the suicidal
step out
into death
who am i to judge ?
for what eternity holds
no-one knows
the low reading aged
if you write something they can’t understand
then according to them
its your fault
so they reject
this is the path of mediocrity
and cretinism
all religions schism, narratives of homogeneity require force to maintain (which can be extremely brutal historically)
Knock Out Asinine Nits
photos
staring out from a smooth granite block
if not quizzical
then should be
stuck in eternity
like that
somewhere
there must be a couple that mesh
and get along with each other
somewhere
i’m gone
the world rolls on
i disappear
and appear
the pages of a book that flick through
some words rest
and others don’t
skimming stones
eventually
stop
and sink
rhoticity explained to me, i now understand it, but otherwise i wouldn’t have had a clue except for the joking use of irish, scottish, canadian or usa accents
i think the zen term "seamless monument" is a metaphor for reality, you can’t penetrate it, there’s no artefact of manufacture since it has no seam, it can only be traversed, which btw is the basic philosophical problem of existence, there is no "inner" reality that subsumes "the detail of being"
“ I m currently 16 years old and a "child prodigy". I started university at 14. I have thus far only received one grade which was not an A+. It was an A-. I have memorized 100 digits of pi, the periodic table, and most of the Dungeons & Dragons rulebooks. I am learning Latin, Ancient Greek, Biblical Hebrew, Sahidic Coptic, Spanish, and Italian. I just like old languages. I don’t have to study long — I have a nearly photographic memory. When I do study, I just write things out over and over. I am a very visual thinker, so I remember pictures. Ask me anything ! ”
ed. she also has ehlers-danlos syndrome and is ADHD
in my view, the languages are a big mistake, they interfere with each other
“ Why do you think that ? ”
the languages you list are particularly disjunctive its a heavy learning burden with heaps of "opportunity costs" and the skill is becoming increasingly redundant with AI translators
also my experience of polyglots is they get damaged in some way
the brain is not infinitely capable, beware of burning it in waste of time activities, which to be honest a lot of so called education is
dr. alan cole argues that zen masters are in fact "made-over" daoist sages
i would go further and say that the koan system involves the same sort of "puzzling process" as the tao te ching
when you hear this sort of crap from the policy making elites, no wonder china is a problem !
the real impact of the one child policy may be the scarcity of anyone at the higher levels of government or policy being able to think straight
of course, this is to the advantage of the west and is the same problem japan had in WW2, idiots determining their strategic direction
boundaries crossing
abatement of being
from this perspective
everything looks crazy
really ?
do you ever listen to anything outside your own echo chamber ?
sad souls
in the twilight of their lives
mumbling gibberish
the words of others
are not your own
if you actually understood
why wouldn’t you use your own words ?
time separates
that childhood intensity
fades
as the branches grow apart
what was not seen at the time
is now seen
you are not well read and have an "anti-creative" mindset !
i’m getting on in years and just can’t be bothered to deal with your hubris
good-bye
ed. the net is full of these entitled gen Z’ers with a deeply entrenched intellectual inertia created by a malfunctioning education system
valves, muscle, connective tissue, timing
easy to see how it can go wrong as we get older
this dynamic core of existence in the center of our chests where every beat needs to be followed by another
i think religion can be regarded as a hallucination, the hallucination being that a literary work is real, perhaps most easily seen in the beliefs of ancient egypt, what are the pyramids and all those smaller tombs about ?
the reification of stories
these people
who
rather than bringing something to the table
only
take
and
are
impertinent
with
it
the puzzle of the poetry of others
seems to need the conversion
into something
i understand
"the girl on a bulldozer" (2022), a good tightly written kdrama
caodong poetry 23; verses on master fushan’s sixteen themes #4; touzi; translated by suru

1. not falling into life or death

on the day when the golden rooster heralds the coming spring
the jade hare conceives, entering the purple palace
reeds bloom on both shores, shadowing egrets
an old fisherman lifts his oar, dispersing mist, returning home
不落死活。 金雞日裏報春時。 玉兔懷胎入紫微。 兩岸蘆華映白鷺。 漁翁舉棹撥煙歸。
my reply
one day
the distance travelled
catches up with you
and you have arrived
.
one day
the distance travelled
catches up with you
you
have
arrived
ed. the terms in suru’s translation are very chinese and have a historical perspective, so i have "reworked" it into something modern that people will understand
“ ChatGPT-4 scored higher than 100% of psychologists on a test of social intelligence ”
hilarious
a tui calls
stunning the silence
my day is filled
with melody
ed. the tui is a new zealand native songbird
if you have ever attempted to count the number words in a book or whatever, which i have, count the number in a couple of paragraphs, then multiply by the inverse of whatever proportion of a page it is then multiply by the number of pages and i figure you get within 10% which is close enough
i’ve written millions of words, its like an exclusive club and its interesting to know who else is in it
giacomo casanova’s autobiography
the book comprises 12 volumes and approximately 3,500 pages (1.2 million words) covering casanova’s life from his birth to 1774
i have read most of it, people misunderstand him as a legendary lothario, but he is much more interesting than that

IMPORTANT LINKS:
Episode Link Podcast Wiki Dr Cat Jarman Charles Spencer Richard Coles
​
TOPIC:

• Dr Cat Jarman - Roanoke Colony
• Charles Spencer - Pyramids Schemes
• Richard Coles - The Exploding Whale of Oregon

​
FAVOURITE FACT:

• Cat - Granddaughter of John White, Virginia Dare was the first English child born in an American English colony. Virginia Dare was the main character in Sallie Southall Cotten's 1901 book The White Doe: The Fate of Virginia Dare. In the book, she is turned into a white doe by an Indian witch doctor after she rejects his advances.
• Charles - N/A
• Richard - 7 years after the exploding whale incident, Florence (Oregan) wanted to prevent people from having sexual intercourse in view of bystanders on their famous dunes. The council approved a measure that made it illegal to have sex "while in or in view of a public or private place." Days later, a re-reading of the ordinance showed that it applied to sex in private. According to the United Press International report that followed days later, "City officials said they would not enforce the new ordinance until it could be amended.

​
WINNER: Richard (6th win this series, 23rd win overall)
​
Cat's concluding quote for the episode from Richard Adams' Watership Down

There is nothing that cuts you down to size like coming to some strange and marvelous place where no one even stops to notice that you stare about you .

​
NEXT EPISODE'S TOPICS:

• Cat - Hatshepsut
• Charles - Bonnie Prince Charlie
• Richard - Clyde steamer

I am a 35 F and am dating a 40 M. He turns 41 next week. We have been dating about 6 months, but he is by far the kindest, most gentle, and caring man. His birthday is next week and I don't know what to get him. His birthday is also the day after his dad died 10 years ago, so not an easy time for him. For my birthday he got me balloons, a cake, flowers, and a book "3,000 questions about me." For me to answer and give back to him. He was a psychology/political science major at a local college and loves sports. I really want to do something thoughtful for him because he honestly treats me so well and makes me very happy.

Hey all, I'm a community college student transferring to SDSU this fall. At the moment I am a bit concerned that I'll end up with a "D" in one of the classes that I'm taking this semester. This is extremely concerning to me because of this part of the acceptance letter that I got in April:
Please note that your admission was based on the major to which you applied. Therefore, you cannot change your major during the admission process. In addition, your admission is further conditioned on you completing, with C- or higher grades, all coursework indicated on your application as in progress or planned, AND you maintaining your reported overall grade point average.
So my questions is, does anyone know the chances of a transfer student who fails to meet the standard getting dropped by SDSU because of it? Some things to know about my situation:
• My major is considered impacted for SDSU • I've already put in the deposit to attend next school year at SDSU • The class that I'm worried about doesn't fall into the "Golden Four" list, or is important to my major requirements
Thanks!

Full info here: https://greekcitytimes.com/2024/05/09/orthodox-church-ordains-first-deaconess-in-historic-ceremony/
Deaconess? Female deacon??? Apparently there's a difference between the two, according to the arguments that have popped up online about this. I've seen multiple attempts to explain all this by using only one term or another, like that deaconesses are okay, but FEMALE DEACONS are not.
I was always told that Orthodoxy was the right, true, and Most Holy Church because it possessed the necessary continuity, the necessary unchanging gospel; the elitist attitude that seems to pervade most Orthodox spaces is certainly buoyed by that belief. I was told to ignore the early Christian theologians who had expressed opposition to iconography, because here's this stack of those who DID back iconography! We've written books and books and books on them, and we'll beat you over the head with those big, boring tomes until you forget that early church opposition to them ever even existed. We'll even honor both pro- and anti-icon theologians as saints and just kind of ignore the bits that don't work, eh? Or all the early Christian secular rulers who are declared to be saints, because they opposed (sometimes with violent, bloody force) so-called heretical ideas and preserved Holy Mother Church! Also please don't look to closely at those time when Holy Mother Church couldn't decide who were the heretics and who weren't!!!! Arians and Nestorians and all the other -ians, we won't go into those or look to closely; just stay away from some theological points from a lot of these early writers, or you might notice that some of our saints and heroes didn't always align with what we tell you now!
Already there's the crews trying to argue that there were female deacons (or is it deaconesses???? Gotta differentiate!) in the early church, so why are you so surprised??? Here's all these Church Fathers© that wrote about female deacons, just ignore how even if you do buy that line, we certainly didn't have any female deacons for centuries on centuries!!! Just ignore that!!!! It's okay that they disappeared for millennia and then suddenly appeared again!!!
I'm sure we'll get some nice long, overly-wordy tripe from some oh-so-holy monk who was gracious enough to share his great wisdom beyond the walls of his monastery, and he'll take 6k words to tell us that it is (yet another) big 'ol mystery that we won't understand in this life. I've already seen the barrage of "talk to your priest about it" responses when someone tries to discuss this online. Easier to push people off on their priest, to be sure, than to face what something like this might mean for a supposedly united, complete, unbroken line of religious authority. I always hated being told to just "talk to your priest," the immediate assumption that they were the ultimate authority on pretty much any subject, religious or secular.
This time, I'm not trying desperately to bend this mess to make sense. I'm not trying to justify to myself why one part of this supposedly-holy hierarchy is supporting deaconesses, and another corner vehemently opposes it. I'm not desperately looking through more long-winded theological writings to try to figure out how they're gonna explain this one. They can't gaslight me into thinking that the reason I gave the Orthodox hierarchy so much respect in the first place, their supposed unchanging continuity and unity, is even real. I may not be the smartest or most educated, but I can see patterns as well as anyone else, and you won't tell me not to believe my lying eyes this time!!! I was told that Russian invading Ukraine was actually a good thing, that criminals couldn't actually be criminals because they were good, "holy" Orthodox men, that every bit of decor and gold incense was essential for the gospel (certainly not just cultural trappings from 4th century Byzantium, oh no) and there was no other way to love God and honor Him.
I love God so much better since coming out of Orthodoxy, and somehow this whole back-and-forth has made me feel weirdly healed and comforted, like some kind of validation that it's okay that I left. That I wasn't crazy, being unable to square this circle.
I genuinely hope this Zimbabwean lady nothing but goodness; my feelings about her ordination, what it means for Orthodoxy, for Christianity as a whole, they're my own to examine and pray about. But I hope she's happy, safe, and loved, and I hope she knows her incredible worth, regardless of whatever vestments she may ever put on and outside of what some dude wearing a bunch of satin tells her.
Lord have mercy, but not in the Orthodox way; rather, in the way my Tennessean Grandma talks about her more disappointing family members. Lord have mercy, indeed.

My(36f) mom has a history of being both emotionally and physically abusive through out my childhood. As a kid she put so much pressure on me to perform in school. I was punished for anything less than an A. A bad report or a bad grade at school would usually result in some sort of abuse. When I went to college she said I needed be a doctor or a lawyer or a career where I could "make money." She was deluded into thinking I could do a STEM career even though I couldn't even pass an algebra class. I basically failed out of college.
It was a big deal for me to face my fear and re-enroll in my 30s. I just finished my masters degree and passed the licensure exam on the first try. My mom sent me a happy birthday text and I let her know that I had graduated and all she sent me was a "congratulations" text. She didn't call me or ask any follow up questions or ask about the ceremony. She wasn't remotely curious. My boyfriend asked the other day if my mom was coming to the ceremony. I started crying when I told him she didn't even ask.
I started daydreaming the other night wondering what it would take to get a phone call from her saying she was happy for me. Like would she be happy for me if I got married or had a baby?
After all this time I think I secretly believed if I could finish grad school she would finally give me the validation or recognition. But she couldn't care less, she didn't even do anything and it still hurt me. It sucks that this is one of the biggest accomplishments of my life and I am realizing I'm still holding out for my mom to be my mom. It is unintentionally super sad.

I'm currently a first year student studying computer science at the University of Washngton, seattle campus. I have been at the school for like 3 quarters so far so this is almost the end of my freshman year, but even after 3 quarter taking CSE courses, I still can't find the balance to how to approach CSE courses in general. My main struggle is how should I use chatGPT for my programming assignments and homeworks.
Before starting university, I worked as a software engineering for about 9 months (not in the USA), and I was able to most of the works using chatGPT because all I had to do was understand the codebase, read the documentation, and write the required code using chatGPT. However, after I started school, I still using chatGPT for generating code for me and I don't know if that is a good thing or bad thing.
For example, I was writing this server side code for chatBot application in one of my CSE courses, and I was stuck on the problem for a very long time. Then, I used the chatGPT for an answer and it produced the correct answer in an instant. Since I was stuck on a problem, I did not see the point of not using a chatGPT. However, the problem arises when the code works and the application works, and I just move on to the next problem because it works.
I'm not even trying to understand the chatGPT result since it is working. I know that this is a bad practice, but I want to ask is it really necessary to understand the code if it works? if it works, it works right? I don't have to waste my time. if that is not right, how should I change my mindset and what programming practices should I try to develop? Is there any books/lectures/vidoes that I can find to help me cultivate different mindset?
In the past, even before chatGPT existed, people used to search answers on StackOverflow, but I remember some programmers used to say "don't blindly copy/paste code" and instead understand the them. I think with these people, they have really different mindset when it comes to code.
Most of my friends at school do not use chatGPT for programming and they basically do all of the code implementation from scratch. if they have to look at answers, they go to stackOverflow or google to search for answers, not chatGPT. what is the mindset that drives them to not use chatGPT for programming and instead use different tools like google or StackOverflow?
finally, my last question is what makes a good programmer?

First of all, thank you to everyone who contributes to this group because knowing others firsthand and hearing your stories is literally what gives me strength. In so many ways
Missing out and being late on things has affected my job this past year and I think I’m going to be called into HR. Been there 26 years and I’m not fearful of termination, but I’m also protecting myself. I know that narcolepsy is protected by ADA. I worked a lot from home and I am getting my job done, but I have been late on some things. It’s now getting to the point where my last task was late by 15 minutes and apparently that was the straw that broke the camels back. Smh. So I don’t feel like I need accommodations for sleeping at work, but I need some understanding that sometimes when I sit down to get a task done, I end up falling asleep. My direct supervisor says I should start earlier then. But that’s not what other people have to do. All I’m asking for is equality. In another instance, I have fallen the night that some reports were due, and I ended up in the hospital. I emailed him the next morning and he said I had all year to do. These reports I should not have waited to the night before and this is a very serious matter… while I was in the hospital unable to submit my reports. I did provide proof that I was in the hospital that night, but that was not official documentation with human resources. So what do I need from my doctor to prove a diagnosis?
I don’t think this matters but a little about my job … I’m a college professor. I’m not falling asleep in the classroom. Most of my classes are online. I’ve missed a few meetings this year. I’ve been late on what I think is minor administrative jobs like filing reports and submitting grades (that was the 15 minute one which literally affected no one, and I called the registrar).
I did do a search of the group on ADA and read some post that were helpful, but they were quite old. Thank you all in advance.

Hello everyone. I’m a 21 year old Male seeking any and all advice on how to keep my health a secret from the United States Government.
I want to join the U.S. Air Force. I have since I was 6. I have been an Army brat my whole life and I got an 84 on the ASVAB & was on the right path to do that and I suddenly was bitten by a tick. It turned my life upside down. The amount of fatigue and joint pain I feel on a daily basis is borderline crippling but I still want to serve my country. I genuinely wouldn’t be happier doing anything else but I legitimately cannot run because of my pain. I can endure it but not for long. I want to go to the doctor but I don’t want the Air Force to get their hands on the records because it would almost certainly permanently disqualify me.
Please keep in mind that when you join the U.S. Military, you have to sign over any and all medical documents which will confirm or deny any information you’ve given your recruiter, hence me not reporting joint pain would most likely come up in a medical document review especially with the U.S. Government’s new Genesis system which is designed to scour almost every health providers system for your name or other individual markers like your SSN or your birthdate etc.
Getting this procedure done in the proper channels will likely end up with me getting caught in the long run. On the other hand not getting seen by a doctor is genuinely painful and won’t allow me enough time to train my legs after an extensive physical therapy period. A constant above moderate 7 pain in both legs. As it stands now, I certainly couldn’t run 26 minutes without serious physical repercussions (yes you run that far in Air Force Basic Military Training at Joint Base San Antonio Lackland Air Force Base to train for the 1.5 mile run which is 60% of yo overall PT Score.)
This illness has seriously affected my quality of life. I want nothing more than to find a cure or any kind of relief so I can be the man I always wanted to be: A U.S. Airman.
Im under the impression I need an MRI to scan the tissues on my leg as the pain is centralized mostly around the lower part of my thigh right above my knee. I believe most people refer to it as quadriceps tendonitis but I’m no doctor. That’s just what I’ve been able to gather from the internet over the last 3 years. At home treatments for Quadriceps Tendonitis have yield no results in minimizing my pain. I need help but I don’t want it to affect my future. I wouldn’t be happy in another career field. I genuinely don’t know what I’d do if I had to be a civilian. No disrespect to civilians of course.
Please help me. Anything. If you can suggest a doctor anywhere in the Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma Arkansas area that would do an MRI off the books for some extra cash please let me know or if there’s some way I can lie about my name and not go to jail that’s be awesome too.
I can’t begin to tell you how much it would mean to me if I was to get any kind of relief and fulfill my dream. Yes, before anyone gets all uppity about it I’m aware that lying to the federal government is a crime however plenty of patriots join every year despite the risk. Please afford me the opportunity to do the same. Aim High.
TL;DR: I need to get an MRI done as soon as possible to get my joints looked at and take any preventative measures possible to reverse or stop and degeneration I have as well as combat any tick-borne illnesses without it being on my permanent medical record. Please help me. Thank you in advance for your replies 🇺🇸
Edit: I’m not particularly sure why so many of us think I’m lying, Making something up, or “Karma-farming” whatever that is? This is a new “throwaway” because I really don’t want to be associated with having possibly done something illegal? I have significantly better things to do than whine on the internet for no reason? I simply and sincerely just want help guys. If you don’t have any or don’t want to give me any, that’s fine but please do move along. I really am just looking for relief. Thank you for understanding.

Be warned: long rant
Is this even legal? I’m a double major and I had 4 in-person exams that week that all required prep (obviously). CalCentral said the exam would be on Friday then the prof gave us a 3-day notice that they’re going to post it on Sunday night then expect it back by Tuesday afternoon. I emailed them three times saying there was literally no way that was happening as I had exams back to back Mon-Thu, and finally got an extension until Thursday DURING MY EXAM out of them.
Worked on that shit for hours and hours over DAYS trying to finish it, and it eventually compromised two of my most important exams and still took over 20 hours to finish. Spent Wednesday night unwillingly doing 12+ hours of work ALL NIGHT (zero hours of sleep) and walked into my last exam sleep deprived, in physical pain, and having not eaten food for two days.
I made around 50 on the final for a class that I’d been making 95 or above on the ENTIRE semester, and looking at my graded answers, they are really obviously confused and slurred and they look as if I completed the exam while under the influence. I made a 99 raw score on the midterm and then an entire SD below average on the final. Actually ridiculous, but I have no clue what else I could have done better as I really believe my RRR and finals week were spent at max efficiency and it still could not accommodate a fuckign 20+ hour final exam during the week.
The description for the exam said it was “designed to not take over 3 hours”… It was 10 multiple choice, ten 150-word essays, two 400-word essays, and one 1000-word essay. (For reference: in 12pt Times New Roman double spaced, 1k words is about 3.5 pages, 400 words is about 1.5 pages) THREE HOURS??????? Even if you used ChatGPT for half the exam it would have taken a normal person 10+ hours to finish. Moreover, the midterm was similar in structure and I received a 89 on it despite getting everything right for vague af reasons like “could use more analysis”. So it’s not even like they grade kindly.
How the fuck is this legal? I’m greatly upset about this because it pushed me down from an A+ in a class instantly to a B- or C+. There was absolutely no way to manage my time so as to avoid this. I emailed them early in RRR week to ask if I could actually complete the exam EARLY so as to avoid this, and they ignored me for 4 days and responded Monday morning, less than 24 hours to the deadline.
I really feel like there has to be something I can do about this. It might not have compromised people who only have humanities exams or projects due to spend an entire day finishing this, but that is not the case for me as I am a social sciences-STEM double major. It’s not even about the exam itself at a certain point, it’s the blatant failure to communicate on the instructor’s side, who told me they “thought this had been resolved already” four days late and initially tried to give like a 12-hour extension instead of until Thursday (which was still unreasonable considering I explained how I was fully and utterly booked until 6PM that day). No clue how others did not have a problem with this but I suppose most of them are not pursuing STEM with their degree.
This is really just a rant but holy hell, after a week of sleepless and foodless days I’m getting a C on my report card after getting 95–100 every single exam and assignment this semester in one class. wtf

Hello, welcome to my post hope you are doing good and that you're having a nice evening. I decided to post here to find the right one or a soulmate if you will, yes i do believe there is someone for everyone out there and i am a bit of dreamer sometimes. Im looking for someone who is kind and honest who is looking for a serious relationship. I would prefer someone who is from the same state or surrounding states just because of distance. And also for someone to be between 24 and 35. So a bit about myself, i happen to be latina and i can speak some spanish but not a lot. I love watching documentaries especially about wildlife and learning cool facts. I'm also into movies and love going to the cinema sometimes. I also enjoy going on long walks especially if theres a nature trail. I also happen to read occasionally and am trying to get more into science fiction books, so if you know any or have some favorites i would like to hear them. Anyways hope we can chat soon and thanks for reading my post!

Chapter Two - Part One
First Half
__________________
Outposts sprang up on Mercury and the moons of the Kuiper Belt, each a testament to human ingenuity and perseverance. The harsh landscapes of these worlds posed new challenges, but they also offered new resources and opportunities. The ability to leap across the galaxy using faster-than-light travel encapsulated the dark, relentless drive of the human spirit to explore, expand, and survive.
The network of colonies became interconnected, serving as launch pads for further exploration. The new FTL technologies transformed the galaxy into a neighborhood rather than an infinite wilderness. Each jump through space brought humanity closer to its neighbors in the cosmos, for better or worse.
The universe, once a vast, lonely place, was now a landscape of potential new homes and new challenges. As humanity spread out from the Solar System to the stars, the stage was set for new conflicts and new stories, written not in the light of the Sun but in the starlight of distant worlds.
__________________
Humanity's march to the stars was driven by necessity and survival, stark against the backdrop of Earth's dwindling resources and rising conflicts. After World War I, the foundational theories of rocketry emerged, setting the stage for the later technological leaps that would propel humans into space. The brutal rivalry of the Cold War accelerated these advancements, pushing the Soviet Union and the United States to compete in the space race, a silent war fought with satellites and lunar landings.
The practical applications of these early missions were not just about planting flags but also about testing human limits and technologies in the harsh environment of space. The moon landings of 1969 were a global spectacle. Yet, they also underscored the sheer isolation and vulnerability of human life suspended in the cosmic void.
As the decades rolled on, the international focus shifted from competition to cooperation. The space shuttle program symbolized this new era, with nations coming together to build the International Space Station and to send joint missions to Mars. These efforts turned sci-fi dreams into reality—establishing bases on the moon and sending manned missions to Mars laid the groundwork for future colonization.
The drive to inhabit Mars and the moon grew out of a blend of fear and fascination. Habitats expanded into fully functioning colonies, tapping into local resources to create self-sustaining environments. Technologies developed for extracting water and producing air on these barren worlds were critical for long-term survival.
In the shadows of these achievements, the Alcubierre Warp drive emerged as a revolutionary breakthrough, allowing humanity to leapfrog across vast stellar distances in a blink. The UNV Pathfinder and its sister ship, the UNV Exploration, were equipped with this technology to reconnect with colony ships sent out decades earlier in the Great Exodus. These vessels carried not just new drives but also vital updates in agriculture, medicine, and communications to ensure the colonies could thrive.
Each successful mission with the warp drives was a lifeline, not only physically connecting distant colonies to Earth but also weaving a web of interstellar human culture. Resources and knowledge flowed freely, bolstering each colony's chance of success. These ships were built to endure the extremes of space. They were equipped with advanced life-support systems and autonomous navigation, and they were fortresses navigating the unknown.
Meanwhile, Earth and its solar system colonies were pushed further into space. Massive construction projects like O'Neal Cylinders and space elevators dotted the celestial landscape, marking human progress in the cosmos. Each colony, from Mars's rugged plains to the cloud tops of Venus, developed its distinct culture and identity, united by their shared heritage and mutual challenges.
Space travel was fraught with hazards. Asteroids and solar flares were just the beginning; the cosmos was a place of deep unpredictability and danger. Despite these risks, during this era, not just hundreds of thousands but hundreds of millions of people chose to leave Earth. They embarked on journeys aboard new colony ships. These immense vessels were comparable in size to or even surpassed the O'Neal Cylinder habitats in scale. These ships were behemoths, carrying the very essence of Earth and the seeds of future colonies.
The exodus reached systems like Alpha Centauri A and B, Proxima Centauri, Sirius A and B, Barnard's Star, Luyten 726-8 (BL Ceti and UV Ceti), Ross 154 (V1216 Sagittarii), and Wolf 359. These stars became the bedrock of the United Nations of Sol, the precursor to what would be known as the "Human Sphere." It was a time of unprecedented growth and prosperity for humanity, expanding further than ever before in its history.
As humans settled in these new worlds, they faced not only the physical challenges of new environments but also profound isolation and the psychological burden of being light-years away from Earth. Each colony developed its own way of life, adapting to the unique conditions of their new worlds. The challenges of establishing a foothold in these alien places were immense. Local resources were harvested, and technologies were adapted to create habitable atmospheres and viable ecosystems.
Communication between the colonies and Earth was sparse, limited by the vast distances. Each message took years to travel, even at the speed of light, making each colony effectively isolated in its own right. This isolation led to a variety of cultural evolutions and deviations from Earth's norms, which in turn led to a tapestry of diverse human experiences spread across the stars.
The technologies that allowed these pioneers to travel to and settle new worlds were monumental. Fusion drives, quantum computers, and terraforming equipment were standard on these ships. Life aboard the colony ships was a mix of awe at the cosmic vistas and the mundanity of daily life in confined spaces. Generations were born and died in transit, with only stories of Earth as their legacy.
Each new home was a gamble against the cosmos, and not all were successful. Some colonies failed tragically, and their populations were lost to space or were unable to survive in harsh new environments. But for every failure, there was a story of remarkable success and resilience. The human spirit, driven by a need to explore and expand, thrived in adversity. Humanity never gave up and, over the next century, continued to send colonists to each of these star systems and began the process of colonizing each system.
In the stark expanses of space, every new settlement humanity attempted was a stark challenge against the cosmos, and the failures were as common as the successes. Many colonies were lost—whole populations vanished into the void or succumbed to the inhospitable climes of unfamiliar planets. Despite these setbacks, for every outpost that fell, others sprang up in defiance of the odds, showcases of human resilience and determination.
This relentless push into the unknown was not powered by naïve optimism but rather a hardened will to forge a path, wherever possible, to lay claim to the stars themselves. Humanity's spirit, unbroken by repeated failures, continued to drive its expansion across galaxies. Over the decades, this resolve only hardened as each failed colony became a lesson in survival, a step towards mastering life in the cosmos.
The stark realities of space tested human resolve to its limits. Beyond the safety of the Solar System, the universe emerged not just as a vast place of exploration but as a harsh environment of extreme conditions and existential threats. The initial failures taught valuable lessons in logistics, life support, and sustainable living on alien soil, which were crucial for future endeavors.
Colonization efforts became more sophisticated over time. Humans developed technologies that could convert inhospitable terrains into somewhat livable habitats. Advanced terraforming equipment and life-support systems became standard in new colonies. These tools represented more than mere survival mechanisms; they were symbols of humanity's unyielding quest to inhabit the stars.
As colonies spread further into the galaxy, each new venture was underpinned by an increasingly detailed understanding of interstellar travel and survival. The experiences gathered from every failed settlement informed the next, creating a cumulative body of knowledge that bolstered human persistence. The drive to expand took on a rhythm of its own, a cycle of trial, error, and success that slowly but surely extended the reach of human civilization.
This cycle was reflected in the evolution of colonial policies and technologies. From the early days of rudimentary habitats to the development of massive, self-sustaining complexes that could house thousands, the growth was palpable. Each successful colony served as a proof of concept for the next. With each launch, humanity's footprint in the galaxy grew larger.
The colonies themselves varied wildly—a testament to human ingenuity and the diverse environments encountered. Some were burrowed into asteroids, others sprawled across red Martian sands or nestled in the volatile cloud tops of Venus. Each presented unique challenges and required bespoke solutions to make them habitable.
Interstellar ships, equipped with the latest in warp drive technology, ferried resources between these colonies. They were lifelines essential for maintaining the flow of essential supplies and personnel. These vessels were also carriers of culture and connection, linking distant humans across the void of space.
Despite the vast distances and slow communications, a network of human presence began to stitch together disparate points of light into a coherent tapestry of colonies. This network was more than a mere chain of outposts; it was the backbone of a burgeoning interstellar society—a network that held potential not only for survival but for a new era of human prosperity.
However, this expansion was not without its darker aspects. The harsh conditions of space required strict governance and often harsh penalties for breaches of colony protocol. Life in these new worlds was rigidly structured, a necessity to maintain order in environments where even a small mistake could be fatal.
Each new settlement was a dice roll against the vast uncertainties of space, and many did not survive. Failures were frequent; entire colonies vanished into the void or succumbed to the inhospitable conditions of their newfound planets. The loss of life was substantial, casting a shadow over the ambitious interstellar expansion efforts. However, each disaster also hardened the resolve of those who remained. The cumulative knowledge gained from these failures informed future endeavors, refining the protocols and technologies needed to endure and thrive in alien environments.
Despite the high stakes and frequent setbacks, human resolve remained unshaken. The determination to push forward, to establish a foothold in the cosmos, was fueled by necessity and the innate human drive to explore. As each failed colony became a lesson learned, the strategies for survival evolved. More robust life support systems were developed, and habitats were designed to be more adaptable to the unpredictable conditions of new worlds.
The stark reality of these endeavors was that many who left Earth would never return. They journeyed knowing the risks—trading the safety of their home planet for the promise of a new start on distant, uncharted worlds. This was the cost of progress, paid willingly by those driven by a vision of humanity's future among the stars.
With each new wave of colonists, technology and experience accumulated, reducing the risks and increasing the chances of success. Ships became more advanced, equipped with better navigation systems and life-support capabilities. Colonization techniques also improved, with genetic engineering playing a crucial role in adapting human physiology to extraterrestrial environments.
The harshness of space demanded a relentless pursuit of efficiency and sustainability. Resources were scarce, and logistical challenges were immense. The vast distances between colonies meant that each had to be largely self-sufficient. Communication lags, sometimes spanning years, forced these communities to develop a high degree of autonomy.
Over the centuries, this relentless expansion forged a new breed of human. These spacefarers were tough, adaptable, and fiercely independent. Their lives, spent on the frontier of human existence, were a testament to the species' tenacity. They cultivated their new worlds, turning barren landscapes into bustling colonies. These settlements eventually grew into hubs of culture and technology, distinct yet still connected to their ancestral home by shared history and common humanity.
Yet, the expansion was not without its darker aspects. The isolation of distant colonies often led to psychological strain and societal breakdown. In some cases, governance structures collapsed under the weight of external pressures and internal conflicts. Pirates and marauders, drawn by the wealth of fledgling colonies, became a significant threat, leading to the establishment of militarized zones and the deployment of defense forces.
As humans adapted to life in space, they also had to contend with the presence of other sentient species. Initial interactions were cautious and fraught with tension and misunderstandings. Some encounters led to conflict, others to alliances. These relationships were complex, shaped by a mix of diplomacy, trade, and, occasionally, warfare.
Humanity's venture into interstellar space fundamentally transformed its cultural and identity landscapes. As humans spread across the stars, encountering diverse environments and nurturing colonies on planets ranging from Mars to far-flung systems, the challenges of survival and the ethical dimensions of expansion pressed hard on their collective psyche.
Values long held sacred on Earth were reevaluated in the face of new realities. The discovery of life—fauna and flora—on other planets during these colonization efforts marked a pivotal shift. While no sentient alien species were encountered, the existence of alien ecosystems was profound. It highlighted not only humanity's isolation in the cosmos but also its responsibilities.
On Alpha Centauri, the first successful integration of Earth's lifeforms with alien biomes set a precedent. Genetic manipulation technologies were refined, allowing Earth's organisms to coexist with and enhance these extraterrestrial habitats. Conservation efforts were paramount; preserving the integrity and diversity of alien ecosystems became a moral imperative as much as a scientific endeavor.
Each colony, from the red dust of Mars to the lush jungles of distant exoplanets, became a testbed for these principles. They were microcosms where human ingenuity, ethical considerations, and ecological stewardship intersected. Through these experiences, humanity did not just spread through space; it grew, evolved, and redefined what it meant to be human in the vast expanse of the universe.
Through all these trials, the human spirit's resilience shone brightly. Never deterred by the enormity of their challenges, humans continued to push the boundaries of their known universe. Each colony, each ship, and each life represented a thread in the vast tapestry of human endeavor in space—a relentless march toward an uncertain but ceaselessly pursued future.
Chapter Two
Beginning of Entry…
StarDate: Redacted
Perspective: Noah Stark
Species: Human, Humanoid Mammalian Species, no tail.
Description: 5 feet 2 inches [1.6 meters] to 6 feet 9 inches [2.1 meters] average height. 185 lbs [84 kilograms] average weight.
Longevity: 70 to 500-year life expectancy with life extension medical tech.
Unique Trait: Resilience and Indomitable Will.
Vessel: ICV The Argonaut
Location: New Eden Star Cluster
Noah, his gaze locked on the viewport, watched the ancient ship float aimlessly among the asteroids. The ICV The Argonaut, under his skilled control, edged closer, enabling the deployment of EVA suits for inspection. Behind him, his mother, Gwendolyn Stark, and his sisters, Jane and Joan, prepared for the walk, their movements a blend of anticipation and professionalism. The ship, a silent relic of a bygone era, revealed no signs of life, a fact confirmed by both Shinra Hinaba and Serenity, the Argonaut's AI.
This discovery, hidden among the celestial debris, was a treasure. It wasn't just a ship; it was a gateway to unparalleled recognition for the Shinra-Stark-Daiwa Mining Group. While the Argonaut and its crew focused on this historical artifact, the rest of the fleet mined the surrounding asteroids, harvesting resources critical for the survival of distant colonies.
Hinaba's voice, laced with a mix of excitement and concern, snapped Noah back to the present. "Focus, Noah!" she said, her fist-bumping Noah's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "We've got a lot riding on bringing this ship in intact."
"I know, I know! Just relax, Hinaba! I've got this," Noah assured her, his attention riveted to the controls. His reputation as the fleet's top pilot wasn't unfounded, a fact even the skeptical private military contractors had come to acknowledge. Almost as if summoned by their conversation, the Director's face appeared on the communications screen next to Hinaba, an uncanny timing that suggested he was closely monitoring their progress.
It was then that Director Shinra Senzo's image flickered onto the communications screen, his timing almost too perfect. "What's your status, Noah?" he asked, a brief glance toward his daughter betraying his deeper concerns. Despite his reservations about Noah's closeness with Hinaba, he was willing to see where their partnership might lead, a stance influenced by discussions with Noah's father.
"We're in!" Gwendolyn's voice crackled through the comms, marking their successful approach. But their moment of triumph was shattered by a distress signal, a desperate call cutting through the static. Elaine and Beth Frost, Noah's cousins, scrambled to decipher it, their faces etched with growing alarm.
After a tense moment, Beth's face drained of color, but it was Eliane who eventually shared the grim news, which was dire: "An unknown force has attacked New Eden. Their defenses are falling…" The weight of their words hung heavy in the bridge. An unseen adversary had breached the colony's defenses, leaving them vulnerable. The realization that any hope of immediate assistance from the USSA or SFR was weeks or even a full stellar month away if at all, underscored the gravity of their situation. With the defense fleet in ruins, their only hope lay with the ICV Ishimura, and the hired PMC mercenary group onboard, initially engaged to fend off pirates, might now be their only hope against this new and formidable threat.
Silence enveloped the bridge as the magnitude of the crisis dawned on them. They were alone, far from help, facing a threat of unknown proportions. Noah felt a tightness in his jaw, anger and resolve mixing in equal measure. The prospect of what lay ahead was daunting, yet there was no room for doubt. They had to act swiftly.
Gwendolyn's voice broke the silence, her command clear. "We need to act, and quickly. Our priority is the safety of this crew and ensuring we can lend aid to New Eden. Noah, plot a course back. We have to prepare for what's to come."
Hinaba, her usual levity gone, nodded. "We have the Ishimura, and we're not defenseless. Let's make sure we're ready for whatever's out there."
As Noah adjusted the ship's course, a sense of determined urgency took hold. They were heading back, not just to confront a threat, but to defend their home, their people.
Director Senzo's voice crackled through the communication channel, his tone tinged with impatience yet seeking reassurance. "It would be great to know what the status of your progress is, Noah," he pressed, his words carrying a sense of urgency.
Noah could sense the weight of expectation in Director Senzo's inquiry. Despite the pressure, Noah remained composed, and his years of experience in the field allowed him to maintain a calm demeanor even in the face of such scrutiny. With a steady voice, he replied, "We're making steady progress, Director. I'll provide you with a detailed update shortly."

He paused as he focused on the holo-Feed in front of him and analyzed the available data in real-time thanks to his military-grade holo-NeuralSyne Implant. "We're adjusting course," Noah replied, his tone firm yet marked by an undercurrent of urgency. "Heading back to New Eden. We'll be ready." 

In the silence that followed, a collective resolve fortified them. They were facing the unknown, as the derelict ship could bring untold bounty from within its hull.
Director Senzo's command carved through the static a clear mandate that reset their priorities. "Noah, before you depart the asteroid belt, I am dispatching a Porter Tug to commandeer the derelict ship. It's our top priority... Get that ship secure before you Skip Jump back to the ICV Argos-1. That is a Prime Directive!" His voice, a blend of authority and urgency, left no room for debate.
Noah, hands steady on the controls, glanced briefly at the communications panel. The weight of the directive pressed into him, a stark reminder of the stakes involved. He turned, catching the gaze of his crew, a silent signal that it was time to adapt their plan. The crew exchanged quick, significant glances, each understanding the gravity of the order. The derelict ship, an ancient relic floating among the asteroids, was not just another find—it was a piece of history, potentially holding untold knowledge and value. The directive from Director Shinra Senzo underscored its importance, not just to their mission but to the broader ambitions of the Shinra-Stark-Daiwa Mining Group.
Noah's mind went back over the meaning of what such an order entailed. Refusing to follow the directive would most certainly spell the end of his career. On one hand, he wanted to help those in need and who were under siege by an unknown force. The New Eden Star Cluster was not just a single system but a series of star systems in close proximity to one another. Noah and the rest of the ICV Argos-1 collective fleet were mining ore around Eden-159; currently, the planets were still being colonized, but in ten years, that would change. Our job was to mine ore to return to Eden-109, one of the 1,119 star systems in the New Eden Cluster.
The directive was clear: any new discovery in the outer rims of human space takes top priority above all other mandates, and the crew of The Argonaut was ready. Despite the risks, the potential rewards were too significant to ignore. As preparations for the operation began in earnest, the sense of unity and purpose among the crew was palpable. Each member knew their role and was prepared to execute it with precision. Noah Stark, standing firm at the helm, nodded sharply. "Understood, Director. We'll secure the derelict and rendezvous with the Argos-1 as planned." His voice was calm, a stark contrast to the racing thoughts behind his composed exterior. The task was daunting, yet his confidence in his crew's abilities was unshakeable.
Shinra Hinaba, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern, shifted in her search. Her fingers were already dancing across the console, setting up communication channels. Her role as the ship's specialist meant she was well-versed in the technicalities of such operations, and her confidence was discernible. "We'll need to coordinate with the tug. I can set up a direct comms link and guide their approach." Her voice, usually light and teasing in their private moments, now carried the professional edge of her role.
Gwendolyn Stark, the matriarch and seasoned explorer, nodded in agreement. "Time is of the essence. Let's secure that ship and make sure it's safe for the tug. We can't afford any delays." Her experience shone through, her demeanor calm yet commanding, rallying her children and the crew with a few choice words. "Everything is by the book. This ship could be a significant find for us," she stated, her voice firm.
Elaine, renowned for her cool demeanor under pressure, exchanged a glance of shared determination with Beth. With a nod, they moved to their stations, their movements precise and efficient, a testament to years of seamless coordination in the face of adversity.
Beth, known for her unwavering focus and quick thinking, shared a silent understanding with Elaine. Together, they pivoted to their respective stations, their synchronization seamless and instinctual. In the heart of chaos, their unity forged a stronghold of resolve, a beacon of stability amid the storm.
"We're on it, Mom," Elaine stated, her hands flying over her console, prepping the EVA suits for another walk.
Beth said decisively, "We'll be ready to assist the Tug team with anything they need." Beth nodded in agreement, both sisters moving to gather the necessary gear. Their well-honed skills in extravehicular activities made them indispensable for the task at hand.
Elaine intonated as she focused on the external sensors: "I'll keep an eye out for any debris or potential hazards for the tug. We don't want any surprises."
Grace Frost, the voice of strategy and foresight, considered the logistics. "Once the ship is secure, we'll need to plot a careful course back. The extra mass will affect our jump calculations."
Jennifer Stark, my youngest sister, a blend of youth and sharp intellect, nodded. Jennifer's hands moved to assist Shinra with the communications setup. Meanwhile, Jamie reviewed the ship's specs, ensuring they had all the data needed for a smooth operation. "Let's ensure we have all the data we need for a smooth operation," she said, her tone serious, betraying the gravity of their task.
Jamie Stark, also my youngest sister, focused on the ship's specs. Her hands moved deftly over the controls as she reviewed the data. "Absolutely," she chimed in, her voice steady as she continued her meticulous review. "We can't afford any oversights if we want this mission to succeed." Her words echoed Jennifer's sentiment, highlighting the importance of thorough preparation.
Jamie added, "I'll run a diagnostic on the derelict's structural integrity. We need to know it can withstand the jump."
Director Senzo's image flickered on the screen once more, a stern reminder of the urgency. "Even if you return now, the fleet can't make the FTL jump until all ships have returned to their hangars and docking bays. You have time to tug the derelict ship back to the ICV Argos-1."
Noah, absorbing every detail, finally responded. "Understood, Director. We'll secure the ship and ensure it's ready for the tug. Argonaut out." His voice, firm and confident, belied the racing thoughts of potential complications and the precision required for their new task.
The directive was clear, and the crew of the Argonaut was ready. Despite the risks, the potential rewards were too significant to ignore. As preparations for the operation began in earnest, the sense of unity and purpose among the crew was palpable. The bridge buzzed with activity, each member of the crew moving with purposeful speed. The Argonaut, once a silent observer among the stars, was now a hive of focused energy, ready to execute a directive that could very well shift the balance of their task. Each member knew their role and was prepared to execute it with precision. The arduous task of securing the derelict ship was directive from above; it was a challenge they were all eager to meet head-on.
"Let's get to work," Noah said, his gaze sweeping over his crew and his family. "We have a ship to secure." His statement, simple yet laden with unspoken responsibility, set them into motion, each person aware of the part they played in the intricate dance of space exploration and survival. Aboard the Argonaut, there was no room for doubt. Only action, determination, and the collective will to succeed in the face of the unknown. Then, they would make the FTL jump to Eden-109 to aid the colonists under siege.
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“I attended middle school with her, although we did not attend high school together (she instead attended a high school that was supposed to help students gain college credits. She earned two liberal arts degrees while there in Social and Behavioral Sciences and Natural Sciences. She now attends an HCBU, and has on her LinkedIn profile that she is presently working toward graduating from her college with a degree in Health Sciences, Pre Med, and a minor in Military Science. She is apart of her school’s Army ROTC.)
I remember that a lot of people in middle school did not like her (although that was also the case for me,) and I understood why. She seemed noticeably introverted, yet also didn’t seem like the kind of person, at least from my perspective, who would try to appease you in the way I imagine a lot of people feel the stereotypical woman might. She had a strong glare (I remember mentioning this to my then best friend’s mom, who agreed with the suggestion) and stood out to me as being weird (it wasn’t necessarily anything she said or did - not her personality, exactly - it’s just the strong glare I mentioned, like she didn’t tend to look sincerely happy nor would she pretend to be unless she was around friends of hers. I remember that she didn’t tend to look happy, in my opinion. It’s possible that she was depressed, or she may have just tended to look irritable, I don’t know. She didn’t strike me as being the kind of person who would make an effort to be polite, struck me as being tomboyish and unladylike, the kind of person who wouldn’t try to change the way she was for you - I wasn’t used to it. Seemed competitive, too. I had truly never interacted with a girl who was like that before. She also struck me as being smart, although she was in the normal math class whereas I was in the advanced one (I was known for being smarter, but thought it should have been her. However, I did notice after looking at her LinkedIn profile that there were more grammatical errors than I expected.)
I remember that she and her friend (who I later on ended up being on good terms with) decided early on that they disliked me, although I hadn’t done anything to them, which bothered me. They also once used me for food in sixth grade, which had also bothered/upset me.
I remember that my former best friend had issues with her ranging back to elementary school, and that in sixth grade in particular they were competing for the attention of an ISFP they’d both been friends with since elementary school. This girl is the one who won the ISFP’s attention/was officially her best friend by the time they were in seventh grade. However, around seventh or eighth grade (it’s been so long that I no longer quite remember,) she “ditched” (in the words of my former best friend) the ISFP and the other friend I’d mentioned in favor of a new crowd. I actually remember my former best friend suggested that the people in her new crowd didn’t like her, either (although she hung out with them throughout eighth grade, and briefly went to high school in person with one of them as a junior whilst presumably taking courses at the other high school online, so I assume that she never knew this/didn’t read them well enough to know or understand this.) I notice that she unfollowed the ISFP at some point as a senior, though the ISFP never unfollowed her (she strikes me as being the kind of person who likely took note of the fact that the ISFP’s life doesn’t seem to be heading in a good direction - the ISFP was abused a few years ago, and has had substance use issues since, in addition to having had to repeat a year of high school. She also unfollowed my former best friend, and my former best friend recently unfollowed her back.)
She figured out that I was the one who owned the middle school gossip account (although most of our peers already suspected, and technically, this girl couldn’t prove it either.) She figured this out because she remembered that I was standing nearby when she told my former best friend who she had a crush on (I was being mean and told our peers who she was crushing on.) However, she never directly confronted me about the matter, even though she told my former best friend that she suspected it to be me. She later on changed her mind when I was kind to her friend who lost the role for graduation speaker to me toward the end of eighth grade (but she was right the first time.)
I noticed around junior year that she has actually turned out to be quite nice looking, even though I had once meanly suggested that she was fat in middle school (she was a tad bit chubby, though as an adult I’m inclined to suggest that this was likely simply baby fat/that with us being so young there wasn’t really anything wrong with this.) She does seem to wear makeup, but also has nice style (she is light skinned, and has a looser hair texture, which are likely factors in me thinking she’s attractive, if I’m being honest - she’s mixed race, with a black mother and white father.) I can’t possibly know, but she gives off the impression to me of being someone who knows that she’s attractive (just something about her energy/facial expressions in photos. She has her Instagram account public now.)”
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I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

Background: I'm a single Mom with an almost 9 year old son. He's currently finishing up second grade in our local public school and I'm torn between staying in public school for third grade, which is a different building with only 3rd and 4th grade in it, or going back to his private school which he attended for kindergarten and first grade. My son has an IEP due to his Autism, but is considered high functioning in comparison to others.
My son did an assessment through is previous private school which is a school designed for special needs children on the spectrum, and was officially accepted today. The Pros of this school is that he's already been there previously and knows the layout and what's expected. The classroom he would be in would have the same children as before, with the exception of maybe 2-ish kids that had left the school the same time we did. The classroom is a max of 16 children on the spectrum/ learning challenges, but does have two intervention specialists. The cons would be that the scholarship doesn't cover the full amount and I would be required to pay $2,200 for the school year, which as a single Mom in nursing school is a lot for me to be able to do each month, if they even accept payment plans. His Dad wouldn't be helping foot the cost (he already told me no). The school also requires uniforms which is both a pro and a con. I found that uniforms seem to be easier to deal with than everyday clothing, but the shirts alone are like $30 each since it has to come from a particular store and needs to be engraved with the school's name. There's no busing available so I would be required to drive him to school which is about 15 minutes away. The district would reimburse me $500 at the end of the school year since they don't offer transportation to the school since it's out of district.
As far as the public school goes, I live in a top 10 school district in my area. The Pros is that he would be going to a different building that's actually closer to home (less than 8 minutes away). The classroom size is larger than the private school with about 24 kids a class, but luckily he would have a second teacher in the class that's an intervention specialist. He would still get his speech therapy, be pulled into smaller groups during some activities, have the opportunity to go for a walk in the hallway if he needed a moment, etc. Pros here is that he would be in a mainstream classroom, which he's done well with, but I'll be honest, these public school kids have been mean this year. They've told my son that he isn't stylish (whatever that means to a bunch of 8 year olds), that he's weird, and has had some classroom disputes with two boys that he used to be friends with at the beginning of the school year which he isn't anymore. Along with that, one of the girls in his classroom has been an issue all year which i had brought up numerous times so I don't think they'll be in the same class next year (she literally hit him in the face with her lunch box).
The school recommended him stay in the district since his biggest issue is socialization and he would have a better opportunity to learn to better interact with people of all backgrounds instead of just children on the spectrum, which i agree, but I'm also aware that with the scholarship, the cost comes out of the district's budget so I could understand them trying to sway me one way so they don't lose the $40k.
The private school is also not in session 34 days out of the school year which is a bit more than the public school at 26. I'm only somewhat concerned by this because I'm his main caregiver and would struggle to find childcare on the days the private school isn't in session since they don't have any programs. They do have aftercare which is $10 an hour in the gym. The public school has a YMCA program, but we wouldn't be doing it again next year since we didn't have a great experience. The intermediate school has after school clubs, but another childcare center would be an option as long as i sign up early. The $10 hr charge is more expensive than the daycare center would be.

Hi everyone!! SIR is tomorrow and I need to make a choice asap. I’d love some insight over this!
I was accepted to UCSB, and CSULB .
Both great schools. I applied as a political science major, but might switch to Econ!
UCSB
It’s a UC, there’s a little prestige to it.
I will be dorming as I live 2 hours away. I'm worried about not being able to find housing after my first year. How is the housing situation?
Received a 10k scholarship, that will cover my first two years of school.
I’m worried about the grading scale
More research opportunities?
Might have to pay some out of pocket
runs on quarter system, which I think I'd love, because I'm a fast paced learner, and LOVE testing on material I just learned
CSULB
Known as one of the better CSU’s
20 minute commute, although I want to try dorming my first year
I doubt I’ll pay anything out of pocket because of financial aid
Might graduate w/o debt
More of a hands on learning
Semester system... not sure how to feel about having the same class for 16 weeks.
Which school will help me succeed in the long run?
Personally, I feel like I'll thrive better at UCSB because I'll have the ability to do clubs/meet new people. basically get the full college experience.
I’m just scattered all around, and would appreciate what thoughts you guys have. Or if anyone was in my same situation, what they did, and whether they regret it or not.

Hey hey everyone, I'm back again for some quick tips and tricks to make that first year transition just a little easier. If you have any other questions leave a comment!
Campus
Every building has a corresponding address (100 Louis Pasteur) and a building name (CRX). 99.99% of the time you'll just hear it by the building name. Building name is also what you'll see on your schedule.
Campus isn't that big, SITE to Tabaret is doable in 10 minutes at a fairly brisk pace. Closer distances (Montpetit to Marion, UCU to STEM) are doable in 10 minutes at a normal walk.
Enrollment
Every program has a corresponding course sequence. Hopefully you know what your program is (it's on your acceptance). If you google your program + course sequence, it will likely come up. They look like this.
You'll want to enroll for 1st year fall AND winter (BOTH SEMESTERS) the first chance you get (I believe for 1st years it's 8am on the 21st). When I say 8am, I mean 8am. If you put all your classes in your shopping cart and hit go at 8am, you'll likely get the classes (and sections! Think of the sweet sweet sleeping in) that you want. If you try later like at 9am... maybe a little less likely.
How do I prepare?
Honestly, the summer after high school is one of the last relaxing periods you'll have for a while. Don't worry about pre-studying or preparing academically. Finish this high school semester with good memories, have fun, and just relax this summer. Work a part-time job, go out on a date, whatever you want. The last thing you want is to start a new chapter of your life stressed and tired!
What about getting books and supplies?
On the first day of class profs will normally go through the course outline/syllabus. This will tell you everything you need to know about the class (how you're graded, major deadlines) and of course, the textbook. Sometimes there won't be one. If there is, you'll be able to get it easily within the first few weeks of class. No one expects you to have all that prepared before you start.
Some other programs have other things. Science will require you to have your own lab coat for labs. You can buy them in September, so again, no rush.
Once again if I've missed anything, let me know. Same goes for any other questions you might have. Good luck everyone!

For those of yall who are still curious and want to apply or have already applied to this program, I’d love to share my experience with how it went! For context, I attended the Business & Communications Summer Abroad Internship to Tokyo, Japan last year 2023. Feel free to ask me any questions regarding the internship, Japan, tips, etc… and I hope this helps!
Getting the internship (Pre-departure) To start off, I was very scared when I didn’t hear back about whether or not I had a secured internship. Maria from ICC reached out sometime in March and April for an info meeting about my preferences. Communication was definitely very slow but I imagine that ICC was pretty busy with so many students. They were finally able to get back to me sometime in late May to say that I have an internship. The experience varied for each person in the program, some got their interviews early enough, while others desperately waited until June before the program started to have it confirmed. We were all assigned to different companies which were smaller in size and were typically startups. Around 2-4 people were assigned to the same company so definitely reach out to your peers! A couple of people also found out that their internship would be done remotely or hybrid, which is both good and bad, depending on how you would like your experience.
Housing situation: ICC also arranged our housing arrangements. They didn’t get back until either late May or June (I forgot but it was super late) where we would be placed. We were all placed in sharehouses, so you would be living in your own room (thank god) and with fellow interns. There were multiple sharehouses that we were assigned to, but it was a great way to meet people and make new friends to tour around Japan with. Rooms were super tiny with barely enough space, but at least we all had our own mini fridge and AC. The sharehouse itself was also super small unfortunately, but there was a kitchen, enough bathrooms, and laundry machines. There were too different programs that went to Tokyo, Japan during this time (Business & Communications, Computer Science & Engineering) but we were all mixed together. I was in a sharehouse with a bunch of CS people even though I’m in the Business program. Also, be warned that you need to separate your trash on trash day or they won’t even take it!
First week (Language classes): Classes were around 2 hours long each day for a week and were held at a fancy building in Shibuya. It was useful for people who didn’t know any Japanese to learn basic key phrases, but I personally didn’t find it useful as someone who has already learned a good amount. There were also Japanese college students that helped out with the class which was nice. I went to the first class, and then skipped the rest (so pretty much optional), so I can’t give much info about the contents of the class. But, since the classes were short, we all made plans to explore Tokyo after the classes. I highly recommend booking any whole day activities such as Disneyland on this week because you won’t be able to do that once you start the internship. Make good use of this time to explore Japan because the weather in mid-June is like perfect!! I can give more recommendations for places to explore if anyone wants.
The internship: This is different for most people, but my internship was held in-person every weekday from 9-5 which was kind of grueling because I wished I had more time to explore during the day. Those who had remote internships were able to work in cute cafes which made me jealous lol. But while my office was super nice (in a high rise building in Shibuya), there wasn’t much work I had to do, cause supervision was lenient. So I spent a lot of time just doing nothing, but honestly that’s my fault for not putting my all into the internship. At first it was fine, but when you are stuck in an office for 8 hours a day, it gets super irritating. And on top of that the commute was so annoying - I always had to wake up early to rush to the train and commute is ~1 hour for me ahhh. At some point, you start living off the convenience store meals too, because you gotta save money lol. What sucked was that after the day, you are either so exhausted that you just go back home to rest, or walk around and explore the city on your own or with friends. But that also tires you out hella.
The planned trips: ICC took us to a good amount of fun places. It may be different for each group, but we had a trip to Fujikyu Highland (an amusement park) which was crazy fun and some people even decided to stay the night there to climb Mount Fuji! We had a trip around Asakusa where they took us to a restaurant for lunch and then took a ferry from there to Odaiba. We also had a trip to Mother Farm (I didn’t go for reasons I forget) but it was basically a zoo and yes there were capybaras. They also hosted a talk somewhere in Shinjuku with Domino’s pizza and charcuterie. And at the end of our internship, there was a BBQ night. The trips were optional, but you need to tell ICC beforehand. Plus, you paid for it, so why not go?
The assignments: Assignments weren’t too difficult. You mostly had to write a few paragraphs about your experiences and also respond to discussions. I think a few of us turned in our assignments late cause we forget, but you gotta do those annoying essays sigh.
My thoughts: I definitely tried to make use of all my time in Japan. The people in my sharehouse were super nice, we all got along so often went out together to restaurants, clubs, etc. Definitely made the experience so much more fun because of that. Also I recommend booking your flight to leave a few days after the program ends to fully enjoy more of Japan before you head back. It was a pretty expensive program (~$10,000 for the program alone), and if you consider the flight ticket, meals, shopping, and any other fun expenses, its definitely A LOT. You WILL lose a lot of money on this trip, so save up for it if possible. Hope this helps, and seriously ask me anything, I'd love to share more!!

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

My family has lived in a suburb of Houston for about 10 years, and unfortunately our city has had a huge increase in crime and drugs… especially our high school. We want to move further from the city, but my 3rd grader FREAKS out if we mention moving. I feel guilty because I was lucky enough to go to school with the same group of friends from Kinder-High School. I am so worried he will struggle making friends and resent us. Any experience moving a kid going into 4th grade? Advice? We also have a 6 year old and 5 year old, but they are fine with the idea.