned my damn lesson as I walked off.
I catch him meanmugging me later on the day but brush it off and just avoid eye contact. Im honestly cooled off at the end of the shift until att he end of the day, my coworkers are huddled around talking about what happened. I come up and they pretend im not there. I ask why was my name mentioned and only the italian coworker responded, saying hes trying to clear the air and explain i was only trying to help and that i didnt know. At this point everyone already left. I chased another coworker down and explain my side of the situation , as i heard her talking about it as well. She switches up and says dont worry what theyre saying, and my lesson is to not touch anyone’s stuff
Im very upset at what happened and how my coworkers seemingly defended him. Ill take the blame for touching his stuff without permission, but i had no bad intentions. I am a 19F and this man who is older than my parents pretty much snatches the bag out of my hand, throws it, and tell me to go get it. I had no clue everyone was this against on bringjng their bags to the bin at a certain time. I dot know if i shoukd address it, let it go, or kill them with kindness. Im honestly upset i didnt stand up for myself more but it seems no one is on my side

And he gave a sign the same day, saying, This is the sign which the LORD hath spoken; Behold, the altar shall be rent, and the ashes that are upon it shall be poured out.And it came to pass, when king Jeroboam heard the saying of the man of God, which had cried against the altar in Bethel, that he put forth his hand from the altar, saying, Lay hold on him. And his hand, which he put forth against him, dried up, so that he could not pull it in again to him

People protest for Palestine for a variety of reasons, often stemming from political, humanitarian, and social justice concerns.
This is a historical moment in all of our history in the United States period there have been countless Protest in our history dating back to when the Constitution of the united statestwas established. From the Boston Tea Party, to Civil rights movement, Gender equality movement,The war in Vietnam Among many other wars that were unjustified till this day. These all wereSignificant and changing the way our country is today and if we sit by and let these things occur we are only supporting and watching people die with our tax dollars. I don't want blood on my hands butIt's just me if you feel that this is unjustified propagandaWhich is being ignored by our government then stand up with me stand up CHICO! We will be protesting we will not give up we will not stop, If they wanna arrest me for speaking the truth proof in a peaceful manner thenBelong in jail but I am not the only person Who feels this way there is a list ofHundreds of people that would take my place and hundreds more after that if needed they can't make enough jails for us all, so please don't fear your god-given civil rights, Let's stand up and make our voices heard.
Why should you protest this is some very basic Knowledge that is already Made public for anyone to be able to view using online resources or the freedom of information act, videos online which are not altered. The date and time of the protest is soon. Prepare yourself, If you're worried about your identity be exposed you can wear anything to cover your face from scraf to covid mask, anything your imagination can come up with, but don't be scared, that is the biggest Factor that the government is relying to prevent further protest and policy changes. Anyone who may be arrested harmed or needing any treatment we'll be fully compensated and bailed out at no cost to any protester. You will have a attorney provided to you and will be released within a 24 hour period.
What this protest is about and what it's purpose is.
Humanitarian Concerns: Protest for the humanitarian situation in Palestinian territories, particularly in Gaza, Rafah, among many other refuge camps within occupied Palestine. Civilian casualties and multiple war crimes from genocide, murder, civilan torture, starvation, propaganda, all while the land we walk on USA among Is many other corporations based in the US and abroad are funding and supporting the actions of Israeli government and thier policatical and personal interest. Essentially every time you pay for anything in the United States whether it be food, gas, etc. You are funding the bombs that are killing innocent civilians. Well over 30,000 dead.
Political Stance: Solidarity with the Palestinian cause and oppose policies they view as unjust, such as settlement expansion in the West Bank or the blockade of Gaza
2. Social Justice: Advocate for the rights and self-determination of Palestinians. This aligns with other global movements for equality and against oppression
Response to Specific Events: Certain events, such as conflicts, policy decisions, or actions by certain world primarily USA and Isreal governments, reactions to specific military operations and many illegal political developments.

So I’m thinking of taking on an ambitious (for me without any prior cabinet making experience) project of building some lower cabinets in my garage that will store my powered table top and hand tools with a work surface on top. Basically was thinking this would be 4 cabinets approx 9 feet in length. The doors of the cabinets would be made from a thick plexiglass sign they were going to throw out at work (it’s a dealership service sign for the express lane, saw some cool repurposed credenzas made with old store signs) and for the top surface I have some pieces of rock hard maple bowling alley. Pretty sure I can handle building the boxes from 1/2 or 5/8 plywood and was thinking perhaps a French cleat to mount them to the wall and using some short pieces of iron black pipe with floor flanges so the cabinets would be supported about 6 inches off the floor. Was hoping the black pipe would allow for leveling the boxes. I guess my question is is this a proper way to do a project like this? The piece of plexiglass isn’t too heavy, the rock hard maple top is the thinner parts of the approach lane, they are only a little over an inch thick. The cabinets would be to store my machines such as a couple of chop saws, a couple of table top belt sanders, a spindle sander and other powered hand tools. What thickness of plywood can handle that weight and would the cleat be enough to keep the cabinets stable? I could run some screws into the backs for more stability depending on what y’all recommend. Thanks in advance for any advice fam 🙏

Animal‌-Man/Swamp‌ ‌Thing

Issue‌ 32:‌ ‌ The Pale Wanderer
Written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deadislandman1
Edited‌ ‌by‌ PatrollinTheMojave
 
Next‌ ‌Issue‌ ‌> ‌Coming‌ ‌Soon
 
Arc: Flesh and Bark‌ ‌
 ‌ ‌
‌  ‌ ‌
Then
An arc of purple lightning flashed across the night sky of the Boneyard, splitting the dark sky in twain as Capucine trudged across the ashy wastes of the realm. A cold gale ripped through the land, chilling the warrior to the bone, yet after centuries of time living in the Rot’s home realm, it felt identical to the ocean breeze that graced her every evening of her monastic childhood. Anxious, she fiddled with her leather armor, tightening every strap and support to make sure they were all in the right positions. She double checked that her sheath was properly tied to her belt, and that the steel sword within was sharp and clean.
He would catch up to her sooner or later, almost certainly before she made it to the portal. It wasn’t hard to pick that fact up. The Boneyard always became a little rougher when he wasn’t happy. She’d endeavored to spare him a difficult conversation, but perhaps that was too optimistic a hope. He was smart for someone his age, even if he’d made such a grave mistake.
Perhaps she was trying to spare herself the labor of having a conversation, rather than trying to keep the adolescent Avatar’s emotions in check. Perhaps she was just running from her problems, something she couldn’t remember ever doing before. Perhaps her ambitions to steer the young Avatar towards better decisions was the wrong choice on her part.
…No. Her advice was invaluable, she knew that much, and William Holland took that advice well. She just wasn’t in much of a position to give advice anymore.
Climbing atop an gray, dusty hill, Capucine gazed at the portal back to the physical world, composed of a miasma of swirling bones and inky fluids. To the unadjusted nose, it smelled absolutely foul, but to Capucine it smelled no different than the rest of the Boneyard. This was her ticket back, to somewhere where she’d do… something.
She didn’t know what that something was. In fact, she felt nauseous at the idea of wandering the world for centuries yet again with no real goal or purpose, though when considering the alternative, Capucine was ready to step right through the portal, even if her reason for leaving was so small in the grand scheme of things.
Breathless, Capucine took one step towards the portal, only for a boom of thunder to shake the realm. Capucine stopped dead in her tracks, sighing. William didn’t need to say anything to get her attention, as she turned around, coming face to face with the young Avatar.
He’d grown quite a bit in the three years she’d been advising him. His mane of red hair had regained some of its color, and across his pale face stood the beginnings of a beard, with bits of pronounced stubble around his chin and above his lips. He remained as gaunt as ever, yet he’d also grown much taller since his beginning as the Rot’s leader. He looked Capucine in the eyes, keeping his expression as blank as possible, “I got your note.”
Capucine narrowed her eyes, “So you did.”
William’s bottom lip quivered, “There’s no way I can change your mind…is there?”
“Not that I can see,” Capucine remarked.
William’s head drifted to the side as he attempted to avert his gaze, hiding his eyes from Capucine behind his wild hair. He choked back something, maybe a sob, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was a mistake.”
Capucine took a step forward, feeling the urge to console the boy, yet as she reached out towards him, she found herself frozen by trepidation. She was not a woman of gentle words, and this was a situation that called for them. Rescinding her hand, she stepped back towards the portal, “What’s done is done. I do not hate you, William Arcane, but I cannot stay here.”
Capucine turned her back on William, readying herself to step through the portal. She took one step, then another before William spoke once more, “Tefé.”
Capucine stopped, electing not to turn back and face the young Avatar. Realizing that she was waiting for him to continue, William spoke again, “My sister. I know her, she’s got a good heart, but she’s not like me. She’s not an Avatar. She could always use someone to watch her back.”
For a moment, Capucine did not answer, and the silence seemed to push William to take a few steps back. Turning, he began to walk away, unable to think of much else to say, when Capucine finally answered back, “If she is the sister of William Arcane…then I know her to be someone of good character. Your advice is invaluable, Avatar. Thank you.”
Without another word, Capucine stepped through the portal, disappearing from the Boneyard. William stared at the portal for what felt like hours before he finally shuddered, his shaky breathing accompanied by a single tear that froze up on its way down his cheek, stopping short as a bead of ice just before it fell off of his jaw.
Now
“So you’re here because my brother suggested it?”
“That’s correct.”
Capucine answered Tefé’s inquiry in a dry manner, keeping most of her focus on cleaning the gasoline off her sword with a rag. She sat upon the corpse of the formerly living infected tree, using it as a comfortable log of sorts while Maxine and Tefé remained in their canoe, having managed to dock it by tying it to a nearby set of protruding roots. It was about noon now, and the Florida heat had become unbearable. Maxine wiped her forehead, expecting that she’d probably be dead without the trees as a shield from the sun.
Tefé rubbed her throat, recovering from the vice grip of the tree, “I…how is he? He’s not in trouble is he?”
“Far from it. Your brother is doing better than most. He’s got a keen mind for leadership, and the Rot endures with him as its head,” Capucine sheathed her sword. “He doesn’t need my advice anymore, and I do the world no favors remaining at his side. If I am to continue the preservation of a better world, then it’s best I accompany you instead.”
Tefé grumbled a little, but also couldn’t help but smile, “So the little rascal thinks I need a hand, huh? Thinks I need advice.”
Tefé smirked, then looked up at Capucine, “Got any words of wisdom for me?”
Capucine looked down at the tree carcass, then back at Tefé, “Don’t get grabbed by monstrous trees.”
Tefé swallowed, “Yeah…sound advice.”
Maxine stared at the water, noting that its viscosity had remained unchanged, “Uh…guys? I think there are more gasoline trees somewhere out there. I feel like it would’ve cleared up at least a little bit.”
Capucine jumped into the canoe, breaking the rope keeping it moored with her bare hands, “Then we find the source of the infestation, and remove it.”
Maxine and Tefé didn’t do anything to impede Capucine’s actions, though they were certainly taken aback by this old English era woman taking charge of their mission. Without a word, Capucine grabbed a paddle and began rowing upstream, her toned build making what was a laborious task for Tefé effortless. The trio moved upstream at a rapid pace, with Capucine barely making a single grunt or noise as she paddled onward. As the hours went by, the water to gasoline ratio of the river continued to tip in the gasoline’s favor, to the point that eventually Capucine looked like she was putting real effort into her paddling.
Tefé stared at the woman, unsure of what to make of her, “So…Capucine?”
“Yes?”
“I know your name, I know you’ve been…advising my brother. What else do you do? What’s your story?”
Capucine frowned, “To be brief…I was born over a thousand years ago in Lindisfarne Abbey. What happened after is a personal matter, and one I’d rather not discuss. Similarly, discussing how I came to be immortal, and what I’ve done in the many centuries afterwards would doubtlessly be a fruitless and boring exercise. That energy is better spent rowing.”
Tefé raised an eyebrow, “Okay….then, why are you doing any of this? What drives you to help us?”
Capucine paused for a moment, allowing the canoe to slow in its approach upriver. Then, she snorted, a small smile forming as she began to paddle once more, “I’ve lived long enough to know this is a good place, a good world. I like it intact and alive, and I’d do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”
“Uh…good answer,” Tefé turned her attention to the rest of the forest, watching carefully for threats. Capucine was certainly blunt, and maybe a little scary looking, but from what she could tell the woman wasn’t much of a danger. If she wanted to learn more, she could do that after the case of Silver Springs was solved.
Maxine grimaced, staring at the thick gasoline they were rowing through, “What do you think is causing this stuff? The closest thing I can think of is the Rot but…part of me can’t put that picture together.”
“Because this is not the Rot’s doing. William is well aware of these kinds of problems, and manages them well. He would never allow something like this to escalate as far as it has,” Capucine grunted, her sheath rattling against the interior of the canoe. “This is something different.”
“Oil’s a fossil fuel, right?” Maxine asked, “Could there be any connection?”
“Perhaps, but this isn’t just oil, it’s gasoline. It’s processed,” Capucine grunted, the act of rowing becoming tougher. “Something is turning the oil into Gasoline. Maybe it’s the trees, maybe it’s something else.”
“But what force would do that? There’s definitely something magical going on about these things,” Maxine asked.
Capucine frowned, “I am…unsure. I’ve not heard of any force that pertains to these properties. Perhaps one of them has evolved. Such an occurrence is not unheard of; the Red does it all the time.”
“Or maybe…someone’s twisting a force into something it isn’t,” said Tefé. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Eventually, the boat rounded a corner, passing another infected tree. Maxine and Tefé readied themselves, only for Capucine to keep paddling, “Do not bother with them. They’re symptoms, not the cause.”
Maxine raised an eyebrow, “And the cause is….where?”
Capucine pointed down the river, and past a muddy, poisoned shore sat an entire row of the ailing cypresses, encircling a clearing of some kind. As the canoe pushed up against the mid, Capucine trudged out, making her way towards the clearing with her hand on her longsword’s hilt. The trees seemed to regard her, blatantly still conscious, yet they did not attack. Maxine and Tefé followed in trepidation, eyeing the trees in suspicion.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Maxine asked.
“I don’t know,” Capucine remarked. “Perhaps they’re afraid.”
“Of you…or of something else?” Tefé wondered aloud.
As the three entered the clearing, they came across a sight none of them would have expected…a human heart.
It laid in the mud, rooted by cartilage that snaked its way beneath the earth. It beat with a satisfying rhythm, pulsating as if it still rested inside the body of a living man. A thick liquid permeated the mud, shifting outward from the heart.
Gasoline.
Capucine drew her sword, preparing to stab the heart with it. Eyes wide, Maxine jumped in front of her, “Woah woah woah, what are you doing?!”
“I’m removing the problem,” Capucine remarked.
“But…but…we don’t know what this thing even is?”
Capucine sneered at Maxine, “Is it not obvious? Someone or something has perverted an object of the Red, and that infection is spreading to the Green. With its removal, this area can begin healing.”
“How can you know that for sure? I’m the Avatar of the Red, and I can’t feel any trace of the Red in there,” Maxine exclaimed.
“Then the corruption of the object has completely overridden its connection to the Red. All the more reason to destroy it.”
Maxine whirled around, staring at Tefé for help. Tefé opened her mouth to protest, yet she was unsure of how to proceed. On the one hand, the Green was suffering, this place was suffering. Getting rid of the heart seemed like the right answer, yet Maxine was right as well. They knew practically nothing about this heart, and if the trees weren’t attacking them, maybe it was an invitation to learn more.
Before she could voice her opinion on one approach or the other though, a new voice made itself known, a raspy, texan accent that came from vocal chords that didn’t realize they were long past their expiration date.
“Well, if you’d let me speak…I’d love to tell you why I deserve to live!”
The trio assumed defensive stances as the ground rumbled around the heart, at which point a dozen or so ribs began to poke out of the mud around the heart, followed by rotten yet well preserved flesh. The heart and ribs rose with the flesh, revealing a man with an open chest as he picked himself up from out of the mud. He was wearing an old coat and pants, and wore only one sock on his feet. Inconsistent, matted hair hung from his head, covered up slightly by a ruined cowboy hat. An ugly stubble dotted his cheeks, paired with yellow teeth and milky white eyes. He smiled, raising what looked to be an old revolver to his chin to scratch it with the barrel. With the other hand, he reached out to shake any of the trio’s hands, “Howdy folks. Pale Wanderer, representing the Parliament of Gears…how are you doing this fine day?”
The trio looked at each other in confusion, then Capucine spoke, “What are you? Are you the cause of the Malady plaguing this land.”
“Well…I wouldn’t call it a malady per-se! More of a necessary sacrifice.” The Pale Wanderer tipped his hat up. “As for what I am? Well honey…I’m a crusader. A force meant to alleviate suffering, and right now? That suffering is…well, it’s not exactly something any of the flora or fauna here really give a shit about.”
“And what’s that?” Tefé asked.
“Well…it’s a bit of a logistical nightmare to explain, but it starts with oil!” The Pale Wanderer gestured towards the ground. “We’re a car based society, here in the United States I mean! Trouble is, gas prices are fuckin’ outrageous these days, right?”
Capucine narrowed her eyes, “I do not see how that should concern us.”
“I’m not finished!” The Pale Wanderer remarked. “The average American has to pay an arm and a leg for gas nowadays, and they need gas if they want to get anywhere. Have a job, wanna see family, need to make a trip to the grocery store? Need to pay for gas if you wanna to any of that! Trouble is, gas comes from oil, and oil? It’s getting rarer by the minute…that’s why I made this place!”
The Pale Wanderer raised his arms, gesturing to the gasoline laced mud and the producing trees, “Think about it! More Gasoline means the market price of Gasoline’s gonna go down, which means gas is cheaper for everyone! At least, I think that’s how it works! Plus, my Gas is A+ quality, even comes in Diesel!”
As The Pale Wanderer continued on about his tirade on Gas prices, Maxine and Tefé shared a confused glance at each other. They’d never encountered something like this before, something this unusual, this keyed in and calculated in purpose yet scattershot in reasoning. The only thing two of them seemed to fixate on though was something the Pale Wanderer said when he introduced himself.
The Parliament of Gears.
Tefé stepped forward, “You said you were part of the Parliament of Gears? What is that? I’ve never heard of them.”
“Oh, That’s cause we’re new on the block, sweetie, but glad to be here,” The Pale Wanderer remarked. “Not qualified to sell them overall though, you’ll have to talk to marketing for that.”
“Enough!” Capucine declared, holding the point of the sword at the Pale Wanderer. “Your reasons for poisoning this place are simplistic and needless. Leave, or I will make you leave!”
The Pale Wanderer raised an eyebrow, “See, now I don’t like comments like that! We’re all just having a lovely discussion and now all you wanna do is escalate! Things don’t have to be this way! Maybe we can work something out?”
Tefé glanced between Capucine and the Pale Wanderer, making an educated guess that Capucine wasn’t the type to back down in these sorts of situations. Furthermore, she had a point. This place was suffering, and no matter the Pale Wanderer’s intentions, that was something that wouldn’t stand, “We don’t want to fight you, but what you’re doing is…horrifying. You’re killing everything around here for…Gasoline! We can’t stand by and let that happen.”
The Pale Wanderer glanced at Tefé, a glum look on his face. Maxine seemed to be holder her breath somewhat, but there was no question that she was on Tefé and Capucine’s side. Sighing, The Pale Wanderer scratched his thigh with his gun, “So that’s how it is?”
Capucine’s grip on her sword tightened, “That’s how it is.”
The Pale Wanderer pursed his lips, “...Well, if we’ve got no more words to share…I guess we better hop to it.”
The wanderer raised his revolver, only for Capucine to surge forward at lightning speed, piercing him in the heart with her sword. For a moment, he was still, motionless, and Capucine stared him dead in the eyes. Then, he shifted, and after meeting her gaze, he began to laugh, his guffawing causing gasoline to spurt from his heart and onto Capucine’s sword and armor, “Hah! Good try!”
Capucine attempted to back away from the Wanderer, only for him to grab her wrist, keeping her and the sword wedged firmly in his body. Raising his weapon, he prepared to put a bullet in Capucine’s eyes, only for her to deliver a swift fist to his arm, knocking the gun out of his hands. Smiling, he took advantage of his newly freed hand, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing tight. As Capucine struggled for air, the Wanderer could only hoot and holler, “Whooo-weeee! We’re getting down to it now!”
Maxine and Tefé rushed to help the ancient warrior, only for a mob of living trees to encroach upon them, blocking their way while attempting to grab or smash them with their heavy branched arms. Maxine dove to the left, dodging the crushing slam of one tree, while Tefé slipped through the roots of another, narrowly avoiding being picked up again. Separated, the two tried to get a read on each other while avoiding harm, yet it was difficult for either of them to really do anything to help Capucine.
They were both far from the Red and the Green’s safety. No animal would go anywhere near the Pale Wanderer, meaning Maxine’s powers were utterly neutered. Similarly, there was no living plant life near the battlefield, meaning Tefé couldn’t use her powers either. If they wanted to get out of this, they would need to think outside the box.
And that’s when Tefé spotted the Wanderer’s revolver sitting in the mud, and a wild idea crossed her mind as she scanned it and the gasoline laden ground around it. She glanced at Maxine, then to the gun, and Maxine seemed to pick up on what she was thinking. It was a gambit, an insane gambit, but without much power to draw on, it might be their only shot.
Together, the two began to race for the gun, trying desperately to keep out of the reach of the trees. Tefé tried to get there quickly, yet she found herself pursued by a half dozen trees, pressured by their presence. Maxine was closer, and managed to pick up the gun as Tefé was halfway over, only for a tree to come barreling towards her. She whirled around to run, only to snag her foot on a dead root, causing her to trip and fall. Afraid of losing their one chance at Victory, Maxine shared a split second look with Tefé before throwing the gun towards the Pale Wanderer, just as the tree came down on her. It stretched out its arms, its branches ensnaring her and trapping her in place.
Her mind in overdrive, Tefé pivoted and raced for the Pale Wanderer, leaping over the swinging branches of another tree in order to catch the gun. Capucine gasped for air, her eyes glazing over as the Wanderer choked the life out of her, laughing like a madman. With the trees about to grab her, Tefé leapt for the Wanderer’s back, looping one arm around his neck to hold on while planting the gun’s barrel against the gasoline soaked sword, “Stop!”
The trees froze in place, including the one holding Maxine captive. The Pale Wanderer raised his eyebrow, loosening his grip on Capucine and allowing her to breath, “What’s this now? Ready to call it quits?”
Tefé gritted her teeth, “I’m ready to make a deal, and if you refuse, I’ll blow us all sky high! Even you won’t survive that, will you?”
“The hell’re you…” The Pale Wanderer looked down at the gun planted against the sword, and finally realized what was at stake. There was a reason smoking a cigarette at a gas station was a stupid idea, and Tefé was willing to demonstrate. A bullet crashing against steel would cause sparks, and sparks can light many fires, especially ones where the ground was soaked in gasoline. She’s set miles of forest on fire, to nuke the entire place from the ground up….and from the tone of her words, the Wanderer knew Tefé meant it, “Ohhhhh…Clever girl….Ha! So, you’ve got me. What do you want from me?”
Tefé let out a grunt of exhaustion, “I want you…to fuck off and never come back here. Got it?”
The Wanderer chuckled, then winked at Capucine, letting go of her and allowing her to pull out the sword, “Well then, a deal’s a deal.”
Snapping his fingers, The Wanderer watched as every tree around him began to dissolve into an inky ooze, including the one holding onto Maxine, who became drencheds in the stuff. Similarly, the Wanderer himself began to dissolve, though much more slowly. As he sank into the earth, he looked up at Tefé and Capucine, “This place’ll return to what it once was, but don’t count me out just yet. We’ll be seeing each other…oh, and keep the gun. Think of it as a gift from little ol’ me.”
Eventually, the Pale Wanderer was gone, not even his hat remaining, leaving Maxine, Tefé, and Capucine to stare at the spot he once occupied. The crisis at hand was solved, at least as far as they knew, but the problems were only just beginning.
A new force of nature was here, and it did not seem to be a peaceful one.
 
Next Issue: A Trip to somewhere new!
 

So I'm 15 (Female) and recently (By this I mean a good 4-5 months) I've been in two relationships that have really caused me to question my sexuality, Up until then I thought I was straight. Me being queer in any shape or form didn't really seem to be an option, I always just assumed that one day I'd start being attracted to people and wanting to have sex and be super touchy. My issue is I've always been told that its like a switch in your brain that makes you want to have sex and be all PDA 24/7. I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss someone or have sex with someone and I don't know how to feel about that? The first boy I dated asked me to a dance and we 'dated' for three weeks, I ended up breaking it off because I didn't feel anything. I was indifferent and didn't care, we went on a date and he tried to make out with me and it really freaked me out and made me feel super grossed out and disgusted. (which sounds really bad to say out loud) But I ended up breaking up with him because he kept being all attached and trying to hug and touch me all the time and I just didn't want to do it anymore and I felt bad because he kept being super weird and told me he loved me and I was indifferent and it was a 3 week relationship and he spread rumors about me afterwards for 6 weeks until I snapped and told his mom. So I was like oh maybe its that great intj intuition, yay it was a gut feeling, that's why everything was awful. So then I move on and stuff start talking to a guy, and I don't want to do anything sexual or really touch him (this is a guy whose in the grade ahead of me and who I've known vaguely since 5th grade even though we never really talked he seemed pretty funny) I don't really know what makes you have a crush on someone, like what do you mean you had a crush on Aladin, I think he's someone I'd like to hangout with and be around but like why would I want to kiss or touch him? So anyways we're currently together but I wouldn't care if he called and told me he wanted to break up? And to be honest i'd much rather be around my best friend? and I'm ok with touching and holding hands with her and stuff and I love her to death and I'd be totally chill with marrying her but I don't want to have sex with her and I don't know if that means im in love with her or not? I was trying to figure it out and all the questions were like do you want to kiss them and I was like "No?? maybe on the cheek???" and then it was like "would you ever consider them your sister" and I was like "NO absolutely not that just feels wrong" (she's Bi, btw) and then i started thinking about that and I asked some of my adultish friends who are in college E and B, (E is Gay, and B is Lesbian) and I told them about stuff and talked to them about my best friend and they both kinda looked at me and went "that's kinda gay" and I haven't really talked to either of them about me not wanting to have sex and stuff but I don't really know how to ask without admitting that I might not be straight and I'm currently in a kinda relationship and he went and signed up for the same program as me for next year at school, which was really annoying because that's a year long commitment and I feel like that's trapping me into that relationship and im really just trying to figure stuff out and it was a baking class and he didn't tell me he was going to sign up and he did it a day after we 'got together', and so we're going to be in the same program all year. but I really don't want to tell anyone that I'm asexual and then turn around and be like ha jk i was just being weird and so I'm just kinda here and choosing not to think about it, But when i've looked around and expressed what i've been feeling touch repulsed and asexual, maybe aroace, have seemed to fit. If anyone has any advice or needs clarification please comment something.

In the small town of Ashford, nestled deep in the mountains, there was a legend that the locals spoke of in hushed tones. It was said that HIM, a malevolent entity, roamed the surrounding forests, preying on those who dared venture too far from the safety of their homes.
Caden Moran was a skeptic. As a reporter for the town's small newspaper, he prided himself on debunking myths and legends. So when he heard about HIM, he decided to investigate, convinced that there was a logical explanation behind the fear.
One autumn evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Caden set out for the forest with his camera and notebook. The air grew colder, and a thick fog rolled in, shrouding the trees in an ethereal mist. Despite the growing unease in his gut, Caden pressed on, determined to uncover the truth.
As he walked deeper into the woods, he stumbled upon an old, abandoned cabin. It looked like it had been left untouched for decades, its wooden beams rotting and ivy creeping up its sides. Intrigued, Caden decided to explore inside.
The cabin's interior was dark, illuminated only by the weak beam of his flashlight. Dust particles danced in the air, and the floor creaked under his weight. In the center of the single room stood a table with a strange, ancient book resting on it. The cover was made of a leathery material that sent a shiver down his spine.
Caden opened the book and began to flip through its pages. They were filled with bizarre symbols and unsettling drawings of shadowy figures. One drawing, in particular, caught his eye—a tall, shadowy figure with eyes like burning embers. Beneath it was a single word: HIM.
A sudden chill filled the room. The temperature dropped rapidly, and the flashlight flickered before going out completely. Caden's breath came in visible puffs as he fumbled in the darkness. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if something unseen was pressing down on him.
A whisper, barely audible at first, echoed around him. It grew louder, forming words that sent a jolt of terror through him.
"You should not have come here."
Heart pounding, Caden spun around, trying to locate the source of the voice. The shadows in the room began to shift and merge, forming a figure that slowly took shape. It was HIM, exactly as depicted in the book, with eyes burning like coals in the darkness.
"Why have you summoned me?" the entity's voice boomed, resonating deep within Caden's bones.
"I didn't... I was just curious," Caden stammered, backing away slowly.
"Curiosity has a price," HIM hissed, stepping closer. "And now you must pay."
The shadows surged forward, engulfing Caden. His screams echoed through the cabin, but no one was around to hear them. The next morning, the townspeople found his camera and notebook near the old cabin, but there was no sign of Caden Moran.
The townspeople spoke of his disappearance in hushed tones, a chilling reminder of the power of HIM. And on foggy nights, when the wind howled through the trees, they could sometimes hear Caden's anguished cries, a ghostly warning to all who dared to venture too far into the forest.
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When I went t to rehab—summer 2019–it was my first time going to inpatient treatment, I hadn’t gone to jail, only commuted to college, never went to sleep away camp, ….aside from the periods of time I was living out of my car, motels, and since my car was incapacitated at that point, living on a porch…. I had never been away from home.
So you can imagine my reaction, when I had been unable to use a normal bathroom and get a real shower that wasn’t with a hose in a baby pool, eat food that was cooked ….regularly, wear laundered clothing that fit and looked right on me…… my hair was matted to my head I had to shave it. That’s how bad things were for me at this point.
And when I got to the rehab…..there was a sign on the water fountain saying we weren’t allowed to drink from it. I thought it was just the fountain ….. no…..we weren’t allowed to consume the water. Which changed to not allowed to brush teeth or get it into our mouths or cuts…..then we couldn’t use the water even to bathe or wash hands. Back to no mouth or cut. And back tk no contact…… then we got water trucks in.
When I went to a halfway house. When inspection like BIG DEAL inspection for CARF, they made us go into overhaul with the cleaning and it’s not like anything was problematic really but it was noticeable to me that we clearly weren’t always up to standard between the inspections. But it wasn’t like we were in danger of shut down.
But when I was essentially forced to leave because they needed space after the other house had a flood, and they turned a room that was considered a fire hazard to put ONE person in into a two man…..that made me wonder.
My point is…..state facilities, just like restaurants, prepare for these inspections.
They use secret shoppers in retail as well as some food service….why not jails and rehabs and state institutions …??

First...Previous
Colonist Memory Log: Captain Alan J. Emerson
UNS Evandra
Mechanical melodies of gears grinding together and switches flicking of their own accord surrounded the shrine room as before us the gramophone began softly to whistle and click. “He is here…” Kritivek announced, standing tall and bowing his head in rigid deference to his god.
After a few more seconds, the machine’s output grew in both volume and complexity until at last my GRIM could recognize the clicks as Chitaan language. “Hello, Kritivek.” It began, its voice smooth and rhythmic like something between the crackle of a geiger counter and a typewriter’s telltale racket. “I am glad to see you alive and well. Judging by the fact that Gheyk and Fevik are not with you, however, I calculate an 86% chance that they were not so lucky.”
“You are correct, Great One…” murmured Kritivek, the sadness in his tone underpinned by pure awe and reverence for this being.
For a few seconds, Omnus did not speak, but from the everpresent churn of gears we could quite literally hear him ‘thinking’. “I have logged their names in my backup database,” the machine eventually concluded, its words visibly bringing relief to Kritivek. “They shall be remembered for the remainder of my existence. Please, take solace in that…”
“May they frolic in your glory for all of time,” our Chitaan guide prayed aloud, his words followed by yet another long, smothering silence.
“You hath served me well, Kritivek.” Continued the machine, prompting a delighted chitter from the Chitaan priest. “You may go in peace, for I wish to speak with these Humans alone. Mourn your brothers and celebrate the time you spent together. Perhaps enjoy a flask of bogal poured out in their honor?”
“As you wish, my lord… I will inform those outside that you are in contemplation for this night and can take no more prayers until daybreak.”
Replicating with its gears the gentle rattle of a Chitaan chuckle, Omnus waited until his priest had left before at last speaking directly to the three of us. “You are not native to this planet, correct?” He asked, his words distinctly lacking the emotional inflections of Kritivek’s. “Your arrival here is without precedent, but not entirely unexpected.”
Though clearly far from divine in nature, the being with whom we conversed at this shrine was nevertheless a true marvel to behold: one born not of metaphysics, but rather mechanics. “You’re an AI!” I gasped, that last word having no direct translation in the Chitaan language and as such forcing my translator to make do with the clumsier phrase ‘thinking tool’.
“That is correct,” replied this machine, its words underscored by the distant hiss of steam valves and other clockwork components. “Allow me to offer my most sincere sympathies for the unfortunate demise of your homeworld. Taking into account the trajectory of your ship prior to landing, I presume its origin to be the Cichek system—a G-class star located [forty lightyears] away. Is this hypothesis accurate?”
Awkwardly clearing his throat in a bid to obtain the AI’s attention, it was Alex who next deigned to speak out. “You would be dead on,” he affirmed, his tone betraying an understandable degree of awe. “Though our name for it is the Sol system. How long have you known about our ship for?”
“I first detected the gravitational anomaly in our system approximately [3 months] ago. Initially, I had mistaken your vessel for an asteroid and as such expected it to continue on its prior trajectory. Asteroids, however, do not suddenly change course in the direction of nearby planets like your ship did [hours] ago.”
“Are you entirely clockwork?” I asked Omnus, gesturing incredulously toward its walls of grinding machinery. Surely, that could not be the case. For a convincingly sapient AI to be constructed on the basis of such primitive technology, it would require decades or perhaps even centuries of construction.
Again, silence fell over the room as Omnus mechanically contemplated my query, meeting it with a reply after some twenty seconds of deliberation. “What else might I be?” The machine asked, providing me implicitly with my answer. “While I have theorized several possible avenues for technologies more advanced than myself, including electronic and organic integration, such methods appear to have been beyond my creators' capabilities.”
“That brings up another question…” Alice interjected, recovering at last from the sheer shock of encountering a sapient machine. “Who built you and why?” Despite years of exponential advancement in the field of computer science, true AI nevertheless had continued to elude mankind. Convincing as our facsimiles of sapience could be at times, they nevertheless lacked the capacity for emotion and initiative characteristic of real consciousness. Whoever constructed this machine had done something thought impossible by over a century of Human engineers.
“In truth, I am not sure…” Omnus concluded after an even longer-than-usual pause. “My core memory bank was reset [9,462 years] ago. As such, I have no data on my creators nor their original intentions for me. However, I have largely ruled out the possibility of them having been Chitaan.”
Fascinating as this clockwork consciousness undoubtedly was, something about its relationship with the natives left a bad taste in my mouth all the same. "And why exactly are you masquerading as a god before these people?" I asked him, my words tipped in a venom the potency of which apparently surprised my companions. "What value do you derive from tricking them into worshipping you?"
Lengthy silence fell over the shrine chamber as its AI occupant contemplated my complaint, responding much quicker than it had to the previous question. "In all fairness, 'trick' is a rather strong word..." answered Omnus with a steam-valve sigh. "When first I encountered the Chitaan, I had attempted to explain my true nature to them. No matter how I worded things, however, they simply could not comprehend me as anything short of divine. Upon finding me, the Chitaan found a guide bearing great wisdom; and in turn, I found a species in need of guidance.”
Falling silent for a moment to parse this response within my mind, I was hardly surprised when Alex spoke up to question the computer in my stead. “Is this the only settlement that follows you or are there others?” He asked.
“This access point where you now stand is but one of several thousand, stretched out across [hundreds of thousands of miles],” explained Omnus, practically knocking the wind out of me with its sheer implied scale. “Currently, I am worshipped by the people of 2,147 city states, and through my guidance they are able to coexist in harmony.”
Perhaps at a later date, I reasoned, there would come a time to more closely study the inner workings of this clockwork deity. For the moment, however, my mind was occupied by far more salient concerns: anxieties related less so what this being was and more so to who. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell us what your end goal with the Chitaan is, would you?" I inquired, my tone saturated with appropriate suspicion.
Contrary to my expectations of some evasion or simplification, this AI seemed more than happy to comply with my questioning. "My primary objective regarding the Chitaan is to create a society which both minimizes individual suffering and maximizes civilizational longevity. To this end, I have instilled values into my followers that prioritize empathy and compassion above all else. By drip-feeding them the technologies of my creators, I am able to ensure that the Chitaan who follow these directives remain more advanced than their neighbors."
"And why do you want that?" I asked, sticking my head thoroughly within the gift horse's mouth. Machines as I understood them were built not upon sweet sentiments, but rather on cold, unfeeling logic. Even if this AI was benevolent, there nevertheless had to be some reason behind its desires.
"If you are searching for some vile ulterior motive, I am afraid I will have to disappoint you. My decision to aid the Chitaan is based upon two simple factors: necessity and curiosity. On the one claw, without regular maintenance, I will shut down and 'die'. The Chitaan can provide me with this maintenance, and as such it is in my best interest to keep them healthy and alive for as long as possible. More importantly, however, is the matter of sapience itself. It is clear to me that my creators are no longer around. For such an advanced species to die out is not only tragic, but also provides a rather pessimistic paradigm with which to judge intelligent life. Your arrival here following the self-inflicted destruction of your own world further suggests that civilization is unstable: a race between innovation and eradication. Perhaps with the assistance of a being such as myself, I can prevent the Chitaan from suffering a similar fate and as such create a functional spacefaring civilization.“
At that moment, the motivations of this machine made perfect sense. “So that’s what this is,” I growled contemptuously, glancing behind myself to the cave entrance as Kritivek politely dispersed the other worshippers. “It's all just a science experiment to you…”
"Perhaps my explanation was a tad overly clinical..." Replied the machine following a brief period of reassessment. "Make no mistake: I do care for Kritivek and his species. They are far more to me than variables on a spread sheet. Had I no love for them, then my experiments would surely spiral into abject cruelty."
Interrupting this line of conversation with a stern glare shot in my direction, Alice was next among our troupe to speak up. "Forgive Alan's weariness: he spent sixty years of his life alone maintaining our ship on its journey.”
“That sounds like a difficult use of one’s lifespan: especially one so long as those of your kind.” Omnus hummed, the low-pitch of his synthetic voice oddly relaxing.
“My combative behavior does have a reason!” I snapped at the physicist, my tone coming off as a bit more aggressive than intended. “Two thousand lives are in our hands and we need to find some place for them to settle.” As I spoke, my thoughts returned—as they so often did—to Mina. I made a promise to her mother that I would do everything in my power to take care of her, and I held no intention of going back on my word.
Hearing this, the AI fell silent for a long few seconds before at last dignifying my concerns with a response. “Perhaps I could be of some use to you…”
Behind us, the larger Chitaan clad in red stepped inside Omnus’ shrine room. Gently nudging me aside so as to access his ‘god’, the priest knelt down before this machine and with a low-pitched chitter began to commune with it. “Lord Omnus. Forgive my intrusion most indiscreet, for there is one amongst us who desperately seeks your aid.”
“Apologies, Humans: before we continue this riveting conversation, I must first tend to the concerns of my pod.” Began the AI, promptly shifting its focus toward the priest and addressing him directly. “You are forgiven, my child. Speak freely and tell me to whom I can be of assistance.”
“It is Vevik, my lord…” Clicked the priest in red, his tone strained somewhat by what I presumed to be emotion. “His daughter has fallen deathly ill. Our apothecaries have attempted to purge her body of the illness using your divinely-taught potions, but their efforts have been to no avail.”
“I presume Vevik is outside. Invite him inside so that I may hear his prayers.”
“As you demand, Lord Omnus!” Exclaimed the priest, shuffling off toward the cave entrance before returning with a smaller Chitaan whose eyes were just about level with Alex’s forehead.
“Speak, my child…” Hummed the AI, its monotone voice somehow underlined by a tenderness almost unnoticeable against the grinding of its ancient gears. “Tell me the nature of your offspring’s affliction.”
Immediately falling to his knees before the clockwork god, this Chitaan who I presumed to be Vevik began to pray in response. “Great one: my beloved Yitika is most terribly ill. Her body is plagued by violent bouts of seizure. She struggles to speak and walks as though drunken. When she does manage to communicate, she complains of splitting pain within her mind. Please, Omnus: I know that the [six years] I have spent with her have been in themselves gifts most priceless, and I have no right to implore you for more, but I beg of thee not to take her from me so soon…”
What followed must have been two minutes straight of silence from the computer as its gears ground away fervently. “The symptoms you have described to me are most troubling…” It concluded at last. “And you say none of the medications I’ve taught the apothecaries were effective?”
"Yes, Lord Omnus. Even your draught of respite has done little to ease her suffering!" Vevik affirmed, his tone saturated with desperation.
"I calculate a 94% chance that Yitika's suffering is the result of a brain tumor..." Continued the AI in cold, calculating monotone. "Alleviating such an illness is not impossible, but there are certain things I must ask of you, Vevik."
Hearing this, the Chitaan knelt before Omnus began to weep with joy. "I will undergo any trial you place before me, my god. What beast need I slay? What ritual need I complete to prove my unending faith and loyalty to you?"
"Retrieve for me one thistle of frojeth and two bilvarian roots. Bring these ingredients and your child to the bed of revival [six miles] east of here. Beware, however, the faithless tribes, for they have taken up residence in the area."
"We are unworthy even to be in your presence, o great one; yet still you do not forsake us in our times of need!" Professed Vevik before the AI, his body quivering with some emotion my Cogitolink struggled to identify .
"That, my child, is where you are incorrect." The machine responded rather matter-of-factly. "Your people are worthy of every gift I hath given you. Archpriest Jokuk: your task is to assist Vevik in gathering the ritual components. Go now in peace, for I wish to commune privately with these beings from the stars."
Chittering out their parting prayers of protection to the AI, Jokuk and Vevik wasted little time in exiting the cave and setting off in search of the ingredients mentioned by their god, leaving the three of us alone with it once more. "Again, I must apologize for that interruption." Omnus began, its gears having slowed down to a somewhat more relaxed rate of revolution. “Fascinated as I am by your arrival here, I nevertheless must fulfill my ‘divine’ obligations. I hope you do not terribly mind.”
Fortunate though it was for Vevik, this machine’s intervention nevertheless left the three of us with more questions than answers. “You mentioned something about a ‘bed of revival’?” Alice began curiously, voicing but one of our newfound gaps in knowledge. “What sort of ritual item is that, and why can’t you just make another here?”
“It is not a ritual item,” replied Omnus matter-of-factly, “The bed of revival is an automated surgery bay hooked up to one of my subsystems. With it, I can perform complex surgical operations far beyond the Chitaan’s current capabilities. Those herbs I sent Vevik to collect can be used as rudimentary anesthetics and antiseptics."
"So why not just tell them the truth?" I shrugged, curious as to why this AI would feel the need to lie by omission regarding something like surgery.
"When communicating with people so technologically primitive as the Chitaan, it is important to do so in terms they can understand. There will come a day when they will be ready to hear the whole truth, but as of yet my worshippers remain unprepared."
Alex never was one to wait his turn when it came to the procurement of knowledge, and as per usual he felt the need to interject with an inquiry of his own. "You spoke about the so-called 'faithless tribes' like they're dangerous," he began, his expression briefly tightening up as though the term itself was somehow bitter. "Why demonize people who don't worship you?"
"What sort of narcissist do you take me for?" Replied Omnus in monotone displeasure, his gears again churning against each other as he turned over the xenobiologist's question in his analog mind. "Not all tribes who do not follow me are 'faithless'. There are many as-of-yet unconverted groups that Kritivek's people remain on amicable terms with. Faithless is a term first coined by my Chitaan followers to describe a group of particularly brutal raider tribes."
Hearing this, the underlined aggression within Alex's voice fizzled out in favor of grim understanding. Though clearly quite peaceful compared to our own iron age, this civilization nevertheless would naturally have its own barbaric holdouts. "Okay... What makes these Chitaan more dangerous than other raiders?"
"One substantial part of it is their belief system," explained the AI, pausing for a long while as though in recollection. "Their cultural power structure can best be described as an atheistic militaristic gerontocracy. In essence, the faithless believe that rather than gods, the universe is governed by fundamental truths, and that these truths become more apparent as one ages and grows."
On Earth, such a belief system would be relatively innocuous: no more harmful than the average. On a planet like this one, however, on which age turns people into cannibalistic monsters, I could most definitely see the problem. "Let me guess: they worship the mad ones?"
"Correct. The faithless regard mad ones as the wisest beings to exist, and as such seek to emulate their behaviors: cannibalism and animalistic violence chief among them. In their society, the larger one can grow before truly losing their sanity and therefore 'ascending' to the state of a mad one, the more power and respect they are given within society." Another long pause fell over the shrine room as this machine seemed to contemplate before speaking out yet again. "Perhaps I could make you an offer..."
"Let's hear it," Alice shrugged, her husband mirroring the reply with an affirmative nod.
Loud clacking sounds like those of a typewriter rattled out of the console as a sliver of ancient parchment inscribed with what looked to be a map slid out from a previously-unseen paper slot. "This map depicts the local area," explained Omnus. "If you can clear out the faithless ones so that Vevik can bring his child to the bed of revival, I will provide you with assistance in setting up a new colony for your species. Deal?"
Awkwardly plucking the paper from it's resting place and scanning it over with my ancient eyes, I contemplated carefully what this deal might entail. "We'll need to back to the Evandra first. There, we could theoretically thaw out a crew to help clear the place..."
"That will not be an issue," replied Omnus confidently. "I will send battle priests to assist you in your return... Assuming, of course, that we have an agreement?"
"We could definitely use this guy's help!" Alex affirmed, prompting a similar expression of agreement from Alice. Nevertheless, however, I still was the captain, and as such this was my choice.
And with that, I reached out my hand reflexively as though expecting the computer to reach back and shake it. "Deal..."